Chapter 479: Omen

479. Omen (1)

A massive underground cavern, illuminated only by a campfire.

In one corner, the darkness rippled, twisting into a vortex as space was torn open.

From this spell, a reinterpretation of portal magic using death magic, out emerged the shadows of Unbent Knee, the Skunk Boy, and Fen.

“Damn it…”

Unbent Knee, a death mage from the Red Ones, muttered under his breath.

After all, all their comrades got caught in a battle between a creature and the Holy Knights, and he was the only survivor.

It was both humiliating and painful.

Yet, what gnawed at him more was the death mage who had thwarted him twice.

The fixer from Randa’s T-District, Dave.

Dave had known he used his comrades’ souls and even managed to counter it.

He couldn’t understand how that could be possible. Death magic relied just as much on materials as on skill… That’s how he had learned.

That’s why he had even used his own kind as ingredients.

And yet, Dave had mixed emotions, life force, and mana to create an energy similar to a soul and used it.

Though it was no match for a real soul, the important thing was that it thwarted his death magic. Without sacrificing anyone.

Unbent Knee felt a complex, indescribable emotion.

It was a mix of helplessness, inferiority, and guilt—nothing but agony.

Even the usually composed Unbent Knee was visibly shaken.

But it wasn’t just him. Fen’s shadow and the Skunk Boy were also in bad condition.

Fen’s shadow had been weakened by an addiction to Disease-Weakness Death Magic, forcing itself to draw on too much power, which had visibly deteriorated its state.

The Skunk Boy, panicked and on the verge of hyperventilating, seemed like he could collapse any moment.

It was no wonder; after all, the Holy Knight had nearly split his head open.

Had Dave not intervened suddenly, his body might have been cleaved in two.

‘Why did Dave help?’

It was a natural question, but none of them could ponder it deeply.

Because Fen approached them from the darkness.

“Wow… From the looks of it, y’all really had a rough time, huh?”

Everyone looked up at Fen. His face was obscured by the backlight from the campfire, making his expression unreadable.

“There were… unexpected variables.”

“What variables?”

Unbent Knee couldn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know how to explain what he had seen.

An artificial soul imitating a real one, a shadow mouth stronger than his own shadow teeth.

Everything he saw defied belief.

The pressure he felt rivaled that of when he first met Fen and Puppet Immortal.

“Hey? What’s wrong? Can’t hear me? Why is Tootles acting like this?”

Fen eyed Tootles, who trembled beside Unbent Knee, along with his own shadow.

“Damn! What made you such a mess this time? Huh? What the hell happened?”

Fen’s tone to both the boy and his creature was almost whining, but no one got mad. They were used to it; they were only curious.

“Didn’t you see?”

“See what?”

“Didn’t you see everything within the Intestine Tunnel?”

“Ahh… I was watching something more interesting.”

Fen pointed back at the campfire, the only light source burning for the ritual.

Over there, the ritual was still in full swing, just as when Unbent Knee had left.

A massive campfire, towering totems, comrades drumming and dancing around it.

‘…What?’

But something felt wrong. The dancers were moving too uniformly, as if synchronized.

No matter how good a dancer, it’s impossible to replicate the exact same movements repeatedly, but they were…

It almost felt unreal.

And it wasn’t just that. The dance had changed too.

From a traditional warrior’s dance to something more bizarre, their movements seemed like a puppet being yanked around by its hair.

It sent chills down his spine.

Unbent Knee looked at Fen with a cold sweat running down his back.

“Fen.”

“Wait, let me snap this idiot out of it first.”

Fen slapped the Skunk Boy hard enough to make him snap out of it.

“Snap out of it… Pull yourself together.”

“B-boss…?”

“What happened that turned you into a bed-wetting coward?”

“I-I-”

“-Don’t care!”

Fen slapped Tootles again. It seemed like a joke, but he was serious. He really didn’t care.

“The only thing that matters is you’re Tootles of Neverland. You’re Tootles. Tootles stutters and gets called an idiot, but you never get scared. You’re always smiling. That’s what makes you Tootles. If you’re not Tootles, you’re worthless! So, what are you?”

