Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Puppet (1)
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"Oh... when did you notice?"
With those words, Shevi... no, the mysterious black mage using the name Shevi abruptly stood up and swiftly extracted his emotions.
It was faster than any black mage Oliver had ever seen.
The emotion drawn out like thread from the flask instantly transformed into beautiful black magic in his hand.
It was as natural as if it were alive and breathing. Fortunately, Oliver was just as quick.
Pababang...!
The hate bullets collided in midair and exploded.
The force was tremendous, startling everyone nearby into backing away, but Oliver caught the look of admiration on Shevi's face as he murmured, "Oh..."
He seemed utterly at ease.
"Not bad... not bad at all."
Shevi muttered appreciatively before firing another Hate Bullet while forming a Black Javelin with his other hand.
He was probably planning to overwhelm Oliver with a piercing Black Javelin if Oliver deployed a Black Shield or countered with a Hate Bullet.
Oliver calculated in his head and fired a Hate Bullet to block Shevi's initial attack once more.
Just as Shevi grinned and reared back to hurl the Black Javelin, his arm froze.
"...Huh?"
Oliver's Bind Shadow had seized Shevi's arm.
"Heh... you're exceeding expectations."
Shevi spoke with eyes gleaming in admiration.
At the same time, a clicking sound rang out, and his hand detached like a lizard's tail.
Just like the corpse doll of the puppeteer Glyph from before.
As the arm fell away, a blade dripping green fluid shot straight toward Oliver.
'As expected...'
Oliver didn't panic. He unleashed Hate Bullets like a machine gun in that very moment.
The first shattered the blade, the second crushed the shoulder, the third and fourth pulverized both knees, and the fifth tore a massive hole in the abdomen.
-Massive Damage
Blade shattered, shoulder crushed, knees pulverized, abdomen holed
Purverbuk—!
Processed skin and flesh, machinery, springs, and the like scattered across the floor. All of it happened in an instant.
Tadak! Ddak! Takda. Chaenggrang! Degurrr...
Everyone in the basement stood frozen, unable to react, staring blankly at the scene before them.
As if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.
"........."
"........."
"........."
"........."
Silence hung over them all, but ironically, the culprit behind it all broke the quiet.
With a voice as bright and cheerful as could be.
"Hahahahaha...! Well, this is unexpected. To think I'd run into someone this fun in a place like this. Out of left field... but hey, that's the spice of life, isn't it?"
The half-destroyed Shevi spoke leisurely.
No, it was more than that.
His voice, speech, aura—everything about him was a completely different person.
"...Doesn't it hurt?"
Oliver's question drew a response from the mangled Shevi.
"Not really... You seemed to know a bit about corpse dolls when we were fighting, but I guess not?"
"Yeah, I've only seen one once. Never really learned about them properly. Couldn't, even... Does it really not hurt?"
"Nope. If I sync the senses fully, pain gets simulated too, but I'm not that kind of freak."
It was an utterly bizarre scene.
Two people who had just been trying to kill each other mere moments ago, now chatting so casually.
The eerie naturalness of it sent chills down spines. Then, the mercenary captain Hugh interjected.
"Hey... who the hell are you?"
"Hm? Ah... my apologies. I was late with introductions. Forgive me—age dulls the memory and manners alike. Allow me to introduce myself properly. Name's Puppet. Old black mage. Pleased to meet you, young friends."
At the word "Puppet," everyone's jaws dropped.
Oliver knew why, to some extent.
An executive of the massive organization known as the Black Hand, a high-risk criminal designated by authorities worldwide.
What was the exact moniker? Something like the Immortal Puppet?
Amid the shock, one person denied it.
"L-Liar. Puppet died years ago..."
Puppet chuckled.
"Every century, rumors of my death crop up two or three times. Sometimes I even let them think they've got me. But I might take a hit, never die. That's why they call me Immortal. Oh, and believe me or not, doesn't matter, young friends. Think what you like. Reality won't change based on your beliefs."
His utterly self-centered, relaxed demeanor left them speechless.
Before long, the atmosphere shifted to accepting that the figure before them was indeed the real Puppet.
Naturally, Oliver believed it too. He couldn't see through everything, but he knew this man was sincere.
"........."
The sudden appearance of this arch-villain had everyone too scared to speak carelessly. Then Jo piped up.
"Are you really... Puppet?"
"Indeed. Half-baked black mage of Fighter Crew. Got something on your mind?"
"...You know about me?"
"Of course. I know just about everything. My eyes and ears are everywhere. Everywhere."
Half bluff, but the confidence was real.
Even in his broken-down state, barely able to move, a few words had subdued everyone here.
Not just name value, but that relaxed attitude and choice phrases.
Quite a lesson in poise.
Oliver continued observing Puppet.
"...All the zombies outside this building—are they your handiwork?"
"Yep. Like 'em? Made 'em special for you young friends. Bit of a hassle, but fun."
Jo cut in.
"Why are you doing this to us? None of us here have any grudge with you."
Puppet burst into laughter.
For an instant, everyone except Oliver felt chills crawling up their spines at the sound.
