Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: Small Miracle (3)
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It was truly a bizarre scene.
A black mage performing a confession of sins in the mages' secret laboratory, of all places.
If someone unfamiliar heard about it, they would scoff at it as a terrible joke that made no sense, or rebuke it as an unspeakably blasphemous act.
But astonishingly, it was happening right now in the secret underground laboratory of Matel.
What could it be called...? An utterly contradictory yet sacred sight.
With each sin the suffering boy confessed, he shed his pain and fear, while the black mage holding his hand recalled verses from scripture and sought forgiveness from God on his behalf.
Everyone watched this absurd spectacle in silence. Especially Oliver.
His voice was calm, devoid of emotion, but whether due to the darkness of the laboratory, his face was cleverly shrouded in shadow, hiding his expression from view.
"Finally... I couldn't save my younger sibling who went into the laboratory first. They asked for help, but I was too scared. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
The boy tearfully begged forgiveness. To his sibling, or perhaps to God.
Oliver, just as before, sought God's forgiveness in a steady voice.
"Father. Forgive us our sins... for we are weak and troubled beings. Father, forgive us our sins. Your children beseech you. Mahala."
"Mahala... Thank you. Sniff, thank—"
Oliver gently placed his hand over the boy's swollen, puffy eyes and said,
"—It's okay now. Rest easy. When you close your eyes and wake up... everything will be alright."
The boy didn't respond, but having shed his fear, he fell asleep, and Oliver held his hand until he was fully out.
"........."
After a short yet long silence, the boy slipped into deep slumber.
Oliver carefully released his hand and spoke to the children around him.
"Everyone. Wait here just a moment."
Oliver glanced toward the laboratory entrance as he said this.
There, backlit by the light, stood Matel's researchers.
Oliver looked at Rossburn and asked again.
"Can you wait?"
Rossburn nodded and, like an eldest brother, gathered the other children and positioned them behind him.
Oliver nodded and walked out of the laboratory.
As Oliver approached, the Matel affiliates stepped back, making space.
As the World Tree's information indicated, their numbers weren't large. Around twenty in total?
But each one possessed tremendous quantity and quality of mana.
Some were on par with the three mages he'd faced upon entry, and one among them was even stronger than all the others combined.
Though he wasn't the leader.
"...Thank you for waiting."
Oliver addressed the man at the edge of the group of mages.
The man appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties, quite young both objectively and subjectively.
He seemed surprised by Oliver's actions but didn't show it outwardly.
"How did you know I'm in charge here?"
"I could just tell. Thank you again. For not interfering."
"I'm the one who's grateful. That was quite the show. A black mage performing confession of sins. Truly a rare sight."
Oliver agreed. He still didn't understand why he'd done such a thing.
He could only explain that it had felt like the right thing to do.
But regardless, it left him uneasy.
Hard to put into words, but it was like a slight irritation?
So, without thinking, Oliver cut straight to the point.
"...Sorry, but could you make way so we can pass? I'm pretty tired today."
The man glanced back and shook his head.
"That's not happening. After all this chaos, we can't just let you go. Besides, those half-dead guys over there are my friends. Elites who graduated top of their class from the academy. I need compensation for damages."
"That's fortunate."
"What?"
Oliver set his quarterstaff aside, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.
"Truth is, I was feeling a bit reluctant to just leave myself."
With those words, Oliver placed his hand on his chest and extracted his emotions.
Shuuhaa—
It was just a handful, but Oliver had extracted his emotions without even using a Filterette.
An utterly unprecedented moment.
At the same time, the mage who appeared the oldest among them tensed with extreme caution, gathering mana to attack Oliver.
Oliver prepared a cheerful counter in response.
"Hell... "
Pahhat haaaaa—!!
It was then.
A massive burst of light exploded between Oliver and the mages. Without any warning whatsoever.
Even judging by their startled reactions, it didn't seem like Matel's doing.
Then who on earth?
It was then. A familiar voice rang in his ear.
"Here for compensation. Young friend."
A bald pate, seaweed-like fringes hanging limp, an egg-shaped head, and an old man in worn clothes appeared out of thin air from the bookshop.
Oliver was taken aback.
To see the bookshop old man here. And how had he even appeared?
And it seemed he wasn't the only one surprised.
The Matel institute affiliates all looked dumbfounded by the old man's arrival.
"Who the hell are you? One of his gang?"
One mage asked.
Then, an elderly mage who particularly stood out intervened, stopping his fellow mage.
From his emotional state, it seemed he knew who the bookshop owner was.
"Archive Merlin?"
"Oh...? You know me?"
The bookshop old man—no longer speaking in the humble tone from his conversation with Oliver—asked in a voice brimming with arrogance, as if he were a different person entirely.
At that, the previously overbearingly confident Matel affiliates began murmuring and wavering sharply.
Upon hearing the words "Archive Merlin."
The relatively older mage responded to Merlin's question.
"I saw you from afar about twenty years ago. I'm Finn Russo, disciple of Theodore of the Life School."
"Ah, I remember. Rare case. Thought you'd be dead under Theodore, but apparently not. Congratulations."
The man called Finn bowed politely in response. Not mere formality, but with genuine respect and courtesy.
The atmosphere was flowing strangely.
The tension that had seemed poised for a fight dissipated like a lie, entering an entirely new phase.
The man who appeared to be the leader of the mage group cut in unpleasantly.
