Genius Warlock-Novel

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The French knife moved gracefully from left to right.

At that moment, Oliver experienced something extraordinary.

His instincts, alerting him to imminent danger, heightened his awareness. It appeared as though thad slowed down, creating an illusion.

In the past, during his days working alongside the supervisors in the mines, he would often encounter this sensation when faced with perilous tasks or when the stronger children he collaborated with were in foul moods. During those times, Oliver would swiftly devise a plan and follow his instincts to conceal himself, thus avoiding any trouble.

This twas no exception.

His initial inclination was to evade.

After all, an attack, no matter how powerful, poses no threat if it doesn’t make contact.

However, Oliver soon discarded that idea.

Due to the debilitating effects of diseases, his body felt sluggish, and he doubted his ability to dodge effectively. Moreover, upon observing the other hand of Human-meat Chef, he concluded that evasion might be even riskier.

Consequently, Oliver made the decision to opt for defense instead of evasion.

The question that remained was how to defend himself.

Oliver observed his robed arm, the very arm that had previously deflected the mighty blow of a giant.

Contemplating the idea of using his arm as a shield to fend off the attack, he ultimately decided to grasp the quarterstaff instead. There wasn’t a specific rationale behind this choice; it was merely an instinctive response, with Oliver judging that holding the quarterstaff would provide greater safety.

Yet, despite the seemingly insignificant basis for his decision, it proved to be the correct one.

Chiang!

With a sharp and weighty noise that resonated through the air, Oliver was forcefully pushed backward. The attack proved to be more potent than anticipated, evident from a slash that partially pierced Oliver’s robe. Had he relied on his robed arm for defense, it would have been completely severed. It was indeed a stroke of luck.

Bang! …Chaang!!

As Oliver reaffirmed the soundness of his judgment and prepared to retaliate, Human-meat Chef unleashed another assault with his alternate hand. Oliver employed the quarterstaff to block the attack, but Chef, undaunted, employed sheer physical strength to propel Oliver into a nearby building.

Bang!

A resounding crash echoed as Oliver collided with the structure, the impact jarring. Thanks to the protective black suit and robe he wore, his physical injuries were minimal, but the mental shock was considerable.

The robe that had once withstood the blows of giants now found itself overwhelmed by Chef’s formidable strength.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Chef exuded an extraordinary level of emotion, magna, and Life-force, akin to the boundless ocean. It would not be surprising if his physique was equally extraordinary.

The issue was that this development far surpassed Oliver’s expectations.

“Oh… Impressive. To withstand with such a wooden trifle.”

Human-meat Chef remarked, partly in earnest and partly in jest, to which Oliver responded with courtesy.

“I was lucky.”

“I know. If it wasn’t for that wood but the filthy thing you’re wearing, I would have chopped you up in an instant… What’s the identity of this wooden trifle?”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know… It was a gift.”

“A gift?”

Human-meat Chef’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and avarice.

“Well, good… I’ll find out slowly. But how did you chere? You shouldn’t be able to be here, right?”

His tone suggested knowledge. Oliver replied.

“Are you talking about Mr.Pan?”

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“Ah, you met him!”

Human-meat Chef reacted and exerted more pressure with the arm pinning Oliver. As he did, his hand sprouted claws, and scales reminiscent of crystals formed on his arm.

It was no longer a human arm; it appeared to be something more potent than that of a giant.

“Meeting Pan and appearing here so quickly… He must have released you to mess with me.”

His tone carried an air of certainty rather than inquiry.

Oliver nodded.

“Firstly, Mr. Chef, he said he didn’t want to move according to your wishes. I don’t know the details, though.”

Taken aback by the response, Human-meat Chef initially appeared shocked but then nonchalantly shrugged it off as if it were inconsequential.

“It’s my fault for trusting someone unreliable… Anyway, once I finish what I’m doing, I was planning to devour him too.”

“Is the task you’re referring to opening the gates of hell?”

“…”

Caught off guard by the reply, Human-meat Chef’s eyes widened, and he seized the quarterstaff, hurling Oliver to the opposite side.

His strength was such that despite the robe’s efforts to protect its wearer, Oliver ended up tumbling across the ground.

“Pan… Did he even tell you that?”

“No.”

Oliver dusted himself off and responded.

“It was Mr. Puppet who told me.”

In that moment, Oliver discerned a change in Human-meat Chef’s emotions upon hearing this revelation.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. Even Human-meat Chef had once received Puppet’s assistance in the distant past, although they were now as different as night and day.

“Looks like he saw more potential in you than in me.”

“Potential?”

“Yes. That human likes investing in talented youngsters. Probably because it helps his research.”

“Are you talking about the creation of souls and the resurrection of the dead?”

“Exactly. I also received his help once… It’s regrettable.”

“Hmm… It’s more that Mr. Puppet chose what was more interesting and beneficial to learn, rather than picking someone in particular. So, you don’t need to be disappointed.”

“Ah, my regret isn’t about that… But now, what does it matter? Besides, you’re not in your right mind either.”

“Excuse me?”

“What do you mean, ‘Excuse me?’… Coming here, knowing that the gates of hell might open, means you’re not in your right mind. Even an idiot would realize how serious this is.”

Oliver concurred with that statement.

Although he lacked detailed knowledge, according to Puppet, Human-meat Chef’s endeavors involved a type of shortcut utilizing demon summoning.

That alone constituted a major concern.

While there hadn’t been any recent demon summonings, historical records depicted each instance as profoundly calamitous. The scale ranged from small villages to major cities, but locations where demons were summoned experienced unimaginable disasters.

To the extent that it altered the course of history.

Yet, Oliver hadn’t fled but had instead ventured deeper into the situation. Why? Because…

“It’s part of the job.”

