Chapter 668: The Darkest Moment

What is this… strange yet refreshing feeling?

Was the world always this dark?

Was the world always this small?

Was light always this faint?

Was it always this insignificant…?

It wasn’t like this before.

No… The light…

The light wasn’t like this before…

The light…

Ah…

……

…

***

Hair that had turned completely white.

Eyes that had darkened even more.

The face of a young child revealed beneath a torn leather mask.

Everyone remained silent, unable to describe the scene before them.

Soldiers, Mages, Holy Knights, Priests, Kings. Even the trees and grasses forming the forest, the grains of sand on the ground, all remained silent as if they dared not disturb this moment.

The only sound was the laugh filled with emptiness.

And so, that laugh felt more chilling than any silence, more terrifying than any curse.

When the laughter ceased, someone spoke.

“So that’s how it is. From the beginning, I was…”

Very few understood what was being said.

Because everyone’s gaze was on Oliver.

Oliver, wearing the torn leather mask, turned his head towards the source of the laughter.

Turning his head, Oliver raised his burnt right arm.

Oliver extended his index finger.

At the tip of that finger was the Pied Piper.

[Denial]

Oliver spoke to the Pied Piper as he tried to say something.

Upon hearing this, the Pied Piper closed his eyes and held the flute in his arms tightly; a gentle breeze passed over him.

And moved forward. Forward. Forward…

As that moment came, Oliver’s companions, the soldiers, the mages, the Holy Knights, the kings, the priests, and even the dead, all froze. No one showed a change in expression. No one made a sound. Everyone was startled, more silent and calm than anyone else in existence.

The Pied Piper began to disintegrate like dust, no, not even dust remained.

……

……

……

The Pied Piper vanished as if he were erased like a text being erased by a rubber, or like ashes blown away by the wind.

This surreal scene was unbelievable, even after seeing it with their own eyes.

However, one thing was clear; instinctively, everyone knew.

This was not an ordinary attack.

It wasn’t an attack at all; it was a proclamation.

Moreover, it wasn’t murder.

It was an absolute denial.

A denial of the very existence of the Pied Piper.

For reasons unknown, everyone present, regardless of ‘status,’ ‘personal achievements,’ ‘strength,’ or whether they were ‘living or dead,’ every person instinctively knew it.

Everyone knew that the being standing before them had denied the very existence of the Pied Piper.

Something that could not be believed, something that could not be understood.

Yet, that concept did not just affect the Pied Piper.

Unfortunately, all those standing in the direction of the wind from Oliver’s pointed finger, behind the Pied Piper, vanished without a trace, like the Pied Piper.

Simply because they were standing in that place, they were denied existence alongside the Pied Piper and vanished.

It was somewhat… no, absolutely unreasonable and unilateral.

Yet, those who saw it, both the living and the dead, neither angered nor complained.

Because they weren’t allowed to.

They stood there, unable to tremble in fear or cry, even as they were, as if they were frozen in a photograph.

Because that too was not allowed.

The only thing allowed was their existence in that place. That is why those countless living beings and the dead surrounding Oliver stood silently, as they originally did.

Like ornaments. Like statues. Like trees.

Time passed as if thousands or millions of years had gone by. Oliver, staring at where the Pied Piper once stood, reached up to his face and grasped the leather mask.

Tear!

Oliver tore off the torn leather mask and threw it to the ground. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head and looked around.

At that moment, the people and the dead, who stood as if they had been photographed, all at once, as if possessed by something, began to bow their heads and kneel.

“Ahh… Aaahhhhh…”

The first to kneel were the dead who had wandered the forest in torment for hundreds of years.

Neither dead nor alive, they bowed towards Oliver with their tremulous, zombie-like bodies, twisted and tangled with beasts and trees, paying what respect they had left.

Desperately pressing their knees, foreheads, faces, and hands into the dirt.

The living were no different.

“Ohh, ohh…”

The soldiers were deafened, blinded, and rendered mute by the melody of the musicians summoned by the Pied Piper. But they sensed Oliver’s presence and desperately bowed toward him.

Some knees and hands pressed into the ground, while others prostrated themselves, raising their palms towards the sky as though in worship.

In this way, their behavior reflected how great the being before them was, and how insignificant they themselves were.

Whether it was the wizards trembling like aspen leaves…

“…Ahh…”

Or even the Holy Knights.

“…”

Holy Knights, who once swore to kneel only before their Father, now knelt with their weapons on the ground and recited unknowable prayers, just like they did when they first took their vows.

Their bodies moved on their own.

And the prayer spread among the kneeling crowd like an epidemic, filling the forest with low whispers.

The scene was both sacred and blasphemous, reverent yet profane.

In this holy and blasphemous, reverent yet profane scene, Oliver continued to observe his surroundings.

As though he was looking for something. As though he was inspecting something. As though he was appreciating something. As though he was evaluating something.

When Oliver’s gaze slowly circled around, a clear but slight emotion appeared on his previously mask-like face.

It was curiosity.

It was like seeing an old toy once cherished as a child, but now as an adult. The curiosity of why it had ever been cherished.

Even though Oliver’s face didn’t change, everyone could see that emotion clear as day.

And that curiosity led to action. Oliver, who was standing still, took a step forward.

……

Just one step, but the air around him became as heavy as lead.

And it wasn’t just a figure of speech. The air actually grew denser, as if someone was physically pressing it down.

