Chapter 425: Support

“You’re a bit late.”

Merlin said while holding a book in one hand, wearing a tattered coat.

Despite the urgent situation, as Oliver dangled precariously more than 600 meters in the air, he asked a relaxed question.

“Sir? …How did you get here?”

“How do you think? I used spatial magic to get here.”

Merlin answered as if it were nothing, but despite his casual tone, it was a remarkable feat.

Spatial magic is an exceptionally difficult form of magic.

But Oliver wasn’t asking about that; he wanted to know how Merlin knew what was happening here.

A considerable amount of time seemed to have passed, but it hadn’t even been a full day since all this chaos began.

“A good teacher always knows what his disciple is up to, whether they want him to or not.”

“Ah… I see.”

“Anyway, you’ve been through a lot.”

Merlin said, looking at Oliver who was hanging in mid-air.

It made sense; his once-neat clothes were now rags, his body emaciated like someone who hadn’t eaten in a month.

Honestly, he was in a state where it wouldn’t be surprising if he collapsed at any moment.

“But since the situation is urgent, I need to ask you a favor. I’m finding it tough to handle both one of the Fingers and his sister at the same time.”

Merlin spoke with an unconvincing tone, even to Oliver.

“So could you hold off the Flesh Cook for a bit? While I deal with that fearless young lady over there.”

Merlin pointed at Gretel whom he had sent flying with a thrown piece of paper.

It was a straightforward request. Just as Oliver was about to reply, his body shook.

The Flesh Cook had moved, disrupting the targeting spell he had cast to avoid falling.

“Who do you think you’re challenging?!!”

The Flesh Cook, who hadn’t shown such extreme anger in the brief time he’d known Oliver, charged at Merlin.

Despite one arm still regenerating and a body covered in wounds, his momentum was overwhelming.

Just as Puppet had said, he seemed to care deeply for his sister.

‘Hmm… Maybe if I time this right…’

While Oliver was pondering something, the distance between the Flesh Cook and Merlin reduced. Merlin tore a paper from his book and lightly threw it.

The Flesh Cook swung his arm, now covered in scales and massive claws, and shredded the magic-infused paper.

Pop!

As the paper tore, the vast magic stored inside dissipated into the air. The shredded pieces moved following a pre-set spell formula, forming a magic circle and deploying a new spell.

[Overgravity]

The shredded paper each took charge of a segment of the magic circle. The scattered particles of magic power were intricately built like a structure, pressing downward with force.

It wasn’t just the Flesh Cook; the space within the range was also affected.

The space bent downward as if it were melting, a clear sign that not even the Flesh Cook could resist the force and he began to fall.

Naturally, Oliver, who had targeted the Flesh Cook, also began to plummet.

“Oh, no━”

Oliver reacted too late as he started to fall.

He plummeted at an incredible speed.

Yet, even as he fell, he could hear Merlin’s words clearly.

“Don’t overdo it.”

***

Boom━━!!

Oliver crashed down from over 600 meters up. Indirectly affected by the Overgravity spell, his fall was incredibly fast.

As a result, the impact violently shook both the outside and inside of his body. It was severe enough that it wouldn’t be surprising if something broke.

Fortunately, his Emotion Robe protected him, so he wasn’t severely injured.

Bang!

While still down, Oliver raised his quarterstaff to block the Flesh Cook’s attack.

The Flesh Cook, who had fallen to the ground before him, shaped a French Knife out of the pooled blood and swung it at Oliver. However, it seemed that Merlin’s Overgravity magic had taken its toll since he didn’t have the strength he had before.

Even so, he was still stronger than Oliver.

The Flesh Cook pressed down on Oliver, putting strength into his arms, and then opened his mouth wide, attempting to bite Oliver.

In desperation and urgency, and with resolution in his eyes.

Just as the Flesh Cook’s teeth were about to bite into Oliver’s neck, Oliver fought back with his emaciated body and managed to create a small opening, stabbing the Flesh Cook’s abdomen mercilessly.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

For some reason, the Flesh Cook’s body, which had previously been impenetrable, was now much easier to pierce.

“Grrr…!”

After being stabbed in the abdomen, the Flesh Cook recoiled in shock, and Oliver quickly got up.

Just as Oliver was about to counterattack, the Flesh Cook swung his leg and kicked him.

Oliver narrowly blocked it by using his robe like a shield, but the Flesh Cook’s inhuman leg strength sent Oliver flying, crashing into a building.

The wall crumbled, and the impact carried over into his already shaken body.

Pain surged from deep within his bones, yet he still felt somewhat relieved.

If the Flesh Cook were in perfect condition, not just his robe but his entire body would have been torn apart.

It seemed like he kept avoiding the worst-case scenario.

“You’re still in one piece… even after falling from over 600 meters and getting kicked by me?!!”

Apparently, the Flesh Cook’s recovery ability had weakened as he approached Oliver, bleeding from his abdomen and swinging a knife.

Forcing his body to respond, Oliver countered.

“My robe protected me.”

As the French Knife, now enchanted with black magic, clashed with Oliver’s dagger, a deafening noise erupted.

“Your robe protected you?!”

The Flesh Cook sneered as they locked blades, sounding incredulous. It was as if he was looking at an idiot.

But it wasn’t just mockery; his tone also held frustration, confusion, and anger.

Like something precious had been taken from him.

However, this wasn’t just about anger. Long before this, the Flesh Cook had been worried and contemplating.

Concern for his sister Gretel, and how to save her.

Oliver felt admiration.

“Your sister seems to be very important to you.”

“…”

“I heard from Puppet about you two.”

“…”

“Hansel and Gretel. Abandoned by their own parents and captured by a cannibal witch. Yet, this remarkable pair killed that witch, devoured her flesh and blood, and took her knowledge… Impressive.”