"What the hell is everyone doing?"
As the older mage was about to speak, the bookshop old man—Merlin—spoke first.
"Let me see... Artificially shining golden hair and blue eyes, flawless white skin, sturdy yet neither fat nor thin build, tall stature, upright posture, no glasses... Ah, must be Carl, grandson of that talk-of-the-town Theodore. Nice to meet you. I'm a friend of your grandfather."
Merlin extended his hand casually, but Carl just stared at it silently.
He wanted to ignore it outright out of pride, but he hesitated, overpowered by Merlin's presence.
Seeing this, Merlin chuckled heartily and withdrew his hand.
"Not just looks, but personality too—exactly like your grandpa."
Carl bristled.
"Mind your words. I don't know what relation you had with my grandfather in the past, but he is currently the Grand Master leading the Life School."
Far from being surprised or angered, Merlin stared at him intently. As if with pity.
"...Listen, Russo."
"Yes, Merlin."
"Seems the young ones don't know me these days."
"S-Sorry."
"No, no. Forgetting is a great blessing. I didn't exactly hope to be recognized anyway... Just curious, that's all. On that note, I'm taking this friend with me."
Merlin placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder.
Everyone reacted with shock, but he had no intention of backing down.
"What do you mean all of a sudden?"
"That's what I should be asking. I've had my eye on this friend for a while, but you lot made the first move, didn't you?"
"Had your eye on him?"
"Ah... Looks like you approved the project without proper review. You all are so consistent. Brilliant in some areas, utterly sloppy in others... Or maybe poor leadership."
Merlin narrowed his eyes and looked down at Carl.
Carl's face flashed with anger at the gaze, but he was silenced by Merlin's overwhelming pressure.
"I know how you operate."
"Yes..."
"You've been monitoring this friend continuously, so you'd find scenes of us together if you looked. Since I sensed you lot."
"........."
"I found this friend quite amusing to watch. But you tampered with him without even asking my permission? Isn't that something that'd make me a bit displeased? Answer freely. I won't take issue with anything you say right now."
As Carl opened his mouth to speak, Russo stopped him. Like a nanny reining in a child.
"We're sorry, Merlin... It seems we acted a bit rashly."
"Haha, admitting fault so readily is refreshing. Well, accidents are part of a mage's work. Didn't they used to do experiments from high towers for that reason back in the day? ...Anyway, on that note, mind if I take this friend? No deaths, so let's end this amicably? Hm?"
Merlin placed his hand on Oliver's shoulder and asked.
It sounded like a polite question, but it was closer to a notification disguised as one.
The other side knew it too.
A leaden silence pressed down on the surroundings.
Russo finally spoke.
"...Of course. We're grateful for your understanding, instead."
Clap!
Merlin clapped his hands, as if wrapping things up.
"Good. And will you cooperate too?"
Merlin turned to Oliver behind him and asked.
Oliver looked at Merlin, then at the emotions in his hand, and finally toward the laboratory door behind. More precisely, the children inside.
"Yes. But could those ones come with us too?"
Oliver pointed at the closed laboratory door and asked. Less a question, more a demand.
Matel's Carl shouted indignantly.
"Who said you could!!"
Russo panicked and tried to stop him at the sudden outburst, but Carl ignored him.
"Let go! Those kids in there are successes from recent experiments! You're saying you want to take them!!"
Carl yelled.
It seemed to go beyond mere pride.
Merlin, as if grasping the situation, asked,
"Hm... Kids related to the Reincarnation Project?"
"Yes!"
Carl shouted. From his reaction, it was clearly no ordinary matter.
Merlin pondered briefly, glanced at Oliver—seemed about to ask something, but gave up upon seeing his expression—and turned back to the Matel group.
"...I'll take them as compensation."
"!! You're joking—"
"No joke, young friend... I'm not in a position to jest with you or play games. Let's make this clear. You intruded into my quiet domain without permission, bothering me. Whether you admit it or not, it's the same to me. I require compensation."
"........."
"What'll it be? Accept my reasonable demand now and part with smiles, or test your mage skills against mine. For the record, I'm not opposed to that either."
At that moment, Merlin released a portion of the mana deeply hidden within him.
Mana particles rapidly scattered through the air in all directions, sweeping over everything.
So overwhelming that their bodies tingled.
It was like a demonstration of the power gap.
Simple, but effective. Carl broke into a cold sweat and said,
"Hoo, hoo... You think this nonsense will be tolerated! Daring to steal someone else's research results—!!"
"Tolerated? That's not the point, young friend. What matters is whether you have the power to back it up. Didn't your grandpa teach you that?"
"........."
As Carl fell silent, Russo intervened again.
He had now set his goal to de-escalate the situation as much as possible.
"Take them. Merlin. But please promise one thing."
"...What?"
"...Don't extract our research from those children's bodies. As one scholar to another."
Carl tried to protest, but Russo glared, silencing him.
"Fine. As a fellow scholar, I promise."
With that, the incident was provisionally resolved.
No one could raise further objections.
Merlin turned to Oliver and said,
"Young friend, bring the children."
"Yes."
Oliver returned his emotions to the test tube, opened the laboratory door, and went inside to fetch the children.
Merlin faced off alone against the Matel affiliates.
Though their numbers and atmosphere were the complete opposite.
Carl muttered lowly.
"...I'll report this to Grandfather."
"No need. I'll go meet him myself."