Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Return from Vacation (1)
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Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt-click.
Oliver turned off the alarm clock just like always.
Five in the morning.
It was still time to be lying in bed, but Oliver rose without a second's hesitation.
He got out of bed, stretched his arms wide, and did some light stretching.
Crack. Crack. Pop. Pop.
His stiff joints and muscles loosened up smoothly, sharpening his mind even further.
Click! Beep—
Oliver reflexively switched on the radio by his bedside, gathered the mana stored in his body to his fingertips, and snapped his fingers.
Mana sparked like electricity, activating the pre-installed communication spell 'Speaker.'
The radio began broadcasting the regular news, and through the 'Speaker,' its sound filled the entire house at an appropriate volume.
[Good morning, listeners. This is Today's News. We offer our respects to Randa's diligent citizens heading to work at this early hour, and we'll now bring you today's headlines.]
The same opening line as always.
Oliver listened to the radio while doing light exercises, then headed to the bathroom for a shower before going down to the first-floor kitchen to prepare his meal.
The menu consisted of a butter-grilled steak, thick sausages, black pudding, three eggs, three slices of toast, baked beans, fresh salad, an apple, fresh orange juice, and coffee.
It was quite a hefty portion, but it was the result of following Jo and Dinklage's advice: eat well if you want to build up your stamina.
Well, the well-equipped kitchen made preparation a lot easier, too.
He'd originally thought the kitchen was the most unnecessary space in the house, but he was using it more than expected.
Oliver removed his apron and began eating at the dining table.
It was delicious.
Thanks to strictly following the cookbook, it was on par with what you'd get at a restaurant.
A truly enjoyable and leisurely time. It felt just like heaven.
Especially when compared to his mining days.
That's why Oliver usually savored these moments, but not today.
The reason was none other than the story he'd heard from Ewan Bremner two days ago—Smith's master.
Without realizing it, Oliver recalled that conversation.
"Oh... Where did you hear that story?"
Oliver had brought him up, and Ewan showed immediate interest.
"I heard it by chance."
"By chance, huh? Really by chance!"
A pointed remark. But he didn't pry further. Instead, he answered kindly.
"The clock is moving... An old doomsday prophecy. Or maybe not a prophecy—more like an old tale? Like a fairy story?"
Though vague, it piqued Oliver's curiosity. When he asked Forest if he knew anything about it, Forest said there were more such stories than one might think. Like urban legends, he'd explained.
Ewan continued.
"Hmm, where to even start? Let me ask you something first to help you understand. Have you heard tales like 'bad people go to hell' or 'they receive divine punishment'?"
Oliver nodded. He'd heard plenty of those back at the orphanage.
"Now, a question: What if every human on earth were a sinner? From newborn babies to the elderly on their deathbeds, men and women alike."
Quite an intriguing question. Everyone on earth a sinner?
"In that case, would they punish each one individually? Inefficient, right? So, what would be the best way?"
Ewan had forgotten the woman sitting beside him, fully immersed in the story. Oliver was the same.
"Hmm... Rain down fire and brimstone like Sodom?"
"Exactly. Or send another great flood. Anyway, the 'clock moving' means the world is so full of evil that God's patience has reached its limit. It's the countdown to the apocalypse."
"Why not just end it all right away?"
"Who knows? It's such an ancient tale, I don't know the details. Maybe it's a grace period for repentance? A chance to turn back now?"
He genuinely seemed clueless.
"There were other stories too, but I can't remember them well. Something about a savior, the son of an angel, son of a demon, a prince—stuff like that."
Each casual remark felt like an important puzzle piece to Oliver, sparking his curiosity.
It also raised questions like whether angels really existed or if demons had children.
He asked for more details, but Ewan cut it short. Too old a story; his memory was fuzzy.
"Besides, like most tales, it's passed down orally, so I don't know the perfect version. What I heard might be distorted. No one knows the original."
Oliver asked if anyone knew the original.
"Hmm... The one who prophesied the doomsday would know it. Some princess, or black magician, I think. Or both?"
A princess black magician—a combination Oliver had never heard before.
"Or maybe those who heard the prophecy firsthand would remember. Though it's from hundreds of years ago."
No one from centuries ago would still be alive, making it pointless, but Oliver quickly realized that was foolish thinking.
After all, hadn't Puppet told him the story? Puppet might know the original. Or the cannibal chef—he'd lived for centuries too.
Then, as if it had just occurred to him, Ewan added:
"Oh, the Archives might know, too."
"The Archives?"
"You don't know? It's the term for great wizards who inherit knowledge and power spanning over a thousand years. With all that accumulated wisdom over ages, they might even know cheap doomsday tales... Of course, they're beings who don't mingle with the likes of us humans. Even kings of nations show them respect."
Ewan chuckled at his own words, then suddenly asked Oliver why he was so curious about it.
Oliver, faced with the question—
-Beep -Beep -Beep
The Forest-exclusive communicator on the table rang, pulling Oliver from his sea of memories and snapping him back to reality.
He'd already cleared his plate clean. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and picked up the device.
