Chapter 675: The Darkest Moment

‘Extract’, one of the most basic aspects of Dark Magic.

When I activated that ‘Extract’, I grasped the Pied Piper’s wrath in my hand.

The Pied Piper’s infinite rage was like seawater…

Perhaps, this was arrogance.

Arrogance, the sin most despised by God.

Otherwise, it would have been impossible to attempt.

To extract all of the Pied Piper’s rage.

It was no different from trying to hold the ocean in a single hand.

There’s a reason no one has tried this in centuries.

Yet, I still did it.

What was I thinking?

Was it because there was no other way?

Because blood, the Filgarett, and the demon’s flames were ineffective?

Of course, that was part of it. There really was no other way.

But the biggest reason was that deep down, I unconsciously believed I could succeed.

I believed I could extract all of the Pied Piper’s wrath and hold it in my hand…

Without that belief, I couldn’t have even attempted the extraction.

How utterly foolish.

I always valued etiquette and tried to stay humble, aware of my own foolishness…

Yet, at the most critical moment, that sin of arrogance buried deep in my heart rose to the surface. And I paid the price for it.

The overwhelming wrath slipped past my hand, coursing through my arm and invading my body, reaching my brain.

Because of that, I was able to see it again.

The memories of the Pied Piper, seen through Ideation.

The memories of him and his son’s lives.

However, there was one crucial difference.

Unlike the life seen through Ideation, the life viewed through Extract was closer to feeling than seeing.

In that moment, I was not Oliver, nor Dave, nor Xenon. I was Nicholas.

A man who loved a woman, a father to a child, and a being who rejected his fate to live as a human.

And, in the end, he paid the price.

Through my son, who never woke up after eating stew the next day.

…

Surprisingly, what I saw through Ideation and the scene through the Pied Piper’s eyes were only a few steps apart, yet the impact was entirely different.

Even though I knew with my head that the memories before my eyes weren’t real, that they were just in the past, an indescribable emotion welled up and broke free from control.

All I could feel was the memory of a child no longer breathing and the pain, the anger of losing him.

An infinite rage that felt like my body might explode.

Tick-!

I heard a cracking sound, and my eyes were forced open.

The world was shrouded in darkness. Endless darkness.

When my eyes opened, I finally saw clearly.

…

No, I already knew.

I knew the world was darkness.

I’d seen and learned enough from the orphanage and the mines.

I had simply forgotten, momentarily entranced by a series of intriguing events and the beautiful light I had accidentally discovered.

Maybe it was something I wanted to forget.

The fact that the world was darkness and in that darkness, there was only a feeble, insignificant light.

Isn’t that… just too dull?

So I deliberately narrowed my view, seeking only the beautiful light.

Because that gave it value.

Even though I had become so absorbed in that light that I got caught in a web.

…

But, no longer.

Once my eyes fully opened, everything became clear.

The world was tainted by the darkness of sin.

And the ones who caused that darkness were none other than those lights.

Paradoxically, those lights sapped and exploited other lights to make themselves shine brighter, ultimately devouring them and plunging the world into darkness.

When I realized that, I could fully accept the difference between them and me.

Unlike when I denied it in the past.

Once I acknowledged that reality, the suffocating web that bound me snapped, leaving me feeling as if reborn.

True freedom.

The clarity of everything and the freedom to do anything.

Although there were obstacles, they were all eliminated.

Just as I was about to do what I wanted, what I had to do, one light called out to me.

“Teacher!”

It was a light.

“I’ll come to you!”

A light that was incredibly weak but simultaneously very bright.

The light came running towards me, and I tried to extinguish it.

Its brightness was blinding, making me feel as though I’d go blind again…

As if I’d get caught in the web once more…

So, without any hesitation, I sought to snuff out that light.

Although a massive light devoured by darkness tried to intervene once more.

Negation.

The wind denying the light veered off course and went askew.

Fortunately, the wind only grazed the approaching light.

That was enough.

That alone could extinguish the light.

Yet, unexpectedly, an anomaly occurred.

The light didn’t go out and kept approaching. An unforeseen situation.

