Chapter 543: Swan Prince

“I’m back.”

Oliver, who appeared through the dust, spoke nonchalantly.

It was an insensitive remark, especially for those who had just fought a war… or rather, were still fighting.

But no one dared to challenge him.

Oliver’s presence still lingered in their minds, and he had also effortlessly flung away the Monster Bird that stood over seven meters tall as soon as he appeared.

And he did it with just a basic Dark Magic spell, Thrust.

It was a shocking scene—a moment that was even more shocking to those skilled in Dark Magic.

After all, when you dig deeper into Thrust, it’s more than just a simple Dark Magic spell that pushes a target.

Yes, it does push the target, but the mechanism is a bit more complex.

It’s not only the force of Dark Magic that pushes the target but also the caster’s physical strength is involved.

For instance, Thrust won’t easily push the target unless there’s a significant difference in power, weight, and mass between the caster and the target.

If the target is overwhelmingly massive, the caster could instead be pushed back and take damage.

Yet, Oliver used such a Thrust to fling a Monster Bird effortlessly?

It was like a single person pushing away a structure composed of dozens, even hundreds, of people.

In other words, Oliver’s frail-looking body had strength that exceeded that of hundreds.

“Pardon me.”

Oliver asked politely as he walked past the bodies and wreckage, neither acknowledging nor overlooking the people’s stares.

He moved forward as those around him, feeling their previously heated blood go cold, began stepping back one by one.

The air changed, as if a single person had made it happen.

And this shift wasn’t felt only by his allies.

Even the Swan Sect’s Prince Candidate, who had been holding his own against hundreds, felt the air shift.

He stopped fighting, staring at Oliver with his usual indifferent expression.

As if nothing else mattered but Oliver.

As people retreated to make way, Oliver and the Swan Prince locked eyes.

The silence was overwhelming.

“Haa… hello.”

Oliver spoke first, exhaling deeply before politely greeting the man wearing a Thistle Crown.

It wasn’t the sharp demeanor he showed when he went to meet the Sleeping Princess; it was his usual demeanor.

Those who knew Oliver subconsciously sighed in relief at this sight.

Though the Swan Prince, upon hearing Oliver’s greeting, remained silent.

“…“

He wasn’t displeased by it. While the Prince remained silent, Oliver had a chance to observe him.

‘A body that seems malnourished, clothing that’s practically rags, the Thistle Crown on his head, and the Flesh Blade that feels as if it’s made from countless people…’

Oliver’s attention was drawn to the Flesh Blade, as it bore a familiar aura.

The silence lingered, stretching long enough for spectators to intervene.

“Hey, answer-”

“-No, it’s fine. They can’t speak for some reason.”

Oliver raised his hand, defending the Swan Prince.

Whether it was due to the side effects of a deal with a demon or from the human sacrifice rituals, Oliver didn’t know. But he had learned from the Sleeping Princess that neither the Swan Princess nor the Prince Candidates could speak.

Judging by his emotional state, it seemed to be true.

Respectfully, Oliver continued the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Candidate of the Swan Sect. My name is Dave. I’m a Solver from T-District, 30th Street in Randa. If it’s okay, could you listen to what I have to say for a moment?”

The Swan Prince silently scanned Oliver up and down, making no gestures, indicating that he could proceed.

“Thank you for allowing me to speak, Prince Candidate… You might not know me, but I know a little about you. I happened to hear about you by chance.”

“…“

“If this displeases you, I apologize.”

Oliver apologized once more, explaining the situation with modesty, just as he usually would. But then, he said something unexpected.

“Could you please return at this time?”

“…?!“

Everyone was taken aback by Oliver’s straightforward request, including the Swan Prince.

“I heard why you came here, Prince Candidate. It’s not for the Flesh Cook’s legacy, but because you have business with the Sleeping Princess who appeared here, correct?“

Though Oliver didn’t mention it, the business involved stabbing the Princess with the Flesh Blade to absorb her.

The Swan Prince silently agreed.

Without hesitation, or with a degree of brazenness, Oliver said:

“I’m sorry, but I still have business with the Princess over there, so I’m afraid that would be a problem. Could you step back, please?”

Stares from hundreds of people watching the scene drilled into Oliver.

It seemed that in this short time, Oliver had indeed met the Sleeping Princess, as he himself had suggested.

Perhaps it was because of that that, despite his usual demeanor, he was now exuding a heavier presence.

The Sleeping Princess was said to grant requests or share her knowledge with those who met with her.

But at this moment, the important thing wasn’t that Oliver had met her; it was his attitude.

The Sleeping Princess, though not as famous as the Fingers, was said to be nearly equal to them in legend.

Yet here, Oliver spoke of her as if meeting her was just part of his usual routine.

Words and actions indirectly reflect the world a person lives in, and considering that, one could see Oliver’s current level.

