Chapter 554: A New Phase

“It’s time to eat.”

At Oliver’s words, the blank book from Edith trembled, and an eye-like shape emerged on its cover.

It wasn’t quite human, nor was it that of a beast.

Oliver placed the book on the floor. Despite having no legs, the book skillfully moved towards the pile of demon books across the room.

Kyarararararara!!!

The book from Edith made a distinct, eerie noise, and its back cover opened like a mouth, violently ripping into the demon books.

Krrrrrrrk!!!

Even though it looked like a book simply opening and closing, the intensity reminded Oliver of a starved hunting dog.

The books Oliver secretly took from the Flesh Cook’s vault were torn to pieces, with paper scraps flying everywhere. The book from Edith devoured all of them.

Oliver felt it was a good decision to cast a soundproofing spell as soon as he entered.

If he had forgotten, the innkeeper would be knocking on the door right now asking what was going on.

Oliver silently watched the book from Edith consume the massive pile of books that were several times its own size. Eventually, it finished its meal.

‘It’s awake…’

Oliver thought to himself as he observed the book post-feast.

Previously, Oliver had fed it just one demon book with no noticeable change, but this time it was different.

After consuming dozens of books, the once empty book from Edith began to emanate a strange energy.

With the Warlock’s Eye, Oliver could see this energy. It resembled the energy seen at the Gate of Hell Puppet showed him in the Omen Zone and in the Sleeping Forest, where hundreds of thousands of souls were used as materials.

It was as if the power of Hell had been refined—a foreign energy not of this world.

Oliver slowly reached out his hand towards the book from Edith that was now emitting black steam.

Kyarrrr!

The book from Edith began growling at Oliver, displaying a sense of vigilance it hadn’t shown before.

Although Oliver wasn’t certain, it seemed the book had gained some self-awareness after consuming dozens of demon books. It was acting like a sentient cursed item.

Thankfully, it hadn’t bitten him yet. That would have hurt.

“Hmm…”

Surprised by the book’s unexpected behavior, Oliver pulled back his hand. Big Mouth, with its bloated belly, cheerfully supported the book from Edith.

“Croak!”

As if relieved that someone else had done what it couldn’t.

Oliver turned his head to silently observe Big Mouth.

“…”

“…”

Then he looked back at the book from Edith.

‘Should I splash water on it?’

Oliver contemplated as he stared at the book that had grown cautious and alert.

So far, no item had reacted like this, so he didn’t know how to handle it.

With people, he could solve problems through conversation or combat.

Animals would be too terrified to do anything at the mere sight of Oliver.

And cursed items were generally cooperative and well-behaved.

“Croak?”

So Oliver wasn’t sure what to do with an item that neither fled nor approached but instead kept a vigilant distance.

‘Should I just knock it out with the Quarterstaff?’

Oliver looked at the Quarterstaff in his hand, thinking it seemed like the most reliable method. But then, he shook his head and placed the Quarterstaff on the floor.

He kneeled down, lowering himself so that he was eye-level with the book, and showed it his empty hands as a sign of no harm.

Although he could have simply struck or unleashed his mana to attack.

Fortunately, it seemed to understand. The book’s guarded stance relaxed a little.

With that momentum, Oliver continued to reassure it that he had no intention of harming it.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Demon Book.”

“…”

However, the book still hesitated to approach, but Oliver soon found a way to persuade it.

“There are still more demon books that you haven’t eaten yet.”

Inspired by Big Mouth’s earlier suggestion, Oliver decided to tempt it with more food.

His guess was right. The demon book, which had been displaying signs of caution, immediately lowered its guard and approached Oliver, resuming its normal appearance.

As expected, devouring its kin was the key.

“Just like Big Mouth, you enjoy feasting on your own kind.”

“…”

Big Mouth narrowed its eyes, sending a look of disdain at Oliver with its many clam-like eyes.

But Oliver paid no mind and attempted to open the now warm, almost living demon book. That’s when…

Beep- Beep- Beep-

A signal echoed.

It was none other than the communication device from Lucian.

