Chapter 752: The Will of God

“It’s been a long time, Joanna.”

Oliver, holding a small sun in his burned right hand, spoke as he walked through the thick darkness.

“…”

Embarrassingly, Joanna couldn’t respond to his greeting, just staring blankly at him.

Seeing Oliver’s face stirred up complex emotions within her.

The first emotion she felt was relief and joy.

In a life-or-death crisis, seeing Oliver brought her comfort and happiness. He was someone who always solved whatever danger came their way.

But then, disgust quickly followed. Disgust with herself for relying on him again, despite all the sacrifices made.

To think she had absorbed the Holy Blood and still ended up like this.

She hated herself enough to wish she could die. But it wasn’t time for that yet.

There was something she needed to tell him.

That they had to leave this place. That they really needed to leave.

Just as Joanna, overwhelmed by feelings of hatred, fear, and worry, was about to speak,

“It’s okay.”

Oliver spoke a beat earlier.

Telling her that it’s fine. That she should stay calm.

“…”

Once again, Joanna couldn’t answer.

Because of the sun in his hand, it was blindingly bright.

“Please wait for a moment.”

Oliver asked for her understanding and gently raised the arm that was holding the sun.

Surprisingly, his right arm, which conjured the small sun, was so severely burned that it looked agonizing just to see.

As if it would snap with just a little force.

Oliver briefly lowered that arm and then swiftly threw the small sun into the sky.

Whoosh—!

As the small sun reached its highest point in the sky, it expanded, illuminating the world that had been swallowed by darkness.

Amazingly, despite producing enough light to snuff out the Ninth Omen, the white sun Oliver created wasn’t hot, nor was it blinding.

It simply shone, bright and warm, on the ground and the people beneath it.

“Shadow.”

Oliver called out to his shadow.

Responding to his call, the shadow opened multiple eyes and spread to surround the burned, ashen rubble of the palace.

The infinitely expanding ring of shadow.

In that state, Oliver forcibly opened the wound on his left hand and placed the quarterstaff on the outstretched shadow.

Slap!

Oliver’s red blood dripped from the quarterstaff and seeped into the shadow below.

That’s when it happened.

Fwoosh!

The royal palace, reduced to ashes, and the buildings of the capital flared up once more.

Kwahahahaha—!!!

The hellish flames, a mix of yellow, orange, and red, swirled violently like they belonged to another world.

Crrrck…!

A cracking sound echoed from somewhere.

The fire, so powerful it seemed as if it would warp the space around it, was trying to burn through reality itself.

As tremors, different from those of an earthquake, shook the area, Oliver calmly opened his mouth.

“Old man on horseback, please assist me.”

Oliver called upon the devil.

At that moment, a rattling sound of chains echoed from deep below, and countless arms rose from beneath Oliver’s shadow.

[Ahhh…!]

The arms emerging with pain-filled groans all bore chains around their wrists, showing signs of prolonged abuse and starvation.

The moment Joanna saw those arms, she instinctively knew.

That the owners of these arms were slaves of the horse-riding old man, one of the 72 devils that ruled Hell.

[Aaaahhhhh…!]

With even more anguished groans than before, the slaves began to gather around Oliver’s quarterstaff.

Then, as if in a dance, the arms swayed left and right, repeating certain gestures. As if in adoration.

Following the rise of the shadow and blood that had climbed the quarterstaff, a gigantic scythe, formed of shadow, was created.

Oliver, who had created a holy white sun, had now brought forth an unholy scythe of Hell.

No one knew how to react to this paradoxical sight.

Kwahahaha— thunk!

As the roaring flames that had burned the air—and even space itself—faded, every inferno in the capital was pulled into the royal palace with an indescribable sound.

Fwoosh…

As the firestorm consuming the capital was sucked into the palace, there was a distinct sound of something breathing.

Clang!

Oliver raised the scythe he’d borrowed from the horse-riding old man.

Hoo…

As the flames that had been sucked into the palace exhaled, a massive wave of fire connecting the ground to the heavens surged outward.

Oliver walked toward the oncoming wave and lifted the scythe high.

Whoosh—!

Bringing it down with a slicing motion.

The fire, seemingly set to bring death upon every firstborn, split in two before losing its strength and vanishing just beyond the ring of shadow surrounding Oliver.