In that sudden moment, I unconsciously reached out, colliding with the light.

As soon as I touched it, a warm sensation spread through my fingertips.

A very, very warm sensation…

In that instant, the light I touched spread up my arm and shoulder, enveloping my entire body and covering even my eyes.

In the gentle light, Oliver’s barely open eyes were blinded.

The first thing that entered his blinded eyes was the old Quarterstaff he held and the boy who had handed it to him.

…

A boy who had been an inn worker and once asked for help learning to read.

The boy, now grown, wept as he smiled.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Teacher… I was scared.”

The boy apologized.

He confessed he had been frightened when he saw Oliver fighting the Pied Piper.

With deep guilt and shining remorse, he sincerely apologized with all his heart.

“I should’ve said it was okay then… I should’ve told you I wasn’t scared…”

“Rosburn?”

“I’m really sorry. For causing you pain…”

Rosburn couldn’t finish his words.

One of his legs crumbled into dust… no, not even dust was left.

Rosburn, losing his balance, fell backwards, and Oliver, instinctively, reached out and caught him.

…

He was cold.

So very cold.

“Please forgive me. For looking at you like that…”

Oliver hurriedly grabbed Rosburn’s hand.

And then, a memory came to mind.

The secret laboratory of Martel. The boy named Colin who had waited for a savior there.

As he recalled that memory, Oliver instinctively knew one cruel fact.

“I’m not mad… I’m not mad at you, Rosburn. You don’t need to apologize. So, don’t be sorry.”

Just like back then, Oliver realized there was nothing he could do.

“Thank you, Teacher. For forgiving me. I…”

“…I understand. I forgive you. So please, stop talking. There must be some way…”

Oliver lied.

Even knowing there was nothing he could do, he looked around at Merlin, Kevin, Yareli, and Joanna, searching for a way that wouldn’t come.

At that moment, the hand of Rosburn, which Oliver was holding, crumbled into nothingness.

“Thank you, Teacher.”

“Ah…”

Unable to do anything, Oliver let out a groan.

Rosburn desperately continued speaking.

“Because of you, I learned how to read…”

Crack.

Unable to do anything, Oliver ground his teeth.

“Because of you, I went to school… I learned magic… I made friends. I was happy. I was really happy.”

Oliver made a sound that no language or text could ever express.

Meanwhile, Rosburn, wiping Oliver’s tears with his remaining hand, continued his speech. He was trying to comfort him.

“Above all else… thank you for saving us, Teacher.”

…

“For showing us that we weren’t abandoned. For showing us that we had meaning…”

Rosburn’s hand, which had been wiping Oliver’s tears, crumbled. Leaving not even a trace behind.

Rosburn kept on talking.

“Thanks to you, Teacher, we’ve been saved. Not just our lives, but our very existence. You’ve shown us that we are also worthy of love. So, so…”

Plop.

Rosburn’s body, which Oliver had been supporting, shattered into dust and fell to the ground.

Oliver’s hand hovered in the air as he watched.

There was nothing he could do, and he feared if he touched anything, it too would break.

Oliver couldn’t do anything.

In his helplessness, Rosburn kept on talking. All while wearing a sincere smile.

“So… please don’t make that face. I was saved thanks to you, Teacher.”

…

“I truly… am grateful to you, Teach…”

Just like at the beginning, Rosburn’s words were left unfinished.

His body, which had crumbled to dust, slowly ascended, until even his neck and mouth were completely gone.

…

Even after seeing that right in front of him, Oliver did nothing but stare blankly at the spot where Rosburn had been.

As if he’d lost his soul.

Then, as if possessed, Oliver moved his trembling hands.

He tried to gather Rosburn’s remains with his bare hands. But even that soon stopped.

Even those remains eventually disappeared, returning to complete nothingness.

When Oliver could no longer collect Rosburn’s remains, he once again stared blankly, before collapsing onto the spot where Rosburn had lain and silently wept.

Though no sound came out, everyone there knew that Oliver was crying.

Merlin, Kevin, Yareli, and Joanna—all of them.

Yet none of them could approach Oliver, only silently watching him weep.