Because Oliver had kept his lodging secret, he received this device to send and receive minimal communication. After hearing the signal, Oliver didn’t immediately answer but first checked the time.

He had expected contact, given there was a party tonight, but there were still 4 hours left before the appointment time. It was too early for a call.

‘Lucian wouldn’t just call early without a reason… Is something up?’

Sensing that something might be wrong, Oliver answered the communication device.

“Hello.”

As soon as Oliver greeted, Lucian’s voice came through the device.

Lucian started a conversation after greeting Oliver, and Oliver responded.

“Yes, I know about tonight’s party… No, I don’t need any favors. We already agreed, didn’t we? As for Ewan, I’m not sure where he is… Oh, he’s there? At a casino? Impressive.”

Oliver was genuinely impressed as he heard from Lucian about Ewan’s whereabouts.

Indeed, Ewan had achieved his goal by inheriting the Flesh Cook’s astronomically large estate, only to squander it all in a single night. And he had even gone into debt again.

It might be rude, but Oliver couldn’t help but suspect that Ewan was deliberately piling on debt—almost like a bucket list of sorts.

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate you sparing his fingers… Yes, of course, I have no intention of paying it back. My partner was very adamant about it… But is that why you called?”

Oliver asked, and Lucian responded from the other side of the communication device.

[No. While that’s partly why, there’s also something else.]

“What is it?”

[Have you prepared the dress code for the party?]

“Yes, I have.”

Oliver answered without hesitation. Whether it was casual wear, work clothes, or ceremonial attire, Oliver always had Big Mouth store thirty sets of matching clothes for every occasion.

To maintain propriety, just in case.

Lucian, hearing this, reacted as if he hadn’t expected it.

[Oh… I see.]

Although it was a conversation over a device where emotions couldn’t be seen, Oliver, through his extensive social experience, could tell that Lucian was feeling some discomfort.

“Is there a problem?”

After a brief silence, Lucian answered Oliver’s question.

[…Hmm, would you be willing to attend in the attire prepared by our side? To be honest, the outfit may be somewhat impolite.]

Oliver could sense the difficulty and guilt in Lucian’s voice. Though it wasn’t entirely clear, it was apparent that Lucian was troubled.

Instead of taking offense, Oliver’s curiosity was piqued. He wondered what could cause someone of Lucian’s stature in Millieu to feel uneasy.

“I don’t really mind, but why are you asking?”

[It was a request.]

Though he called it a request, Lucian’s tone suggested otherwise.

“Who requested it?”

[The Holy Knight.]

Upon hearing the answer, Oliver pictured the Holy Knight in full armor—one who had summoned an entire army with a rosary.

***

“You’re looking well.”

“So are you.”

The Capital of Gallos, Ravely.

Just 10 kilometers from Ravely, a massive mansion, grand enough to be called a palace, stood by a lakeside.

Built during the golden age of the nobility, it had fallen into ruins due to repeated political turmoil but was recently restored.

Proof of this was seen in the crowd of people in elaborate suits, tuxedos, and dresses gathering here.

Most of them were Gallos nobles, recognizable just by the gold-threaded family crests embroidered on their sleeves.

“So, are they ditching horse carriages now and driving cars?”

An old nobleman commented to a young man, who had arrived at the mansion in a custom-made flashy car from Randa’s F Company.

“Haha. Yes, Count.”

“You’re quite the forward-looking youth. You adapt well to new tools.”

In the past, such behavior would have been condemned as unbecoming of a noble. But the old nobleman no longer cared.

As one nobleman had mentioned earlier, everyone was only experiencing prosperity.

“Who could have guessed? That thug’s rampage would improve our situation.”

A middle-aged man sipped wine and remarked. The man across from him chimed in.

“Indeed. It was a bit chaotic at the time, but thanks to it, we managed to solve many problems at once. We wiped out the populist faction and regained economic control.”

They were referring to the Flesh Cook’s Rebellion.

Although the exact reasons were still unknown, the Flesh Cook’s rampage that overturned Ravely had ironically allowed Gallos’ nobles to regain their stability.