“I-I’m-”

Terrified Tootles…or rather, the boy called Tootles stammered in fear, as if he had something to say. Fen warned him.

“-Remember, if you’re not Tootles, I have no use for you, and if I have no use for you, you can never return to Neverland. Is that what you want?”

Neverland.

The word struck fear into Tootles’ heart, far greater than when his head was almost split.

Fear pushed him up, forcing him to stand tall with a broad smile, despite his terror.

“No, boss… I’m Tootles. Hehe…”

The boy, barely five, laughed as fear overtook him.

Unbent Knee felt inexplicable disgust and anger at the sight.

Fen, however, couldn’t care less.

“Shadow… You’re not looking too good either?”

Fen asked his own twisted shadow, which wobbled from its illness. The shadow forced itself to rise, showing its resolve.

I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.

“Nah… you’re not,”

Fen’s light question locked the shadow in fear.

Like a factory child about to be thrown out for uselessness.

“Hmm… Maybe I should make a new one?”

Fen murmured as if he were about to toss out a broken lighter.

The shadow froze at those words, while Fen laughed.

“Hehe! Hehe! Hehe! Just kidding. Just kidding. Why would I replace my most capable shadow? Of course, I won’t… Can you still move?”

Nod.

“Do you remember what I said?”

Nod.

“Good. Now, let’s get ready-”

-thud.

Unbent Knee grabbed Fen’s arm as he stood. He couldn’t take anymore.

“…Why?”

“Where’s Lily? And the others?”

Unbent Knee asked about what was bothering him the most. Besides those performing the ritual, there had been many tribe members here, especially Lily, who had danced on the giant drum, but now she was nowhere to be seen.

Fen pointed back at the campfire.

“Go see for yourself.”

Feeling a sense of dread, Unbent Knee instinctively ran towards the campfire.

And then he saw it.

His comrade with eyes tainted black.

Comrades with black fluid flowing from their eyes, nose, and mouth.

Comrades who continued to dance hideously, even in that state.

Comrades whose feet were torn and bleeding, leaving footprints of blood as they danced in the formation.

Unbent Knee felt the ultimate terror rising from the depths of his being upon witnessing this scene.

A terror unlike curses, punches, fire, swords, or guns, an unimaginable terror.

All Unbent Knee felt was an overwhelming sense of helplessness and worthlessness, knowing he couldn’t understand or resist this.

As proof, Unbent Knee forgot to breathe, standing there in a cold sweat, his entire body stiff as a board.

The only thing that moved were his eyes, twitching in contradiction, as he longed to escape the fear yet remained transfixed.

“…Huh?”

Unbent Knee’s eyes, barely able to move in his fear, caught sight of something, his voice cracked in disbelief.

It wasn’t the comrades who kept dancing despite their broken legs, nor the tribe members burning as firewood on the campfire, nor even his sister cowering with her eyes shut in terror in one corner.

It was none other than Lily.

Lily, who had collapsed on top of the giant drum she’d danced on before. Shockingly, she had changed.

The once youthful Lily, vibrant as spring buds, was now shriveled, her face and limbs gaunt like an old woman starved for years.

The only part of her body that wasn’t was her swollen belly, as if all the nutrients had pooled there. She looked pregnant.

‘No…’

Unbent Knee denied it. That wasn’t a pregnancy—a sacred, holy thing. It was the opposite. It was an abomination, something defiled and profane.

The only thing a human could feel from it was disgust and despair. Overwhelming despair.

“Should’ve brought the prince; maybe she wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

Upon hearing the voice, Unbent Knee turned to see Fen talking as if it was someone else’s problem.

Only then could Unbent Knee see Fen’s expression.

He was smiling. He wore a dirty smile, his desires fulfilled.

He had known this would happen. They had said they’d be summoning a demon with the city people as sacrifices and had gathered all the tribe members, but they had lied. Even though he had called Lily his friend!

Realizing the truth, Unbent Knee’s fear was washed away by rage and sorrow, regaining control of his body enough to start casting a death spell at Fen—

-swish.

