Chapter 90
Chapter 90
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: A Welcome Face (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
After the battle with Puppet came to an end, Oliver thoroughly searched the basement.
It was only natural.
As an executive of the Black Hand who had swept through the contaminated zone, the chances were high that his hideout would contain books on black magic and demons.
That had been Oliver's reason for coming here in the first place.
With that in mind, he desperately rummaged through the place in search of any books.
But the world doesn't always bend to one's will.
Despite turning the basement upside down, he regrettably found nothing as expected.
He had anticipated a decent collection of books, yet it was as if someone had cleared them out in advance—completely empty.
In the end, all Oliver could take with him were a relatively intact corpse doll, some experimental tools, a flask filled with emotions, and a note detailing the method for crafting corpse dolls that had fallen to the floor.
What a pity.
'Well, it was still a fun experience, so maybe I shouldn't be too disappointed?'
Oliver muttered to himself as he recalled the gateway to hell and the artificial soul he'd glimpsed through Puppet.
They were realms beyond his current understanding, but he could tell they were extraordinary.
If the opportunity arose, he'd even like to seek guidance next time.
Pushing aside his regrets, Oliver pressed his emotion-coated fingertip against the wall.
He was probing the layout of this basement, which resembled a massive ant colony.
An intentionally vast and labyrinthine one.
It felt like something was being hidden here, and that belatedly reminded him of what Puppet had said.
This F-zone basement housed numerous illegal experiments, some involving demons.
It had nothing to do with him right now, but it piqued his interest just a little.
Wasn't it intriguing? Even those wizards dabbled in dealings with demons. Quite the juicy tale.
Thud, thud, thud.
Oliver ascended the hidden staircase and placed his emotion-infused hand against the dead-end wall once more.
The black light seeped into the cracks between the bricks, and with a shrrr, a door appeared.
At that moment, something fast hurtled toward him—a fist clad in brass knuckles.
Bam!
"...Everyone okay?"
Oliver blocked Joseph's punch with his quarterstaff and asked.
Joseph was drenched in blood and sweat from head to toe. Spotting Oliver, his eyes widened in shock.
As if a dead man had come back to life.
"...How... how are you...?"
"I climbed the stairs. You alright?"
Joseph hesitated, withdrawing his fist.
He still looked stunned at the sight of Oliver, but then he noticed Sam and Arthur sprawled behind him.
They were in similar shape to Joseph.
They hadn't died, but they were soaked in sweat, their clothes torn to rags in places.
Even more conspicuous were the zombies scattered around like severed marionettes. Joseph explained.
"After you dropped down, zombies suddenly swarmed from everywhere."
"Yeah, I saw."
"We fought hard, but they overpowered us. They didn't kill us, though... Then just a bit ago, they all collapsed. Know anything about it?"
Oliver pondered for a moment.
How to explain this?
Going into full detail would raise too many red flags.
The gateway to hell that had appeared when Puppet tried to devour him.
Oliver had barely escaped by extracting emotions from it, but explaining that outright felt wrong.
Just like with demons, hell seemed like something not to be spoken of lightly. It might even bring trouble upon him if mishandled.
Plus, claiming he'd taken down Puppet alone would complicate things endlessly and become a hassle.
His reputation as a fixer was useful, sure, but he wasn't ready to handle the fallout yet.
Taking down Puppet hadn't been purely his own skill, after all.
For those reasons, Oliver settled on a vague cover story.
"Lord Puppet let me go."
"...What?"
"Uh... He lured me down below, took me somewhere, subdued me, then suddenly released me."
"Just... let you go?"
"Yeah. He looked somewhere and said it was enough, then freed me... Called me amusing."
"......"
Joseph, Arthur, and Sam all stared at Oliver in silence.
It was as if they couldn't believe it, and suspicion colored their actual emotions.
Arthur panted as he spoke.
"Sorry, but are you serious...? He could've killed us all, and just... let you go?"