-Click
"Yes, Mr. Forest."
[It's me. Hope I'm not bothering you too early.]
"Not at all. Didn't I ask you to call at this hour?"
It was true. Because he worked at the Magic Tower, Oliver had made an excuse that during his break, he could only talk early mornings, evenings, or nights.
Forest was the one accommodating him.
[I'm calling about the attack incident.]
The attack—the Development Opposition Committee's assault two days prior.
There'd been a disturbance in Y District, but Forest grew suspicious of them venturing out for revenge. He'd informed the Broker Guild and Crime Firm, launching their own investigation.
"Did you find anything out?"
[Sorry to disappoint, but nothing yet.]
"No disappointment here. No need to apologize."
Oliver replied immediately to Forest's words. It wasn't empty comfort; it was sincere.
Even Oliver, who'd only heard snippets, knew how tricky it was to investigate the abandoned Y and Z Districts in Randa and the mysterious organization, the Development Opposition Committee, residing there.
The city itself had given up and isolated it. Finding something right after an attack was unrealistic.
[Thanks for understanding. Since something happened, we'll keep investigating. The Broker Guild and Crime Firm are cooperating, so we'll dig up something.]
"Hmm... Planning to use Heimdall?"
Heimdall, the magic hacker group that frequently popped up in Randa's underworld.
Expensive, but they spied on all of Randa via the World Tree and delivered the info clients wanted.
[Unfortunately, we can't borrow their power. The World Tree's reach is weak in Y and Z Districts. Y shows up occasionally, but Z is pitch black.]
"Then?"
[Thinking of a more classic approach. Surprisingly, even Y and Z Districts with all their weird rumors need money. We'll bribe folks there to track who contacted the Development Opposition Committee. Cross-reference with the attack time to narrow it down.]
"Oh, I see... Why not do that from the start?"
[The amount is always the issue.]
"Ah."
[Anyway, that's what I called about. I'll let you know if we learn more.]
"Thank you for the consideration... Could I ask how Mr. Ewan is doing?"
After parting with Ewan, Forest had volunteered to watch over him and even host him, handling things in Oliver's stead.
Oliver, who still had questions for Ewan, hadn't refused.
[Still staying at Angel's House. Elizabeth said she'll let us know if he tries to leave, so no worries.]
"Thank you."
[No need. I'm personally interested in him too. Context suggests he's no ordinary man. I'm doing this for myself, so don't feel obligated.]
"Still thankful, though."
Oliver said as he sipped his cooled coffee.
[If you say so, thanks... I'll let you go now.]
"Yes, sir. Take care, Mr. Forest."
As Oliver politely bowed and went to end the call, Forest suddenly spoke up through the device.
[Dave?]
"Yes? Mr. Forest."
[That... thank you.]
"For what?"
[When you talked with Ewan... for helping me out. Thank you.]
His hesitant, uncharacteristic expression of emotion prompted Oliver to dig through his memories until it clicked.
It seemed related to when Ewan had bluntly asked how he and Kant parted ways.
Ewan pried openly, but instead of helping, Oliver had sided with Forest.
"No... It was personal, and you didn't seem to want to talk about it. No need to thank me."
[Still thankful.]
Forest mimicked Oliver's earlier words exactly. In that moment, Oliver felt a small, indescribable joy.
[...Weren't you curious?]
"I am curious, sure. But like I said before, those kinds of stories are best shared when you're ready."
Forest fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
[...Thank you again for your consideration. Must've been hard to hold back. Especially for you. ...I promise you one thing.]
"A promise?"
[Yes. When I'm ready to talk, you'll be the first to hear it. About me and Kant, and why we parted.]
A solemn voice. Satisfied, Oliver agreed, and they finally ended the call.
It was still morning, but the day already felt fulfilling.
After finishing his coffee, Oliver cleared the table, did the dishes, and immediately began preparing for work.
He donned the leather mask of Xenon Bright, changed clothes, and spritzed on some perfume.
The girls at Angel's House had said a good perfume could change a person's aura.
Then, Oliver packed simple snacks and essentials into the magic bag he'd acquired long ago.
Tools for class prep, memo pads, notebooks, and such.
"Oh, right. This too."
Oliver grabbed two items humming with unusual mana.
One was a small mechanical device shaped like a pocket watch, the other a tiny pillbox like a ring case.
The device had complex runes making mana flow delicately and rhythmically, while the pillbox contained a single pill brimming with concentrated mana, as if hundreds of potions compressed into one.
After successfully retrieving items from the Crime Firm's auction house—along with the demon's book—these were his rewards.
The device could record audio and video within several to dozens of meters, depending on the sorcerer's will and skill.
The pill was a high-performance potion; one dose would instantly replenish the vast mana within.
Not mass-produced goods, but custom-made by renowned workshops or artisans for select clients.
The auction house really did handle all sorts of items, it seemed.
Oliver pocketed them separately from the magic bag and stepped outside.
To head to the Magic Tower—and to ask Kevin how to contact his temporary master, Merlin.