Where the gigantic wave of flames had collapsed, a grand pillar of smoke rose to the sky, and Oliver stood there in front of it.

“Cough…!”

Oliver coughed, realizing that his own body was emitting smoke.

It was only natural. He had stood against the fiery wave head-on.

As smoke billowed from Oliver, whose body had been singed by the flames, he staggered, and Joanna urgently ran toward him.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Amidst the majestic smoke, the sound of clapping echoed as someone emerged.

It was The Burned One. He appeared from the royal palace, which had completely turned to ash, and stood before Oliver.

[It’s been a long time, honored one.]

***

In the heart of the capital, amidst the rising smoke, The Burned One emerged from the ashes of the palace and greeted them.

While Joanna, the Holy Knights, and the remaining citizens were frozen in place by his appearance, only Oliver calmly addressed him.

“It’s been a long time for me as well, Burned One. You look a bit different from the last time we met.”

It was as if he was speaking to an old acquaintance. Yet, despite his easygoing tone, Oliver was right.

The Burned One who had descended upon the capital was quite different from the one they had encountered on the New Continent.

When he had first descended upon the New Continent, The Burned One had looked like charred, skeletal wood.

Like kindling that had burned to the point where there was nothing left to burn.

But now, he was different. While his skin remained blackened and cracked as though struck by lightning, his body was now robust, like that of a well-built man.

Beneath that burned, wooden-like skin was a vitality akin to a flame still burning.

But the most significant change was the flaming ring slowly rotating above his head.

A power bestowed by God Himself.

Seeing the coexistence of sacrilege and divinity, Oliver remarked that The Burned One had ‘changed a bit’.

The Burned One responded.

[You’ve changed as well, honored one.]

“Is that a compliment?”

Oliver joked, feigning modesty. He had indeed changed significantly since their last encounter.

The Burned One stared intently at the transformed Oliver.

[Yes, it is a compliment, honored one.]

“Thank you. I do appreciate compliments. You’re awfully kind. Though, I think I would appreciate it more if you stopped adding ‘honored one’ to the end of every sentence. What do you think?”

[Yet, there are also parts of you that remain unchanged. You have just done something wasteful. That scythe can only be borrowed once, after all.]

Only once? Oliver didn’t understand at first, but he soon realized.

The shadowy scythe wrapped around his quarterstaff was slowly melting away.

The powerful weapon that had stopped the Tenth Omen had vanished at the very moment it was most needed.

[If you intended to stand before me, you shouldn’t have used it yet.]

“It’s a matter of perspective. I thought this was the right time to use it, so I’m not disappointed. In any case, thanks for your concern. You really are quite kind.”

[…]

“You’ve been kind to me twice now, so could I ask you for a third favor to round it out?”

[Speak.]

“Can you spare those people as well?”

Oliver pointed toward Joanna, the Holy Knights, and the remaining citizens of the capital who hadn’t yet evacuated.

[There seem to be too many to simply spare.]

“Isn’t that just a matter of perspective? They’ve done their best to escape, so there aren’t that many left compared to the start.”

[Who are you saying escaped?]

“What?”

As Oliver tried to respond, The Burned One flicked his hand.

In response to his gesture, flames erupted anew from the ashen buildings where fires had previously broken out.

Fwoosh.

Not just from the buildings. A giant wall of fire rose beyond the horizon, surrounding the outskirts of the capital and isolating it. Moments later, the fire exploded, sweeping through the entire city.

Fwoooosh—!!

The scale of the flames was overwhelming to an absurd degree. Yet, curiously, not a single person out of the few caught in the inferno turned to ash.

In fact, quite the opposite happened.

When the flames passed, countless people were standing with startled expressions in the areas swept by fire.

“…”

They were citizens of the capital, along with the Kel Independent Free Army, the Anti-Development Committee, and the Fighter Crew who had been helping them.

In the middle of the apocalypse, the people who had been desperately fleeing through The Route of Flames that Oliver created found themselves back in the capital.

All their efforts amounted to nothing.

Realizing they had escaped Hell only to return to it, the people looked at Oliver with helpless expressions.

“It seems I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have used teleportation magic that relies on flames.”

Amid numerous gazes, Oliver analyzed the situation and how their efforts had been undone.

He realized that teleporting them away using fire, only for them to return through the same flames, was the cause.

Taken away by fire, returned by fire.