Right now, Oliver was performing on the same level as powerful Dark Mages like the Fingers—like ancient, centuries-old relics.

It was surprising, but not unbelievable.

A heavy silence hung in the air after Oliver’s shocking words, and he asked again.

“Can you grant my request?”

The Swan Prince stood still.

Silence returned, and somewhere, there was a rustling sound as a creature shifted. Oliver turned his head.

The Swan Prince didn’t miss his chance and pulled the Flesh Blade, answering with action.

It was a preparation for attack.

The swift movement was so fast that even the air around the Swan Prince compressed.

Boom! A loud explosion rang out, shaking the ground, and the Swan Prince knelt with both hands on the ground.

That was because an immense hand shaped from emotions struck at him from above right before his attack.

“…!“

The Swan Prince forced his head up to look at Oliver, and in doing so, he saw something.

Oliver’s expression, more indifferent and unemotional than any other—or even the other Prince Candidates. An expression that resembled looking at an insignificant thing with disdain.

The mask-like expression of the Swan Prince cracked at this sight.

But Oliver, whether he noticed or didn’t care, politely asked again.

“Sorry, may I ask again? Could you please step back? I’ve had a very tiring day, so-”

━Boom!

Before Oliver could finish, the Swan Prince drew power from the Thistle Crown on his head, enhancing his body. With brutal force, he threw off the crushing blackened hand.

The shockwave and gust of wind caused by this scattered debris and obscured people’s vision, including Oliver’s.

The Swan Prince seized the momentum and charged forward.

[Objective Hate]

As soon as the Prince charged, Oliver unleashed his Dark Magic.

He imprinted a feeling of hatred into fragments that the Swan Prince had shattered when he got up, causing them to attack him.

The fragments appeared to be dirt, stones, and sticks, but they were undoubtedly part of the Verdant Forest.

The fragments, shot like bullets, pierced deeply into the Swan Prince’s body.

Bang, bang, bang!

The Swan Prince momentarily faltered from the impact, but that was all. He didn’t suffer much damage.

[Tetanus]

Not until Oliver cast a disease-based Dark Magic.

The disease, dispersed by Oliver, invaded the Swan Prince’s body via the fragments—even shocking his body.

The spell was challenging to trigger because it required making an injury first, but the effect was extraordinary.

The Swan Prince coughed up blood from his nose and mouth, his body convulsing.

He wobbled and seemed about to fall, but quickly recovered by drawing more life force from the Thistle Crown on his head.

The Princess’s words were true.

‘The Swan Princess can perform human sacrificial rites, from minor things like life force or body parts to a whole person, borrowing power from demons.’

The Sleeping Princess had informed Oliver that through such rituals, the Flesh Cook could perform complicated summoning spells freely, and the Swan Sect had rooted itself in the Ibernian Republic.

They did so by sacrificing existing followers to create new miracles and recruit new followers.

It reminded Oliver of Seamus’s ABC investment method. The critical point here was that the Prince’s superhuman strength and his outlandish regeneration were also rooted in these human sacrifices.

In theory, if they had enough followers, they could endlessly wield extraordinary power and not die.

It was quite a story, but being so exhausted, Oliver felt very little emotion.

What really caught his attention was the Flesh Blade in the Prince’s hand and the black hand hovering over his head.

A black hand, different from the one that had been above Marie’s head.

‘If I can’t avoid it… I’ll have to secure and study it?’

Resolving himself, Oliver extracted a large quantity of emotions and life force from the Verdant Forest with one hand.

He scattered the life force over the corpses lying all around.

The dismembered bodies were given life and quickly fell under the control of the caster who had bestowed it upon them.

[Flesh Pillar]

Using the controlled corpses, Oliver created a pillar made of pink flesh, white bones, and yellowed skin, effortlessly blocking the Prince’s blade.

Thunk!

It was Dark Magic crafted using high-density emotions, life force, and fresh corpses.

However, the Swan Prince seemed to have been waiting for this. His expression remained blank, but his emotions flashed, and those watching felt a sense of crisis.

One of them shouted.

“Watch out! He’s absorbing it!!”

It was a warning for Oliver. As if to confirm it, the Flesh Blade in the Swan Prince’s hand started making a sickening squelching sound, attempting to absorb the Flesh Pillar.

[Finger Gun]

At that moment, Oliver released several bullets made of fingers at the Swan Prince, which he had prepared while controlling the corpses.

The muted sound of flesh being pierced echoed low as the Swan Prince was caught off guard.

By his calculations, the Flesh Pillar should’ve been absorbed, and he should’ve cleaved Oliver in two. But instead, not only did the absorption fail, but he also ended up being attacked.

However, it wasn’t so surprising.

Even if he’d borrowed the power of a demon through human sacrifices, it was still a ritual performed by a human, and thus bound to its limitations.

At the critical moment, Oliver interpreted the ritual and reversed it, preventing the absorption.