“Job?”

“Yes, I’m Zenon Bright, an employee of the Magic Tower. I cto Galos as a member of the Magic Tower to confront you, Mr. Chef. Of course, there’s a bit of personal feeling involved too.”

Oliver recollected what Human-meat Chef had conveyed when extending the invitation.

The threat to harm those around Oliver if he didn’t cto Galos.

Upon hearing this, Human-meat Chef chuckled with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

“Ha! I’ve heard countless bluffs, lies, threats, and insults, but this is new. Coming for official business but also harboring personal grudge… Interesting.”

“It’s not exactly a grudge. More like a bit of regret.”

Oliver clarified Human-meat Chef’s misconception. He truly desired to express his sentiments to him.

Human-meat Chef seemed unperturbed by Oliver’s peculiar response.

“Whatever. It’s normal for warlocks to be a bit off. Like Puppet, obsessed with unreachable research, or Pan, caught in his own prince complex, or the Pied Piper who kidnaps children and abandons them in forests… It’s almost a relief, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you chere with smisguided sense of mission like snaive girl. Glad you’re not one of those insufferable types. Those kinds of people are both amusing and annoying.”

Oliver reminisced about his initial encounter with Human-meat Chef in the basement.

At that time, he had taunted Yareli, who stood resolute against formidable adversaries, ready to stake her life for her honor and mission, despite her unwavering sincerity.

Back then, Chef had remarked that he was simply more actively adapting to a world where people devoured each other.

To be honest, Oliver found himself in agreement with Human-meat Chef.

In orphanages, mines, gangs, the underworld, and even within the Magic Tower and cities – those purported representatives of light – he had observed that they all fed on others, albeit indirectly.

Yet, simultaneously, he held a dissenting view.

“Nonsense. Agreeing and yet not agreeing?”

Oliver nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. Basically, I agree with your view, Mr. Chef. Nations invade others to create colonies, capitalists exploit workers, even those workers exploit children, and those children exploit even younger ones.”

Oliver recollected his conversation with Paul Carver, the Interior Minister of the city.

Although their discussion had been brief due to tconstraints, Oliver had gleaned sinsights about society and its workings from Carver’s teachings.

His words resonated with what Yareli had expressed.

The tragic conflict of boundless human avarice versus finite resources.

“Maybe that’s why my master said that power is the value of a human. With power, you’re not eaten, and you can do what you want.”

“Well taught.”

“Yes, I actually half agreed with my master’s words.”

“Half?”

“I’ve seen the opposite too. Someone who once ate people but now saves them.”

Oliver thought of Kent. He had once preyed on people during the redevelopment frenzy in Landa, only to eventually beca victim himself. Astonishingly, after hitting rock bottom, he had transformed his life to one devoted to aiding others.

It was an unquestionably ironic twist of fate.

“How many such people do you think there are?”

“Not many, surely. Very few… But if they exist, that’s enough. Things will improve gradually.”

Oliver recalled his recent conversation with Yareli, inspired by thoughts of Kent.

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She had proclaimed her intention to address the Magic Tower’s issues independently.

When he mentioned this, Human-meat Chef scoffed.

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes, I want to believe it. Above all…”

“?”

“A world where people only devour each other is, how should I put it… Quite a dull world, isn’t it?”

Clap- Clap- Clap-

Human-meat Chef, who had silently listened to Oliver’s words, sarcastically applauded after briefly placing his French knife at his side.

Surprisingly, his usual fervent emotions had cooled, now exuding contempt, revulsion, and cold fury.

As if he were beholding something profoundly distasteful.

“I knew you were clever despite your simple appearance, but I didn’t know you were good at spewing such nauseating nonsense. It almost makeswant to vomit.”

Human-meat Chef spoke with disdain and mockery. However, Oliver couldn’t help but feel perplexed because he himself…

Frowning, Human-meat Chef inquired, 

“So in essence, you want to play the hero, saving the city?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just working as part of the Magic Tower… However, I do want to help those who hold such beliefs.”

“You’re a contradiction. Not my problem, though.”

Once again, Human-meat Chef drew his French knife from his side.

He infused the emotions into the knife, staining its blade a deep crimson hue.

As Oliver assumed a defensive posture, Chef swung the knife widely.

Not toward Oliver, but rather at a colossal figure kneeling with shattered hands.

The dark magic-imbued blade effortlessly sliced through the giant’s head, a head larger than a building, causing the giant to crumple and spew forth a colossal torrent of blood.

Crimson droplets fell from the sky, drenching the ground in a river of blood.

The heart of Ravel, the capital of Galos, was marred by a scab-like layer of crimson.

However, that was not the end.

[Decompose]

As Human-meat Chef intoned these words, the massive pool of blood on the ground, the structure, the blood adorning Oliver’s body, and even the flesh of the giant all began to rapidly deteriorate.

The resulting discharge and foul odor bore witness to the process of decay. Oliver belatedly realized that he had fallen into a trap.

It had becthe perfect environment for casting disease-weakening dark magic.

As Oliver attempted to rid himself of the putrefying blood covering his body, Human-meat Chef, wielding his French knife, spoke up, much like his initial appearance.

“I’ve heard enough of your nonsense. But how do you plan to stop me?”

With those words, he swung his French knife in a broad arc from left to right.

The emotions infused into the blade transformed into a colossal crescent-shaped blade, hurtling toward Oliver.

Chang!!

Upon impact with Oliver, the massive crescent blade cleaved in two, careening into the adjacent buildings.

With a deafening crash, the structures crumbled, leaving Oliver standing amidst the wreckage, clutching a dagger in one hand, as he retorted.

“By trying my best.”

(To be Continued)

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