Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Chosen Child (3)
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A few hours earlier.
Oliver and Joseph locked eyes across a lavish table spread.
"Do you think it's a good idea to eat this food?"
Oliver thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Well... it's kind of hard to explain."
"Then explain it as best you can."
"Uh... um... the light was weird."
"The light?"
"Yeah. I mean, emotions. It flickers and flashes when someone's angry, fades and ripples when they're sad. It trembles when they're scared."
"And?"
"That uncle—"
"—the innkeeper?"
"Yeah, the innkeeper's light. It was faintly twisted."
"Twisted how?"
"I don't know exactly. I've just seen it a few times before. Like when the director took me to the mines, or when the supervisor was about to throw me into dangerous work."
"So it glows like that when someone's lying?"
"Uh... yeah, something like that."
Joseph nodded in satisfaction at Oliver's answer.
"Why would a kind innkeeper lie to us?"
"I don't know."
"The reason's obvious. He has ulterior motives. Say, this delicious food is laced with sleeping pills. Then, once we've eaten and dozed off, he kills us and robs our stuff."
It wasn't a pleasant story by any means, but Joseph seemed a bit excited, like he was reminiscing about childhood memories.
"So, what should we do?"
"Uh... not eat the food?"
"No, that won't do. He'd realize we've caught on, and that'd put him on guard. We need to pretend we've fallen for it and let him drop his defenses. Remember this: cunning is just as vital to a black magician as power."
Oliver nodded with his usual doe eyes. It was questionable if he'd fully grasped it, but Joseph didn't press. Instead, he pulled a test tube from his pocket.
Oliver's eyes lit up at the sight.
The tube, sealed with a black stopper, contained a black liquid. Thick and tar-like, it writhed like a living creature.
"That's... Black Light... an emotion, right?"
Oliver asked.
"...Yeah. That's right. It's extracted emotion, condensed."
"How did you do it?"
Oliver's eyes gleamed with greed as he asked. Joseph warned him with a stern look.
"...Don't rush it. You're not ready to learn that yet. But I'll show you something even more fun. Consider yourself lucky."
With that, Joseph uncorked the test tube. The liquid churned wildly at the open air, and he placed his hand over it.
As his hand hovered, the liquid calmed, and a single thread began to spool out. It evoked the image of a spinning wheel. The extracted thread orbited his hand before transforming back into light.
Liquid to thread to light.
Oliver watched the wondrous scene in silent awe. No, it was more than that.
From the moment Joseph uncorked it, everything unfolded in slow motion. Instinctively, he understood it all—the principles, the mechanics, even the tricks.
It was the moment his imagined theories, built on the journey here, were proven true.
Black Light—emotions—could be reshaped for any purpose, processed into something new.
"Come forth. Eater."
Joseph whispered to the Black Light.
It pulsed and coiled, merging into one before swelling outward.
"What is...?"
Oliver stared at the floating orb, the size of a human head. Curiosity overtook him, and he reached out instinctively, like a child touching fire for the first time.
Just before his hand made contact, one side of the orb split wide open. From the gap emerged a massive crimson tongue and gleaming white teeth.
A gigantic maw had appeared in midair.
"Eater. My creation, the cleaner. It wasn't meant for this originally, but it'll do... Devour all the food."
At Joseph's command, Eater greedily consumed the table's contents, licking the plates spotless. Oliver watched in admiration.
Black magic... it was truly fascinating.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
"...Yes."
"Then stay awake all night. You'll probably see something even more fun."
And he was right.
"One."
Joseph said as he stepped outside. The terrified inn servant let out a dazed shriek and bolted from her seat.
"Eeeeek!"
"Two."
Joseph ignored her, extracting another thread from the test tube. It turned to light, condensing into a bullet shape in an instant.
All in one or two seconds. He aimed at the fleeing servant.
"Three. Hate Bullet."
The incantation unleashed the light mass, piercing the servant's back. The force left a hole the size of a marble. She died without even a scream.
Joseph glanced indifferently at the corpse, shrugged like he was on a stroll, and headed downstairs. Oliver followed.
For safety's sake, he should have stayed put, pretending to be dead. But curiosity and thirst for knowledge wouldn't allow it.
He had to see it through. It felt like a mission.
"Tch, just as I expected. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Joseph muttered upon seeing something.
Oliver peered over his shoulder into the inn's first floor. He saw naked guests... no, guest corpses, and a middle-aged woman moving them.
The plump innkeeper's wife froze in shock at the sight of Joseph and Oliver.
"Wha? Wha? But you were eating...?"
"I'm a bit cautious. I don't eat just anything."
Joseph replied gentlemanly, then extended his hand.
"Hate Bullet."
The bullet of hatred flew with the incantation, punching through the woman's head and chest in one shot.
"Eeeeek—!"
A servant mopping bloodstains nearby shrieked and fled to the kitchen. Joseph pursued leisurely, Oliver keeping a safe distance behind.
