Chapter 349
Chapter 349
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 349
Chapter Title: Truth and Sincerity (2)
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After hearing a rough explanation, Oliver handed the living sword and the dead Theodore over to Merlin, then fed the corpse puppets and fragments of Theodore's body to the Gluttony Pouch.
Merlin opened a portal and transported the sword and Theodore somewhere, then took Oliver to the hotel in Lake Village... or rather, what used to be the hotel.
The historic hotel, built atop a massive hill, had been shattered into pieces by the battle, with not even a trace left behind.
The hill that had supported the hotel had also collapsed under the strain of the mages' clash, reduced to little more than a mound.
Elsewhere, charred black earth and pockmarked craters from explosions dotted the landscape.
But the most striking sight was the mages receiving treatment under a massive tent—and the wooden puppets, or golems, tending to them.
These were the ones that had worked in Merlin's mansion. Covered in intricate runes, they sorted and treated the mages just like living people would.
"Did you... arrange all this, sir?"
Oliver asked, gazing at the large-scale relief effort.
"On the way here, I spotted some mages who'd been ambushed by the Life School and Life Alchemy Department. Couldn't just walk by, so I dropped off some supplies and golems. The older you get, the more you have to give back."
"Ah... Impressive."
"I'm always impressive."
Merlin joked, but Oliver meant it sincerely.
He'd felt it before, but seeing it now reaffirmed just how remarkable the man was.
The wooden puppets—or golems—that Merlin used so casually far surpassed Oliver's own knowledge of golemcraft. The lightning strike he'd unleashed to threaten Gretel was beyond imagination.
And on top of that, his skill in gathering and healing so many mages. There was nothing to say but that he was extraordinary.
"Look over there. It's... the Archivist."
"The Archivist?"
"Merlin... Integrator Merlin..."
"That battle earlier... Was he the one who resolved it...?"
Some of the mages waiting for or receiving treatment whispered as Merlin passed by.
They looked at him with awe, envy, respect, fear, curiosity, and doubt—a mix of emotions.
Mostly positive ones. Clearly, the title of Archivist held special weight among mages.
'Is that why I'm paying attention too?'
Oliver wondered, feeling the mages' gazes on him.
The difference was that while Merlin drew positive feelings, Oliver evoked doubt, confusion, suspicion, and unease—mostly negative.
"You've arrived."
As Oliver walked with Merlin, they ran into Kevin.
Kevin, who had been dragged outside by Finn Russo's blood magic ambush, had turned the tables by knocking Finn out and hauling him back by the collar.
The battle must have been fierce; dangerous wounds marred Kevin's body, and Finn Russo was half-charred with severe injuries.
"Things got complicated, so here I am."
"I see."
Merlin's half-hearted reply was matched by Kevin's equally perfunctory one.
Oliver had once seen them as just a sly master and a prickly disciple, but learning a bit of their history cast them in a new light.
There was clearly a deep web of grudges and emotions between them, yet they maintained their master-disciple bond.
It was a feeling Oliver couldn't quite put into words.
Kevin glanced at Oliver and asked,
"What about Theodore...?"
"I'll explain later. For now, there's something more urgent. Care to join us?"
Merlin pointed to the largest tent.
Kevin nodded, and together with Oliver, they followed Merlin inside.
The moment they entered, Merlin spoke up.
"Is everyone all right?"
***
Merlin greeted them cheerfully as he stepped into the tent.
Despite its massive size, the tent held few people—but all of them were high-ranking.
Mostly faces Oliver recognized from the reception hall on the first day of the conference.
They were from the Magic Tower or major mage families from the continent's heartland, including some familiar ones.
Like Philip, Honorary Grand Master of the Pure Mana School; Terence, the field mage; Tilda, Leader of the Scardi Subschool; and her granddaughter Yarelli.
"Lost an arm, but I'm fine."
As everyone tensed and fell silent at Merlin's presence, Philip spoke first from his sickbed.
He was remarkably cheerful and relaxed for someone missing a limb—even greeting the two young men beside Merlin.
"Kevin, Xenon. You two okay?"
