Chapter 420: Flesh Cook

A French knife swung widely from left to right.

Oliver had a strange experience at that moment.

His instincts screamed danger, making his consciousness hyper-aware. It was as if time slowed down.

He recalled feeling this way in the past—in the mines when the overseers forced dangerous tasks on him or when a stronger child he worked with was in a bad mood. In those moments, Oliver would think quickly and hide, avoiding trouble by following his instincts.

This time was no different.

His first thought was to dodge.

No matter how powerful an attack was, it wasn’t as dangerous if you didn’t get hit.

However, Oliver soon dismissed that thought.

His body had slowed down due to the disease-weakening curse, and after seeing the Flesh Cook’s other hand, he judged that dodging would be even more dangerous.

So, Oliver decided to defend instead of evading.

The question was, how would he defend?

Oliver looked at his robed hand—the same arm that had blocked the giant’s fists.

He considered using his arm as a shield, but instead, he chose to use the Quarterstaff.

It wasn’t for any specific reason.

It was just instinct telling him that holding the Quarterstaff was safer than using his arm.

And despite the trivial reason, that choice was correct.

Shing······!

A sharp yet heavy sound filled the air as Oliver was pushed back.

The attack was stronger than he expected, and as proof, the strike partially cut through his robe.

If he had used his arm covered in the robe, it probably would have been severed. He was lucky.

Bang! ······Sssraaash!!

As Oliver considered his judgment to be correct, the Flesh Cook swung his other hand to attack him again.

Oliver blocked with the Quarterstaff, but the Flesh Cook didn’t care, pushing him back solely with brute force, slamming him into one side of the building.

Bang!!

A loud noise echoed as he crashed into the building, accompanied by intense shock.

Thanks to the Black Suit and robe he wore, his body wasn’t severely damaged, but the mental impact was significant.

The robe, which had even blocked the giant’s fist, couldn’t withstand the Flesh Cook’s strength······.

Or perhaps it was natural. With the vast emotions, magic, and life force that reminded one of the ocean, his physical body must have been on a different level.

The problem was that it far exceeded Oliver’s expectations.

“Oh······. Impressive. To withstand that with a mere wooden stick.”

The Flesh Cook spoke, half-serious, half-mocking, and Oliver responded politely.

“I was lucky.”

“I know. If it wasn’t that stick, but that shabby thing on your body, I’d have chopped you to pieces in an instant······. What exactly is that wooden stick?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know either······. It was a gift.”

“A gift?”

The Flesh Cook’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and greed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter… I can figure it out slowly. But how did you get here? You shouldn’t be able to be here, right?”

He spoke as if he knew something. Oliver answered.

“Are you talking about Fen?”

“Ah, so you did meet him!”

The Flesh Cook reacted as he pressed down on Oliver with more force.

As he applied more force, his nails grew, and scales formed on his arm like crystals.

It wasn’t a human arm. It was something even stronger than a giant’s arm.

“So, you met Fen and then appeared here so quickly······. I guess he let you go just to mess with me.”

It was more confirmation than a question, closer to certainty.

Oliver nodded.

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to follow your orders. Though I don’t know the exact reason.”

The Flesh Cook seemed surprised, then shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

“It’s my fault for trusting someone untrustworthy······. It doesn’t matter. I intended to eat him after finishing this job anyway.”

“By job, do you mean opening the gates of Hell?”

······!

At that unexpected question, the Flesh Cook widened his eyes and grabbed the Quarterstaff, throwing Oliver together with it to the opposite side.

The force was so strong that even though the robe tried hard to protect its master, Oliver still ended up rolling on the ground.

“Fen······. Did that bastard tell you that too?”

“No.”

Oliver replied as he dusted off the dirt from his body.

“It was Puppet who told me that.”

In that moment, Oliver saw it—the emotion of the Flesh Cook shaking upon hearing that name.

And it wasn’t surprising. Although they were on the same team now, in the distant past, the Flesh Cook had also received help from Puppet.

“······I guess he saw more potential in you than in me.”

“Potential?”

“Yes. That guy loves investing in talented rookies. Thinks it might help with his research.”

“Are you talking about the method of making souls and resurrecting the dead?”

“Yes. That’s why he helped me at one point······. What a pity.”

“Hmm······. Puppet said it wasn’t about picking sides, just that he wanted to learn something more interesting and useful. So don’t feel too disappointed.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that kind of pity······. But it doesn’t matter now. By the way, you’re not in your right mind, are you?”

“What?”

“What? Don’t what me······. You came all this way, knowing that the Gates of Hell might open, didn’t you? Even if you’re a fool, you should understand how serious this is.”

Oliver agreed with that.

He didn’t know all the details, but based on Puppet’s explanation, what the Flesh Cook was trying to do was some sort of cheat using demon summoning.

That alone was a huge deal.

There hadn’t been a demon summoning in recent times, but old records described the devastating consequences.

Places of various sizes, from small villages to large cities, where demons had been summoned suffered disasters that couldn’t be described even with the word ‘catastrophe.’

The impact was so great it even changed the course of history.

Yet, Oliver hadn’t run away. Instead, he ventured deeper inside. Because······

“······It’s my job.”

“Job?”

“Yes, as an employee of the Tower of Magic, Xenon Bright. I’m here in Gallos to confront you as part of my duties. Of course, there’s also a bit of personal feeling involved······.”