In the cold darkness of the underground cavern, a sharp sound echoed. Unbent Knee tilted and collapsed to the side, seeing a toy scythe-wielding clown and his severed leg alongside him.

“Aaaaargh!!”

Unbent Knee screamed, collapsing into his own pool of blood.

Fen, forever a child, shouted while looking at him.

“Hehe! Hehe! Hehe! Hehe! Alright, time to get ready! The hunt begins!”

***

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A red-haired Holy Knight lifted Oliver by the collar, questioning him.

It wasn’t just holding him—it was lifting him with incredible strength.

It was an unsettling sight, the gleaming axe only amplifying the tension, though Oliver appeared unperturbed.

“Sorry, I blocked without thinking.”

Oliver repeated what he had said before. He really didn’t know why. He had acted instinctively.

“Without thinking? That’s your excuse?”

The Holy Knight didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go, questioning him with his hand still on Oliver’s throat. It was suffocating, but Oliver understood.

The red-haired Holy Knight was angry because of Anselm, whom he respected greatly. Seeing him get hurt enraged him.

In the midst of all that, Oliver had interfered, so it made sense he’d be grabbed by the collar.

Dodging the issue felt wrong, so Oliver tried to answer as sincerely as possible.

“I guess… because it just felt wrong.”

“…What?”

“It’s just… seeing what looked like a five-year-old’s head get split just felt wrong.”

Oliver admitted he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t seen it happen, so he didn’t know how he’d feel.

He just thought that if it had been Kent, he would’ve blocked, so that’s what he did.

Ah, that must’ve been it. If it had been Kent, he’d have blocked too.

Having said that, it seemed like a reasonable explanation. Even if the Holy Knight wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t give me that crap. You blocked because he’s a kid? A death mage?”

“Yes.”

“…Didn’t you see what that kid did?”

Oliver had seen Anselm get poisoned by the Skunk Boy’s bullet. They managed to heal him with Holy Power, but the poison wasn’t fully neutralized, leaving him in bad shape.

“I’m sorry… but it just felt wrong.”

“You little—”

“But aren’t you a Holy Knight?”

Freeze.

“A shield that protects the human realm and humanity in the name of God. It’s a bit much to slay a child out of anger, isn’t it?”

Oliver stated his thoughts clearly.

No one could disagree. Because it made sense.

“So you stopped me because it wouldn’t have suited a Holy Knight?”

“I didn’t think that far, but I guess that’s part of it.”

“I think differently.”

“Huh?”

“What if you’re on Fen’s side?”

“…Huh?”

“Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Grip… The Holy Knight tightened his hold on Oliver’s collar.

“Ordering the Intestine Tunnel back at the mine, easily subduing the Red Ones’ shadow, doing nothing until Anselm got injured, then intervening… isn’t it all suspicious? Plus, you tried to stop us from taking out the enemy.”

“Because he looked like a five-year-old—”

“-Or, you’re just another death mage in league with Fen, trying to trap us.”

The Holy Knight readjusted his grip on the axe, ready to swing at any moment.

After careful consideration, Oliver answered.

“Hmm, that makes sense too… Your theory would sound more convincing if your emotions towards me weren’t clouding your judgment.”

The red-haired Holy Knight snapped, raising his axe in fury.

Joanna, who had been fidgeting nervously, was startled and immediately tried to stop him, grabbing the axe.

“Wait! He doesn’t mean any harm—”

“Shut up, bitch!”

The red-haired Holy Knight shook her off and yelled.

“I’ve been watching you two! Making eye contact, working together?! You’re in league with him too, aren’t you? In league with this death mage! You lousy—” Grr!

The Holy Knight’s words cut off as a sudden pain shot through his arm.

Turning his head, he saw that Oliver, who had been dangling from his collar, was now grasping the Holy Knight’s wrist with his skinny hand.

Crunch.

Oliver’s bony hand squeezed, and the Holy Knight, despite his superior strength, found his arm slowly lowering.

Everyone watched in silence.

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t breathe.”