Chapter 332
Chapter 332
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 332
Chapter Title: Cal (2)
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"But aren't you actually a black magician? Dave, the fixer of T District."
Without any warning whatsoever, Cal suddenly posed the question.
Everyone around froze in shock, falling silent, and just as that silence was about to reach its peak—
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
Oliver lied with brazen shamelessness. The kind without a shred of conscience.
Yet Oliver meant it sincerely.
He was currently Xenon, personal aide to a Magic Tower professor.
And his real name was Oliver, too.
Right now, he had zero connection to Dave, T District's fixer.
At least, that's what he resolved to believe.
But Cal offered no such courtesy to Oliver's inner thoughts, radiating nothing but displeasure and rage.
"You calling me an idiot right now?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't treat anyone like an idiot. Least of all a spatial magic user... Let me turn the question around. Why would you even say that?"
Oliver asked calmly, the picture of wronged innocence.
It was a shameless lie, but sincere in its own way.
He was truly baffled at the suspicion.
Sure, he'd slipped up suspiciously a few times unintentionally, but overall, he'd handled it well.
Cal stared at Oliver wordlessly before finally speaking.
"Handwriting..."
"Pardon?"
"Handwriting. Yours matches Dave's exactly."
Oliver blinked in confusion at first, then caught on.
As Magic Tower staffer Xenon, he'd submitted a report on Mountain Face to the Life School.
As Dave, he'd sent one on the World Tree to the Moirae School.
Life School and Moirae School—different factions, but both under the Magic Tower's vast umbrella.
He couldn't trace the exact route, but somehow, that report had reached Life School. Rare, but not impossible.
'Handwriting, of all things...'
Convincing. Trivial, yet damning evidence.
Pity to be exposed, but Oliver felt a spark of relief too. He'd learned his mistake.
Now he could avoid it next time.
"...And that damn gaze and attitude count as evidence too."
Cal added, eyeing Oliver deep in thought.
His fury and disgust toward Oliver burned fierce. What set it apart was how it differed from simple anger at arrogance.
The source was raw absurdity.
Overwhelming, preposterous absurdity—fueling rage, revulsion, even jealousy.
Oliver couldn't fathom it.
Why feel such absurdity and envy toward him, when Cal had Life School's Grand Master as grandfather?
"Gaze and attitude?"
"The instant I met your eyes, I knew it was you... That look, like I'm some insignificant speck. You had it back at Matel too."
Matel. A word ancient yet fresh.
Oliver reacted on reflex.
A boy's face flashed in his mind.
The boy clutching his useless hand, sobbing out a confession of sins...
"Ah, got a reaction."
Cal noted. And he was right.
Shrouded in fog, ambushed, entangled in Life School schemes, sneaking into basements, drenched in blood, locked in desperate fights with blood mages—through it all, Oliver stayed cool. Yet one word—"Matel"—jolted him.
Trouble was, Oliver had no clue why.
What was it... Just, what...
"...What reaction am I even showing?"
Stumped, Oliver turned to Cal, Yareli, and the others nearby.
The sight felt alien, unnatural.
Like something inhuman mimicking a person.
Eerie. Unsettling. Pitiful.
No one offered a solid answer, so Oliver pressed on.
"...What do you mean by attitude, Mr. Cal?"
Another question wildly out of sync with the mood.
But earnest this time. Like a scholar mid-research.
"Exactly this. Dismissing everyone around you as beneath notice, doing whatever the hell you want... Same with that brat back then. Telling an intruder to pipe down."
Cal seethed quietly, humiliation gnawing at him.
Oliver, unfazed, calmly corrected him.
"Colin."
"...What?"
"Colin. The brat you mean, Mr. Cal. His name's Colin."
Oliver set the record straight gently. Names were polite, after all.
"Ah... Yeah. Colin. I remember. One of those inferior breeds, bought dirt cheap from trash laborer scum. Decent trash after the experiment worked—for a bit. Then failed midway. Ultimate trash."
Cal prodded deliberately, and Oliver dredged up the memory, fishing in his pocket.
Moments later, he produced a small pillbox, ring-case sized.
Reward for aiding Pinkman Jonathan in reclaiming Crime Firm auction goods.
Ultra-potent potion rivaling hundreds.