"Things got messy, but we're good."
Kevin replied by tossing Finn Russo to the floor as proof.
One of the wooden puppets inside the tent carried Finn off for treatment.
"I'm fine too... thanks to you, sir."
Oliver answered as rehearsed with Merlin beforehand.
For the sake of the story's convenience, they'd agreed to say Merlin had shown up to help while Oliver was fighting Theodore.
Oliver had no interest in spinning tales like that anyway.
'Besides, I gained something unintended but solid. Part of Theodore's Life School knowledge and techniques, plus fragments of his body. Not bad.'
"Glad you're safe. Nothing better than a comrade-in-arms making it through."
"Thank you, Colonel Philip."
"In that spirit, mind pulling out some booze? These wooden puppets have no sense like you do."
Philip said half-joking, half-serious.
As Oliver nodded and reached for his Gluttony Pouch, Tilda interjected.
"I'd prefer the Archivist's explanation first—before the drinks."
Her cool voice drew everyone's attention. All eyes turned to Tilda, though she was staring at Oliver.
There was no malice, just a strong desire to confirm something here and now.
"Explanation about what, Tilda?"
"About your disciple Kevin hiring a black mage as a personal assistant for a Magic Tower professor... And not just any black mage, but Dave, the fixer rising fast in Randa's underworld."
Tilda seemed to know a fair bit about the fixer Dave.
Not surprising. Randa blurred lines between light and shadow.
Hardly any high-ranking figures there kept clean hands.
All eyes slowly shifted to Oliver.
Except for Philip, Terence, and Yarelli, the others showed faint hostility, fear, and suspicion.
Oliver had fought to help these people, so he could have been angry or offended—but he felt none of that.
He'd expected it, and it was a reasonable issue.
The same went for Tilda, who had brought it up first. No real emotion there.
He knew she wasn't doing it out of spite, but duty.
It was only natural as a leader running an organization.
'More importantly, judging by everyone's state, clearing this up quickly will benefit me too.'
Oliver thought, scanning their emotional states. They harbored doubt and distrust; left unaddressed, it could turn toxic.
Tilda spoke again.
"Even you, Archivist, must know this isn't something to brush off. Too many eyes here... Got anything to say about it?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
Everyone in the tent focused on Merlin, their expressions grave—even the jovial Philip.
"I've prepared two versions, actually."
"Two?"
"Yep. First one: I play dumb, say I know nothing, and dump all the blame on Kevin."
"...?"
Everyone frowned, especially Kevin.
"Does that mean... the Archivist was involved too?"
"Involved? Hell, I threatened Kevin into hiring Dave."
"...!"
The words were shockingly blunt despite the casual tone. Everyone froze in silent astonishment.
The Archivist Merlin had ordered his own disciple to infiltrate the Magic Tower with a black mage.
It defied common sense.
But what came next was even more absurd.
"Why?"
"Because he's my disciple."
Merlin said it with truth and sincerity, just as he'd told Oliver.
The order was a bit off, but strictly speaking, it wasn't wrong. Oliver was Merlin's disciple, no matter what.
Yet contrary to expectations, no one was convinced by the truth or sincerity—they just stared in disbelief, ears ringing.
A chilling silence.
In a way, it was a natural reaction. Evaluations varied by era, but the Archivist was the greatest mage of the age.
A living legend who stood apart even from other extraordinary mages.
His authority was recognized not just by Seland and continental kings, but even the Pater Church.
And now he claimed to be the master of a lowly, irreverent black mage. The shock wasn't easily put into words.
"Is this true?"
Tilda Iceeye, Leader of the Scardi Subschool, asked Oliver in confusion.
"Yes. It's a long story, but I'm his temporary... no, just his disciple."
Oliver skipped "temporary" for simplicity and persuasiveness, though it felt a bit like lying.
"W-what...? The Archivist taking a black mage as disciple?! What tragedy is this...!"
A mage wrapped in bandages around his chest shot to his feet, shouting.
His exotic accent suggested he was from a mage family invited from the continent's center—and he was genuinely grieving.