Each time Oliver took a step.

“Ughhhhh!”

As proof, blood began to pour from people’s mouths, eyes, noses, and ears.

As though they were water balloons ready to burst.

But Oliver paid no heed and continued walking.

……

……

……

……

Internal organs were crushed, blood was vomited, eyes burst, and bodies were twisted beyond recognition, but none of that stopped Oliver’s steps.

And Oliver stopped.

In front of him stood the Central Continent’s kings and the Dark Priest.

The only difference being the kings were frozen and could not kneel, and the Dark Priest had simply not knelt.

Because he was a Dark Priest.

Though he had encountered apocalyptic doctrines, lost his faith, witnessed the filth of the world, and harbored blasphemous thoughts by twisting the end times to his advantage, Roderick, being positioned second only to the Holy King, stood as a protector of world order, so he did not kneel.

It was both his last vestige of integrity and pride.

Even though Roderick wanted nothing more than to kneel and beg for mercy, he didn’t.

But, unlike Roderick, who still had his own will, the other kings, frozen in their infinite fear, cast aside their dignity, pride, and self-respect, and crawled at the feet of Oliver, bleeding from every orifice in their faces.

“L-Lord, please…”

“Ahhhh…”

“God, God, God, God, God…”

Just like the dead, the soldiers, the apprentice mages who had trained their whole lives, and the Holy Knights who had served all their lives, they too crushed their faces into the ground and worshipped Oliver like a god.

Yet Oliver treated them the same, not even sparing them a glance.

Just like stones and ants on the side of the road.

They really were stones and ants compared to him.

So incredibly insignificant and weak…

That’s why Oliver’s gaze turned towards the relatively less weak light.

Towards the large man who, despite bleeding from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, refused to kneel by his own will.

Oliver lifted his foot.

Crunch.

And stepped forward.

The spot where Oliver stepped turned red with the blood of a soldier lying there.

His name was Jonas.

A son of a Old Blind Woman, a husband to a woman, and a father of three children.

Crunch.

Oliver lifted his foot again and stepped down.

An apprentice mage turned red.

His name was Max.

The head of an ancient Central Continent mage family, who dreamed of reviving magic in the Central Continent.

Oliver lifted his foot again and stepped down.

A Holy Knight turned red.

His name was David.

A young man who grew up in a small village and became a Holy Knight after being inspired by the nuns who helped his village. He was the village’s pride and hope.

Oliver lifted his foot again and stepped down.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Each time he did, Werner, Armin, Billy, Bertolo, and others turned red, their redness merging to form something resembling a red carpet.

“Oh… ”

Someone moaned, their voice filled with fear and sadness.

But, this was neither a terrifying nor sad moment. It was simply that their time had come a little sooner.

Like someone having an early lunch.

“Ahhh…”

And kings were no exception.

In Oliver’s eyes, they were all the same.

Crunch.

Oliver created another red carpet by stepping on a king of a country and arrived in front of the Dark Priest.

The Dark Priest stood desperately, leaking so much blood that it appeared black.

His legs were trembling so much that it seemed he wouldn’t last long, but that was not important to Oliver.

No matter what effort the Dark Priest put in, nor what will he possessed, it made no difference to Oliver.

What mattered was the act itself.

Oliver gazed coldly and empty, at the Dark Priest.

Ssss…

Oliver slowly raised his hand.

The very moment that hand was about to touch the Dark Priest.

“Oliver!!”

Someone called out to Oliver.

It was Templar Joanna.

***

“Oliver!!”

Joanna shouted.

It wasn’t thought, nor will, but instinct.

An instinct that told her that she had to stop Oliver.

The moment Joanna screamed, a crushing pressure, as if all the world’s gaze had fallen on her, came down.

It felt so oppressive that just standing made her want to vomit and gasped for breath.

But it was nothing compared to Oliver’s gaze.

As Oliver turned and looked at Joanna, a stillness that made the world seem frozen washed over her, as if death was encroaching on her senses, sucking all sound from the world.

An overwhelming desire to kneel, press her forehead to the ground, and submit, almost consumed her.

But Joanna clenched her teeth internally, desperately denying that urge.

Because… because Oliver, the Oliver she knew, wouldn’t want that.

Because that couldn’t be his true self. Oliver. The real Oliver—

—Ah.

As Joanna tried to reassure herself, praying desperately for strength and courage, Oliver had already approached her.

By lifting just one leg slightly, without any sign or sound, Oliver moved to stand before Joanna.

As if physical distance meant nothing to him.

Oliver stared at Joanna with his empty eyes.

‘Lord…’

His eyes were similar to the Oliver she knew, yet so very different.

Even in the past, Oliver’s eyes had seemed empty, but in them, there had always been a curiosity and hope for the beauty of humanity. But now, all that remained was disdain for what he saw and the questioning why he had ever been captivated by such insignificance.

It was then.

Oliver’s gaze, which had been penetrating even her soul, shifted slightly to the side.

Joanna realized what Oliver was looking at.

It was her younger brother, standing beside her.

Oliver’s lips moved slightly.

At the same time, his hand moved.

Neither Joanna nor her brother, who were rooted in place, could even twitch.

As Oliver’s hand stretched out towards them…

Shine.

A flash of white light erupted, placing itself between Oliver and Joanna.

“…I guess it’s come to this.”

It was Merlin, covered in dust and dirt.