Chapter 141
Chapter 141
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: Return (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Zap—whirrr!
A purple portal formed in mid-air, and Oliver stepped inside.
Stepping out of the portal, he found himself in his lodging. Not near Oliver's place or in front of the house, but right inside.
It was astonishing. He'd only given the address, yet a portal had been created directly in the interior.
He knew spatial magic from the Space School was impressive, but its utility truly hit home now.
Oliver turned to ask a question, but regrettably, the portal had already vanished.
Well, it wasn't a big loss.
She'd said she'd contact him after wrapping up urgent business in about two to three weeks.
Oliver checked the cufflink-shaped signaling device he'd received from Merlin.
"Well, with Rosbern and the others in her hands, I can only be grateful."
Suddenly, the events of the past few days came rushing back.
Looking back, so much had happened.
After taking on Miss Jane's escort job on Edith's request and pocketing a hefty sum, he'd taken a break under the guise of rest. But then he'd run into Joel, taught him black magic, ordered corpses from the Black Market, stirred up trouble with Martel, and more.
On top of that, he'd somehow ended up in a contractual priest-disciple relationship with Merlin—the old man he'd thought was just a bookstore owner—and promised to learn magic from her...
It all felt like a dream. Yet the new clothes from Merlin proved it was real.
"Hoo..."
Oliver surveyed the room.
A space for sleeping and simple meals.
Things were strewn about in disarray, as if someone had broken in and ransacked the place.
It was unexpected, but not entirely surprising.
Even with gangs ensuring some level of public safety, he hadn't expected zero thieves.
More importantly, nothing was missing.
Not that there was much of value besides a small fridge anyway.
Oliver tidied up the messy house before heading out to the basement entrance.
Click—click—click—
For now, there was no major cause for worry.
The corpses processed with Child and Processing, the broken zombie doll, surgical tools, potions, and other sensitive items had all been fed to Bigmouth for safekeeping. So the basement held nothing crucial.
Still, he went down to assess the situation.
"Oh..."
As he'd half-suspected, there it was: a corpse lying at the basement entrance.
Examining the wounds, it looked like the intruder had been killed by the trap Oliver had set up just in case.
A black magic circle combined with a minion. It was designed to activate if someone forced the door open or tried to dismantle the defenses, instantly executing anything in front.
The corpse seemed to have met its end mid-attempt.
Judging by the decay, it had been dead for days.
Oliver observed it quietly before searching the clothes for anything identifying.
Rustle rustle. After a few rummages, he found something.
A hand mirror pulsing with mana, a wallet, and an ID badge marking the man as an apprentice researcher from Martel.
Likely from Martel.
Oliver stared at the dead body in silence, pondering.
'Will this reignite issues with Martel?'
He couldn't be sure, but for now, he shook his head, deciding against it.
After all, they'd struck first by trying to break in.
"Ayn Charlson... From Northland."
Oliver read from the ID in the wallet, pocketing it along with the cash.
Then he pulled Bigmouth from his belt and ordered it to take the corpse.
It was rotting, but still usable after processing. Short shelf life, sure, but he'd replace it with a new zombie doll anyway.
More importantly, it was a mage from the Magic Tower, apprentice or not. Perfect to mix with the doctor and black mage corpses ordered from the Black Market.
Not a bad haul.
"Grrrlll..."
Bigmouth, having swallowed the entire corpse, gazed up at Oliver.
The creator had said it would grow more temperamental as it got bigger, but that wasn't the case at all.
Oliver suddenly wondered why.
Maybe the maker hadn't fully grasped its own creation?
Might be worth asking in person later.
Who knew? It could lead to tips on crafting black magic items over a chat.
With his thoughts sorted, Oliver folded Bigmouth back into its leather case on his belt. He extracted an emotion, inserted it like a key into the security black magic, and unlocked the black magic seal.
Shrrr—With a tactile sensation in his hand, the black magic circle faded, and Oliver entered to inspect inside.
For reference, even if someone forced the circle and defeated the emerging minion, barging into the basement would trigger another minion loaded with Wrath Boom, exploding the interior. Another precaution.
There was just cheap, unimportant furniture and tables, but better safe than sorry.
'Sorry about this, Mr. Murphy.'
Anyway, the basement was intact compared to the upstairs bedroom. No issues apparent.
"Hm... Still, time to relocate."
Oliver muttered after a moment's thought.
True, no immediate problems, but this proved it wasn't fully secure.
