Chapter 736: Arrangement

Using the one-armed corpse of Joseph as a base, the bodies scattered all around gathered together and clumsily formed a vague shape.

Countless skulls, held together by decayed flesh like glue, formed the figure of a small horse. Rotting limbs intertwined to shape the naked body of an old man.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Rotting hands, stripped to the bone, encircled Joseph’s skull, weaving fingers together to form a face. Meanwhile, intestines crawled up like worms, creating a bushy beard and a tangle of innards.

Just like the first time they met. This was no different.

The horse-riding old man, whose body was complete, stared at Oliver and placed one hand on his chest while bowing towards him.

With the utmost courtesy.

The difference now was that Joseph wasn’t around, screaming as he lay broken, and the horse-riding old man didn’t vanish.

[How do you do? Honorable One.]

Unlike their first meeting, the old man didn’t disappear. In fact, he even greeted Oliver.

This was a good sign. At the very least, it meant he was willing to communicate for now.

It was truly fortune.

However, Oliver chose not to rush due to this luck. Conversations had an order to them, after all, and manners were also important.

Oliver rose from his seated position, placing one hand on his chest, and slowly bowed, mimicking the horse-riding old man.

“Thank you for coming out to see me, horse-riding old man.”

Oliver slightly lifted his head, showing a subtle expression that was hard to define.

The horse-riding old man’s face, composed of tangled fingers, twisted into asymmetry.

The feeling was confusion, born from Oliver’s inexplicable expression.

“It’s a smile.”

Oliver explained to the confused horse-riding old man that he was smiling.

“When an esteemed guest arrives, it is polite to greet them with a smile. I tried my best, but can’t you tell?”

[…You are confusing me.]

The horse-riding old man admitted his bewilderment, while Oliver muttered in disappointment.

“Damn… I tried.”

Oliver even cursed, something unusual for him, though it came out awkward as if he were acting.

[Perhaps—]

“—Hold on.”

As the horse-riding old man was about to inquire about Oliver’s clumsy behavior, Oliver raised his finger.

“Before that, I have something to ask.”

[Speak, Honorable One.]

“Was my greeting natural just now?”

[…]

“Was it awkward too? That would hurt my feelings.”

[No, the greeting was splendid.]

“Right? I learned it at the Angel’s House. The staff there taught me. I originally went to learn disguise skills, but they taught me all sorts of things—etiquette, perfumes, dressing skills.”

Oliver spread his arms, showing off the clothes he was wearing.

It was a stable style—neither excessive nor too plain.

“At first, I wasn’t interested, but they said it was something I had to learn. They said it’s courtesy.”

Oliver adjusted his outfit.

“Clothing is a reflection of one’s mindset and consideration for others. There’s no need to overdo it, but you should at least dress appropriately for people and occasions. Not doing so isn’t stylish—it’s disrespectful. Do you get my point?”

[I do not. Would you explain?]

“It means you should put on clothes. That woman on the camel dresses up well; why do The Burned One and you show up naked?”

An unexpected reply silenced the horse-riding old man. He just stood still, staring at Oliver.

The silence filled the underground area of the abandoned hospital like a heavy, biting cold.

“Ah… I’m joking. Did you not find it funny?”

[You’ve made your decision, Honorable One. To stop the end.]

The horse-riding old man, having grasped Oliver’s determination, spoke.

The suddenness of his words briefly halted all sound, but then Oliver’s voice filled the void.

“Strange… I thought you already knew that. Weren’t you watching me?”

[At some point, we could no longer watch you.]

At some point… Oliver considered asking when that was, but decided against it.

He had other matters to attend to. Besides, even if he knew, it wouldn’t be of much use now. He had already made up his mind, after all. Asking such things now would just be a waste of words.

[Aren’t you angry?]

“Out of nowhere? About what?”

[About all of this. Honorable One, you must already know—it was I who pushed you into this abyss.]

The horse-riding old man admitted it.

It was he who pulled the first string of Oliver’s fate. It had been Dark Sorcerer Joseph who pulled Oliver out of the mine, but Joseph had been the old man’s tool.