“…Shut up.”

“I also heard you two are very close… Is that why you betrayed Lady Bathory? For your sister’s sake?”

“I told you to shut up!”

The Flesh Cook lifted his still-regenerating arm and infused it with life force and black magic to create a new limb.

But it wasn’t restoration. It was closer to the opposite, really. He expended quite a bit of his body and life force in the process.

The Flesh Cook swung his newly formed reptilian arm horizontally, trying to tear Oliver apart.

Oliver subtly moved his dagger to deflect the French Knife, rotating in mid-air with his emaciated body and robe to barely avoid the Flesh Cook’s claws.

Spin━

It was somewhat mystical.

He had intended to evade, but it had gone more smoothly than expected.

His body moved better than when he was in peak condition, despite being so thin.

Even more amazing, after dodging, his actions flowed naturally into a slice across the Flesh Cook’s chest.

Again, the blow landed cleanly. Just like the first time.

Blood drops fell onto the ground, and the Flesh Cook staggered back.

He gasped heavily, momentarily gripped by fear and dread, but soon forced himself to overcome it with determination and anger.

It looked rather beautiful.

“If my questions have upset you, I apologize. I was just curious why Lady Bathory and you, Flesh Cook, had a falling out despite your emotions seemingly aligning.”

“…Stop talking respectfully.”

“…Pardon?”

“I said stop talking respectfully. You monster. It’s creepy.”

“?? I’m sorry, but I’m not a monster-”

-Ha ha ha ha!”

The Flesh Cook suddenly burst out laughing. Genuinely.

“Damn… I can’t believe I’m saying this. But, looking at a real monster like you, there’s just no other word for it.”

The Flesh Cook responded with a mix of self-deprecation.

It made sense. The Flesh Cook had made a pact with a demon and had brought a catastrophe upon a major city for his own desires, not to mention he was a being that ate people.

Morally and socially, the word ‘monster’ fit him well.

Yet, Oliver couldn’t entirely dismiss what he said because his emotions rang with sincerity.

It wasn’t just provocation or insult—it was genuine.

However, Oliver didn’t mind. Whatever someone else thought of him, he remained true to himself.

At least, until the Flesh Cook’s next words.

“You don’t seem to understand, huh? …Do you not know why I called you a monster?”

“I’m not sure? …Was it because I accidentally ate a piece of your flesh earlier? That was a mistake. I’m a bit sensitive too.”

The Flesh Cook shook his head.

“No… You ate my flesh and took some of my power, but that’s not the main reason. It’s something more twisted and disgusting.”

“…?!“

Oliver was shocked. The idea that he had absorbed some of the Flesh Cook’s power by eating his flesh was absurd.

But soon, something else occupied his thoughts.

“You’re worse than me. I see people as meat, but you treat their emotions like interesting toys or snacks.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Isn’t that true?”

The Flesh Cook asked with genuine curiosity.

“To you, people themselves aren’t important, right? What matters are their emotions. Haven’t you shown interest in people or lost it regardless of whether it benefited you or not? In an almost unjustifiably one-sided way?”

Images flashed through Oliver’s mind involuntarily—Joseph, Marie, the pharmacist, Joanna, Kant, Forrest, Murphy, Joe, Puppet, Edith, Jane, Duncan, Rossburn, Merlin, Wallace, Kevin, Paul Carver, Lady Bathory, Seamus, Theodore, Yareli, the orphanage director, and everyone else he had met so far.

Whether he wanted to or not.

At the same time, a question arose.

Had Oliver been interested in these people themselves or merely in their emotions?

Of course, the emotions came first, but still, the people themselves too…

“You seem unaware of your own identity, so let me tell you. You don’t truly value people. That’s obvious from your words and actions. You’re similar to me… no, worse. I hate people, but you don’t even have that. To you, people are just… living machines that create interesting emotions. I made a mistake threatening you by putting people you care about in danger. What a ridiculous mistake… since you don’t have anyone you truly care about. Only precious emotions. Like cherished toys.”

The Flesh Cook seemed to come to a decision, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Sigh… Let me ask you. When I threatened the people you care about, were you worried about them? Or were you worried about the emotions you might lose?”

Whirl━!

Upon hearing the question, Oliver swung his dagger widely from left to right.

Everything within Oliver’s sight was sliced in half, except the Flesh Cook, who had knelt to avoid the strike.

He reached out to Oliver, using his extract ability to pull out the slight annoyance and discomfort Oliver felt.

It was only a tiny bit of emotion, but the Flesh Cook’s hand shook as if even that was overwhelming.

“Ha. Ha…! Is this what that power feels like?”

The Flesh Cook calmly marveled, infusing the stolen emotion into his own body.

And then something unusual happened.

As Oliver’s emotion mixed with the immense amount of emotion, life force, and magic energy already inside the Flesh Cook, they fused together through a chemical-like reaction.

Like an absolute law.

Once the energy had fused into one, the Flesh Cook erased the doubts he had been harboring, looking at Oliver with newfound certainty.

Certainty about Oliver.

Then he unleashed the power he had been holding back, transforming his body.

A massive transformation incomparable to anything before.

The Flesh Cook shed his current damaged body like a cocoon, emerging with a new, formidable form.

His glowing red and fiery eyes, a gaping maw that looked capable of consuming everything, skin densely covered in dark crimson scales, enormous wings that seemed to blot out the sky, and a body both larger than a mountain and swifter than the wind.

He had become a dragon. The now-extinct dragon that existed no more in this world.

Awakened as a dragon, the Flesh Cook roared, the sound shaking the sky, shattering windows, and even crumbling walls, as he looked down at Oliver.

Facing the one and only dragon left in this world, Oliver quietly drew blood with his dagger, reciting a spell.

[Disease Parade]