Chapter 721: War?

There’s a saying: ‘You can learn a lot by seeing just one piece.’

This saying held true even in the Tower of Magic.

In fact, maybe it was even more applicable within the Tower.

Magic is vast and highly specialized, and true mastery reveals itself in the smallest details.

Through this logic, the students and mages of the Tower could now grasp just how advanced Kevin had become.

After all, despite getting some help from a Spirit, he fought on equal footing with Tilda and the Military Mages, and if that wasn’t enough, he displayed a new, unseen technique.

That new technique was the fusion of magic and dark magic.

It combined lightning gathered by the Spirit with Kevin’s emotions, creating something completely new.

As he mixed his feelings into the lightning collected by the Spirit, the lightning turned black, exuding a life-like energy.

The students and mages of the Tower watched in awe at this scene.

For in the technique Kevin displayed, they glimpsed new possibilities in the study of magic.

It wasn’t an exaggeration.

Once Kevin and the Spirit’s lightning merged with his emotions, the power of the strike multiplied exponentially, overwhelming and crushing Tilda and the Military Mages.

Mages at a certain level understood that if those attacks landed, at least half of their forces would be destroyed.

They realized that Kevin hadn’t inherited the Archive’s position for no reason.

While he might not be ready to take on the full responsibilities of the Archive yet, with the fight and technique he just displayed, Kevin proved his potential.

If given a bit more time, he could truly step up as a mage worthy of inheriting Merlin’s position in the Archive.

It was something everyone present had to admit, regardless of their personal feelings.

At that moment, Kevin threw his black lightning spear downward, charged with his emotions.

The outcome of the battle to decide the future of the Archive was now at stake.

As the world was stained in darkness, something even more astonishing than Kevin’s new technique was witnessed.

“Nothing ever comes easy, does it?”

Amid Tilda and the Military Mages, who had deployed their defensive magic, someone appeared out of thin air without any catalyst or medium, catching the lightning Kevin had thrown.

Crackling, crackling, crackling…!!!!

The lightning let out a terrifying sound, ripping through the air as it tried to burn the hand of the sudden arrival, but it lost its momentum and then fizzled out.

It happened in less than a second.

In that instant, both the students and mages watching the battle could tell that this intruder was a far superior mage to even Kevin, and instinctively, they recognized his identity.

It was Puppet. The undying being who earned the name ‘Immortal’ because he could not be killed, no matter how many times one tried.

He had unexpectedly intruded into the Tower, saving Tilda and the Military Mages.

Just as the conversation that had played over the radio foretold.

“…”

But what caused the most shock among the Tower’s people wasn’t just Puppet’s appearance.

It was that Puppet had used a Zombie Puppet made from the Archive’s corpse as a medium to manifest. The book in one of the puppet’s hands was solid proof of that.

Everyone was left speechless in horror at the realization.

The dark mage they had so disdainfully dismissed had turned the Archive, a mage’s highest aspiration, into a Zombie Puppet.

This was even more shocking than Tilda’s betrayal, selling out the Tower by siding with Puppet.

A suffocating silence descended, as the shock settled in. And within it, Puppet raised his hand towards Kevin, who hovered in the air.

It was clear to anyone that Puppet intended to target Kevin, but no one moved.

Not the students, not the mages, not even the Tower’s senior leaders, nor the Grand Master.

Thus, the millennia-old legacy of the Archive, right in the middle of the Tower, was on the brink of ending at the hands of a dark mage.

“Taking the Archive with you?”

Oliver appeared.

Without the slightest warning, behind Puppet.

***

Crack━!

Right after Oliver spoke, Puppet’s body jerked, and the sound of something breaking echoed out.

The sound was none other than one of Puppet’s arms being torn off.

An arm that had withstood the combined power of Kevin and the Spirit’s lightning.

It wasn’t as if Oliver had launched some extraordinary attack.

He had simply reached out to grab Puppet (the Zombie Puppet-Archive)’s head. As Puppet raised his arm to block and created a barrier, Oliver effortlessly shattered the magic barrier with just his hand, missing the head but easily wrenching off Puppet’s arm instead.

With no finesse and no special technique, just pure strength.

The students and mages with any understanding of magic immediately recognized what had happened and were shocked.

As if reflecting that shock, a crushing silence fell again.

“Oh… You’re holding on well, aren’t you?”

Despite the extreme reaction from those around him, Oliver just casually voiced his admiration.

The object of his admiration was Puppet.

Kneeling on one knee, clutching his torn arm, Puppet endured the pain.

It was impressive. He must have nullified all the pain receptors in the Zombie Puppet during battle, and experiencing live pain again must have been a long time coming.

Thud.

“Well, you are someone familiar with pain. Will you be alright?”

Oliver casually threw Puppet’s torn arm to the ground.

The arm landed near one of the Military Mages, still holding the Archive’s symbol—a book.

“…Judging by the thorns in your words, it seems you don’t like me much.”

“I’m a little irritated, yes, but I don’t particularly dislike you. So please don’t misunderstand.”

Oliver wasn’t just using empty pleasantries. It was the truth.

At that moment, Oliver didn’t particularly dislike anyone. Nor did he particularly like anyone either. Everyone was just the same to him.