In a sense, it wasn’t wrong to say the horse-riding old man had thrown Oliver into a cruel fate.

But the one who had fallen into that pit spoke.

“Not really. Yes, Joseph took me out, but I followed him willingly. There’s no point in blaming you now.”

[…You mean it.]

“Yes, besides, I’m in no position to complain about destiny.”

Oliver thought of fingers.

Of Hansel and Gretel, nearly eaten by witches, forced to become Flesh Cooks.

Of Fen, obsessed with the title of Prince of Hell after suffering from his mother’s delusions and life as a cruel chimney sweep.

Of the Pied Piper, who rejected his own fate, losing his beloved son and going mad with rage.

Of Puppet, born by human hands and not blessed by God.

They were all villains, but each had their story. Yet those stories, those lives, were just nutrients for Oliver.

Unfair and absurdly so.

“So for me to complain feels strange. Besides, it’s not like you wished for any of this, right?”

The horse-riding old man’s eyes trembled for a brief moment.

Indeed, the horse-riding old man was but a trigger. The real culprit was the one who pulled it.

If blame were to be placed, it wouldn’t be on him.

Then who was the one who pulled the trigger?

Who could command the 72 Lords of Hell? Gods? Or perhaps…

“The end is no different.”

The horse-riding old man replied after evaluating Oliver’s depth of thought.

His voice, that of a demon’s, was so deadly it could make a person explode.

Fortunately, there were no other people around in the underground hospital, so no one’s eyeballs bled or body burst.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Our Master said the same.”

There was a faint trace of longing and regret in the demon’s voice. His eyes betrayed the same as he gazed at Oliver, recalling him.

But the horse-riding old man shook off those emotions and returned to the main topic.

“…The end, too, is the same. Honorable One. The being performing it is something far greater than us.”

“That sounds scary.”

He wasn’t lying. It was terrifying.

These were beings whose breath alone could incinerate people. Demons who could single-handedly push the Holy Capital to the brink of destruction. To think such beings bowed their heads to a greater one desiring the end? It would be odd not to be scared.

“But even so, I doubt my thoughts will change.”

“Honorable One, I have watched you for a long time.”

“I know.”

“That’s why I respect you. Because I’ve seen the trials and pain you’ve overcome… But this is different.”

The horse-riding old man warned Oliver. His tone unreadable, yet it carried no malice. Pure concern was hidden underneath.

“Excuse me, may I correct a mistake? …I’m not planning to win.”

“You have no intention to win…?”

“Yes, I’ve realized it’s pointless. No matter how hard I fight, I’ll eventually break. In the end, all that’s left is pain and emptiness. So I’m not planning to fight anymore.”

The horse-riding old man glared at Oliver.

“That contradicts itself. If you’re not fighting fate, how are you planning to stop the end?”

“There’s also a person who became an angel and then went to Hell. So what?”

Oliver pointed to the horse-riding old man.

“Now that you mention it, is it because you get cold easily that you went to Hell?”

“…Is that another joke?”

“Half-serious. You found it amusing?”

“No.”

“Damn…”

Once again, Oliver muttered in disappointment.

The old man gazed at Oliver, and unlike before, there was no more worry or pity. Instead, there was longing and admiration.

“What is it you wish to ask of me?”

“Ah, you truly are a demon. Figuring out I was going to ask for something—what speed! I’m happy about that.”

“Honorable One. In deference to you, I’ll hear even the most unreasonable of requests. Speak, and I will answer your questions. I can even explain what the end is or tell you about your roots.”

“No, thanks. I’m not interested in that.”

Oliver waved his hand dismissively.

“Not interested?”

“Yes. Knowing that wouldn’t change my decision. So telling me would just be a waste of words… Instead, I have a request.”

“Speak.”

“Puppet is probably going to bring about the end. It might not be the real end, but it’ll be close.”

Oliver thought of the Unbent Knee. The artificially created Prince of Hell, designed by the Swan Sect to bring about the end.

