Genius Warlock

"But, you're actually a warlock, right? Dave, the solver of District T," Carl inquired abruptly, catching everyone off guard with his question. The surrounding individuals were startled into silence. As the hush was on the verge of intensifying, Oliver brazenly fabricated an unscrupulous falsehood.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ironically, Oliver's statement held genuine veracity.

Currently, he assumed the identity of Zenon, serving as a personal aide to a professor at the Magic Tower.

Yet, his true name remained Oliver.

In this instance, he had severed ties with his role as Dave, the solver of District T.

Or so he believed.

However, Carl, oblivious to Oliver's inner musings, emanated an air of discomfort and vexation.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not treating you like an idiot. Especially when facing a wizard who uses spatial magic… Let me ask in return, why would you say such a thing?"

Oliver's query was marked by an air of composure, seemingly stemming from a genuine sense of injustice.

A brazen untruth it was, yet paradoxically tinged with authenticity.

In truth, he earnestly harbored curiosity about the basis of the suspicion directed towards him.

While there had been instances where he inadvertently exuded an aura of suspicion, on the whole, he deemed his performance commendable.

Oliver met Carl's gaze, and after a fleeting pause, Carl broke his silence.

"The handwriting…"

"What about it?"

"The handwriting. Yours and Dave's handwriting are the same."

Initially perplexed, Oliver swiftly grasped the crux of Carl's reference.

In his role as Zenon, he had submitted a report concerning the Mountain Pace incident to the Life School faction. In the guise of Dave, he had furnished a report detailing the World Tree to the Moirai faction.

Although distinct entities, the Life School and Moirai factions operated beneath the overarching banner of the Magic Tower.

The precise route remained obscure, yet the report appeared to have somehow migrated to the Life School faction. While uncommon, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

‘Handwriting…'

It stood as a minuscule yet conclusive piece of evidence.

Oliver experienced a twinge of remorse at being exposed, yet he was appreciative of the lesson he had acquired from his blunder.

He vowed to exercise greater caution in subsequent endeavors.

"…And that damn look and attitude could be evidence as well."

Carl appended, addressing Oliver, who was deeply absorbed in contemplation.

Carl's exasperation and irritation were palpable in his speech. However, what troubled him was that this anger did not stem from the typical vexation triggered by encountering a conceited individual.

The wellspring of Carl's emotions was a sensation of injustice.

A vehement wrath and unease, rooted in a perceived unfairness, accompanied by envy.

Oliver remained befuddled by this sentiment.

Why would someone with a grandfather as illustrious as the Grand Master of the Life School faction experience a sense of injustice and envy toward him?

"Look and attitude?"

"The moment I saw your eyes, I was sure it was you… That look, as if you're looking at something insignificant. You had that look at Mattel too."

Mattel. A word that resonated with echoes both ancient and recent.

Unbidden, Oliver's reaction surfaced.

The visage of a young boy flitted across his mind.

The boy who had clung tightly to his powerless hand, weeping and confessing his culpability.

"Oh, you're reacting."

Carl observed, and he was correct.

Even amid the haze of fog, the ambush, entrapment within the Life School faction's intrigue, infiltration into the basement, drenched in blood, and combat against a practitioner of blood magic, Oliver had maintained his composure. However, the utterance of "Mattel" had provoked a reaction from him.

The quandary lay in Oliver's lack of understanding regarding the source of this reaction.

What was it… What could it signify…

"…What reaction am I showing?"

Failing to ascertain the answer on his own, Oliver directed his query to Carl and the assembled individuals, including Yareli.

His comportment exhibited an unusual and unnatural quality.

It was as if something nonhuman was mimicking human behavior.

It exuded an eerie disquiet, discomfort, and simultaneously, a sense of pity.

Those present could not furnish Oliver with a satisfactory response, leading him to proceed to his next query.

"…What do you mean by attitude, Mr. Carl?"

Despite the inappropriate context and atmosphere, Oliver repeated the question, this time infused with seriousness akin to that of a researcher investigating.

"I'm talking about the attitude you're showing right now. Regardless of the surroundings, doing whatever you please… It was the same at that time when you were with that bastard kid. Such audacity to ask for silence, as an intruder."

Carl felt both indignation and subdued fury.

Yet, Oliver remained unaffected, calmly rectifying Carl's statement.

"It's Colin."

"…What?"

"His name is Colin, the child you mentioned. Colin."

Oliver's correction was delivered with poise. Addressing individuals by their names was a gesture of respect, after all.

"Oh… right. Colin, I remember. One of the inferior breeds bought for a pittance from garbage worker parents. He was an acceptable piece of trash because he was successful in the experiment, but ultimately a failed piece of trash among trash."

Carl taunted, cognizant of Oliver's recollections, prompting Oliver to reach into his pocket.

Moments later, Oliver produced a diminutive ring-shaped pillbox.

It was an item he had obtained as gratitude for aiding Pinkman Jonathan in the recovery of a coveted auction item for the Crime Firm.

A high-performance elixir equivalent to hundreds of regular potions.

A premium creation capable of bestowing vast reservoirs of mana with a single ingestion, though its consumption by an unsuitable individual could yield consequences graver than poison.

"…What is that pill?"

Carl, who had been engaging in provocative dialogue, ceased speaking and directed his attention to Oliver's altered demeanor and the unfamiliar pill he held.

"It's a pill."

Oliver responded nonchalantly and ingested the pill without hesitation.

Gulp.

The pill slid down in a single gulp.

Simultaneously, Oliver's body became infused with a high-quality mana equivalent to hundreds of standard potions.

Tailored for adept wizards, the pill's effects were splendidly exhibited by Oliver.

