Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 176
Chapter Title: Intruder (2)
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"Kuh hah hah hah...!! You damn dog—"
—Crunch!!
Just as Intruder 2, whose arm had been split vertically, tried to spit out a curse while face-down, Oliver stomped on his head with the heel of his Black Suit-clad shoe, crushing it flat.
There was no malice behind it.
He was simply following what Joseph had taught him.
Finish them off properly, and no one will see the mess. A part of him wondered if it was a bit much, but with his quarterstaff gone leaving him feeling empty-handed, he decided to stick to Joseph's advice.
"...Huh? This guy's regenerating too?"
Intruder 2's crushed head began to reform.
It had to be some kind of black magic. The problem was that it seemed worlds apart from ordinary black magic.
Crunch!
Crunch!
Crunch!
Crunch!
Crunch!
Crunch!
Oliver started stomping mechanically again.
Referencing his fight with the puppet, if he kept killing it until it stayed dead, it would eventually work.
"Guh..."
With one side of his head shattered and his back crumpled like it'd been run through a press, Intruder 2 spat bloody foam from his mouth and finally expired.
Countless blobs of flesh in human shapes tried to rise from his body, only to lose strength and collapse back down.
Oliver turned his head to look at Intruder 1.
The man felt hatred and rage toward Oliver, but above all, overwhelming terror.
Oliver and Intruder 1 stared at each other intently.
After a brief silence, a crack! echoed softly.
Intruder 1 tried to bolt for the entrance using his swift agility.
In response, Oliver imbued his shadow with emotion, activating Shadow Tentacle.
Shadow stakes, tentacles, and blades reached out to seize Intruder 1.
"Hmph!"
As if anticipating it, Intruder 1 twisted his legs and charged straight at Oliver.
There wasn't enough time to recall the shadow tentacles for a counterattack.
And on top of that—
—Thwack!
Intruder 1 wrapped emotion around the French knives in both hands and hurled them at Oliver.
Aiming for his eyes.
Oliver reflexively raised one arm to block like a shield.
Clang-!
The metallic clash rang out as the two blades ricocheted away.
Oliver lowered his arm and checked on the intruder again.
He was already four steps away.
Even after throwing all his knives, he still gripped one in his hand.
Astonishingly, it was made of flesh and bone.
A living weapon crafted from part of his own body.
His bizarre regeneration, multiple lives— the more Oliver watched, the clearer it became that this was no ordinary black magician.
The puppet he'd fought deep underground in the contaminated zone kept coming to mind.
No, the overall vibe is similar, but there's a subtle difference.
"Die!!"
Intruder 1 swung a blood-red blade made of emotion, bone, and flesh as he shouted.
It was no empty threat.
Oliver couldn't gauge its exact power, but it was something that could deal a fatal blow even through his Black Suit.
If it connected, that is.
Hate Bullet
[Fired from left hand]
Bang bang thud—!!
Three holes burst open in Intruder 1's torso amid cheerful popping sounds.
The impact sent him staggering back.
Yet his eyes held conviction. The certainty that he could kill Oliver...
It wasn't entirely baseless.
With his unique regeneration, he could endure, charge again, and sever Oliver's neck.
"Pathetic!"
Hate Bullet (Dual Wield)
[Four shots from both hands]
Oliver fired Hate Bullets again.
The difference this time: not one hand, but two.
Not one finger, but two—firing four rounds at once in a barrage.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!!!!
"————Gack!"
With an expressionless face like he was conducting an experiment, Oliver unleashed a torrent of bullets exceeding even a machine gun.
He wanted to test it once. Which was stronger— that regeneration or his firepower?
The mechanical gunfire echoed for a long while. Intruder 1 was pushed back steadily, then lost the strength to resist, flying into the wall under the hail of bullets and taking a one-sided beating.
Dust rose as mangled flesh sprayed everywhere, his life force fading bit by bit. Only then did Oliver pull his hands back, stopping the barrage.
A silence laced with shock and terror spread quietly through the auction hall.
Everyone stared at Oliver in stunned silence.
Oliver felt their gazes but ignored them, staring blankly at the settling dust.
Moments later, the dust cleared.
