Chapter 202
Chapter 202
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: Clash (1)
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Lush brown hair, a rough but neatly trimmed beard, an angular jaw, and a prominent nose.
The Fighter Crew's leader—the Chef—had quite the striking face.
Beyond mere handsomeness, he exuded a solid, masculine charm that made anyone who saw him want to rely on him.
But as soon as combat began, that handsome face started to subtly transform.
His mouth stretched long, his teeth sharpened like a beast's fangs, and his tongue turned blood-red and elongated like a serpent's. No matter how you looked at it, it didn't seem human.
It felt like he'd cast off the mask of the Fighter Crew's leader and reverted to being a subordinate cannibal chef.
Perhaps because of that, the Chef's aura changed dramatically from before. His power did the same.
"What's wrong? Didn't you come here to kill me—!! Huh?!"
The Chef swung his cleaver wildly like a typhoon, pressing Oliver relentlessly.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who'd been holding a rational conversation just moments ago. He was that excited, and the overflow of emotions began affecting both his mind and body.
Oliver blocked the blade storm with his quarterstaff, shadow tentacles, and Black Suit while sorting out his thoughts.
'Could it be that once the emotions consumed through cannibalism exceed a certain amount, they're hard to control? Maybe... Even with forbidden knowledge and cannibalism, it doesn't make sense to accumulate power infinitely without a cost.'
As Oliver parried the Chef's attacks, he methodically analyzed the traits of cannibal chefs.
"Daydreaming right in front of me?!!"
The Chef sheathed one of the cleavers he'd been dual-wielding and drew a small steak knife, slashing over a dozen times before even taking a breath.
Slashslashslash—!!!
The small but sturdy steak knife traced sharp sword arcs through the air, slicing through Oliver's shadow tentacles and tearing the Black Suit beyond them.
"Hoo..."
Fortunately, he hadn't taken direct damage, but the power was astonishing.
This level without any special black magic enhancement.
Oliver swung his Black Suit-clad quarterstaff wide to create distance and catch his breath, then summoned shadow spikes for a wide-area attack around him.
Shadow Spike
Wide-area shadow stakes erupt from the ground.
"Hmph!"
A half-beat faster than Oliver, the Chef effortlessly dodged the quarterstaff and the densely packed shadow spikes rising like a porcupine's quills, retreating backward.
Thud.
With just two leaps, the Chef had pulled back a good distance.
His movements were incredibly light, but Oliver wasn't surprised.
He'd already shown exceptional physical prowess and threatening swordsmanship—there was more than enough to marvel at.
Of course, black magic body enhancement had to be factored in, but separately from that, the Chef's physical abilities and combat proficiency were impressively high.
Especially his combat proficiency.
Wielding dual blades freely, switching them in the blink of an eye based on distance to adapt perfectly...
For Oliver, who relied on Black Suit for physical boosts but lagged in close-quarters combat, it was particularly tricky to handle.
As proof, even with shadow tentacles in play, he kept ceding the initiative.
Oliver might have the edge in black magic manipulation, but in close combat, the Chef was several levels ahead.
It was truly fortunate.
Because Oliver could learn to shore up his weaknesses right now.
He always thought it, but damn, he was lucky.
Clang!! Clang!!!
The Chef, having retreated, didn't charge right back in. Instead, he clashed blades to buy time.
His emotions flickered with wariness, suspicion, puzzlement. Something felt off to him.
"This is weird... Really weird. Shouldn't you have used it by now?"
"Used what, exactly?"
Clack.
The Chef pointed his cleaver at Oliver.
Beyond being laced with emotion, the black blade brimmed with clear killing intent.
"That corpse puppet from Y District. Where'd you hide it?"
"Ah... You mean the Corpse Cannon?"
Corpse Cannon. A new type of corpse puppet made by fusing pure mana scholar Aidri and two mana user corpses.
With Aidri's main components too damaged to use normally, Oliver had stripped away all other functions and focused solely on artillery magic, birthing this creation.
Thanks to that, its firepower was unmatched among corpse puppets.
"Corpse Cannon?"
"Yes, that's what I named it for now. Made from corpses, acts like a cannon."
"Sounds half-assed. Not my problem, though... So, where'd you stash it? I've been waiting, but it hasn't shown up."
The Chef glanced around, chattering idly.
"?? Sorry, but I didn't hide it."
"Oh... Psychological warfare? Or do you think you can beat me without some corpse puppet? ...Getting more ridiculous by the minute."
The Chef's emotions soured into displeasure again. With that, he began yielding more to them.
The initially composed, disciplined demeanor faded, replaced by impulsive beast-like urges.
The auction house raiders, the manipulation black mage from Y District... Cannibal chefs all seemed easily swayed by impulses and moods.
The raiders had prolonged their swift operation to revel in slaughter and victory; the manipulation mage had overconfident stepped forward unnecessarily and died.
'They all share that common flaw... What's the reason? Side effect of cannibalism? Or from excessively accumulated life force and emotions?'
Oliver naturally hypothesized—and reached a tentative conclusion.
He'd need more investigation, but his instincts said it was right.
'Still, the Chef hides it well normally. Proficiency difference? Even so, in heated combat, the side effects stand out more... Maybe some aren't affected?'
Once he started speculating, new hypotheses chained endlessly.
