Chapter 612: Contaminated Zone

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.

Rain suddenly began to pour in the underground of the Contaminated Zone.

This rain was not water, but composed of corpses, flesh, bodily fluids, and concrete fragments—a scenery created by the Zombie Puppet Durance in just a few moments.

Under that grotesque view, Salas Regas calmly spoke.

“Still, you’re younger than I expected.”

After falling while trying to help Durance, Oliver used the Warlock’s Eye to examine the mage in front of him.

Interestingly, despite Sarlas having just tried to kill Oliver in cooperation with the Shield Brotherhood, he now showed a personal admiration and goodwill.

But that wasn’t the only interesting thing.

“…So, you belong to the Pinkman, don’t you?”

“Oh? How did you figure that out?”

Oliver saw right through the mage’s affiliation with the Pinkman. Even more surprising was Sarlas’s lack of denial, admitting it outright.

Although it was supposedly a secret mission, he didn’t even bother to cover it up. However, this wasn’t because Sarlas was lazy.

He was fundamentally diligent. Though he wasn’t obsessed with success, he still accomplished what was necessary.

Yet his nonchalant attitude stemmed from a typical mage’s tendency to become fully engrossed when something piqued their interest.

In essence, Oliver’s existence had captured the old mage’s attention.

Oliver responded to Sarlas’s question.

“I’ve encountered the Pinkman a few times.”

“Hmm?”

“Their uniforms have a subtle tracking spell on them. That spell is on the clothes you’re wearing as well.”

“Is that so?”

Sarlas quietly marveled at this.

The fact that the Pinkman’s pink suits had a faint tracking spell was common knowledge among those aware.

In case of emergency, it allowed quick detection of their positions for immediate support.

However, knowing it and actually seeing it are entirely different matters. Moreover, the pink suit that Sarlas was wearing was reinforced with an earth-armored shell filled with magic.

Detecting the subtle tracking spell beyond that shell was something no ordinary mage or warlock could imagine doing. He hadn’t earned his nickname without reason.

As Sarlas admired him, Oliver said something even more impressive.

“However, you’re not originally a Pinkman, are you?”

“…Why do you think that?”

“I can tell by observing your magic… My knowledge is limited, but the magic you’ve accumulated doesn’t seem like something one could acquire while working for the Pinkman.”

Oliver responded while observing the mage’s mana through the Warlock’s Eye.

Though this wasn’t a slight against hired mages, the mana Sarlas accumulated couldn’t have been built up while doing mercenary work.

Sarlas’s mana was akin to an ancient king’s tomb.

Like large, carefully cut bricks stacked over a long time, his mana was impeccable, orderly, and immense.

It was very impressive.

After all, the form, density, and size of mana differed depending on the mage’s talent, disposition, duration, and method of training.

And the form of Sarlas’s mana adhered to the textbook ideal.

With innate talent, he had set a firm goal and pursued it through extensive training over a long period, achieving a traditional level of mastery.

“Are you from the traditional Gaia Faction?”

Oliver guessed, based on his visible scholarship and his training method, something that a mage prioritizing efficiency like those in the Tower of Magic wouldn’t normally do.

His guess was accurate.

“That’s right. I was kicked out of the outdated traditional faction and joined the Pinkman to prepare for my retirement… But you wouldn’t believe me if I said that, would you?”

Oliver nodded.

“May I ask what you were doing here?”

“I was fulfilling a client’s request by using unaffiliated gangs to uncover the secret research happening under the Contaminated Zone.”

Secret research conducted under the Contaminated Zone.

It referred to none other than the traces left behind by mages who had negotiated with demons and researched them.

Mages and demons might not seem like a natural combination, but Puppet had once firmly denied that.

He said demons were dangerous beings, but they possessed remarkable wisdom and power.

Oliver, who had heard Puppet’s explanation, also accepted it without much surprise.

After all, if warlocks could make deals with demons, it wouldn’t be impossible for mages to do the same.

Perhaps sensing Oliver’s thoughts, Sarlas noticed.

“It sounds like you’re aware of the secret research.”

“I happened to come across it.”

