Chapter 487: A Noble Being

Nobility.

A word meaning high status or rank.

There was no other word more unsuited to Oliver.

That’s because Oliver was as lowly as one could be.

He didn’t know who his parents were, grew up in an orphanage, and was eventually sold to the mines. Even in the orphanage and mines, he was cast out, crawling at the very bottom.

Of course, he later got lucky, seeing more of the world and enjoying many blessings, but still, nobility was not one of them.

Nobility was something beyond luck or effort; it was something you were born with.

Yet, the demon told Oliver he was a noble being. It was truly incomprehensible, made even more so because one couldn’t see through the demon’s emotions.

As Oliver pondered, unable to find an answer, The Burned One approached, extending his charred hand towards Joanna.

As casually as one would reach for an object.

Tap.

In that casual gesture, Oliver raised his Quarterstaff to stop him.

His sudden movement made his right arm ache like mad.

“Phew…”

Oliver steadied his breathing, breaking into a cold sweat from the burning pain.

The Burned One silently looked down at Oliver, whose hand had stopped him.

He didn’t seem angry about being stopped, which made it even more terrifying.

It seemed less like an emotional reaction and more like a task, making it even harder to avoid.

For a moment, silence ruled the space.

Joanna stood frozen despite the demon before her, while all Oliver had managed to do was stop it with his Quarterstaff.

The demon briefly looked at Oliver before beginning to fiddle with the Quarterstaff that had stopped its hand.

[…It seems well-maintained.]

“It was a gift. I clean it once a day.”

[I like it.]

“I’m really sorry, but I cannot give it to you.”

Oliver spoke sincerely to the demon before him. He’d rather give up all his wealth.

[That’s a shame… Will you move it, please?]

The Burned One asked politely.

Although his echo-like voice carried no magic, sorcery, or any kind of energy, it held an irresistible force.

The pure power of words.

Oliver almost caved under its weight, but he looked at Joanna and held on, asking.

“What will you do if I move it?”

[I’ll place my hand on her face.]

He would place his hand on Joanna’s face…

“And then?”

[She will burn and vanish.]

The Burned One answered as casually as if stating that it might rain on a cloudy day, or that a dirty house needed cleaning.

[And after that, the City above will burn as well.]

“…I’m really curious, why do you want to burn it? Is it because the Red Ones summoned you?”

Oliver thought for a moment before asking.

Objectively, it wasn’t the time for this kind of questioning, but it was all Oliver could do.

[That’s a complicated question.]

The Burned One withdrew his hand and stepped back a few paces. Then he twisted his finger, manipulating the surrounding darkness.

The pitch-black surroundings used the shadows to recreate a space—was it a mine?

The space was detailed yet blurry, clear yet vague, realistic yet dreamlike—a contradictory space.

[Being summoned to burn. Not entirely wrong.]

“It sounds like there’s more to it.”

The Burned One nodded.

Whenever his burnt body moved, charred fragments crumbled away.

[It’s a corrupt City. It must be purified.]

Purification. It sounded oddly strange. Was it because it came from a demon? No, that wasn’t it.

There were many unknowns up until now, but one thing was clear—the demon was different from any known up until now.

So it had to be for a different reason.

“…A strange thing to say.”

[…]

“Burning for purification. It’s a fitting yet unfitting combination of words.”

The Burned One respectfully extended his hand towards Oliver.

[Why do you think that?]

“Hmm… It sounds like you’re saying these people are trash?”

[They are.]

The Burned One replied shortly. His echoing voice, devoid of any emotion due to its peculiar timbre, sounded more sincere.

There was no hate, no anger, no joy, no sadness—just trash that needed to be taken out.

Even Oliver couldn’t quite describe the feeling he got.

“Please don’t speak carelessly.”

Having been frozen by the overwhelming presence of the demon and the deaths of her comrades, Joanna finally spoke up.

She said those words with great difficulty, though she knew they couldn’t win with force. Still, like one defending a sacred territory, she desperately summoned the courage to speak.

“No matter how powerful you are… you cannot degrade others as trash.”

For the first time, the Burned One consciously acknowledged Joanna’s words. Previously, when he’d tried to grab her, it was merely a matter of clearing an obstacle.

Joanna herself hadn’t been consciously acknowledged at all, much like one wouldn’t notice individual flies. But now, he did. He clearly recognized Joanna as an entity.

As they anxiously waited to hear what he’d say, the dark stage crafted by the Burned One began to move.

[I shall show you.]

***

[Mom! Mom!]

The first actor to appear on the stage was a child made of shadow, crying out in terror.

He was followed by the second, third, and fourth actors.

Although it was difficult to make out, all the actors forged from shadow were clearly Red Ones.

If you asked for proof, there was no answer, but the feeling was instinctual—they were Red Ones.

On the stage the Burned One created, the fifth, sixth, and countless more Red One actors appeared. Then, kingdom soldiers, armed with guns, pushed them all into a single spot.

No familiar faces, yet Oliver recognized one.

Kenny Midas, founder of Prometheus Corp and until recently, its CEO.

Through occasional newspaper photos and pictures shown by Edith, Oliver knew his face, though Kenny looked several decades younger than before.

[Are you really going to do this, Boss?]

One large man asked, trembling. He seemed to be one of Kenny’s employees.

Despite his robust appearance, fear gripped him heavily under Kenny’s fierce gaze.

[Of course! If this venture fails, it’s all over! Everything!! I’ve already even sacrificed my wife!]

Kenny drew a handgun, threatening the man. Though made of shadow, the man’s madness, fear, and impatience came vividly through.

[Remember! There’s nowhere to retreat now! Crap! I’m more afraid of money than I am of demons, more afraid of poverty than hell! You had your third kid three months ago, didn’t you?!]