Top-shelf: ingest for massive mana influx. Unworthy user? Overflow turns lethal, worse than poison. Potent and perilous.
"...What's that pill?"
Cal halted his taunt, sensing the shift in Oliver's demeanor and the pill's menace.
"A pill."
Oliver replied casually, popping it in. No time for intervention.
Gulp.
Down in one swallow.
His body flooded with pristine mana worth hundreds of potions.
True to its craft for elite mages, flawless yield.
Any average caster? Mana tank rupture, messy death. Oliver stabilized it effortlessly.
More than that, even.
He integrated it so flawlessly, Yareli and Cal—top-tier mages—couldn't detect a thing.
"Feel free to keep going."
Business done, Oliver invited Cal to proceed.
Cal had planned to rattle Oliver by dragging in Colin and the other kids. But this unnerving calm sparked vague dread, silencing him.
Mage pride screamed "stand firm." Survival instinct whispered "back off."
They warred for control of his tongue.
"...Here's a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"Yeah. I'll let your rescued folks and the Ice Princess walk free. You come with me. Got something to check on you."
Cal meant it. Hiding bits, sure—but the offer was legit.
Oliver's interest piqued personally.
This Apocalypse Theory raid, Cal's fixation on him.
Unrelated threads tangling.
Distant puzzle bits aligning.
Issue: Oliver wasn't sharp enough to connect them yet.
Tailing Cal might reveal more, but... nah.
"Just curious—if I say no?"
"Deal was their safe exit, so balance it out... Refuse, and I'll bury this basement. Your tomb."
"Hmm... Messy for everyone, no?"
"Couldn't care less. Wasteful, yeah, but they're not the main event."
Cal gestured at Yareli and the freed mages.
Intriguing. Not mains. Meant the real trigger lay elsewhere.
"Hmm... Guess no choice then."
Oliver replied—and unleashed the pill's vast mana hoard, seizing the basement entire.
Cal reeled from the surprise move and sheer volume, blasting mana in reflex counter.
Palpable high-density force. Yareli and rescues buckled under crushing pressure; walls and ceiling spiderwebbed cracks.
Crack... Cracck!!
Control clash beyond norms.
Cal gaped, unprepared for this caliber. Oliver matched his shock.
Grand Master's kin? Expected talent, not this tier.
Mana alone outstripped forest-incinerating Kevin.
'Control's his weak spot, though.'
Oliver judged silently, wresting dominance bit by bit.
Cal clocked the loss, ramped output for brute overwhelm—but too late.
Most of his mana yield? Nabbed. Late bursts? Snatched wholesale.
Stark skill gap.
Absurdity crashed over Cal.
Post-Matel humiliation: procedures galore boosting body, mana pool, control. Pushed back anyway?
Unjust.
"Grraaagh...!! Think wresting control lets you waltz out?!!"
Raging Cal shrieked, detonating mana to vaporize the site.
A chunk of Oliver's corpse would suffice.
Spotting the ploy, Oliver locked seized control tight. Mind-image formed, hands rose.
Quake rocked the basement; ascent gripped them.
Oliver's mana cocoon hauled the whole structure skyward.
Ruuuuumble——!
Ground-piercing roar thrummed through flesh past ears; fog-veiled surface broke into view.
All gawked at mana mastery rivaling Magic Tower elites.
"Thanks for the assist."
Oliver mana-boosted his legs, bridged gap swift, nodded to Cal.
Then hefted tonfa grip axe-like, slashing at Cal's flank.
Hook to snag and trap.
Cal dodged with freak reflexes, leaping back.
Speed Oliver hadn't banked on.
"Those legs... Fascinating."
Oliver eyed Cal's limbs—human fused with predator.
Echoed the Matel mage's mods.
"Not just the legs."
Cal mana-charged one hand, siphoned emotions into the other, clenched to fuse energies.
Cal nailed it. Utterly captivating. Curiosity-inducing.
"How..."
-[Thunderbolt]
Cal answered with rage-laced lightning instead.
The black bolt streaked malice-straight at Oliver.
"Huu... Huu..."
Kevin panted atop what'd been a hill minutes prior.
Opposite stood Theodore, looking even more youthful.
"Truly impressive. Subject 162."