Chapter 412: Secret Meeting

The Flesh Cook had shown interest in Oliver.

Oliver asked,

“What do you think now that you’ve met me in person?”

The Flesh Cook looked Oliver over as if appraising an object before responding.

“Well… I’m not sure. It’s only been less than a minute since I saw you.”

“Ah…”

“But I can tell you’re not a coward. You came to meet me… I’ll commend you for that.”

“Thank you for the compliment. But I’m not sure it’s something worth praising. Didn’t you summon me yourself?”

“True, I did. But very few come in person. Even fewer come after receiving an invitation.”

The moment he heard the word ‘invitation,’ Oliver recalled a massive explosion.

The one that left a huge scar in O District, the middle-class residential area in Randa.

The explosion was so intense that everything within visible range was flattened. Due to this, the administrative functions in O District were practically paralyzed, and property values plummeted, causing many to shed tears of despair.

The daily reports of suicides in the newspapers confirmed this.

“It’s nothing special.”

The Flesh Cook, hearing about the chaos caused by his invitation, gave his opinion. His emotions were vast and turbulent, making it hard to gauge the truth, but it wasn’t a lie.

“Nothing… special?”

Yareli responded with a hint of anger. The Flesh Cook reacted as if surprised.

“Oh, are you that type? Don’t misunderstand. I’m just focusing on the positive side.”

“…”

“Many might want to put a gun to their head due to the deaths, the destruction, and the enormous economic damage caused by my invitation. But some will be smiling, right? Speculators, construction companies, and their smaller contractors. When redevelopment begins, many will find jobs, and a few might even become rich. What I’m trying to say is that in every tragedy, there’s hope. Like Pandora’s Box.”

The Flesh Cook spoke with an astonishing level of brazenness.

Yareli’s reaction was naturally one of pure outrage and cold anger.

She knew how many people had died and been injured in the terrorist attack that took place in her city.

Though not directly involved, she felt a sense of guilt and responsibility for the civilians caught up in the incident due to the Tower of Magic’s involvement.

Oliver, who was caught in that explosion, didn’t feel anything of the sort.

Oliver could only muster feelings of mild regret. Perhaps, that was all.

In fact, he mildly agreed with what the Flesh Cook had said.

He had heard through the Forest how many people viewed the tragedy in O District as an opportunity.

Speculators, construction companies, various contractors, problem solvers, and so on. Some had even coined the term ‘the second redevelopment boom.’

For Oliver, it was more of an interesting social phenomenon than a tragedy.

He understood it was sad in his head, but his heart didn’t grasp it.

“Looks like we’ve drifted off-topic… Anyway, what I wanted to say is that you’re not a coward. Or you’re a fool who follows orders despite fear.”

The Flesh Cook pointed at Oliver, who was lost in thought.

“Answer me. After getting caught in that explosion, what boldness made you come to meet me? Was it my threat?”

Oliver recalled the words the Flesh Cook had said. He had boasted that if Oliver didn’t show up, he’d harm those around him.

“…That’s part of it. But I also wanted to meet you, Flesh Cook.”

“Interesting. I’ve met people who wanted to avoid me, but never someone who wanted to meet me. Why is that?”

“Because I want to punch you.”

Without hesitation, Oliver replied. Hearing this, the Flesh Cook’s face showed a brief flash of surprise before he burst into laughter.

“Hahaha!”

The Flesh Cook laughed without restraint, and with each laugh, the magic within him erupted like lava, shaking the surroundings and applying pressure.

It wasn’t just a psychological pressure; it had real, physical force behind it.

Yareli circulated the magic inside her to counter the external pressure, while Oliver just sat there, enduring it.

As if it were nothing. Seeing this, the Flesh Cook leaned forward, provoking him.

“If you want, you can take a swing at me right now.”

“Hmm… No, but thanks for the offer. I’d rather continue our conversation.”

