Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: Value (2)
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A flash of light engulfed his eyes.
With it, his body floated as if gravity had vanished, and Oliver plummeted into a place where fierce winds raged from all directions.
His mind reeled from the utterly unfamiliar sensation.
"Are you alright, young friend? Open your eyes."
Regaining his vision, Oliver cautiously did as Merlin said and opened his eyes.
A completely different landscape unfolded before him.
No mountains, not even hills—just vast, open plains. A sky heavy with clouds, thick snowflakes falling with a bluish tint.
Even the ground under his feet wasn't earth at all; it was a massive expanse of ice.
Shivering to the bone from the piercing cold, Oliver staggered to his feet and asked,
"Elder... where is this place?"
"The land of ice at the world's end. A place neither the Allied Kingdom that conquered the world nor any human has ever subdued."
He didn't fully grasp the words, but he could guess why it remained unconquered.
It was expansive, but all around was nothing but ice, snow, the sky, the icy ground, and pure mana crystallizing in the flakes.
It wasn't fit for human habitation.
"...Forgive me, but may I ask why you've brought me here?"
Merlin, enveloped in mana to ward off the cold, replied casually,
"I told you earlier. I brought you to have a little spar. This is the best spot to avoid collateral damage."
Oliver stood there blankly, wondering if he'd missed something.
"Forgive me, Elder. I don't quite understand."
"What don't you get?"
"Why would I fight you?"
"Because I want to."
"Why do you want to fight me?"
"Hm... Fair point. Maybe I should explain. First off, let me be clear: I'm no pervert hunting for someone stronger than me. I just want to know."
"Know what?"
Merlin pointed politely at Oliver.
"Your value."
"...My value?"
"Exactly. I went through the trouble of saving you, so I want to know just how much value you hold. It's a feeling everyone has."
"Is that so?"
"It is. People prefer to save those with worth. On that note, answer me this: Where do you think a person's value comes from?"
The question came out of nowhere, but it didn't faze him.
He didn't have a fully formed philosophy, but unconsciously, Oliver did assign value to people.
That's why he'd respected the lightning mage, Joseph, and Duncan despite making them enemies—and why he'd spared Jod in the end.
Oliver valued people too. The issue was how to articulate it.
"Hm... Emotions."
"Emotions?"
"Yes. Things like courage, will, hope, desire, ambition, perseverance."
"That's quite romantic for a black mage. I don't hate it, though. Our views differ, but still."
"Where do you place a person's value, Elder?"
"Power, obviously."
"Power... you say?"
"Yes. But pay attention—this power I mean isn't just raw strength or more destructive spells. That's part of it, but it's broader."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"The power I speak of takes many forms. It could be physical strength or magic, like I mentioned. Sometimes money, worldly authority, looks, charm, wisdom, knowledge, skills, connections. But they all serve the same ultimate purpose: the power to make things happen. Something that lets you accomplish your goals smoothly."
It sounded vague, but Oliver dimly grasped the meaning.
Through the Matel incident, he'd realized he was undeniably weak.
Even if those around him hailed him as a dark horse fixer, objectively, he was a weakling in this city.
A truly strong person could've negotiated with Matel through words alone, without force.
Like the man before him.
Suddenly, Edith's words came to mind—the words of one of R District's big shots.
He'd called fixers scum scavenging for blood money and scraps.
Oliver had nodded along in agreement back then, but now he realized he'd misunderstood.
Edith's words cut to the brutal truth of a fixer's existence.
And with that, he finally understood a bit why Duncan risked everything with Pinkman to open an office alongside him.
After leaving the mines and Joseph's Family to settle in Landa, Oliver had prided himself on learning about the world—but in truth, he knew nothing.
"Looks like you get the gist. Even if your face hasn't changed. Did I miss the mark again?"
Oliver shook his head at Merlin's question.
"No. I understand."
"Good. To reiterate, I measure human value by this power. Some good-hearted folks deny it, but look at how the world works."
"Could you give an example?"
"Sure. Unless someone's personality is downright vile, the powerful get more leniency than the weak. Sometimes it's even seen as charm. 'He's strong, so that's just how he is'—even when it's just a shitty personality. Never happened to you, young friend? Getting a pass from others?"
Oliver thought about it... and surprisingly, quite a few instances came to mind.
"Seems it has... That's why I want to test you the same way. I can gauge your value in a fight."
Oliver nodded.
The old man's desire for a fight now made some sense.
But that didn't mean he wanted to fight.
"Elder."
"Yes? Let's get started—I get knee aches standing too long."
"I don't want to fight you. You've helped me, and I'm grateful."
Merlin stared intently at Oliver before speaking.
