Chapter 182
Chapter 182
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 182
Chapter Title: Changes (1)
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"It was nice meeting you, Marie."
With those words alone, Oliver turned and left.
The emotional particles that had been wrested from her control had long since scattered into the air and vanished, but neither Marie nor any of her subordinates could chase after him.
They had all simply yielded to his overwhelming presence.
It was quite some time later that Marie's subordinates began to stir, one by one, gathering around their fallen leader.
A typical black mage might have taken the chance to finish off their master right then, but these weren't ordinary black mages. They supported Marie with genuine concern, whether they'd been struck by her or not.
"Thank goodness. Your body's recovering... Damn it! There's potions and potion neutralizers in the car, along with a first-aid kit! Grab them now!"
"I'll get them!"
They moved with disciplined precision, like children fretting over an injured parent.
It was an odd sight for black mages, but delving deeper made it less strange.
Most of them were orphans, trafficking victims, low-grade disciples turned slaves in small black mage families, or lab rats for human experiments.
Lives without a shred of hope.
And it was Marie who had pulled them from that darkness. She had even recognized their talents and taken them in personally.
To them, Marie was the mother and savior who had rescued them from a brutal world.
Even if that mother now had her eyes fixed on someone else.
"Did you hear that?"
Marie, composure returning, steadied her emotions and spoke.
"Leader, are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine... He's gone now."
A surge of raw hatred, jealousy, and murderous intent flared in her disciples at those words.
Even after being battered to the brink of death, Marie's attitude remained unchanged.
She had blindly fixated on that figure she'd called "Him" or "Master" for the past year, and even now, rejected as she was, nothing had changed. If anything, it had intensified.
What the hell was so special about him?
They had seen his power and presence firsthand... but even so, this felt too unfair.
Sticky, boiling emotions churned within them. Marie read them clearly.
"If I warn you now—don't you dare harbor irreverent thoughts toward Him."
Even in her ragged state, Marie shot her disciples a warning glare fierce enough to tear them apart.
No bluff or pretense—just pure sincerity.
Her disciples bowed their heads like children facing an angry parent, submitting despite their doctor's objections.
Confirming their obedience, Marie caught her breath and spoke again.
"...I haven't forgotten how you attacked Master earlier. The only reason you're still breathing is His word. You're alive solely by His mercy. So don't you dare entertain such irreverent thoughts. This is your warning."
Though resentment burned in their hearts, her subordinates could do nothing but nod in suppression.
Moments later, one disciple returned with potions, neutralizers, and the first-aid kit.
"F-First, you need treatment. Your condition is critical."
The disciple spoke no lie.
Oliver's assault had riddled Marie's body with holes, bursts, breaks, and crushes.
Without her unique black magic, death wouldn't have been surprising.
The silver lining was that recovery was underway, slow but steady.
"Wait."
As Marie instructed, they waited. The black light of her black magic, dyeing her body dark, wove through her wounds like threads, slowly repairing her form.
The mending happened automatically.
Independent of Marie's will.
Thanks to it, she could focus solely on battle without worrying about healing, allowing her to somehow fell foes a step or two above her.
It was truly bizarre black magic.
No one knew how Marie had come to wield it—not even her.
All she knew was that it had awakened while she fought desperately to protect the Family Master had left her.
As if someone had dressed her in it.
Sometimes, it even felt like borrowing someone else's power rather than her own.
'I don't care what it takes... as long as I can stand by His side.'
Brushing aside such trivialities, Marie slowly released the recovered black magic.
As the black light staining her body receded to her core, her signature pale skin emerged.
Considering Oliver's onslaught, it was remarkably improved, but minor wounds still littered her body.
Damage beyond a certain threshold always left scars like this.
Her subordinates, accustomed to it, treated the wounds.
It had happened a few times before while expanding their forces.
"Ngh..."
Even with neutralizers dulling the potion's toxicity, Marie gritted her teeth in pain.
Wounds bubbled as they healed; ointment from the kit was applied, followed by wet packs and bandages.
As treatment progressed, an incomprehensible injustice and rage welled up in her disciples.
No wonder—they watched the woman they loved and revered grovel pathetically before that bastard.
Finally, one disciple spoke up. He was strikingly handsome, by any measure.
"Leader."
"Don't say it. I know exactly what you're going to say."
The disciple fell silent briefly, then spoke again.
"...Even so, please grant me leave to speak. It's something I must say."
Marie glared at him sharply, as if ready to slit his throat with her nails.
Yet he showed no grievance.
On matters involving "Him," Marie was fanatical and cruel, but otherwise, she was warmer and greater than anyone.
She delegated roles efficiently, held nothing back in battle, made no unreasonable demands of her subordinates, treated them fairly—a capable, thoughtful soul the harsh world had never shown them before.
That was why even this man, a black mage, respected and followed her.
All the more reason he couldn't back down.
"...Fine. Speak."
Marie yielded a step to her disciple.
"It wasn't your intent, but you met Him. And He rejected us."
"Oh, how foolish. Can an insect reject the sun just because the sun rejects it? Don't you dare put Him and us on the same level. It's arrogance. Blasphemy."