From Puppet, a block of wood who wanted to become human, to the Flesh Cook abandoned by his parents along with his sister, to Fen, the mentally-ill chimney sweep.

Or the Pied Piper, grieving for his lost child, or Tilda, who, once oppressed, now oppressed others after settling in Randa, or the Military Mages, who threw away their pride and aligned with Puppet.

To the students and ordinary mages within the Tower, preoccupied only with climbing the Tower’s power ladder, or even the street vendor selling hot dogs.

To Oliver, they were all the same.

Each had their own past and circumstances. The only real differences were luck and talent.

That’s what separated the elites from the hot dog vendors, but to Oliver’s gaze, they were all the same.

“And yet, despite that, your actions are quite extreme, like breaking our agreement.”

Puppet and Oliver had an agreement: Oliver wouldn’t interfere with whatever Puppet was doing.

What Puppet was doing was creating an artificial Prince of Hell to open the Gates of Hell, which, in truth, was mutually beneficial.

Puppet wanted to use the apocalyptic scenario to harness the power of God and become human. Oliver wanted to escape his destiny.

However, Oliver had thrown a wrench in the plan by exposing Puppet and the Royal Family’s covert actions to the entire United Kingdom.

“Don’t act tough. You can handle this, right? For someone whose specialty is manipulation and deception.”

“Sigh… The thorns still haven’t come out of your words. It stings.”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with my words. In fact, I’ve shown restraint by only revealing what you can handle in order to uphold our agreement.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t a lie either.

The content of Oliver’s conversation with Major Billy, broadcasted via the radio and communication devices, had certainly influenced the homeland and the colonies greatly, but still within Puppet’s control.

Puppet could dismiss it as nonsense and crush any backlash.

The sheer absurdity of it all helped too. Yet, it wasn’t because Oliver was actually being considerate of him. Instead,

“You’re threatening me, aren’t you? If I don’t hand over Kent, you’ll overturn everything?”

“If it sounds like that to you, then you can interpret it that way.”

“Pffft…”

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s funny because here you are, supposedly near-omniscient, and yet you’re acting all wishy-washy, like a child looking for their parent… no, I guess you’re not actually omniscient, are you?”

Puppet, still kneeling on one knee, looked up at Oliver.

“If you were truly omniscient, you wouldn’t need to ask me where Kent is, would you? Is someone covering up the truth?”

Puppet’s words weren’t wrong.

Oliver may currently possess near-omniscient power, but that didn’t mean he was truly omniscient.

If he were, he wouldn’t have needed to use the radio broadcast to expose Puppet and the Royal Family’s covert operations. He could have just gone directly to where Kent was.

But he couldn’t do that. Not now.

Because he didn’t know where Kent was.

Oliver’s all-seeing eye, which allowed him to see through everything, had its limits. He had to directly observe the person or object to know, and in Puppet’s case, the powers of Hell blurred the information like a mosaic.

Oliver wasn’t truly omniscient.

Omniscience meant knowing everything and having the absolute power to do anything. Unintentionally, Oliver was only imitating that power.

“You’re only halfway there. Half-hearted blood. Half-hearted actions. It seems your shell didn’t quite fully break, huh? Does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother me. You’re right. But to me, it sounds like you just don’t want to tell me.”

“You heard correctly. The more you ask, the more I’ll avoid telling you. And also…”

“Also?”

“I just don’t feel like telling you.”

Puppet’s eyes glimmered for a split second.

His usually tired, emotionless gaze, always fixated on a single goal, now sparkled like that of a child.

Seeing that light in Puppet’s eyes, Oliver tilted his head in slight confusion and approached the kneeling Puppet.

Slowly, but inevitably.

Oliver got close, so close that he reached out to grab Puppet.

Snap.

But he got grabbed instead.

Puppet, instead of letting Oliver catch him, caught Oliver’s wrist.

“I can touch you.”

Puppet’s hand had managed to touch Oliver, whose body had previously been untouchable by any attack.

Was it the Spirit’s power? No, it wasn’t. This energy was far more familiar than that… It was the power of Hell.

Puppet had tapped into the fissures that had appeared in Randa, pulling power from Hell itself to elevate his level, enabling him to touch Oliver.

Creak…

With their positions reversed, Puppet gripped Oliver’s wrist tightly.

“Before coming here, I spoke with Kent. He told me about your condition.”

Creak…

“Even so, he still wants to meet you. How brave of him, a man marked as a criminal. It was amusing.”

Crunch!

“Oh, and speaking of amusing, Kent told me something interesting. That you, who doesn’t even understand what I’m trying to achieve, can’t possibly accomplish your goals this way.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing much. He’s precious leverage, after all. But I did promise him this: that I’d show him the difference between someone born at the pinnacle of the world and a mere block of wood.”

Crack━!

Once again, the sound of something breaking echoed in the air.

It was an arm being torn off.

Puppet’s arm.

Despite being the one who had grabbed Oliver’s wrist, when Oliver lightly tugged, it was Puppet’s arm that got ripped off instead.

Still looking down at Puppet, Oliver spoke.

“If you want, I’ll tell you everything. To the point you get sick of it.”