They had no idea how to console such vast sorrow.

It was as if time had stopped.

But heartlessly, the world kept moving.

The dust settled, revealing the surroundings, and the animals that had gone berserk due to the calamity gradually calmed down. The darkened sky, which had trembled because of the battle between the two monsters, began to clear.

The rays of light piercing through the sky were proof of that…

But there was something unusual.

The rays of light intensified, then the sky split, and an artificial waterfall of light began to cascade down.

Sensing something ominous, Merlin, Kevin, Yareli, and Joanna, their bodies already in shambles, instinctively moved to protect Oliver.

Moments later, the beams of light descending from the sky gradually weakened, revealing hundreds of Holy Knights and thousands of Servants who surrounded them on all sides.

A grand-scale Holy Power barrier encompassing the entire continent, meant to prevent the descent of the demon.

Only a select few high-ranking Dark Priests within the Pater Church could wield this Holy Power. Even then, not all of them could perform it.

Only those high-ranking Dark Priests with tremendous influence.

Thanks to that, it was easy to guess who had arrived.

Even without the knowledge and wisdom accumulated by the Archive over millennia.

“The Red Duke.”

Merlin, whose skin had shattered like glass and whose body was partially destroyed from the battle with Oliver, turned his head to one side.

There stood a middle-aged man, wearing armor reminiscent of his days of active duty, including an iron coat.

He had a broad forehead, large eyes, and a tall frame… He was none other than Archpriest Armand, Chancellor of Gallos, Dark Priest of the Pater Church, and leader of the moderates.

Centered around him, hundreds of Holy Knights stood ready to move at any moment.

“It’s been a while, Archive.”

Archpriest Armand made no such pretense as to express any sort of feigned friendliness.

He simply looked at Oliver, who was lying motionless on the ground.

Merlin asked the Archpriest.

“What brings you here?”

“I was summoned for assistance. By Archpriest Roderick… It seems the urgent matters have been resolved.”

Armand calmly observed the ruined surroundings.

“Indeed. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

“Thank you. Then, we’ll continue with our tasks.”

At his words, the hundreds of Holy Knights and thousands of Servants who had been summoned moved as one.

In response, Merlin unleashed his mana. A vast and mighty force that made it hard to believe he had just finished a life-and-death battle. The earth quaked.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’d prefer if you entrusted that to me as well.”

The sheer intensity of it made Armand and the Holy Knights flinch and halt.

Noticing that something strange was happening, Kevin and Yareli scraped up what little mana they had left, while Joanna also began channeling her Holy Power.

Seeing this, Armand appeared regretful as he silently looked on. But he didn’t change his stance.

“Archive… I understand your position and your efforts. However, as a Church tasked with preventing the end of humanity, we cannot compromise on the matter of capturing the Prince of Hell. You understand, don’t you?”

Then, it happened.

“Who…!!”

Joanna burst out in an angry voice, her eyes wide open. Tears streamed from her eyes.

It was rage. The rage of a Holy Knight over a Dark Sorcerer.

“Who do you think… Who do you think is the Prince of Hell?!”

“Dame Joanna…”

Armand softly addressed Joanna, but she did not calm down.

Instead, she shouted louder.

“Who do you think is the Prince of Hell?! Who risked their life to save the children?! Who fought the Pied Piper that even our Pater Church feared and ignored?! And yet how-”

Thud.

Joanna’s fury wasn’t calmed by the Archpriest but by none other than Oliver, who had risen to his feet.

Without a word, Oliver placed his hand on Joanna’s shoulder, silencing her, and looked up with empty eyes.

The hundreds of Holy Knights and Servants, who had come with the resolve to stop the apocalypse, fell silent as they observed Oliver.

An indescribable presence weighed down on them.

Tock.

Oliver gripped his Quarterstaff and began to walk forward.

Towards Archpriest Armand.

Tock. Tock. Tock.

Though it was potentially a dangerous situation, nobody, not even Armand, made a move.

Oliver continued walking without interference, stopping right in front of Archpriest Armand.

He then extended his hands, holding the Quarterstaff.

“Take me away. I am… the Prince of Hell.”