This was exhilarating. Turning emotions into bullets with black magic... It felt like his dreams were coming true. Utterly captivating.
As Joseph headed to the kitchen, the earlier servant emerged, shotgun in hand, aiming at him.
Oliver thought in that instant: spread emotions wide like a shield. An image formed in his mind as if he'd always known. Remarkably, Joseph wrapped his hand in Black Light, unfurling a barrier larger than a man.
"Arrrgh! Die!"
"Black Shield."
Bang—! The shotgun roared. But all shots were futile against the vast black curtain.
For a close-range blast to be blocked so effortlessly, the servant looked possessed. A fatal mistake.
"Hate Bullet."
Joseph fired without mercy. Thud-thud! Holes bloomed in the servant's chest and gut; he collapsed.
Beautiful! From bizarre creature to bullets and shields... Everything Oliver had imagined—and more—was real.
How to describe it? Like clay dolls crafted for fun suddenly coming alive in creative wonder.
"Tsk tsk tsk. The first rule of this business is knowing your guests... How foolish."
Joseph muttered, approaching the fallen body. Then, as if recalling something late, he added:
"But didn't they say there were five in total...?"
At that, Oliver instinctively turned toward the basement. Their eyes met—the last servant emerging, drenched in sweat from hauling heavy loads.
Spotting the wife's corpse, he went blank, then charged with veins bulging.
"You son of a bitch!"
He was scarier than the mine supervisors. The butcher knife in his grip looked razor-sharp, ready to cleave anyone. Above all, the light pouring from him churned more fiercely than any Oliver had seen. Capture meant death.
Was Oliver afraid? No, the opposite.
He extended his hand. No one taught him; it was pure instinct. He extracted the enraged servant's emotion.
The Black Light danced at his command—an awe-inspiring sight. He couldn't explain how.
If anything, it was like walking. Something you suddenly just could. The realm of talent Joseph mentioned.
Thump... thump... thump...
His cold heart stirred quietly, all nerves focused on his hand. The servant rushed mere steps away, but no anxiety, no fear.
Oliver's focus was solely the emotion in his grasp. In his mind, he shaped it.
Like Joseph, he condensed the pulsing emotion. Faster, more precisely.
Time slowed; he saw every change in his vision.
The fiery passion calmed in his palm, morphing as imagined.
Oliver formed his hand like a gun. The hatred bullet gathered at his fingertip. Then, instinct took over.
Aim. Ready. Fire.
"Hate Bullet."
The incantation sent the bullet from his fingertip, piercing the servant's chest. Thunk! A fist-sized hole appeared; his eyes widened in shock as he died. Heavy, leaden silence filled the inn.
"......"
Oliver stared at his hand, reliving the sensation of his first black magic, savoring the afterglow...
Someone gently placed a hand on his head. Joseph, beaming with admiration, stroked his hair softly.
"That's it exactly."
Oliver followed Joseph to the basement. It was piled with stolen goods from murdered guests.
Expensive coats, pants, shoes. Boxes overflowed with watches, wallets, belts, wedding rings, and more.
"Heh heh... They really worked hard at this."
Joseph pulled a pouch from his pocket. Made of dull leather with a zipper like teeth, it felt eerily alive.
"Take it all."
At his words, clumsy hands and feet sprouted from the pouch, devouring the loot greedily.
Once confirmed, Joseph approached Oliver.
"What are you looking at?"
"Oh, just... wondering why they collected this stuff."
Oliver eyed the wrapped corpses and blood packs. Pure curiosity, no fear.
"To sell on the Black Market. They buy and sell anything there. You might use it someday too."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Black magicians inevitably deal with the Black Market. Don't want to become one?"
Oliver shook his head. He wanted to. It was fun and fascinating.
Joseph placed his hand on Oliver's head again. A warmly affectionate gesture.
"Why do you think I bought you?"
Oliver had no answer. He'd heard plenty about using emotions and black magic, but not why Joseph chose him. Not that he'd cared.
"My goal is to raise exceptional black magicians. That's why I gather talented kids."
"Huh?"
"You heard right. Now, why raise exceptional ones?"
Oliver shook his head.
"To survive. Living as a black magician draws the world's persecution and threats. The only way to endure is to grow stronger. And I cultivate talent to do that."
Oliver didn't fully get it but nodded anyway.
"But raising talent isn't easy. Finding them is hard enough, and there's no clergy, knights, or mage academies for us. All the effort and cost falls on me... Do you grasp how tough that is?"
Oliver nodded mechanically.
"Catching my eye is tremendous luck. But I don't raise talent for free. It demands a price worthy of that fortune."
"...I don't have money."
"I don't need money. Something higher. Serve me as your master and teacher. Obey and pledge loyalty."
Oliver saw the light. The desire pulsing from Joseph's body. Understanding it, he bowed his head at once.
"I submit... Master."