“Huh… Even more intriguing. You look a bit dried out and aged, but you can’t be more than your mid-twenties. Truly remarkable skill and knowledge. I can’t even recall what I was doing at your age. It’s embarrassing.”

Oliver instinctively touched his face.

The Warlock item Fake Face, which Oliver wore, had made him appear in his early twenties, yet Sarlas thought he was in his mid-twenties.

‘Is it because I’m so thin and dried up? Or does it just vary depending on who’s looking?’

Oliver speculated. The perception of age often varied from person to person.

He briefly entertained distracting thoughts but soon refocused on the situation in front of him. Work came first.

“…Can you tell me who your client is?”

“You know I can’t reveal that, right?”

“I thought you might, given how kindly you’ve answered so far.”

“I’ve only answered within my limits because you’ve responded well to my questions. Besides, I have a fondness and respect for those with high achievements.”

He truly meant it. From Sarlas’s emotional state and their conversation, Oliver could somewhat discern his personality.

He was the type who wasn’t satisfied with natural talent and continued to hone himself, finding satisfaction and joy in that effort itself.

His values placed effort and achievement as virtues, and he applied those standards to others as well. It wasn’t a bad mindset. In fact, it was something to be encouraged.

That’s why Oliver was curious.

“Is it possible that the client who’s being kept secret is the one who taught you how to imprison a spirit?”

Sarlas paused and looked back at the spirit bound behind him. The spirit was still shackled by chains made of mana.

He then looked at his own hand, which appeared more youthful than it should have for his age.

A moment of silence fell, and Sarlas muttered in a voice mixed with regret and envy.

“I envy Merlin. Not only his talent as a mage but also his good fortune in finding students. Truly enviable.”

“Do you know the Elder Sir?”

“You call your master the Elder Sir?”

“…It just ended up that way.”

“Hmm, though Merlin isn’t the kind of person not to correct such a thing.”

“You seem to know the Elder Sir well.”

“We had some interactions in our younger days. Mostly, I ended up getting beaten up.”

“You got beaten up?”

“It was a romantic era. Besides, there’s no better way to grasp a person’s essence than fighting. Hard to believe?”

“It’s a bit difficult for me to understand, I admit.”

“It might seem that way to someone young. But trust me, it’s sincere advice.”

Sincerity.

“Combat reveals a person’s temperament and character in the clearest way. The circumstances leading up to the fight and the fighting style, among other things… That’s why I thought Merlin would never take on a student in his life.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because he’s someone who’s only interested in his own achievements. Just like me.”

Oliver took a moment to think about Merlin. Only interested in his own achievements?

That didn’t seem right. How could someone indifferent to others and focused solely on personal achievements run a secondhand bookstore anonymously?

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not lying. Becoming part of the Archive has probably had a big impact. A mage who joins the Archive often undergoes a drastic personality change. Sometimes, they even go mad.”

Oliver remained silent. It was a plausible story. The Archive was an existence that inherited knowledge over a thousand years, from one generation of the Archive to the next.

Inheriting knowledge that spanned over a thousand years could indeed influence one’s personality.

And now that he thought about it, Merlin had only two direct disciples: Oliver and Kevin. Excluding Oliver, it was practically just Kevin.

Even for a mage who didn’t create many direct disciples, considering Merlin’s status and the backgrounds of his students (Pinkman and Warlocks), it was quite unusual.

“How did someone with a personality like the Elder Sir leave the faction and end up joining the Pinkman?”

Oliver twisted the question he had asked earlier to pose it again. However, the old mage didn’t evade it and instead turned the question back on him.

“Well, as I said before, that’s something I can’t easily talk about. But I’ll tell you why the spirit chained behind me is trembling in fear if you tell me.”

Sarlas glanced at the earth spirit bound by magical chains.

It was only holding its ground because it was tied up. Otherwise, it was so terrified that it would have fled immediately.

This was something Sarlas, who had trained in magic all his life, couldn’t just overlook.

Though spirits were rarely involved due to their innate disposition, they were far superior beings compared to humans.

Druids and mages desperately sought their power, a prime example.

