Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: Intruder (1)
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The Black Shield flawlessly blocked all six sides in sync with the host's explosion.
Everyone panicked and floundered at the sudden action.
"This shit...!"
"Behind me!"
"Guards...!!"
BOOM———!!!
Even sealed inside the Black Cube, a fairly loud sound echoed with a dull thud.
The explosive force was considerable—if the Black Cube's output had been even slightly lower, the blast would have leaked out and caused serious damage.
'Not ordinary black magic?'
As Oliver analyzed the opponent's attack, everyone's eyes turned to him.
Admiring how he'd reacted in that split second.
But only for a moment.
The auction participants, realizing they'd nearly fallen victim to an inexplicable suicide bombing, stood up from their seats one by one in a panic.
It felt truly ironic.
In this city drenched in violence, self-proclaimed predators almost dying to an explosion like this.
Well, that was part of what made the world so entertaining.
"We need to get out of here! What the hell is your security like?!"
"Sir, please calm down and follow our guidance—"
"Shut up!!"
A portly middle-aged man shoved the auction house staff aside and tried to drag his bodyguards toward the exit.
He was utterly furious.
"Uh... that's not gonna work."
"Why not?"
"Because—"
Before Oliver could finish, the reason became clear.
The instant they opened the only entrance door, something incredibly fast streaked past, grazing the man.
"Huh???"
Too quick to react, the man let out a dazed noise as his jaw slid cleanly to the floor.
Splat—!
A wet, squelching sound fell over the room, followed by heavy silence.
Until someone screamed.
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!!"
"Boss!!"
The bodyguards, humiliated and enraged at their failure, prepared for combat.
Some gathered mana; others drew axes and hefty knives.
Judging by their life force and mana, they were solid operators even by fixer standards—but unfortunately, they had the wrong matchup.
"Hup...!"
With a light exhale, a man strode in, whipping both hands in swift arcs.
Whoosh! Shwick!
Sleek French knives gleamed in his hands.
One second later, the bodyguards' heads separated from their bodies, just like their employer's.
The customers inside screamed even louder at the sight.
Thankfully, the staff stationed throughout the auction house were professionals: some split off to evacuate customers through hidden doors, while the rest raised submachine guns and opened fire on the intruder.
"Customers, this way!"
"Light him up! Kill him!!"
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
Precise, rapid fire.
Not the sloppy spray of back-alley thugs, but the marksmanship of trained shooters.
But the intruder was no ordinary foe.
He dodged the bullets with superhuman reflexes, as if juiced on dope, veering sideways.
The staff swung their gun barrels to track him, but he zigzagged left and right, evading the hail and slashing through the spread-out defenders one by one.
Whoosh—!
Whoosh—!
Whoosh—!
"......!"
"Guh!!"
"Kaaaaagh!"
The staff fell like meat on a butcher's block, sliced to match the knife's blistering speed.
Yet they stuck to their duties.
"Customers, evacuate this way!"
While some Crime Firm staff bellowed orders to guide the customers out, others gulped down potions.
The energy within suggested black magic—specifically, a disease-series brew.
As expected, their muscles ballooned, ripping their clothes, while callus-like scales erupted across arms, legs, necks, and chests.
A risky but potent item.
The potion-enhanced staff charged forward with their bulked-up bodies, hammering the intruder.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
They swung their drug-flushed fists like beasts, booming through the air.
The intruder dodged the six assaults with flashy footwork and gashed their flesh with his French knives—but only superficial wounds, no lethals. His speed held the edge, but the matchup sucked.
"Good. There you are."
Crime Firm director Gordon appeared amid the chaos. Utterly composed, despite the madness.
"Follow me. We prepared secret passages for exactly this."
"With this crowd, can we make it?"
Jane asked.
"The staff will hold them off. Trained on the organization's dime—they've got the chops."
"Sorry to cut in, but I doubt it."
Oliver said, his eyes sharpening with focus.
Two more heading this way.
