Genius Warlock-Novel

"Wouldn't it be better for you to rest since you must be tired?"

"I'm fine."

Oliver, bearing a massive hammer on his shoulder, engaged in conversation with Joe, who was hobbling alongside him.

To Oliver's surprise, Joe spoke to him with a great deal of respect.

This sudden change in attitude could be explained by one thing: protocol.

Despite not being a member of the Fighter Crew, Oliver had to maintain a certain level of authority while teaching black magic. Joe demanded that everyone, including himself, speak to Oliver with the utmost respect in order to uphold this standard.

"Now that everyone's witnessed Mr. Dave's strength, I doubt anyone's gonna underestimate you. But there are still some idiots around here who might get the wrong idea if you're too easy on them. So, moving forward, everyone, myself included, will address you with the respect you deserve."

Although Oliver politely declined, stating that he was more comfortable with informal language, he didn't discourage Joe from using honorifics.

In the first place, the way one speaks was up to the speaker, so Oliver had no right to tell Joe what to do.

As Oliver thought about their conversation, he arrived at the gym managed by Dean.

As usual, muscular men were sweating and exercising.

"Oh! You're here?!"

Dean, short but with bulging muscles, approached while lifting dumbbells.

"Have you been well? Instructor."

Oliver slightly bowed to greet him, and Joe greeted him in his usual blunt manner.

Dean saw this and shouted to the men in the gym.

"Yo, did y'all see that?! Take notes! Even a bigwig dealing with the Crime Firm shows me respect as a member! Start learning some damn manners!"

The gym members responded half heartedly with "Yes, yes."

"What are you doing, Instructor?"

"Not much. I'm just kickstarting a new venture, and these dudes won't agree to my pretty reasonable high price. They keep trying to bargain instead."

"Is there such a thing as a reasonably high price?"

"Of course. It's right here! …By the way, Joe, where have you been all this time? Did you get into a fight or something?"

Dean glanced at Joe's bruised body and asked.

Joe briefly glanced at Oliver and nodded.

"Yes."

"Technically, he's been training."

Oliver corrected Joe's words.

Whether he was hit with a quarterstaff, stabbed, punched, kicked, kneed, elbowed, or struck with black magic, it was all training and not simply getting beaten up.

Dean narrowed his eyes and looked at Oliver.

"Ahh, I get it… So, what brings you here then? Judging by the stuff on your shoulders, I'm guessing you didn't come here to work out."

"Yes, that's right. Actually, I came to see Mr. Smith."

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

Adjacent to the gym stood a small, run-down building.

While not quite on the brink of collapse, Oliver ventured into the decaying structure.

A small cloud of dust hung in the air, indicating that the building had not been cleaned thoroughly.

"Come on in… Huh?!"

Inside the building, a plump man was organizing some items.

He was none other than the black magic craftsman who had made the Bigmouth for Oliver.

"Mr. Dave?"

"Mr. Smith. How are you?"

Oliver politely greeted the plump warlock, whom he had recently learned the name of.

It was interesting how people's connections worked. Having reunited at an illegal fighting arena in District X, he had a good first meeting with Dean and immediately went into partnership with him.

"Hold up, who said it was a good first meetin'? I was basically forced to stick around here with him!"

"Really? I heard that you reached an agreement through sufficient conversation. Wasn't that the case?"

"An agreement? I suppose you could say that. I was so damn broke, I was goin' through garbage cans for scraps. And then he comes along and finds me a place to live and work. How could I say no to that?"

"Then, isn't that a good thing?"

"But he takes 50% of the profits. That's even worse than the gray market."

"Um… Well, you weren't obligated to work with him, were you?

"Like I said earlier, I was in no position to say no. And to make matters worse, he threatened to rat me out to the Crime Firm if I didn't comply. What other choice did I have?"

"Ah, that's too bad… I came to ask you something."

Without showing any sympathy for Smith's words, Oliver immediately moved on to his business. He had too much work to waste time.

Seeing Oliver's attitude, Smith seemed to be hurt in his heart, and he lay down on the counter, crying in a way that didn't suit his size.

"I hate this city! Nobody is on my side! These damn city slickers are just takin' advantage of a simple and innocent country boy like me…"

"You're from the countryside?"

"Usually, there are more folks from the countryside in the city than actual city natives. How the heck did the population shoot up so fast in such a short time? We're not rats!"

"Oh… That's interesting. You seem to be in a bad mood, are you okay?"

"Of course not…! I came to this city with the pure goal of getting rich and living a luxurious life, but everyone is trying to suck me dry! That gym owner is making me work out every damn day! Can you believe it? Exercise!"

The plump man lay down on the counter again, shedding tears.

It seemed less like sadness and more like a combination of fatigue and frustration due to mental exhaustion.

Quietly, Joe approached Oliver and whispered.

"Should I hit him?"

"No. Why would you hit him?"

"Usually, when you hit someone, they stop crying."

"Really?"

Oliver thought for a moment and then shook his head. That didn't seem right.

"I brought a business opening gift. Would this perhaps make you feel a little better?"

"Sniff… What's the gift?"

"They say cash is the best gift, so 10 million…"

"…Oh, really?"

As if he had never cried, Smith quickly got up. As expected, he was a person with a strong professional spirit.

"10 million?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes… The Bigmouth you made for me is performing that well."

That was true. The Bigmouth, which was half-ordered out of curiosity, was currently one of the items Oliver used best, next to his quarterstaff.

In a sense, it was more than a corpse doll.

Although it couldn't be used in battle, it allowed carrying an enormous amount of loot after battle without any burden, which was groundbreaking. It was also beyond Oliver's capabilities.

Without Bigmouth, it would have taken much longer to achieve these results.

It was worth at least several billion in terms of value.