But for a spirit to fear a person? That was an incredibly bizarre event.

It was like seeing rain fall, but only on certain people. Could such a being still be considered human?

Sarlas wanted to know the answer, and this curiosity led him to deviate from his original plan.

Whoomph-!

Sarlas drew out the vast and dense mana within him and infused it into the earth.

Suddenly, ten massive earthen pillars shot up from the surroundings of the underground cavern, rushing toward Oliver.

The attack resembled a fusion of pillars and serpents.

Though it was a sudden attack, Oliver seemed to have anticipated it. He skillfully predicted the trajectory and extracted a large amount of emotions to form a black shield.

Within the vast underground space, the ten black shields collided with the earthen pillars, generating ten shockwaves that resonated in the air.

The walls vibrated, and the skin quivered from the impact. At first glance, it seemed the attack was blocked, but Oliver could feel it.

The mass of the compressed earth that comprised the pillars and the mana that held it together overwhelmingly exceeded the amount of emotions Oliver extracted.

Even if he tried to spin the shields or change their angle to reduce the impact, the sheer power behind the pillars made it difficult.

This wasn’t just about being strong or heavy; the stability was overwhelming. It felt like no external force could budge it.

As Oliver became increasingly pressured by this overwhelming force, the mage spoke.

“Elemental magic is greatly influenced by the surrounding environment. So, choosing the right battlefield is one strategy, but of course—”

Riiip…

Before Sarlas could finish his sentence, Oliver’s shield shattered, and the ten earthen pillars closed in on him.

Even a single graze could turn an ordinary superhuman into minced meat.

However, Oliver didn’t panic. He utilized the leftover emotions from the shattered shield to cast a new dark spell.

[Targeting]

The emotions that had scattered into the air reassembled under Oliver’s control, forming a dartboard between the earthen pillars and Oliver’s hand.

In that state, Oliver cast another dark spell.

[Thrust]

Using the basic dark magic Thrust, Oliver attempted to repel the earthen pillars descending upon him from all directions.

Though this dark magic was risky—if the opponent’s mass was overwhelmingly greater, the caster could be injured—Oliver, who had gained a superhuman body by consuming the Flesh Cook’s flesh, defied logic. He forcibly repelled and shattered the earthen pillars, even though they were dozens or even hundreds of times his own weight.

With a thunderous noise, the air was filled with a cloud of earth dust, and in that state, Oliver threw a wooden stick toward Sarlas.

Thwack!

The wooden stick Oliver threw was blocked by an earthen wall created by Sarlas, but that didn’t matter.

Oliver activated the spatial magic spell engraved on the wooden stick, narrowing the physical distance between him and the stick.

The technique referenced the spatial manipulation magic Merlin had shown and the spatial techniques Oliver had learned in the Sleeping Forest. It shortened the dozen or so meters between Oliver and the stick.

Though it wasn’t noticeable by the naked eye, when Oliver took a step forward…

Thwack!

…the distance suddenly closed, as if he had been right in front of it.

In a single stride, Oliver shortened the dozen meters gap, using that momentum to swing a quarterstaff covered in Black Suit, smashing through the stone wall and attempting to pierce Sarlas’s torso.

However, just as the attack was about to land, it was intercepted by the spirit bound by the enchanted chain.

It felt like trying to pierce through a massive mountain. It was remarkable. The spirit’s strength was one thing, but for Sarlas to restrain and control such a spirit with this level of mana was astonishing.

Standing calmly, Sarlas spoke.

“…If you possess overwhelming skill, the battlefield hardly matters. They said you fought Puppet Immortal evenly—it seems that was true.”

“Do you know Puppet Sir?”

“To some extent. He appeared near our faction’s main base when I was younger, so I had the chance to face him. Truthfully, it’s difficult to define him as merely a warlock.”

“Is that why you’re cooperating with Puppet Sir?”

At Oliver’s sudden question, Sarlas went silent. After a moment…

“…Haha, how did you know?”

With those words, Sarlas resonated his mana with the spirit’s power, once again distorting the entire underground space.

The floor and ceiling flipped, the walls crumbled and regenerated.