Hard to gauge precisely, but roughly on par with the intruder battling the staff.
'Abnormal emotion and mana levels... clumsy and awkward, like kneaded mud of mismatched colors... eerie.'
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Weird. They should've all exploded by now... some real talent in the mix?"
"Who knows?"
Two more thugs appeared.
One shrouded head to toe in a robe; the other in a high-end suit with raggedly torn sleeves, like a slum gangster.
They exuded total confidence—no tension whatsoever.
"You're struggling against trash like this? I'm embarrassed for you."
"Fuck off, asshole... I just don't like bruisers. If I'd brought a cleaver instead of this cutlery, it'd be over already...! Help out or what?"
"This prick demands backup like he owns the place."
Rough talk, but not without camaraderie—the man yanked his hand from his pocket and drew emotions straight from his body to weave black magic.
"Fine, works better for stalling anyway... Hypertrophy."
"Hypertrophy."
⟨ Disease Black Magic ⟩
With the incantation, emotions surged into one arm, swelling it into a dark-red, surreal giant's limb.
Now he knew why the sleeve was torn.
"Hah—!"
With a deflating shout, the massive arm whipped up a gale, ravaging the interior.
Boom—!! Crunch!! Kwaboom!
The bloated right arm rivaled a giant's in power, pulverizing walls, shattering chairs—everything in its path. Even the potion-bulked Crime Firm staff and the dozen in the rear providing SMG support were no exception.
Shockingly, bodies burst like bedbugs, plunging the auction customers into deeper terror.
"Ugh, uwaaak!"
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"What the hell are the guards doing?!"
The calmer ones were Gordon, a druid loan shark who seemed deep in violence, and a mana user whose suit barely concealed his ripped physique.
They weren't scared—just weighing the most profitable response.
Makes sense. Strength didn't change the risk of tangling with unknowns.
Oliver eyed the secret passage for customers.
Unfortunately, it was jammed solid with tangled bodies, while the now-three intruders carved through the Crime Firm staff even faster.
Intruder 1, armed with French knives: low power, but among the fastest Oliver had ever seen.
Intruder 2, in the sleeveless suit: devastating attack power, bursting potion-enhanced foes in one hit.
Intruder 3, robed: bizarre, but packing immense mana—clearly dangerous.
"Hmm... Gordon? Director?"
"Just Gordon. I don't need 'sir' from customers."
"I'll handle those guys—can you protect the lady?"
"Pardon?!"
Jane blurted, as if he'd said something idiotic.
"Staff'll all die at this rate, and come here. Too crowded to fight. Better take them now. Mind helping?"
Gordon's sharp gaze flickered as he crunched the numbers.
"Help us, and on my name and my family's, we'll guard her with our lives—not a hair harmed."
"Thanks."
"Thanks are mine."
They traded synced nods, and Oliver moved.
Test tube from his suit pocket: extracted emotions, then wrapped himself in Black Suit instantly.
Three layers for numbers; it cast a deeper shadow, drawing eyes.
But he ignored them, leaped toward the intruders.
Tap—
"........."
"........."
"........."
"........."
Oliver landed smack in their center. Then... nothing.
The intruders tilted their heads, baffled, pausing to wait.
"...What're you doing?"
Intruder 1 asked, head cocked—like he was genuinely puzzled.
"Stalling."
"?? Heh heh heh heh. Heard Randa's full of weirdos—guess you're the real deal?"
"Oh, and nabbed your ankles too."
"Huh?"
They got it soon enough.
Oliver's shadow, spreading radially, had silently gripped their ankles.
Grip...
Too late to notice; their feet wouldn't budge.
Oliver clearly held the edge in shadow manipulation.
"Arm wrestle?!"
"Nah, just hitting."
With that, Oliver cracked Intruder 1's head with his quarterstaff.
Crack—!!
A clean snap—his skull split like a watermelon.
Quarterstaff upgraded: power boosted.
Drew from army mage fight and Jo's training—layered Black Armor at the tip.