And with it, Intruder 1 staggered unsteadily to his feet. Truly astonishing vitality.
"O... impressive."
Oliver voiced his genuine admiration.
Regeneration bordering on resurrection, beyond ordinary levels. An abnormal volume of emotion and mana. Grotesque, like a mishmash of multiple people fused together.
He was about to ask about it when the intruder spoke first.
"What's... your name...?"
Intruder 1 coughed up a bucketful of blood mixed with chunks of flesh.
"Dave."
"Dave...?"
"Yes. And you? May I have your name?"
Intruder 1 opened his mouth to reply, only to vomit more blood.
This time with even more flesh and organ bits. He seemed to muster strength to heal again, but collapsed instead.
Bubbling flesh tried to form a human shape, only to crumble and vanish. His body disintegrated like his comrades'.
"Well... he's dead."
"Um, do you happen to know how to clean this?"
In the curator's office of the massive Subrepto Museum, where the auction had been temporarily halted after the chaos, Oliver asked Coco, who had just joined him.
Coco stared fixedly at one of Oliver's legs with a half-frozen expression.
That leg and shoe were completely soaked in blood from subduing Intruder 2.
"Well... the blood's soaked in pretty deep, but I know a good cleaner for that. Don't worry too much."
Oliver tilted his head. She was lying.
"Really?"
"Of course not. What laundry service in the world would touch this? It's like you've been working nonstop at a slaughterhouse for a month. They'd be lucky not to report you."
"Ah... then should I just throw it out? I just bought it, so it's a shame."
Oliver sighed.
Of course, it wasn't bought with his own money—it was activity funds from Jane—but it still felt wasteful.
Seeing his regret, Jane, sitting on the adjacent sofa, sighed and spoke up.
"I'll buy you a new pair. Shoes and suit."
"No, that's not what I meant. I just really hate to toss them."
"You can't just walk around in that. Step outside, and within a minute, you'd be reported as the Red-Footed Serial Killer. I'm offering because I want to, so just accept it."
Sincere.
Oliver nodded.
"Thank you."
"More importantly, are you hurt anywhere?"
"No, I'm fine."
"They weren't as dangerous as expected, then?"
"No, that's not true."
Oliver spoke earnestly.
He'd won without major injury, but luck had played a role.
If the enemies hadn't let their guard down from the start, or if Intruders 1 and 2 had pinned him down and focused their mana into a bombardment, he might have gotten hurt.
He'd seized control of the fight early and eliminated them in order of threat.
In short, it was just luck tilting things in his favor.
Had that knife of flesh, bone, and emotion pierced him, no one could predict the outcome.
That's what battles were—live or die.
Hm... that aside, I want to look into that black magic. Second black magician I've seen who won't die in one go.
Lost in thought, Oliver heard Coco speak up.
"You've gone beyond dark horse to become a top-tier fixer everyone in Randa knows about, huh?"
"Pardon?"
"Spending rich naive ladies' money."
"?? Is that what top fixers do?"
"Not exactly, but the ones who can, do. In this city, power is attraction in itself."
A sudden third voice chimed in. Young, cheerful, brimming with confidence.
Turning, Oliver saw its owner.
Over 190 cm tall, neatly groomed dark green long hair and beard, ivy vine tattoos etched on his face, and small but unmistakable deer antlers. Seamus, the new-class druid Gordon had mentioned.
Coco, uncharacteristically tense, stepped back two paces.
"Mr. Seamus."
"Why so timid, Coco? Think I'm gonna eat you?"
With his towering height and aura like emanating green light, he exuded bold, refreshing confidence.
Seemed like a womanizer, but he soon turned his attention to Oliver, extending a hand.
"Nice to meet you. Name's Seamus. Heard of me?"
Oliver shook it.
"Dave. A little."
"What'd you hear?"
"Became one of the top fixers in a year after starting three years ago, now retired."
"And that I'm leeching off a rich girlfriend?"
The man deliberately badmouthed himself, then grinned smugly. Like it was a boast.
His emotions indeed brimmed with joy, satisfaction, and pride.
"...Dave. I've heard the name. Standing out catching escapees lately? Fellow fixers are bitching about it. Calling you an unethical glutton hogging all the jobs."