“How disappointing. If you had hit me, I would have responded in kind.”

It was an odd statement. The Flesh Cook had called Oliver here presumably to fight, now that Puppet’s protection was gone. But now, it seemed he wasn’t interested in fighting.

When asked about this, the Flesh Cook’s reply was strangely lackluster, unlike the fierce tone he had when he first invited Oliver.

“The situation has changed. Someone annoying showed up.”

“An annoying… Someone?”

“Yes, a crazy old brat with delusions of grandeur.”

Old brat. At this unfamiliar term, Oliver tilted his head, and the Flesh Cook added an explanation.

“It’s a term I came up with. It’s the opposite of ‘young old man’… Anyway, what’s important is that he’s here because of you.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“He heard about you. That you fought the Angel’s Son. He’s the type who would naturally take an interest in that.”

Oliver was slightly surprised.

It seemed he was talking about Boniface, the fight against the Angel’s Son. Even though the Pater Church had no reaction, he wondered how the Flesh Cook and an unknown ‘old brat’ were aware of it.

“Don’t be too shocked. There are no secrets in this world. The point is, because of you, a bothersome character showed up, and now my plans might be disrupted.”

Through his warlock vision, Oliver could sense the emotions of the Flesh Cook—anger, greed, and cunning—yet there was also sincerity. He couldn’t be sure if he grasped everything, but the Flesh Cook was telling the truth.

“What plan?”

“If I were stupid enough to tell you, my life would be much easier… But know this, Randa and the Tower of Magic won’t be harmed.”

Sincerity.

Yareli, who had been silently listening, interrupted.

“So, in other words, Gallos and Loculi University could be harmed.”

“This is why I like people from noble families. You catch on quickly. Yes, you’re safe for now, so just quietly get lost.”

The Flesh Cook spoke while clapping his hands. Amid the turbulent sea of his emotions, his overwhelming confidence was clear.

It wasn’t bravado; he sincerely meant to let them go.

“After declaring war, you want us to retreat quietly?”

“I’m a bit of a flip-flopper. My heart wavers like reeds in the wind.”

“Even though you’re with the Black Hand, you’re just as arrogant.”

“Do you really think so?”

The Flesh Cook grew serious.

“I think you’re the arrogant ones. Whether it’s the Tower of Magic or Loculi University, how can you be so confident when their history is just a grain of sand compared to the life I’ve lived?”

It wasn’t a baseless statement.

It’s true that warlocks are undervalued compared to wizards, but that’s only within the bounds of the average and the ordinary.

It’s a mistake to treat an ancient monster who has lived for hundreds of years the same way as others.

If it were in his early days, Oliver might have accepted this nonchalantly. But after meeting many people outside, including Puppet, he realized that he couldn’t judge Fingers with ordinary standards.

They possess something beyond simple power.

Puppet is the representative example.

Suddenly, a question came to mind. Which was stronger, the Archive or the Finger? Which was deeper?

The world isn’t straightforward enough to easily assess such matters.

As if to prove that, even under the Flesh Cook’s pressure, Yareli did not lose her courage or spirit. She fought back.

“Even if you possess the power to destroy the Tower of Magic and Loculi University, it doesn’t matter. Just because you’re stronger, doesn’t mean we would break our promise and run away.”

This wasn’t bravado. Oliver admired her stance.

Since Yareli was no amateur, she had a rough idea of the Flesh Cook’s power. Yet, for the sake of her mission, she was determined to risk her life.

This stemmed from her unique sense of responsibility and pride.

However, the Flesh Cook responded to her resolve with misunderstanding and ridicule.

“Hmm… Impressive. You’re like a hero trying to save the world from evil. I don’t understand why you’d feel that way towards me.”

Surprisingly, he was sincere. Among all the countless words he had spoken, this was the most genuine.

Even amidst his uniquely vast and turbulent emotions, it was clear.

He continued to question.