To safely expand and improve his lab, he needed a new spot.
Ah, but he wasn't angry or disappointed. Just a pragmatic assessment.
And he had no plans to halt everything.
He'd head to the Black Market, collect the ordered corpses, process them, and craft auxiliary zombie dolls.
He was just postponing a proper puppet lab for now.
To truly settle in, he needed somewhere safer.
"...No rush. Take it slow."
Oliver murmured as he inspected the basement once more, then headed back up.
He sorted his thoughts again.
So much had happened, with unexpected events piling up. Time to organize.
"First, the Martel issue—Merlin will handle it, so watch and wait. Rosbern and the others are under her too, so... hm."
Thinking it over, Oliver realized he had nothing pressing to do.
Merlin had said she'd handle most of what he'd stirred up.
He hadn't noticed from exhaustion, but she'd provided massive help.
Essentially cleaning up what he couldn't manage alone.
Still, he couldn't just sit idle.
Next meeting with Merlin was in two or three weeks, so he'd tackle what he could meanwhile.
"First... I should meet Forest."
Oliver decided on his top priority.
Oliver prioritized meeting Forest for multiple reasons.
First, he'd unilaterally cut off contact with Forest.
Not intentionally, but after heading to Martel to rescue Rosbern, Forest had called several times. Overwhelmed by events, Oliver had ignored them all.
And hadn't visited for days. Time to at least say hello.
Second, to take on fixer jobs.
Despite the chaos, Merlin's care had restored his condition. And he needed money.
Not urgently, but he'd rested too long. To secure a better lab, materials, and more, he had to start earning now.
Third and finally, to follow Merlin's advice.
When he'd asked her to teach him about the world, she'd said to observe and learn directly.
Words from others paint a processed version of reality.
It rang true.
Views filtered through others' eyes and experiences were inherently biased.
That explained the discrepancies between Jane's and Merlin's colony tales.
Oliver's way of seeing the world firsthand? Fixer work.
He wanted to know it more deeply—this world.
How Martel could do such things, why orphans were treated as test subjects, why so many orphans, why colonies existed, what Paterism truly was. He craved the roots of every phenomenon.
Black magic and demons too, as much as that radiant light.
It felt like nothing ever ended, just more tasks piling up. But honestly, he didn't mind.
So much to learn meant so much to gain. A great joy.
Ding. Ding.
Forest's restaurant chimed as usual upon opening, welcoming guests.
Al the waiter emerged to greet him.
"Welcome—"
Al's eyes widened in surprise at Oliver.
His work demeanor was always composed, making the reaction rare.
So Oliver greeted first this time.
"Hello, Al."
"Ah, hello, Dave... What a pleasure. Forgive my rudeness."
Regaining composure, Al spoke. Very professional.
His shock at seeing Oliver seemed excessive, given the ignored calls and absence.
Al reverted to form.
"...Dave. Here to see the boss?"
"Yes."
"Right this way. Follow me."
"No need to check first?"
"No, of course not."
With that, Al led, and Oliver followed.
Usually, Forest meetings were in the cramped restaurant office or the broker's deep underground office. This time, the latter.
A small side door by the food storage.
"This way?"
"Yes."
Al bowed, and Oliver nodded, opening the door and descending.
As he nearly closed it, Al added:
"Thank you so much for coming."
Oliver nodded, puzzled.
"The thanks go to you."
Exchanging brief greetings with Al, Oliver began descending.
Always so deep, no matter the visits.
It had to connect to the underground city below Randa, as Kant had mentioned.
Perfect for emergencies—hiding, escaping, multiple exits.
Suited a broker.
Lost in thought, Oliver reached the bottom floor.
Habitually, he walked the narrow, single-path corridor.
Long absence, yet unchanged.
Knock—knock—
At the end, Oliver rapped on the small door.
A voice soon replied.
"Come in."
With a weary tone, Oliver politely opened and entered.
Familiar office: table and chair aside, massive counter, cabinets stuffed with files.
Unfamiliar: several head-sized comm devices, and Forest wrestling with them.
Always impeccably suited and groomed, now he looked haggard in days.
Shirt soaked in sweat and wrinkles, hair disheveled sans pomade, faint dark circles under eyes.
Clearly exhausted.
Oliver instinctively sensed it was about him.
Unsure what to say, he greeted first.
"Uh... Hello?"
"No, can't say I am."
Forest sighed in reply.