A less skilled practitioner would have succumbed to the mana's overflow, but Oliver promptly stabilized the influx.

Yet, it was more than mere stabilization.

He absorbed the mana with such subtlety that even accomplished wizards like Yareli and Carl remained oblivious to the process.

"You may continue speaking."

Having concluded his task, Oliver encouraged Carl to proceed.

Initially, Carl intended to allude to other children alongside Colin, aiming to rattle Oliver's composure. However, the eerily composed Oliver stymied Carl's intentions, evoking an unfamiliar unease within him.

His wizardly pride urged him not to relent, yet his instinct as a sentient being cautioned against proceeding.

Pride and instinct waged an internal struggle for dominance.

"…I have a proposal."

"A proposal?"

"Yes. I'll let go of the people you rescued and the Ice Princess. You follow me. I have something to check with you."

Carl's words bore sincerity. While there were concealed elements, the essence of the proposal was earnest.

Oliver found himself genuinely intrigued.

The assault linked to apocalyptic implications and Carl's vested curiosity in him.

It was as though two ostensibly disparate matters were intertwined, like distant puzzle pieces.

The quandary lay in Oliver's insufficient acumen to deduce anything substantial from these threads.

Pursuing Carl's proposition for answers might offer a path, but… well, he wasn't particularly inclined.

"I'm curious, what happens if I refuse?"

"I offered to let them out safely, so I should balance it… If you refuse, I'll collapse this basement and make it your grave."

"Hmm…then wouldn't we both be in trouble?"

"I don't mind. It's a bit of a waste, but they're not the main target."

Carl gestured toward Yareli and the rescued wizards.

It was intriguing indeed. If they weren't the focal point, then a secondary motivation must exist behind this incident.

"Well, then there's nothing we can do," Oliver remarked.

As he spoke, Oliver ingested the pill, subsequently releasing a prodigious reservoir of stored mana, striving to commandeer control over the entire basement.

Taken aback by this unexpected maneuver and the immense surge of mana, Carl instinctively released his own mana to counteract Oliver's move.

The palpable density of mana pervaded the surroundings. Yareli and the saved wizards were momentarily overpowered by the pressure bearing down on them. Even the walls and ceiling exhibited fractures.

Crack…! Crunch!!

A battle for dominance that defied conventional norms.

Carl appeared astonished, as if caught off guard by the intensity, and Oliver mirrored the sentiment.

While Oliver had anticipated that Carl, the grandson of the Grand Master, would be adept, the extent of his proficiency was unforeseen.

In terms of sheer mana, Carl's prowess exceeded that of Kevin, who possessed the capacity to raze an entire forest singlehandedly.

‘However, his control ability is lacking,' Oliver ruminated internally, gradually wresting command of the mana from Carl.

Recognizing his faltering control, Carl augmented the output of his inner mana, seeking to overwhelm Oliver with sheer force. However, his response proved belated.

Carl realized too late that he was losing ground, as Oliver slowly seized mastery over the mana.

A substantial portion of the mana released by Carl was swiftly appropriated by Oliver, who seamlessly seized the mana Carl subsequently released with delayed realization.

Evidently, a discernible contrast in skill emerged.

Carl was engulfed in a profound sense of inequity.

Despite numerous augmentations to his physique, mana capacity, and mana manipulation following his humiliation at Mattel, he found himself yet again overpowered.

This state of affairs was unjust.

"Do you think you can escape unscathed just by taking control?!" Carl erupted in fury, endeavoring to unleash an explosive torrent of mana to obliterate the surroundings.

Even a fragment of Oliver's remains would suffice.

Observing Carl's intentions, Oliver cemented his dominion over the purloined mana, conceptualized an image, and raised both hands.

Suddenly, the basement quivered as if convulsed by an earthquake, and a sensation of ascent permeated the space.

Oliver had enshrouded the entirety of the basement with his formidable magic, elevating it to the surface.

Boooooooom!!

The earsplitting clamor of rending through the earth and ascending reverberated through their auditory senses and physical forms, eventually unveiling the fog-swathed surface.

Spectators all around stood flabbergasted by the grandeur of mana on display—one of the most prodigious manifestations within the Magic Tower.

"Thank you for your help," Oliver uttered, channeling mana into his legs to bridge the distance and inclining his form in a bow directed at Carl.

Subsequently, he wielded the staff's handle akin to an axe blade, executing a sweeping maneuver toward Carl's flank.

It was an endeavor to ensnare and immobilize, resembling the motion of a grappling hook.

Yet, capturing Carl proved no simple feat. With astonishing reflexes, he evaded the attack by nimbly stepping backward.

The velocity exceeded Oliver's initial anticipation.

"Your legs… are fascinating," Oliver commented, regarding Carl's lower limbs, an amalgamation of human and beastly attributes.

The transformation was reminiscent of the wizard he had encountered at Mattel.

"That's not the only thing you'll find fascinating," Carl retorted.

Employing one hand, he harnessed mana, and with the other, he extracted his own emotions. Fusing both elements within clasped palms, he harmonized the energies into a singular force.

Carl's assertion held true. The spectacle was captivating and intriguing enough to spark curiosity.

"How do you…"

-[Thunderbolt]

Instead of offering explanation, Carl unleashed a bolt of lightning charged with his ire.

The obsidian lightning, saturated with direct malevolence aimed at Oliver, hurtled toward its target.

***

"Hoo… Hoo…"

Kevin, who had been stationed upon terrain that had transitioned from a hill just minutes earlier, inhaled heavily, struggling for breath.

Across from him stood a rejuvenated Theodore.

"Truly remarkable, test subject 162."

(To be Continued)