"...Is that so? But I didn't ask you to fight. I'm telling you."
With that, Merlin raised his hand.
Tiny scraps of paper the size of fingernails floated from thin air, gathering in his palm to form a book.
"Actually, I have a different request."
"...?"
"Try not to die."
With those words, Merlin tore a page with a rip—shrrk—and hurled it straight at Oliver.
Shooo!
A sharp whistle cut the air as the paper bullet rocketed toward him. Oliver's mind raced.
'Attack. How? Block it? Dodge?'
Time seemed to slow, countless calculations flashing through his head.
In the end, he extracted emotions to coat his body and barely dodged.
Blocking head-on was too risky—the mana's density in the paper was unnatural.
Shk! The paper sliced past, slicing the wind.
Oliver glanced back.
It vanished beyond the horizon, then—boom!—the ground erupted, hurling up snow in a blinding plume. Like an airstrike.
"...!!"
The sheer destructive power shocked him.
From just one mana-infused sheet of paper.
But what stunned him more was Merlin's effortless motion—minimal effort, no delay.
"Dodging instead of blocking. Good call."
Oliver whipped his head forward.
Merlin stood there, three papers torn, poised to throw.
"Oh... this."
Pak! Merlin flung the trio.
Thankfully, the mana density was lower, like he'd dialed back.
Still an insane amount.
Oliver extracted emotions, pointed his index finger forward, and focused them in his eyes.
Hate Bullet
Fired hate-infused projectiles
He wasn't aiming to counter. He knew he couldn't match that level.
'But if I can deflect their trajectory...'
Luckily, the wind helped—the hate bullets struck the papers' flat sides, nudging them off course just enough.
He evaded without major movement.
Had he dodged big, Merlin would've exploited the opening.
"Not bad. Decent method."
Merlin's voice should've come from afar—but it whispered right past Oliver's ear.
A warm trickle ran down one leg.
He looked: his black suit neatly sliced, thigh bleeding beneath.
"Ugh...!"
Oliver staggered with a groan.
The wound wasn't deep or agonizing, but the mental shock hit hard.
Third time the black suit had been breached so cleanly.
First: the puppet in the contaminated zone. Second: the blond mage from Matel.
Even they hadn't done it easily.
Yet Merlin managed it effortlessly. He could've taken his head if he wanted.
Merlin now stood opposite his original spot.
"Does it hurt much? I didn't cut deep."
Hah... hah... Oliver stared at him, feeling the overwhelming gap in power.
No mockery here—just pure disparity.
"...You're incredibly strong."
"I am. Scared?"
"A bit... But I'll keep going."
With that, Oliver extracted a hefty dose of emotion from a vial with one hand and fed it to his shadow.
Shadow Tentacle
Shadow lunges aggressively
Empowered far beyond usual, his shadow surged at Merlin.
Snap.
Merlin gathered mana at his fingertip and flicked.
A ritual activated, erecting a massive ice wall as a barrier.
Same defense as Matel's bald mage. It wouldn't work twice.
"...Hm!"
Oliver amped the shadow's output, slamming it into the ice.
Shadow tendrils, blades, spikes collided, shattering ice chunks and snow into the air.
Mana-infused ice was no joke, but he smashed through.
Rumble... Boom! Kwaboom!!
Wall crumbling—Merlin visible behind.
Oliver struck.
Shadows lunged straight.
Merlin looked startled as they pierced him.
"...Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
"Elder...! ...Huh? Elder?"
Merlin now beside him.
Oliver whipped around in shock.
"An ice magic and golem craft-based clone spell. Pretty good, right?"
"Yes... it is."
Oliver maxed output and swung his quarterstaff.
No holding back against this foe.
Kwaang————!!!
The staff clashed against Merlin's book—a mana mass in book form.
"Nice reaction speed."
Merlin raised a hand inches from Oliver's face.
A massive boom and shockwave hurled Oliver far away.
He tumbled across ice and snow.
Even through the black suit, cold bit deep; senses scrambled, world spinning.
Not lethal, but miserable.
'Ugh... Move...'
Merlin attacked leisurely, relentlessly—book open, unleashing dense mana bullets.
Oliver extracted mana, not emotions, and slammed it into the ice.
Ice Wall
Rising ice barrier blocks projectiles
The surging wall blocked the barrage.
Still, the power shook it violently—barely holding.
Dodge. Anywhere.
As he moved to flee, he realized his limbs were sealed.
Merlin's mana ice had encased and gripped him.
Grrrumble—
The sky churned.
Oliver looked up.
Clouds swirled one way, mana converging. This was...
"...Oh, no."
A blue flash gleamed at the vortex's heart, slamming earthward.
Kwaaaaaang——!!