To lend credibility, Oliver replied calmly.
"Yeah. He said he'd gotten what he needed, so he'd let us live. That I was amusing."
"Right, makes sense."
Joseph nodded as if he bought it, his tone sincere. Arthur, however, still looked puzzled, tilting his head.
"Still feels off somehow."
The exhausted Oliver brushed past Joseph and approached Arthur.
One of Arthur's golem prosthetics was completely shattered, the other half-ruined.
"I think it's weird too, but isn't surviving the priority right now?"
Arthur stared at Oliver in surprise, then sighed in concession.
His expression admitted he'd been wrong.
"Fair point. Sorry for the foolish question."
"No worries. Thanks for understanding... So, shall we head up?"
***
Oliver rejoined Joseph's group and retraced their steps back to the surface.
As they emerged through the door, the Goodman Mercenary Corps and a bunch of fixers welcomed them.
"Damn! You're alive!"
"How...!"
"I win! Pay up, everyone."
The sight of Oliver's group elicited shocked expressions from the crowd.
Some were genuinely surprised, others disbelieving, and a few gleeful over winning bets.
But the most striking were the greedy looks, like they'd struck gold.
Hugh, the Goodman merc captain, for one.
"Glad you're all safe... What the hell happened down there?"
As Oliver opened his mouth to answer, Joseph cut in.
He was drawing a line with Hugh, who had been friendly before descending.
"Getting out comes first... Also, our numbers are down. What happened?"
Outmatched in the stare-down, Hugh stammered.
"Uh... well, when the outer zombies suddenly dropped or wandered off, most bolted. Just us left."
Hugh boasted as if proving their loyalty, but Joseph didn't even pretend to listen.
"Hard to believe you came down for guys like that."
"At least everyone got out safe, right?"
Oliver said casually.
No harm in stating the good part. But Joseph eyed him with a mix of complaint, doubt, and confusion before lowering his gaze.
"Yeah... sure."
"What happened down there? Puppet?"
Hugh butted in again.
He asked expectantly.
Oliver could see it plainly. As he started to reply, Arthur intervened this time.
"Save the stories for later. Everyone, move out. You too—get ready quick. Things might be calm now, but zombies could return... Hey, friend. You too."
Arthur advised Oliver, his tone laced with slight greed, concern, and fondness.
Oliver didn't know why, but he nodded and prepared to move with them. Hugh gauged the mood and slunk back.
As if now wasn't the time.
Soon, Oliver exited the building alongside the Goodman mercs, Arthur's fixer team, Knuckle Joseph, Dual-Pistol Sam, and other Fighter Crew members.
As Hugh had said, the zombie horde outside lay collapsed en masse. Puppet had kept his promise reliably.
What a kind soul.
That aside, the fixers remained on high alert.
They'd been through hell with that zombie army.
If it wanted, it could've taken on the city guard at the contaminated zone's perimeter.
Speak of the devil?
As they passed the fallen zombies and ventured farther out, a group of soldiers appeared in the distance.
At first, everyone rubbed their eyes, thinking it a mirage. But it was real.
The city defense forces guarding the contaminated zone were heading their way.
Not just a couple—they were a proper contingent.
Hundreds strong, with regular soldiers armed with rifles and heavy weapons, plus about thirty in exosuit armor and a couple of military mages.
The fixers initially cheered at the sight of city troops, but their faces soon hardened.
They reeked of killing intent, not rescue.
It felt more like an arrest than aid.
Indeed, as they drew near, the soldiers deftly surrounded Oliver's group.
The fixers had called the city guard wage thieves, cowards, and self-preservers, expecting little. But they seemed more capable than that.
Arthur dragged his weary body forward and shouted.
"What the fuck...? Even if fixers are just cleanup crew, this is how you treat survivors?!"
Then, a man emerged from the disciplined ranks of soldiers.