It was a shame. He wanted to jot this down and research it properly.
"Ignoring my question to study me, huh."
Oliver had been observing the Chef; now the Chef observed him back as he spoke.
He was smiling, but his displeasure was even more pronounced. He felt ignored.
"Ah, sorry."
"Sorry my ass. You're dead soon anyway... More importantly, tell me. Why no Corpse Cannon? The more I think, the more curious. After fighting us a couple times, you should know regular methods won't cut it."
He was right. The auction raiders, Y District's manipulation black mage—they were unique foes, but shared one trait: multiple lives.
Thanks to forbidden knowledge granting others' life force, they didn't just recover well; they had extra lives.
Even headless or decapitated, they survived.
It was an overwhelming advantage that needed no explanation.
In life-or-death combat, what could be better than extra lives?
Especially with their skill. Depending on resolve, they could sacrifice a few to take down far superior foes.
To beat them, you either killed them until they stayed dead or blasted them with massive firepower to drain their life force in one go.
From that angle, the Chef was spot-on: the Corpse Cannon was perfect.
Oliver organized his thoughts and replied.
"Well... Honestly, it didn't cross my mind. Like I said, I rushed here without time to think. It's tricky to use too."
"Tricky?"
"Yes, the Corpse Cannon. After a big shot, mana depletes, so it needs swapping. Durability wears fast, limiting rapid fire. Low mobility means pre-positioning. And..."
"And?"
"Poor auto-aiming requires an assistant. Each shot costs materials, so not for quick use. It's successful but needs improvements. Above all..."
"Above all?"
"I didn't come to fight—I came to stop the fight. Setting up a Corpse Cannon would've been weird, right?"
Boom—!!
The more they talked, the more irritated the Chef grew until he exploded in rage, stomping the ground.
The earth burst like an explosion, kicking up dust and debris—and the Chef vanished.
Or seemed to.
He charged at Oliver with tremendous speed.
Oliver barely reacted, erecting shadow spikes ahead as a defensive wall.
"Hmph!!"
The Chef didn't veer; he barreled straight through, cleaving the shadows with killing-intent cleavers and charging on.
Kagang—!!
The blade aimed at Oliver's neck.
Perfectly predicting the trajectory, Oliver blocked with his quarterstaff.
His overabundant emotions made his intent obvious, allowing the successful parry.
But the Chef ignored it, infusing his body with rage to boost strength and crush Oliver down.
Kreeeak...!
'I've rarely lost a strength contest in Black Suit... Ah, I see. Maybe this guy's fighting most efficiently. Cannibal chefs enhance not just life force but body via cannibalism. So disease-based strengthening would be most effective.'
Oliver thought, recalling cannibal chef intel.
"You're really pissing me off. Keeping a poker face even now? Haven't met someone this annoying in years. Not content with stealing my stuff and telling me to scram, you ruin my plans and act all smug against me!!"
"Ah..."
Oliver unwittingly sighed.
He finally got why the Chef had been displeased with him.
It was a communication issue.
"I'm truly sorry. I never meant to disrespect you—"
"—Oh yeah? Let's see how long that lame attitude lasts."
The Chef spat, brimming with irritation.
No bluff.
He gathered emotions from within, processed them via black magic, and injected into his body, skyrocketing his physical abilities.
The already tough opponent got stronger.
Oliver sensed danger if he stayed grappled and manipulated shadows to snag the Chef's ankle.
Bang—!!!
A deafening roar shattered the ground, hurling dust and shards.
Matching the shadow tentacles' movement, the Chef stomped, physically destroying them.
Oliver had seen light or magic stops, but this was new. Impressive.
"Where'd you pull that lame trick...!"
Using legs morphed between man and beast, the Chef spun and thrust a kick at Oliver.
The Black Suit blocked bullets, but Oliver instinctively knew not to tank it, weaving dozens of thin shadow tentacles into a shield.
His close combat sucked, but black magic control was solid—he formed it before contact.
Thud—!
The kick hit the layered tentacles first, not Oliver.
Like slamming a cushion, power dissipated.
Still, the shock hurled Oliver back and floored him.
"That hurts."
As he fell, Oliver controlled shadow tentacles to grab the Chef in that state.
With legs entangled, capture was easy—but he'd overlooked something.
He'd depleted much emotion imbued in shadows, unable to hold the Chef's superhuman strength.
The Chef used his black magic-enhanced legs and short butchering knife to rip and slice the tentacles free, then leaped to stomp Oliver.
Concentrating black magic in his legs.
Oliver's mind flashed a vision of his head bursting like a tomato.
"Whoa."
Instead of moving his body, Oliver used Black Suit to evade.
Strained joints and muscles, but faster.
As leg met ground, a massive shockwave cratered the earth.
Kwoom—!!
Securing distance, Oliver prepared fire-based counterattack. Then his Black Suit tore diagonally.
Barely missed skin, but the tear mattered.
How? It wasn't in range.
Looking ahead, Oliver understood.
Killing intent from the blade extended beyond the cleaver per the user's will, forming a black light sword edge.
"Right-handed? Left-handed?"
To the Chef's question, Oliver glanced at both hands.
"Not sure. Why?"
"Deciding which to cut first. No biggie—I'll take both."
The Chef charged at Oliver again.