Same swing speed, way more punch.
'Next up.'
[Flash]
Light magic burst weakens shadows.
The rearmost intruder chanted.
'Mage confirmed.'
Oliver wondered. Mana was there, but handled unlike standard mages.
Either way, the light magic thinned his shadow; the intruders snapped free and fell back.
Oliver straightened, sizing them up.
Disease black mage with swollen arm.
Mage with odd mana control.
Instinctively optimal positioning—no orders needed. Combat vets.
"Two of you..."
"...Three, you fuck."
Incredibly, the downed Intruder 1 lifted his head—zombie-like, posture grotesquely twisted.
Skull shattered, yet alive.
Coarse cracks knit bones back, flesh mended—head restored.
"Not dead?"
"Died once, steak!"
He lunged at Oliver, French knives flashing, bullet-dodging athleticism maxed.
"Dodge?!"
Intruder 1 barked, shocked and pissed.
Oliver had slipped the strike.
"Dealt with faster. Not calling you slow, though."
Oliver swung his quarterstaff—whoosh.
Intruder twisted acrobatically, barely evading, and charged again.
"Minion."
One popped from his coat, spitting Hate Bullets at the incoming foe.
Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!
Perfect surprise timing: two to the chest, two to the head.
"This crap...!!"
Damage taken, but that freak regen kicked in.
Oliver prepped a Wrath Bullet to test bomb resistance—interrupted.
Intruder 2 swung his hypertrophied arm.
"Hup...!"
—Boom!!
The giant fist hammered Oliver.
Good thing he'd anticipated a beat early—cranked quarterstaff and Black Suit output, blocked.
Only minor setback: slight retreat.
"No ordinary punk. Blast the moneybugs together!"
Intruder 2 bellowed. On cue, Intruder 3 acted.
He raised an arm, ramping mana output. His robe parted, revealing a twisted abomination—like tangled bodies fused.
Grotesque form matched freakish mana, clumsily gathered in his arm.
Handling was crude garbage, but the sheer volume was legit.
Enough to obliterate the whole room.
Bulge! Bulge! Bulge!
Arm ballooned like a balloon from excess mana.
'Not here for the auction items?'
Later issue. Oliver glanced back.
Jane gone—safely evacuated? Still, customers lingered.
"Hmm..."
Oliver shed one Black Suit layer, wrapped it on the quarterstaff, reshaped as a javelin. Then—
Recalling his Merlin clash, he flung the Black Javelin quarterstaff at Intruder 3.
Piuuuung———!
High-velocity strike smashed into the pre-detonation mana, its compressed force overwhelming and neutralizing it.
Too fast—nobody caught it clearly.
All that registered: Intruder 3 bisected, upper from lower.
Seemed he'd regen like the others—but a lump of human-like flesh erupted from his body, shrieking unknownly before crumbling.
"...What was that?"
Oliver asked the remaining two. Pure curiosity.
Black magic, sure—but not normal black magic.
"You son of a—"
[Outcry]
Max-output shockwave disrupts equilibrium.
No interest in answering—Oliver hit Intruder 1 with Outcry.
Black Light smoke surged to his face, fusing into raging visages that bellowed fury.
Max shockwave rattled the air, hammering inside and out—equilibrium shattered.
Blood streamed from eyes and ears: proof. He'd heal, but time bought.
"You're no slouch...!!"
Disease black mage Intruder 2 bloated his arm giant-style, swinging another iron fist.
Figured no quarterstaff meant easy pickings.
"Hmm..."
Oliver recalled his last session with Jo, layering Black Armor over Black Suit.
Honestly curious.
Judging by his spells, solid disease black mage—which fist packed more wallop?
Brief, eternal instant. Augmented knuckles collided.
"—Kraaaaaaaaagh!!!!"
Flesh exploded in horror; Intruder 2's arm tore vertically, bursting as he collapsed screaming.
Oliver gazed down.
"Guess mine's stronger."