"Wasn't my intent. Sorry."
"Hah!"
Druid Seamus laughed heartily.
"You don't seem like a black magician. Ignore those guys. Incompetents have nothing but their mouths. Randa's a free city of infinite opportunities. No problem with the capable devouring as much as they want. Hell, we should encourage it. The excellent up here, the worthless down there... That's the natural order."
Seamus gestured theatrically up and down like an actor.
Playful, but his words carried intense sincerity.
He truly loved Randa.
Entertainment...
He asked.
"Working with old man Forest in T District now?"
"Yes."
"Good skills, but zero eye for talent, huh? No matter how gifted, hang with nobodies and you become one. No long speeches. Work with me?"
Druid Seamus confidently handed Oliver a business card.
Antique lettering read [Leaf Loan], in soft, reassuring script.
"Um... mind if I ask what it is?"
"My business. Fixer work pays, but risky—could get hurt or killed. Better to settle somewhere. I'll treat you right."
Seemed genuine.
Druid Seamus eyed Oliver with predatory interest.
"I don't know anything about loan sharking."
"Don't need to—I'll handle the brains. I need muscle... er, a fixer senior. Stock's high; best to land somewhere solid."
Oliver pondered how to decline.
The high regard was real, but he had zero interest. A blunt refusal might provoke the prideful Seamus.
Hmm, how to handle this...
"Excuse me, but that's inappropriate."
Right on cue, Crime Firm executive Gordon Goodheart appeared.
"Before he's a fixer, he's a guest here. And the benefactor who helped protect our business's reputation. Scouting like that doesn't look good, Mr. Seamus."
Gordon spoke with his usual courtesy and firmness.
Surprisingly, Seamus showed empty palms and backed off.
"Sorry. Couldn't resist top talent... Thought it'd boost Crime Firm's strength. City's buzzing with weird projects lately; gotta prepare, right?"
"Of course, I understand."
Gordon and Seamus smiled while lying through their teeth.
Cold silence followed briefly, then Seamus grinned and retreated.
"Looks like you have business. I'll head out."
Seamus strode away on long legs.
After the door closed, Gordon spoke.
"First, thank you again, Mr. Dave. You minimized the damage."
"Really?"
"Yes. Intruders came through the secret entrance, so we can cover it externally. No major guest injuries or deaths, so we can calm things."
"Didn't one die?"
"Real estate developer. Rich, but plenty like him here. My colleagues are handling it."
Ah... Randa seemed full of both slums and elites, as Jane said.
"But we could contain it thanks to you. We want to repay you. Money, books—whatever. We'll meet your demands."
Gordon spoke as if prepared in advance.
Oliver's mind blanked.
Pondering which book to request.
Money tempted, but books were closer to his goal. Better a book.
And if one, naturally on demons.
Harder to obtain.
Do they have demon books? Probably. Edith got hers at auction. Just ask? But as a black magician asking for demon books... okay?
He calculated mentally.
"If it's alright, could I tell you later?"
Jane quietly took Oliver's hand and spoke.
"It's sudden; he needs time to think."
Her intervention abrupt, but Gordon glanced between them and nodded.
"Ah... got too excited. Of course. Whenever you're ready, just say. We must repay the one who safeguarded our credit."
Time to think? Oliver accepted immediately.
"Thank you. I'll do that."
"My pleasure."
"...If I may, one question?"
"Question?"
"Yes. Do you know who the intruders were? Curious."
"Not yet. Bodies disintegrated."
Natural, polite answer—but a lie.
Wearing a magic item to fool Oliver's eyes, but sadly, he saw through it.
"I see. Why target here?"
"Likely after auction items."
Sincere.
"Auction items?"
"Yes. Attacking the hall was a diversion. They hit the storage warehouse too."
Where auction goods—stolen ones—were kept.
"Warehouse safe?"
"Yes. Close call, but someone helped."
"Someone?"
"Yes, showed up just in time. Want to meet?"
Before Oliver could reply, the door opened and a woman entered.
She wore a tear-streaked mask.
Her exposed skin was corpse-pale, and her long, eerie purple hair exuded a mystical, alien aura.
Natural yet otherworldly.
Oliver knew one person with such hair.
Marie.