When it was revealed that the populist leaders, who constantly shouted against the nobility, were financially supported by the Flesh Cook, the nobles finally had the excuse to eliminate them with both legal and moral justifications.

They also seized the populist faction’s political influence, which had seemed nearly unstoppable.

After all, they had conspired with a thug who committed such heinous crimes.

Of course, no one cared that quite a few nobles had consumed the Flesh Cook’s food and Bloody Wine, known for rejuvenating youth and vitality.

As they say, people are always kind to themselves.

“It’s a bit unsettling that thugs still cause chaos. My wife keeps saying she’s terrified and wants to take our children to a resort.”

“Well, that’s convenient. It’s said that the farther away your wife and kids are, the more you love them.”

“Ha! You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. Besides, the chaos is good. It means that real estate investments will be available for a while longer.”

Many nobles at the party silently agreed with those words.

Though the chaos left behind by the Flesh Cook was indeed a major disaster, the nobles had enjoyed immense profits thanks to an unknown benefactor.

They bought up land that had plummeted in value, only to resell it after it was restored.

While many people were still suffering due to the high rents and house prices, this wasn’t a concern for the nobles.

They didn’t have to worry, and they were having fun.

One man lightly joked, displaying his indifference.

“Honestly, sometimes I wish the Flesh Cook or that thug would come back. Just kidding.”

Most people laughed, as if to confirm it was a joke.

Then, one man made a rather suggestive remark.

“Rumor has it, it could happen.”

“Oh, you’ve heard that too?”

The rumor circulating in the underworld was starting to reach the ears of some well-connected individuals.

It was about a warlock from across the sea—referred to as the ‘Second Coming of the Flesh Cook.’

“He’s known as the Fixer of Randa.”

“I heard he’s a Magician of the Tower.”

“Turns out, he’s both.”

“Whatever he is, he sounds dangerous. I heard he’s attending this party tonight. Is that really okay?”

“What’s there to worry about? We’re quite secure here.”

One nobleman commented as he looked around the mansion, where Holy Knights discreetly stood guard.

These knights, sent by the Papacy to support Chancellor Armand of Gallos, were the reason the nobles felt safe enough to gather here, despite the ongoing unrest.

At that moment, a voice echoed through the hall.

“The representatives from Recubeville have arrived.”

With that announcement, the gazes of all the people gathered in the party hall simultaneously turned in one direction.

Recubeville was a hastily-formed company created by the Millieu, who had negotiated with the Royal Family to locate the Flesh Cook’s hidden funds, and the reason everyone had gathered at this party.

They had come to witness a showcase of the thugs who had taken over the Flesh Cook’s legacy to gain economic and political power.

They couldn’t do much at the moment, but depending on circumstances, it could be beneficial.

“Is that the guy?”

Someone asked as they looked at a man who had one grayed-out side of hair, a skinny frame, and bandages on one hand while holding a Quarterstaff with the other.

His appearance was peculiar and, most notably, his attire clearly marked him as a warlock, making him instantly recognizable to those who had heard about him.

He was Dave, the Fixer from across the sea, hired by the Millieu, who made significant contributions in recovering the Flesh Cook’s legacy.

Rumor had it he had single-handedly killed hundreds of Druids, wiped out dozens of organizations in the Verdant Forest, and even fought the monster known as Puppet to a draw.

Though his thin and injured appearance made it hard to believe,

some astute observers could tell from the subtle aura around Dave and the behavior of the Millieu bosses that the rumors weren’t entirely baseless.

“Heh, so that’s what he looks like.”

“Not too different from the rumors, but not quite what I imagined.”

“That’s a warlock?”

“It’s gutsy of him to show up here.”

Young men, women, and elders alike shared their thoughts about Dave.

While some spoke purely out of curiosity, others calculated whether they could exploit him. Meanwhile, a few, trapped within their own world, arrogantly and one-sidedly evaluated him.

The common thread was that, since they had never encountered a warlock in a place like this, they hesitated to approach.

While everyone kept their distance, watching him like a curious animal, a woman with pink hair approached Dave and struck up a conversation.

It was Jane.

“Hello, Dave.”

“It’s been a while, Miss Jane.”