Of course, it wasn’t as straightforward as it sounds, but Oliver successfully proved that it was possible.

And Oliver wasn’t satisfied just with that.

[Biobomb]

Using the fingers embedded in the Swan Prince as the medium, Oliver exploded the life force and emotions inside him.

Since the highest-quality materials were used—high-density emotions, life force, and a superhuman body—the Swan Prince’s body swelled in various places before exploding into fragments.

‘It reminds me of when I first became Master’s student.’

While everyone else was horrified by the ghastly sight of a person exploding alive, Oliver was reminiscing with satisfaction.

It wasn’t the mere fact that he had made someone explode that satisfied him, but that he had dealt significant damage to the Swan Prince’s life force.

The more damage he took, the more energy was consumed for regeneration.

‘Like with the Bathory Family’s blood or the Flesh Cook’s meat, the Swan Sect uses its followers as resources, though the basic principles are the same. If that’s true, then the same approach could work. No matter how many followers they have, the number isn’t infinite.’

Using his experience of dealing with various regenerators, Oliver formulated a strategy against the Swan Prince.

Even if they had a lot of resources for regeneration, suffering damage that wiped out dozens or hundreds at once would make them psychologically retract.

As expected, the Swan Prince, previously aggressive, took a step back for the first time.

To anyone observing, though it seemed like a mere movement, they could feel the change in atmosphere.

Oliver, the spectators, and even the Swan Prince.

Seizing the opportunity, Oliver created dozens of flesh and bone bullets from the surrounding corpses and shot them at the Swan Prince.

The Swan Prince quickly generated a massive wolf-creature with Dark Magic, using it as a shield and retreating deeper into the Verdant Forest.

The wolf-creature, the size of a car, swelled up like a balloon upon impact with the flesh bullets and exploded, allowing the Swan Prince to escape further into the forest.

Those watching were stunned.

Everyone, from Dark Mages, treasure hunters, and mercenaries hired by royal nobles, to Millieu.

The Swan Prince, someone they couldn’t subdue even when they all took him on, was retreating.

Everyone knew Oliver was strong, but this exceeded all expectations. It was as if he had encountered a legendary opportunity or had been freed from shackles that were holding him back.

At that moment, Oliver said:

“He didn’t run away.”

Oliver stated after he discerned the Prince’s emotions.

Though the Swan Prince was certainly caught off guard by Oliver’s actions, he didn’t succumb to despair, fear, or terror.

Driven by deep-rooted wrath and despair within his heart.

Ironically, it wasn’t just wrath but also the despair that drove him to move.

Seeking a method to win, and soon, he found one as he reappeared.

The method was none other than the Monster Bird, which Oliver had flung away when he first appeared.

Utilizing the people absorbed by the Flesh Blade as fuel, the Swan Prince restored the damaged Monster Bird and returned with it.

The massive energy that was now within the Monster Bird was proof.

People were disturbed by the Swan Prince’s reappearance alongside the Monster Bird, but Oliver calmly readied his Quarterstaff, wrapped it in a Black Javelin, and threw it.

The Quarterstaff flew, leaving a trail of black light.

The Swan Prince used the Monster Bird to deflect the Quarterstaff upward, sending it flying skyward.

Leaving Oliver empty-handed.

The Monster Bird, now holding a shovel, swung it and struck the ground.

At the point where the shovel touched the ground, vibrations traveled from the soles of their feet to the tops of their heads, causing the earth beneath to swell.

Everyone who saw this instinctively knew the ground was about to explode, flipping over like a tidal wave, but thankfully, that didn’t happen.

Oliver’s shadow had grown enormous—so large it was hard to believe—swallowed the land around the Monster Bird, and suppressed the explosion with its force.

The shadow requested to consume the Monster Bird as such, but Oliver, considerate of how many creatures the shadow had already consumed, declined and prepared for the next move.

Unfortunately, the Swan Prince was quicker this time.

He plunged the Flesh Blade into the ground, summoned decaying flesh around Oliver, and conjured numerous crimson statues resembling jerky.

These statues, completely bound with shackles, had their faces exposed, and only their mouths peeked out.

Twisted in form, the statues screamed something that could have been a prayer or a curse, causing Oliver’s shadow to writhe in pain.

These statues prayed in a manner eerily similar to the ritual he had witnessed when The Burned One was summoned back on the New Continent.

Oliver’s shadow shrank suddenly.

His Dark Magic was also disrupted by the prayer of the statues, rendering it unusable for a few seconds. The Swan Prince, not missing this chance, lifted the Flesh Blade and summoned a massive fist in the sky.

The giant fist was similar to earlier, but upon closer inspection, it was clear it was made from the melted arms of countless people—a terrifying sight.

The blurred space tore as the giant fist fell.

The crimson statues recited their eerie prayers, with Oliver in their midst, trusting his instincts rather than his mind. He clenched his left hand into a fist and extended his arm toward the sky.