“Do you really see Loculi University and your Tower of Magic as justice? Or are they victims? Do you really think I’m evil and an attacker?”

Yareli didn’t answer verbally, but her emotions provided a clear response.

Oliver could read them, so it was likely the Flesh Cook could too.

The Flesh Cook read Yareli’s emotions on his own and responded.

“I don’t get it. Why do you think that? On what grounds? I’m just adapting more actively to the world.”

“You think… eating people is adapting?”

“Yes. Why is that strange? Everyone is doing the same.”

It was a mockery full of scorn, yet devoid of any falsehood.

Regardless of the absolute truth, the Flesh Cook genuinely believed his words to be truthful.

Faced with this unexpected stance, Oliver’s curiosity flared as he asked,

“Could you elaborate?”

“Is there a need to explain? You see it everywhere in this era. Colonial wars, class conflicts, wealth gaps, horrid working conditions. People are devouring each other.”

“Stop the sophistry. Are you trying to use some minor social issues to justify your horrific crimes?”

Yareli, unable to hold back her displeasure, spoke. Her reaction was understandable.

Though the current era isn’t perfect, it is the golden age of humanity brought about by wizards.

To think that a warlock would try to justify his heinous act of consuming people. It was, indeed, a repulsive display.

But ironically, the Flesh Cook also found Yareli repulsive.

“Minor social issues? Hoho… Do you know how long child laborers work?”

“12 to 16 hours.”

Oliver answered immediately since he had personally worked those hours. It had been a long time, but he hadn’t forgotten those days.

“Correct. They typically work 12 to 16 hours. Factory owners love them because they’re easy to control and cost less than half the wages of an adult. Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? You’ve never had to work. Or starve.”

The Flesh Cook stared directly at Yareli, applying more pressure.

“Children forced to work 12 to 16 hours a day are broken in no time. Whether by accidents, chemical side effects, or just plain exploitation. Do you know what happens when a small child, with a face that looks like an old man’s, is discarded?”

“I wonder.”

“They’re fired. Simply thrown out onto the streets. Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying it’s wrong.”

Sincerity.

“I just don’t understand. So many people are doing the same thing I am. The only difference is that they figuratively feed on lives, while I literally eat them. Why should I be the only one criticized? Why? Do you really think I’m more horrifying?”

Yareli was speechless. People in the Tower of Magic were well aware of the dreadful working conditions in Randa.

“Wizards aren’t much different. When warlocks conduct human experiments as casually as eating a meal, your kind does it just as readily. The Tower of Magic is famous for its human experiments.”

“…”

“And it’s not just that. You consume each other as well. That special entity over there is evidence. All were obtained through connections at Loculi University. Some were bought directly, others came through information… Ah, but I guess you don’t need the details. The Iceye Family was also once hunted.”

“…”

“Have you ever doubted? If the Department of Life Alchemy is the only one with traitors in Loculi University? There could be more, couldn’t there?”

Yareli responded with silence once again.

Apparently satisfied, the Flesh Cook rose from his seat.

“If you think you’re doing something noble, you should drop it. Humans are all the same. We’re all devouring each other. Take that special entity to Loculi University. Consider it a gift.”

As soon as the Flesh Cook finished speaking, a rift opened in the air, and he vanished into it with a short gust of wind. A highly skilled use of spatial magic.

Oliver looked once at Yareli, who seemed mentally and emotionally overwhelmed, and then stood up.

“For now, I’ll make sure to secure those special entities. There should be cases available for transport-”

“-Xenon.”

“Yes, Yareli.”

“I’ve been observing you and reporting to the Grandmaster of the Skadi Minor School. My grandmother… It’s what she wanted.”

“I see.”

“…Did you know?”

“I didn’t know, but I had a feeling I was being watched. I’m not particularly surprised. But I am curious as to why you’re telling me now.”

“…I want to ask about what happened with the Angel’s Son. Will you tell me?”