Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Storm (3)
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"Whether you like it or not... that's not for you to decide!"
The Lightning Mage shouted, hurling a mass of blue electricity toward Oliver.
Recalling his fight with Andrew, Oliver skipped the Black Shield block and fired a Hate Bullet instead, neutralizing it from afar before it could close in.
As expected, the electric mass exploded with a bang! the moment the Hate Bullet struck, scattering blue sparks everywhere.
It was tricky as hell. Fast, and with splash damage to boot.
Even though his attack had been thwarted, the Lightning Mage didn't panic. He wrapped himself in lightning once more and charged in swiftly, just like he'd anticipated.
The opener had been a feint to draw the eyes, much like his scrap with Andrew.
The difference was that Oliver could read the flow of emotions and mana to predict the Lightning Mage's path and intercept him early.
He fired Wrath Boom along the mage's predicted trajectory to halt his advance, then loosed one Hate Bullet each to the flanks.
The mage faltered for a moment, a flicker of bewilderment in his eyes—like how?
Oliver couldn't explain the principle himself.
The lightning cloaking the mage sent out faint tendrils in the split second before movement, hinting at his direction. Combined with the churning emotions, it let Oliver predict his actions indirectly.
By anticipating paths and moves in advance, Oliver managed to hold his own against superior specs, countering every time the Lightning Mage lunged.
[Lightning]
The Lightning Mage circled rapidly, firing electricity. Oliver countered instantly with a Hate Bullet, neutralizing it.
But it was a feint.
As the lightning burst and flashed, blinding him, the mage swung around to the side.
Without even turning his head, Oliver thrust out his hand and unleashed a barrage of Hate Bullets to the right.
It happened in near unison. The mage hastily deployed a shield, blocking every Hate Bullet.
Papapang—!!
He'd blocked successfully, but the impact sent the Lightning Mage staggering back.
After several exchanges, the mage stared at Oliver in silence.
Oliver stared back—or pretended to, while observing closely.
"…"
"…"
The mage's roiling hatred and rage settled into calm. Bad news.
Agitated emotions were easier to read. If he attacked coolly now, it could get dangerous.
As Oliver pondered his next move, the mage spoke.
"So you're the real deal?"
"Pardon?"
"You're the main force? Not that guy."
The Lightning Mage nodded toward the nearly dead Andrew.
"No... he's the main force. I'm just a Low-grade Disciple."
Oliver dragged it out, buying time.
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Mind if I ask something too?"
"…?"
"I'm no expert, but word is mages don't come to places like this often. What brings you here?"
Half stalling, half genuine curiosity—Oliver couldn't hold it back.
The Lightning Mage twitched at the sensitive spot, glancing at his fallen comrade pierced by a Hate Bullet.
His emotions churned again.
"Ah... you came with your buddy, huh? Someone important?"
The mage turned slowly, eyes locking on Oliver. Rage blazed, but iron reason kept it in check.
Like cold fire.
Oliver was impressed—no one had reined in emotions like that before. Then he saw why.
Blue current raced from the mage's feet along the ground, striking Oliver in a flash.
Zzztzzzzz—!
Oliver fired a quick Hate Bullet to halt the current inches from his face, then slapped Targeting on the mage.
His hatred-based auxiliary black magic marked the target with a dartboard overlay, skyrocketing accuracy.
A dartboard appeared on the mage's torso. Oliver conjured a dozen small blades of hateful emotion and scattered them into the air.
A knockoff of Andrew's Black Javelin he'd seen earlier—weaker, but he could spam them.
With Targeting, the dozen Black Darts flew at the mage like iron filings to a magnet.
It would've been one-sided if he'd been caught flat-footed, but the mage wasn't pushover. He cloaked in lightning and fled in a blink.
Didn't matter. Black Dart had obsession baked in—it pursued the target relentlessly... Ah!
Oliver spotted his mistake.
Black Dart chased the Targeting mark. But it was slower than the Lightning Mage.
Realizing this, the mage bolted away—then abruptly wheeled back at Oliver.
Oliver tried to attack and force a course change, but the Lightning Mage unleashed a barrage.
[Lightning] [Lightning Bolt] [Magic Missile]
Oliver did his usual: Hate Bullets to nullify. But the clashes exploded, blinding him instantly.
He snapped up Black Shield.
The mage burst through the smoke, black blades slamming into the dark veil as he passed.
Pak! Pak—! Papapak—!
Modeled after Black Javelin that pierced Black Shield, it didn't fully penetrate but gouged deep. In that split-second distraction, agony exploded in Oliver's skull from behind.