Oliver recalled the words the Flesh Cook had said when he sent the invitation.

He had threatened to harm those around Oliver if he didn’t come to Gallos.

Hearing this, the Flesh Cook smiled, both shocked and amused.

“Hahaha!! I’ve heard all sorts of bluffing, lies, threats, and insults, but this is the first time I’ve heard such a thing. You came here for official business, but you also hold a personal grudge······. Interesting.”

“It’s not quite a grudge. Just a bit of resentment.”

Oliver corrected the Flesh Cook’s misunderstanding. He only wanted to land a punch.

The Flesh Cook didn’t seem too bothered by Oliver’s weird response.

“Do whatever you want. Dark wizards are all a bit crazy anyway. Like Puppet, who chases unreachable research, Fen with his delusions of grandeur, or the Pied Piper who kidnaps children and abandons them in the woods······. It’s rather a relief.”

“A relief? What do you mean?”

“I thought you came to stop me with some idiotic sense of justice, like a rookie hero. I’m glad you’re not one of those annoying types. People like that are both ridiculous and irritating.”

Oliver recalled the first time he met the Flesh Cook in the basement.

Back then, he mocked Yareli, who was determined to risk her life not yielding to any strong opponent, for her pride and mission.

Even though Yareli was sincere.

After mocking her, he said he was just adapting more actively to a world where people devoured each other.

To be honest, Oliver agreed with the Flesh Cook.

From what Oliver had seen in orphanages, mines, the ranks of beggars, and even in the supposedly ‘noble’ Tower of Magic and the city, people did eat each other, even if they didn’t literally put human flesh in their mouths.

Yet, at the same time, he also disagreed.

“Bullshit. I agree, but I don’t agree.”

Oliver nodded.

“Yes, that’s correct. Fundamentally, I agree with your perspective, Flesh Cook. Nations invade others to create colonies, capitalists exploit workers. Even workers exploit children, and the children in turn exploit those younger than them.”

Oliver recalled his conversation with Paul Carver, the Minister of Internal Affairs of the city.

They didn’t talk for long due to time constraints, but through Paul’s teachings, Oliver learned a bit about how society operates and why it is the way it is.

His words aligned with Yareli’s.

Humanity’s greed is limitless, but resources are finite—a tragic reality.

“That’s probably why my master says power is the true value of humanity. With power, you won’t be devoured, and you can get what you want.”

“He taught you well.”

“Yes, and I agreed with him, at least in part.”

“In part?”

“I’ve seen exceptions, you see. Those who once devoured people but now save them.”

Oliver was thinking of Kent. He was a man who once devoured others during Randa’s redevelopment boom before he, too, was devoured······. Surprisingly, after falling to the bottom, he started living a life helping others.

It was truly ironic.

“How many of those people do you think there are?”

“Very few······. But as long as they exist, that’s enough. Things will slowly get better.”

Oliver then thought of Yareli, with whom he had spoken earlier.

She said she would solve the problems within the Tower of Magic.

When he mentioned this, the Flesh Cook sneered.

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes, I want to believe it. More than that······.”

“······?”

“A world where people only devour each other… is what you might call a boring world, isn’t it?”

Clap- Clap- Clap-

The Flesh Cook, who had been listening quietly, temporarily sheathed his French knife and clapped his hands.

But very, very, cynically.

Because of this, his usually passionate emotions calmed down to a surprising extent, now shining with contempt, disgust, and cold anger.

As if he was looking at something highly unpleasant.

“I knew you had skills despite your dumb face, but I didn’t think you’d be good at spewing this kind of bullshit too. It’s almost making me puke.”

The Flesh Cook spoke with disdain and insult, but Oliver only felt puzzled. Because he too······.

The Flesh Cook frowned and asked.

“In short, you want to play the hero and save the city, right?”

“No, not at all. I’m just trying to do my job as a member of the Tower of Magic······. But I do want to help those who think that way.”

“You’re a contradictory fool. Not my concern, though.”

The Flesh Cook drew the French knife from his waist again.

He infused the knife’s blade with his emotions, dyeing it a dark crimson.

As Oliver assumed a defensive stance, the Flesh Cook swung the knife widely.

But this time, not at Oliver, but toward the kneeling giant whose hands were broken.

The blade, imbued with dark magic, instantly severed the giant’s neck, causing him to collapse, spewing blood that matched his massive size.

Red droplets rained from the sky, and a river of red blood covered the ground.

The center of Ravely, in the Capital of Gallos, was now painted in crimson, as if a scab had been ripped open.

However, it wasn’t over yet.

[Decompose]

As the Flesh Cook chanted, the vast quantity of blood pooled on the ground, the buildings, and even the blood splattered on Oliver began to decompose rapidly.

The putrid smell and pus that resulted were proof. Oliver realized too late that he’d been caught off guard.

Because it had created the optimal environment for disease-weakening dark magic.

As Oliver tried to remove the rotting blood from his body, the Flesh Cook, holding the French knife just like his first appearance, spoke.

“Nice bullshit. But how do you plan on stopping me?”

He said this and then swung the French knife widely from left to right.

The emotions imbued in the knife turned into a massive crescent-shaped blade, flying toward Oliver.

Chwang!!

As the massive crescent blade collided with Oliver, it split in half, flying off to the sides and crashing into buildings.

A roaring sound echoed as the buildings crumbled, and Oliver stood in place with a dagger in one hand, answering.

“I’ll do my best.”