[Your reasoning isn’t bad, but it’s incorrect. Those people returning to this land is not from any power of mine, but simply the natural order.]

“Natural order?”

[My descent is no catastrophe or disaster, but judgment upon sins that have grown so rampant they reached the heavens. Judgment permitted by God.]

“…”

[Disasters and catastrophes can be fled from. Judgement, however, cannot.]

A growing murmur of unease spread among the people who had been returned to the capital.

No one seemed to understand the situation they were in.

And how could they? The fickle Crown Prince had tried to sacrifice them earlier that day, they had witnessed surreal signs, and they had been safely evacuated thanks to their former enemies, the Kel Independent Free Army.

In the course of one day, their world had been turned upside down multiple times.

Just when they thought they were finally safe, they were swept up in flames, returned to their original location, and now stood before an otherworldly being (The Burned One), hearing that their situation wasn’t merely a disaster but divine judgment.

Judgement sanctioned by God. It was too much to comprehend.

[They appear indignant.]

The Burned One surveyed the many people standing behind Oliver’s shoulder.

[They have that look, as if saying ‘What sin have we committed?’]

Just as he had during his descent upon the New Continent, The Burned One pierced through the hearts of those present.

[They’re all responding the same way. It’s so predictable.]

No one could answer The Burned One’s words. They all stood quietly, not daring to refute him.

[They all resent my descent, yet not a single one reflects on why I’ve come here. Then again, if they were capable of such reflection, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.]

The imposing aura of The Burned One and the weight of his words crushed everyone.

[Just as fire needs wood to burn, my descent requires the kindling of sin. So don’t mistake it. I didn’t come to you; you called me here.]

Though the citizens of the capital remained silent, indignation bubbled deep within their hearts.

Sensing this, The Burned One gave a venomous smile and responded.

[Do you want to know what sins you’ve committed? If you wish, I can show you.]

As soon as The Burned One finished speaking, something began to emerge from the majestic plumes of smoke.

They were children molded from ash.

The countless orphans who died at the hands of those driven mad during the chaos in the city.

“…!”

Having come face to face with their sins, the people screamed silently in horror.

[It hurts! It hurts!!]

[It wasn’t me! I swear!]

[I was just nearby. Please believe me!]

[Mom… I want my mom.]

[Please, spare my younger sibling! I admit it was me! Please, just spare them…]

The ghastly children of ash, having crawled out from the fires and smoke all over the city, clung to people and begged.

They pleaded that they were innocent. They asked for forgiveness. They took the blame, even begging for their younger siblings to be spared.

“Ugh… oh… no…”

The citizens, faced with their own sins, stared blankly at the ashen children, unable to move.

They could only break into a cold sweat, gasping helplessly. They couldn’t even muster the strength to swat the children away or beg for forgiveness.

Then, freshly molded human figures appeared.

[Save us! It hurts.]

[This is our land.]

[My Lord, I’ll take a beating if I must, just please let us keep the land!]

[Where should we go now!?]

They were the victims sacrificed for the glory of the United Kingdom.

Just like the Red Ones who had fallen to establish the colonial city of First Step on the New Continent. These were the people sacrificed to build what had become the United Kingdom.

People who had lost their country unjustly, whose freedom and rights had been stripped away, whose lands had been stolen, exploited, and dishonored.

From the fires rising in the capital, these victims crawled out, grabbing the people and asking them.

Why were they being made to suffer so much?

Their likeness resembling the shadows of the Red Ones Oliver had encountered on the New Continent.

Clench.

Just like back then, several of them reached out and grabbed Oliver, pleading for his help.

[Help us. Please.]

[It’s so cold. I’m so hungry.]

[It hurts. It hurts so much.]

[I’m scared.]

[I want my mom.]

Factory girls, newspaper boys, pickpockets, orphans, beggars—all manner of children were there. They clung to Oliver, pleading for help.

[Honored one… Have you prepared your answer to my question?]

“…”

Oliver didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at the ashen children grabbing onto him.

[How can you right the wrongs of the victims without punishing the sinners who bear the never-fading sins? How can you cleanse the piled-up evils? I believe I have given you ample time. Now, give me your answer.]

The Burned One asked.

Once again, Oliver didn’t answer.

Yet, The Burned One did not press him for a reply.

Because Oliver embraced the children clinging to his clothes.

“I’m sorry.”