"Ah, poor choice of words. Don't misunderstand. He was a black mage when I found him, but not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"True, I found him as a black mage, but that's in the past... I ended up raiding a black mage family, took him in as an experiment subject and disciple. Figured a guy with half-baked black magic couldn't amount to much."
Oliver nodded as prearranged.
Kevin, Finn Russo, and others—Merlin seemed to have plenty of experiment subjects turned disciples, so it felt natural.
"Hard to follow."
"No need to. It's simple: I found him, made him my disciple."
"Hm, intriguing. Very intriguing... Mind sharing the reason? Why take a black mage as disciple? Sudden urge for that experiment?"
Philip asked seriously—not out of pure curiosity, but to help.
Understanding the intent, Merlin replied.
"Pretty much, Colonel Philip. Half out of curiosity... But the main reason? Talent."
Merlin stuck to the story he'd told Oliver: the kid's talent was too good to waste.
Talent was a mage's greatest value, regardless of era, age, or nationality.
"Talent... you say?"
"Exactly. A mage's true worth is talent. Even I, the Archivist, saw potential too great to kill—so I took him in."
Merlin placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder.
Philip, Terence, Yarelli—even Tilda, who raised the issue—couldn't refute it.
They acknowledged Oliver's talent matched Merlin's praise.
"Even so, a black mage...?"
"He'd barely started black magic—hardly worthy of the name."
"Not to nitpick, but his black magic is reportedly advanced for that. His underworld rep proves it."
Merlin didn't flinch at Tilda's question—instead, he pointed at her enthusiastically.
"That's the point, Tilda. It shows talent as a mage or black mage. He can mimic any spell or black magic after seeing it once... Top-tier talent I've ever seen."
Merlin hyped Oliver's abilities, but Oliver felt a bit embarrassed.
He knew he had talent, but was it that impressive?
As everyone frowned silently at Oliver, Philip chimed in again.
"I fully agree. Xenon's talent is astonishing."
All eyes turned to Philip, questioning.
But he scolded them instead.
"If half of what he showed me is true, the Archivist is spot on. He interfered with that impenetrable fog barrier, wielded blood magic freely, and held his own against Theodore."
Terence joined in.
"I agree. Biggest contributor here. Rescued mages trapped at the tower's peak, used the fog to divert Theodore and minimize damage... Honestly, without him, resistance would've been impossible."
Terence spoke from the heart.
And it was true—without Oliver, they'd have been isolated and withered away in the fog.
Philip drove it home.
"Above all, word gets out that a black mage helped us while the Life School and Life Alchemy betrayed fellow mages? How's our reputation look then? You wanna walk around ashamed?"
Philip's voice was cold and calculating, not his usual bravado.
Pure political maneuvering—and highly effective.
Denying Merlin meant admitting a despised black mage saved them from fellow mages. Tough pill.
After his words, Philip eyed Merlin. With a silent exchange, Merlin pivoted.
"Colonel Philip's right. More urgent than my disciple is the Life School's betrayal—and Life Alchemy's."
Silence fell. It rang true.
Oliver's issue mattered less; this was the real headache they'd been avoiding.
People had a bad habit of ignoring the biggest problems.
"This is grave. Life School and Life Alchemy betrayals—happened abroad, Lake Village civilians modified en masse. Massive civilian casualties. Can't downplay as a mage issue. It's political. Involves the kingdom, Galos, central continent states."
As Merlin laid out the severity, everyone swallowed hard.
"How we handle the aftermath decides if mages keep freedom and rights—or lose them. So, less finger-pointing, more cooperating. Funny coming from a retiree... What do you all think?"
Merlin tossed the ball to the mages, handing over the choice.
And it wasn't over.
Rose from Life Alchemy was the sister of a cannibal chef—another massive scandal.
Even politically oblivious Oliver knew that.
Merlin said they'd discuss it among high ranks later; once revealed, no one would care about him.
'If luck holds... I'd like to stay at the Tower.'
Oliver eyed them, thinking of the library and classes.
As the pressure built in silence, Tilda—the first to demand answers—spoke coolly.
"You're right. Xenon... his matter's important, but let's discuss this first."