Therefore, Oliver didn't feel it was too much to give Smith, who created such an item, 10 million as a gift.

It was a large sum of money, but it was worth it. Plus, there was something else to ask about.

Upon receiving the thick stack of banknotes as a gift, Smith tidied up his hair and straightened his posture.

"Welcome to my new store. What brings you here?"

"I have a question."

Oliver placed a bandaged hammer on the counter.

Thud.

A heavy sound echoed.

"Is this vibrating or am I mistaken?"

"No, you saw it correctly."

Oliver unwrapped the bandage. Beneath the triple-wrapped bandage was a hammer made of pink flesh and white bones.

"What is this…?"

"It's a long story, but I looted it from a warlock I fought in the past. I wanted to find out more about it since it didn't seem like an ordinary item, but my abilities have limitations. As for its function…"

"… Strong durability, life-force absorption, and wound recovery through consumption, right?"

Oliver nodded at the accurate explanation.

"How did you know?"

"Um… Can you keep what I'm about to say a secret?"

"Yes."

"It seems like something my master made."

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

Master.

It was a word that felt both close and distant to warlocks.

They had a figure who played the role of a master, but their title was "owner."

Indeed, they were closer to being a property owner than an actual mentor who guided and taught.

And Smith called him Master.

"My master is… quite an unusual person, even for a warlock. Not in a good sense, though."

"Um, I see. But are you sure that your master made this?"

"Yes."

It was genuinely surprising. Smith's skills were quite good, so it was expected that he had a decent master, but this was beyond that.

"Do you know anything about this, then?"

"No, I don't know the details."

This was also an unexpected answer.

Joe approached, loosening his fist, intending to help.

"Ehhh! I really have no clue, bruh… It looks like some sorta weapon made outta people, but all I know are the basics. And don't even think about gettin' violent with me in a place owned by Mr. Dean, okay? Please."

Oliver stopped Joe.

"I'm sorry. Joe, stop. Mr. Smith is just telling the truth."

"Right! I never lie to people who give me money… at least, as much as possible."

Once the commotion had settled, Oliver asked again.

"If you don't know anything about it, how did you know it was made by your master?"

"Do you see this part here?"

Smith pointed to the lower part of the hammer. A scorched mark was visible.

"What is this…?"

"It's a beanstalk. It's a bit burnt, but it's like a brand that my master puts on his work."

"Ah…"

"So, even if I don't know about this item, I know it was made by my master."

"I see. So you don't know any more details about this item?"

"Yes. That's pretty much all I can tell you, bruh. I don't know much else about it besides the fact that it's made outta human stuff and the basic functions I mentioned earlier… Looks like I can't be of much more help."

Oliver paused, deep in thought for a moment. Although it was somewhat disappointing, it wasn't a significant concern.

He had been curious about the hammer, but not enough to be overly worried about it immediately.

Was he slightly disappointed? No, that wasn't quite right either.

He had a rough idea of how it had been created and who had made it. That was sufficient knowledge for the time being.

He could gradually study it after adjusting the laboratory equipment.

If that failed, analyzing it piece by piece through dissection was another possibility.

As he sorted through his thoughts, Smith suddenly chimed in.

"If you're interested, would you like to meet my master?"

The unexpected suggestion caught Oliver off guard, and he instinctively inquired.

"Really? Do you know where he is?"

"No. He's got a restless spirit, lotta debts, and a ton of enemies, so he's always on the move. I don't even know where he is right now. But, I do know of a way to contact him, although there's only a 50-50 chance it'll work."

"50-50 chance?"

"Actually, it's more like 30 to 40 percent. Maybe even 20 percent…"

With that, Smith pulled a large envelope from the drawer. Inside lay a rigid piece of paper.

"…Um, is it human skin?"

"Yes, it's high-quality human skin processed like paper. Just write your request on it and send it off. If you're lucky, it'll reach my master. Shall I write it for you?"

It seemed like something out of a fairy tale, but Smith appeared genuine.

"Why are you suddenly offering this?"

Joe, who had been observing from the sidelines, interjected with suspicion. Unwarranted kindness in a back alley could be a trap.

"Why am I goin' outta my way like this… Are you seriously askin'? C'mon bruh, think about it. What kinda reward could I get if I show kindness to some chump, err, I mean, a customer who gives me 10 million as a business opening gift! Sure, the chances of the letter reaching him are slim, and even if it does, it's uncertain whether he'll come, and even if he does, he won't help without compensation. But, if word gets out that I helped, it could boost my reputation and come in handy in the future."

"…Chump?"

"I misspoke, bruh. A customer."

"What do you mean by ‘won't help without compensation'?"

"Well, my master is a pretty shrewd person…, so he doesn't just help without expecting something in return. He'll probably ask for some cash upfront. And even then, there's no guarantee he'll give you the kinda help you need."

"Hmm… How much would I have to pay?"

Smith pondered for a moment and then whispered into Oliver's ear.

"Well, I’m fine if it’s that much… Can you call him?"

Oliver made a decision. It wasn't urgent, but if there was a way to satisfy his curiosity, there was no need to hesitate.

If it was a matter of money, it wasn't that big of a problem for him at the moment.

After hearing the response, Smith nodded and wrote a letter on the human skin, folding it into a paper airplane and launching it.

Remarkably, the human-skin airplane soared gracefully into the sky as if by magic.

"It should be thrown from a high place…"

-Thunk!

A passing crow snatched the airborne human skin airplane.

Caw- Caw- Caw-

"……"

"……"

"……"

Oliver and Joe, who were both speechless, watched the scene unfold.

Smith wrote another letter and folded it into an airplane.

"It's more effective when thrown from a high place. That was just a lil' demo. Follow me, and I'll show you how to throw it from a high vantage point."

(To be Continued)

OR

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