Unlike their uniforms, he wore a suit, exuding exhaustion that belied his youthful appearance.
Oliver recognized him—the city official who'd given a brief rundown just before entering the zone.
He pulled out a megaphone and spoke.
"Ah—! Ah—! Hello, fixers. We came directly due to a report. Sorry, but disarm immediately. Repeating: everyone, disarm."
***
Following the city official's orders, Oliver disarmed and was led by soldiers into a building and locked in a room.
It wasn't too small, but dark—not just dim, but oppressive.
Mana infused the shadows, constricting the mind when blended with the darkness.
Of course, it didn't faze Oliver.
He stayed still.
A surveillance device embedded covertly in one corner watched him, but Oliver acted neither suspicious nor hostile, mindful of it.
Perhaps that's why, after a considerable wait, someone finally entered.
The city official who'd accompanied the soldiers and ordered disarmament.
"Hello, Mr. Dave."
The official sat with formal greetings.
His fatigue was evident, but his dark-circled eyes gleamed sharply regardless.
"Hello?"
"...Yes, sorry for bringing you here like this. We got a report."
"May I have your name?"
The conversation didn't mesh.
The official's eyes narrowed.
"Pardon?"
"Your name? I was taught you should at least know someone's name to talk."
The official studied Oliver silently.
As if checking for tricks.
"...Sorry, but I ask the questions. You answer. Got it?"
"Ah... yes. Fair enough."
"...Alright, questions. First, the initial fixers said high-risk criminal Puppet set traps in the contaminated zone and attacked. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Then you got trapped in a building?"
"Yes."
"They said you spotted Puppet first. True?"
"Yes. But I didn't recognize him immediately. I just realized it was a corpse doll. Then Lord Puppet revealed himself."
The official muttered.
"Corpse doll... High-performance zombie based on human corpses."
"Oh? You know of it?"
"You need basic knowledge to work in Randa's Interior Ministry. Anyway, I ask the questions."
"Ah, sorry."
"...How'd you spot it?"
"I've seen someone use one before."
"Not something anyone can use. Impressive."
"Oh, really? It's interesting tech, but I didn't know that."
"........."
"...? Did I mess up?"
"No... Why'd you go down to face Puppet?"
"Staying put was risky? I suggested it, and they accepted... He was polite."
The official smirked.
"Puppet, polite... What happened down there?"
Oliver answered the question.
About descending with Joseph, Sam, and Arthur, getting ambushed, falling into the trap alone.
"Met Puppet there?"
Oliver gave the group the edited version, without deviation.
It seemed to work; the official mentally cross-checked and nodded.
"Phew... Just let you go?"
"Yes. After subduing me, he looked somewhere and said it was enough. Called me amusing as he freed me."
"Amusing?"
"Yes. No idea why."
"Ah... I think I get it."
"Pardon? What— Ah, sorry. You're the one asking questions."
"...One simple question? Personal, even."
"Sure, go ahead."
"Why 'Lord' for Puppet?"
The official's eyes narrowed pointedly. More interrogation than question.
"A habit."
"Habit?"
"Yeah, raised to use polite speech. So it's like this. If it bothers you, I'll stop."
Instead of replying, the official stared piercingly, as if weighing something.
Deep in thought, calculating nonstop.
"...You talked with Puppet. What about?"
"This and that."
"This and that what?"
"He mentioned there are tons of illegal labs in Randa's basements."
"Common knowledge. Anything else?"
"Yeah, talked about his research."
"Research?"
"Yes."
A spark lit in the official's weary eyes.
"Details on wha—"
"Step aside. If it's black magic or demons, the Pater Church has priority jurisdiction. It's in the city charter—you have no right to stop us."
A voice from beyond the door.
Oliver and the official turned. Amid crashing sounds, the door burst open.
A man and woman entered, one a familiar, welcome face.
Holy Knight Joanna.
"Holy Knight Elton from the Pater Church's Seland branch. We'll take over now."