Kenny asked the trembling man. The man nodded.

[And your grandmother is sick?!]

He asked another man, who also nodded.

[And your brother just started school, right? You want him to grow up differently than you did, don’t you?! You’re getting married soon! Damn, you owe the creditors by the fifteenth, right?! Right!?!]

None of the large men dared challenge Kenny’s words.

They weren’t just there because they feared Kenny. They were there because of incredibly ordinary yet utterly unsolvable problems.

[So… let’s start the ritual at once. Anyone who hesitates, I’ll kill them myself.]

Kenny ordered, and the employees began to comply.

Four men brought in a machine with them. Although forged from shadow, its exact form was indiscernible, but it looked like some kind of press.

One of the large men grabbed the first actor, the child, by the hair.

With that, another man approached and forced a funnel into the child’s mouth, then poured liquid into it.

[Wine, correct? Red wine?]

[Yes.]

Kenny asked as he read a manual. The man answered.

As soon as Kenny got the answer, he pulled out a book and began to recite an unknown incantation.

The chant was similar to the one used by the Red Ones earlier, but different—cursed words aimed at the demon.

One of the large men poured wine into the child until his stomach bloated.

Crying women, terrified children, men being shot for resistance.

The child, now unconscious, was forcibly laid on the machine, and the two largest men began to turn its circular handles on either side.

Crreeak. Crreeak. Crreeak. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound of a machine echoing quietly in all directions, and the sound of bones and flesh being crushed.

This place was hell. A man-made hell.

“Urgh…”

Joanna turned her head at the sight of the boy being crushed alive.

It had been a long time since her will to fight had been lost, but an invisible force turned her head back to face the scene.

Crrreak…

The machine pressed until the boy was thoroughly mangled.

All that was left were bits of flesh and bone stuck to the press, and a mix of wine and blood pooling on the floor.

[Ma, magic stone! It’s a magic stone…! Boss!]

One of the men with a pickaxe dug around the area, shouting. Just as he said, a magic stone was found.

The child’s blood and sin had enriched the land.

Kenny, who had been steadily chanting until the child had been crushed, ran over to check and then shouted with joy.

Kenny’s wasn’t the only shout of joy. Those who had been tormented by fear and guilt until now embraced each other in celebration, as if the magic stone, as good as gold, had erased their previous terror.

After that, the process sped up significantly.

In order of their appearance, women, children, the elderly, and pregnant women all had funnels shoved into their mouths and were force-fed wine.

Bloated bellies, the press, incantations, circular handles, bodies bursting and breaking, red blood flowing like juice.

Everyone except the sacrifices was ecstatic. Unlike the intangible values like faith, salvation, forgiveness, and enlightenment that current religions offered, these produced tangible, straightforward results.

With every creak of the press, another Red One disappeared, and a mound of human flesh piled up.

As the traces of sin accumulated, so did the magic stones in the ground.

Oliver was witnessing how the mining of magic stones, which everyone had said was impossible, had actually been done.

Fen was right. This land was a land of sin. A land where magic stones were made from the blood and greed of Red Ones.

It wasn’t a metaphor or anything like that; it was literal.

“Ugh… ugh…”

Joanna’s face turned deathly pale as she bent over, groaning.

She was struggling not to lose consciousness. If she lost consciousness, she wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Consumed by an indescribable sense of guilt, she barely managed to hold back the urge to give up, glaring at the Burned One.

Just as Joanna opened her mouth to speak, the Burned One spoke.

[Are you about to say, not everyone is a sinner?]

Perfectly anticipating her words, Joanna couldn’t respond.

[They all didn’t know, perhaps. But, did the Governor’s office and the Pater Church really know nothing?]

The demon approached Joanna.

[Can you be sure? That they truly had no idea?]

As the Burned One spoke, he took steps forward, and Joanna unconsciously stepped back, like a sinner trying to flee from guilt.

[Would they have stopped even if they did know?]

The Burned One took another step forward.

[Red Ones. Anyway, they’re just savages with red skin, not the children of the divine, so it’s fine, right?]

Joanna retreated, her body drenched in a cold sweat. At that moment, something grabbed her leg. It was the child crushed by the press.

[Please, save me.]

“Ah, ahh…!”

Joanna screamed in terror, far more frightened now than when she had seen the descent of the demon, collapsing on the spot as her strength left her.

Children, their bodies crushed by the press, clung to her, begging to be saved.

[I’ll listen now!]

[I won’t be lazy anymore! I’ll eat less food!]

[I want to live! Please save me!]

[It hurts. Mom! I want to see my mom. And my dad too…]

The shadowy children were weaker than real children, but Joanna could neither shake them off nor hold onto them.

She simply flailed like someone drowning.

In truth, Joanna couldn’t even breathe properly, like a drowning person. The guilt, greater than her fear, crushed her lungs.

Meanwhile, the distance between the Burned One and Joanna grew even smaller. The Burned One pronounced judgment on Joanna like a judge.

[Templar Joanna. Criminal who forgot the duties of a Templar. You ignored and discriminated against those far away for the sake of those closer to you. You used the name of the divine to satisfy your vanity, you filthy whore, a hypocrite who moved alone to lessen your guilt.]

Joanna trembled violently, tears streaming down her face. It wasn’t just out of fear.

[False Templar. The deceptive family you tried to protect by turning away from the lambs will meet a terrible end. The woman who raised you will become something neither dead nor alive out of utmost anger, and the deceitful brothers who love you will suffer without aid, deep in the forest-]

-Tap.

The Burned One stopped speaking as he approached Joanna, his curse cut off.

Oliver stood between them again, blocking him with the Quarterstaff.

With great difficulty, Oliver spoke, struggling to hold the Filgarett with his burned right hand.

“That’s enough.”