The moment Oliver saw him, he knew Puppet’s plan wasn’t nonsense.

“The impact will be pretty similar too. The final sign.”

Oliver waved the book Edith had given him.

The book described the signs that occur when a demon appears.

The first sign: Water turning to blood.

The second sign: A plague of frogs covering the land.

The third sign: Lice emerging from everywhere.

The fourth sign: Swarms of flies darkening the sky.

The fifth sign: A deadly pestilence that kills beasts.

The sixth sign: A deadly illness harming humans.

The seventh sign: A destructive hailstorm raining from the sky.

The eighth sign: Locust swarms consuming everything.

The ninth sign: A darkness that obliterates all.

The final, tenth sign—

“—It’s too much.”

Oliver gave his opinion on the final sign.

The horse-riding old man shook his head in disapproval.

“That’s not for us to decide.”

“No, I’ll decide. I’ve made up my mind.”

Oliver said it so casually, like a child throwing a tantrum.

But the horse-riding old man didn’t treat it that way. He had seen the immense agony and struggle behind those childlike words.

“But I don’t have the strength to stop it for now. So, please help me just this once.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to go now and stop that log from rolling?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

The horse-riding old man showed a new shade of discomfort.

“You’re asking for something nearly impossible, Honorable One.”

“I’m asking because it’s difficult. You accepted the food I gave you, didn’t you?”

“You are indeed shameless.”

“That’s one of my better features.”

Oliver cracked another joke, trying desperately.

The horse-riding old man wasn’t unaware of this—the effort Oliver made to spur himself forward.

He didn’t feel entirely unwilling to help. In fact, he genuinely wanted to. But—

“It must be a very difficult request then.”

“It is, Honorable One.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“While I like you, Honorable One, I have not yet acknowledged you.”

It felt familiar.

The Burned One had said the same thing in the past. The Woman on the Camel wasn’t much different. Though she was kind and granted his requests, she too had drawn a line. It must be this thing called acknowledgment.

Snort…

For the first time, the small horse, which had remained silent and unmoving like a statue, stirred.

Simultaneously, lights appeared in the hollow eye sockets of the skulls that made up the horse, and they all turned to stare at Oliver.

It was as if life had entered each and every skull.

And in the hands of the horse-riding old man, who had once been empty, a scythe appeared.

“If you wish, there is a way for me to acknowledge you. I am incredibly weak in my current state. If you wanted to, you might succeed.”

Oliver looked at the scythe-wielding horse-riding old man and shook his head.

“I’m too scared. Sorry, but I don’t think I can fight a demon, even one weakened.”

The man who had expressed his ambition to stop the end blatantly lied about being afraid.

The horse-riding old man didn’t counter that lie. In part because of what Oliver said next.

“And, I don’t want to earn your acknowledgment like that… Is it really difficult?”

“It’s nearly impossible, Honorable One.”

“I don’t really grasp how tough that is. I’ve succeeded at almost everything—dark magic, magic, errands, cooking, fashion, making coffee… I’m kind of a multi-talented guy.”

“But you can’t smile.”

“Ah…”

Uncharacteristically for Oliver, who had been boasting, he was taken aback. Smiling… He really couldn’t do that.

He’d attempted it some two or three times, but they only served to damage his confidence.

Aside from those rare moments, every attempt had ended in failure. Especially when he tried to do so under his own control.

“Helping you right now would be just as challenging. So…”

The horse-riding old man trailed off mid-sentence.

Oliver suddenly lowered his head, covering his face with both hands.

Was he overwhelmed with despair at being denied? But then he abruptly lifted his head again.

With both thumbs, he raised the corners of his mouth.

Somehow, Oliver was smiling.

It was awkward, yet noticeably more natural than before.

“…”

The horse-riding old man silently observed this smile, and Oliver let go of his mouth.

“How was that? Did it look more natural this time?”

Oliver asked.

The horse-riding old man, after a brief pause, descended from his horse.

The once-distant gaze was now at a slightly more approachable height.

“Yes, Honorable One.”