The Lightning Mage had flanked him perfectly.
Electricity numbed him; he crumpled forward, defenseless.
No flight or burns, but total vulnerability.
Footsteps approached: step, step.
"Setting personal grudges aside, I respect your skill. Self-proclaimed Low-grade Disciple. Not bad for a fake mage."
He flipped Oliver over with his boot and loomed.
Still seething over his comrade.
"...C-Could you... spare me?"
"If you hadn't killed my friend, I might've looked the other way."
"Ah... so he was precious."
"Yeah. Enough to come out of the Mage Tower with me."
"Why'd you leave the Mage Tower?"
"…"
No answer. Instead, mana gathered in his hand, forming blue lightning.
"No need to tell trash like you."
"Aw, that's a shame. But I bought time, so I'm good."
"?... What do you—"
A tiny Hate Bullet from nowhere punched a hole in the mage's throat.
Low power, but perfect spot. He reeled, foaming blood—Oliver's crisis averted.
"Guhk...! M-Master...!"
Garbled by blood flooding his throat and mouth, but Oliver got the gist and explained.
"Oh, this? Thanks to him."
He pointed to a floating orb smaller than a fist. Meatball-shaped, grotesquely sporting only lips.
"It's a minion. Modeled after Master's 'Eater.' Lets me preload black magic. Weak and slow, but pretty handy, right?"
Genuine curiosity—no mockery. Wondering what a real mage would think.
The mage didn't critique. Clutching his gushing throat, he staggered away in flight.
For the first time, bewilderment and fear cracked his confidence.
Oliver hunted for a test tube. The one he'd dropped when falling was shattered. Pity.
"Sorry, hold on a sec. Be quick."
He told the fleeing mage, then rifled the dead High- and Mid-grade Disciples.
Jackpot: three intact tubes. The mage, hearing him, collapsed soon after.
Sensing approach, the mage gathered mana weakly. Blood fountained from his throat again.
"Kkh... Kk... guh... with you... I'll... guh... you... guh... ah..."
Oliver extracted emotions into a tube, aiming at the mage.
Life Force faded; emotions muddied with deathly terror.
End of the line? Then—unforeseen shift.
In the instant before Life Force snuffed out, the terror-clouded emotions shone more beautifully than any Oliver had seen!
Stunned worse than any attack, Oliver lunged instinctively to extract it—but too late. The mage died.
"Ah... Aaaah..."
Oliver lamented in shock and sorrow.
That gorgeous light, gone... unknown...
Regretfully, he searched the corpse. Something in his vest pocket: a leather-bound notebook.
Flipping it open—diary entries, the mage's own.
Like treasure, Oliver pocketed it.
Might explain that beautiful emotion.
Click—click—
Mechanical noise from somewhere. He followed it.
From the first mage he'd killed. Inside: small metal device inscribed "Hermes."
Oliver snapped alert. Still in the fight.
Sad about the lost light, but mission ongoing.
He stood and entered the factory.
Focusing his eyes, no emotions inside.
Fight spilled outside. Like the mages, he climbed stairs, overlooking the main gate battle from above.
Destroyed materials, scorch marks, ally corpses aplenty.
Losing, but survivors hunkered behind cover, holding out.
One gangster spotted Oliver, waving cheerfully—mistaking him.
"Mage! Over here! Support...!"
Oliver "supported." Emptied tubes, extracted emotions, Tagged nearby gangsters.
"Huh? Mage?"
Before reactions, Oliver spawned dozens of mini Wrath Booms, coated them in Black Darts, and scattered into air.
Heavy emotion cost, but stock plentiful.
Spinning blades homed like magnets to tagged spots. Mini-bombardment erupted on the gangsters.
Panic and terror gripped them. Amidst, one calm observer: last mage.
Oliver leaped from window, fired plain Spider Web (no bind) below landing zone.
Webs on objects and walls caught him like a net. He rose, unleashing seven preloaded Hate Bullets at once.
The mage panicked but raised a shield. Too weak.
Seven Hate Bullets resonated on impact, power multiplying. Shield shattered like a plate.
"W-Wai...!"
The mage cried in fear.
For a heartbeat, Oliver wondered if he'd shine beautifully like the Lightning Mage. Nah. Hate Bullet.
It pierced, dropping him. He twitched like a bug, blood spraying.
Smoke cleared; silence fell.
Pharmacist's men and other black mages emerged, who'd barely held against mages and gangsters.
They stared wordlessly at Oliver, solo exterminator.
Oliver spoke.
"Everyone okay?"