"Grudge...? Kekekekeke... Oh, sorry, just too funny."
"...What's so funny?"
"Well, you know. People who make their living off human flesh talking about grudges and such. They always act like they're the good guys. Filthy human butchers."
Blatant contempt.
He meant every word, igniting a fury that momentarily drowned out even fear of the strong.
Puppet just mocked them harder, unperturbed.
"If that offends, my apologies, young friends. But it's the truth, right? And truth hurts more... anyway, back to your question."
"My question?"
"Yeah, why the hassle? Simple. I happened to need folks like you right now... like grabbing a pig when you're hungry for ham. Get it?"
"........."
"Not getting it? No biggie. Death doesn't ask for understanding anyway... Still, since I kept things fun, how about a proposal?"
"...?"
"One where some of you die, but most live. Sound good?"
"........."
"I've already turned in plenty of other fixers, so quota's nearly met. Just have a few of you come with me to die. The rest go free. Safe and sound... deal?"
"L-Liar."
Someone muttered. Puppet replied.
"Believe or not, up to you, young friends... Truth is, I could collapse this rundown shack anytime. Doubting? Go topside and check. You'll see the zombie horde multiplied several times over."
Sincere.
"If you say no, speak now. I'll prove my power right here. I'm giving you kids the best shot at survival. For real. For both our sakes—wanna save me the trouble?"
Another bizarre sight.
Notorious fixers cowed by a man who couldn't even stand, despite being a corpse doll.
And it was working—most were terrified.
Their trembling eyes, cold sweat beading on brows, betrayed it.
Control of the situation had slipped to Puppet unnoticed.
All fixers and mercenaries could do was choose.
Then, a quivering voice asked cautiously.
"...Who exactly do you want?"
"Ah, finally some smart ones. That guy and that one. Plus ten more, anyone. Alive, not dead."
Puppet pointed at Oliver and Arthur.
Oliver felt countless eyes turn to him.
Arthur tensed, ready to fight on the spot, prompting others to flex muscles, poised to move.
Most felt fear, terror, self-justification, faint hope. Only Jo kept any rationality.
A powder keg, allies on the brink of clashing.
Then, heavy footsteps approached Puppet.
Oliver's.
"If it's alright... could I make a counter-proposal?"
"...Counter-proposal?"
"Yes, if you'll allow it."
Everyone stared at Oliver in shock. Even Puppet.
"No clue how to put this. Haven't seen someone proposing back in a spot like this in a century... Go on. Curious what you'll say."
"You want me and the others to come somewhere, preferably intact... How about I go myself instead? Fight you one-on-one."
"...Fight me?"
Puppet echoed, amused.
"Yes. If I win, let us all go. If I lose, do whatever with everyone here. You have the power, as you said, Puppet. Besides... you're planning to kill us all anyway."
The last words chilled the air to ice.
"Kekekekeke...! That obvious, huh?"
"Just seemed that way."
"Just...?! Damn, my bad. Apologies! Someone with your skills deserves better treatment. But trust me—most fall for that obvious lie. Show 'em overwhelming power, dangle a sliver of hope... They fool themselves. For that fleeting comfort. Foolish, right?"
"Dunno... not one to judge. Anyway, do you accept? If not, I'll bolt solo right now. Think I can escape if I go all-out."
Puppet stared hard at Oliver.
"...You're serious. Never dreamed of blackmail like this. Hm, shall I dangle more hope? Come to the basement below. Yeah, if by some miracle you beat me, I'll free everyone. Love a provocative kid like you..."
With the answer, Oliver reached out and pressed a finger to Puppet's temple.
"Good. Then I'll take this. I won."
"Oho, I like the attitude."
With that, Oliver fired a tiny Hate Bullet, piercing the corpse doll's temple.
The light faded from its eyes like a snapped thread, and it collapsed.
Silence again, as Oliver opened the leather case at his waist and pulled out the neatly folded Glutton Pouch.
Come to think of it, this was the first time he'd actually taken it out.
Someone asked.
"Wh-What the hell is that...?"
With those words, the folded Glutton Pouch began inflating like rising dough.
He'd ordered it man-sized, but now it was slightly larger than that.
Sutured human skins and eyes plastered all around became visible.
Its swelled body amplified its ego; suddenly summoned, it seemed confused by the situation.
"Glutton Pouch."
At Oliver's call, the Glutton Pouch twisted toward him.
It waddled clumsily, far from agile.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Dave, your master. If it's okay, could you swallow that for me?"
Oliver pointed at Puppet's corpse doll 'Shevi.'
The Glutton Pouch eyed it warily, as if it didn't suit its tastes.
Right—didn't it prefer valuables like precious metals or money?
The Glutton Pouch stared at the corpse doll, then at Oliver, before finally picking it up and shoving the whole thing into its mouth.
Like a snake with limbs. Thanks to the maker's skill, it showed no real resistance.
Obedient, even.
After swallowing, it deflated at Oliver's command. He folded it neatly and stowed it back in the case.
Once done, Oliver turned to the stunned crowd.
"Anyone wanna come with me to fight Puppet?"