"But Leader—"
"—I'll say it again: don't deny Him. I exist so you do, and I exist because of Him... Our very being depends on Him, whether you wish it or not."
Marie spoke with utter sincerity.
Even if Oliver unjustly commanded her death for his needs, she would follow wholeheartedly.
She knew it. Her disciples knew it.
That only fueled their fury more.
An unknown man wielding such sway over them, their organization, and their great leader.
Treatment complete, Marie rose unsteadily.
One disciple offered a potion condensing life force to restore stamina.
"It's not a total failure."
Marie muttered after downing it.
"He's not with us, but He formally permitted Seungbae anyway. See? We are the chosen. Destined to stand at the feet of the true savior..."
Marie beamed in ecstasy.
"We are His true faithful. Truly chosen... It's just that our temple is still too small for Him to dwell in."
Illogical, rambling speech. But it didn't matter. Seeking logic in faith was folly to begin with.
Faith was simply belief and obedience.
Then, the disciple debating her cut in.
"But didn't He say not to interfere in His daily life?"
Marie halted abruptly.
"...You're right. He did. But the sun rises no matter what. We just align our work to it. Grow the flock, expand the temple, create more servants for Him. So He'll never find us wanting whenever He comes."
Her disciples fell silent before her ominous gaze and resolute tone.
Usually wise enough to heed counsel, she never yielded on matters of faith.
Marie commanded.
"Everyone, head back now. Today is momentous. Return straightaway and devise plans for Him."
Her disciples bowed respectfully, affirming their obedience.
Soon after, the wounded disciples boarded their vehicles and departed.
The two F-series cars exited the forest, hit the outskirts road beyond Landa, and headed for Wineham.
Marie closed her eyes during the ride, fatigue setting in.
She replayed Oliver's face and words over and over.
'......You've become prettier.'
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-click!
Oliver answered after the direct line to Forest rang about five times.
Encumbered by work clothes, boots, gloves, and a special-material apron, he looked quite restricted in movement.
A voice came through the communicator.
[Dave?]
"Yes, Forest sir. It's me."
[Good. I was starting to worry something happened since you weren't picking up.]
[Sorry. I was working.]
Oliver spoke the truth.
He hadn't moved yet, but he'd set up temporary equipment in the basement for research and work as needed.
Of course, only short tasks like repairing or crafting corpse puppets.
[What on?]
"I was dissecting a contaminated lifeform alive, referencing the black magic books from the auction."
[Ah... Shouldn't have asked.]
Oliver glanced at his workbench.
The giant spider Parker handled by Kell's free-agent Alistair had been thoroughly dismantled—save its head, pincers, silk glands, and barbed tail.
Blood splattered everywhere, but Helper 1 was cleaning adeptly, so no issue.
"Thinking of attaching it to the next corpse puppet."
[For combat?]
"No, too impractical for that. Planning to stick it on Helper 2 instead. The silk seems useful for work."
[Don't want to know the details, but good it's not combat. A corpse puppet with a giant spider head wandering around would have even this godless city calling in holy knights.]
"Yes, as you said."
Oliver replied, recalling Forest's past advice.
Forest hadn't objected to corpse puppets upon learning of them, but advised using ones with intact appearances whenever possible.
The uglier, the more hostility they drew.
Thus, Oliver delayed making Corpse Puppet-Rag 2, researching ways to keep original functions with a normal look.
At least separate normal and combat modes.
"Don't worry too much about that. More importantly, how was the broker meeting? Got the books via Al, but missed meeting you."
[Oh, that was nicely said. Perfect flattery. Learning charm beyond makeup from Coco?]
"I mean it."
[Anyway, same as always—great. Top guild fee means luxury hotel and free services. Especially this time, felt like the star. Thanks to you.]
"You're too kind."
[Serious. Who'd guess guarding that auction—marginal at best—would turn so profitable.]
Oliver nodded as if grasping it.
From Al: Oliver slaying the auction intruder had impressed the guest attendees deeply.
Most auction participants wielded influence in Landa—prime advertising.
"No other news?"
[Wish I could say so, but no. City's project security bureau talk everywhere. They've already recruited top fixers with reps.]
"Everyone must be upset."
[You'd think. Poaching their star fixers. But the city pays fair broker fees, so not dire. Just a temporary lull.]
"Ah, got it."
[City seems sloppy, but cuts sharp sometimes. Anyway, debated with other brokers how the security bureau birth shifts Landa's power balance and our guild. No solid answers. Also, contaminated zone cleanup season's back.]
"Already?"
[Yeah, luckily not our zone, so no need. Why, want in?]
Oliver thought briefly, then shook his head.
Without black magic books, maybe—but he had plenty now. Best tackle those first.
"No, I'm good."
[Relief. Volunteering might tank your rates.]
"Really?"
[Not always, but pricey jobs come to those taking pricey jobs. Speaking of—when can you work? Not rushing, but jobs piling up. Sooner the better.]
Couldn't see emotions, but the voice rang sincere.
As Oliver pondered timing, someone familiar knocked at the basement entrance.
He hung his apron, headed to the front door, and turned the knob.
Merlin bobbed his glowing-topped head as the door opened.
"Mind if I call you back later?"
Oliver said into the communicator.