Chapter 766: Oliver

A stark white sky, white snow, white ground.

The Land of Ice, known as the end of the world, could be summarized like this.

Nothing but white, nothing else existed.

Because of the harsh conditions, no human ever conquered this place, and Oliver entered through an opening in its center.

It was more of a chasm or a hole than an entrance, so deep it made one hesitant to approach, but as Oliver took a step forward.

Thud.

From the rugged ice wall, a stable foothold popped out to support Oliver’s foot.

When Oliver took another step, another foothold materialized. One after the other.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

With each thudding sound, footholds appeared, forming stairs.

Oliver descended step by step, deeper and deeper.

After descending several dozen meters, the scenery changed.

The naturally formed gigantic crevice was now carved clean, as if by human hands. Many entrances, passages, and hidden trap spells were visible.

They were traps set up by Puppet in case anyone insane enough ventured down here.

Oliver simply walked, ignoring the traps as he ventured deep inside.

“Hmm…”

Inspecting the Zombie Puppets hidden throughout the complex and maze-like secret base, Oliver hummed.

There were countless Zombie Puppets in this place, unsurprising since this was where Puppet’s true body resided.

From Dark Sorcerers, to sorcerers, Druids, magic users, and even soldiers.

There were also spider-shaped mutant zombie weapons, and quite a lot of them.

It seemed impossible to break through by normal means.

However, none of the numerous corpses reacted to Oliver.

They stood still, like lifeless puppets whose strings had been cut.

“This place…”

As Oliver calmly surveyed the surroundings with no interference, he muttered while observing a certain room.

It was a massive, ice-cold storage space where countless corpses were stacked, packed tightly like meat in a butcher’s shop.

This must have been Puppet’s largest corpse storage unit, as well as his Zombie Puppet workshop.

Surrounded by ice, it wasn’t bad if the user could adapt to the environment.

To confirm this, as he descended further, he saw a large-scale Zombie Puppet production workshop.

In front of over a hundred work stations stood many multi-armed Zombie Puppets, and from the ceiling hung complex surgical machines.

Descending further, a laboratory equipped with numerous experimental tools and chemical apparatus came into view.

Oliver could immediately tell this laboratory was for soul research.

Descending even further, there was yet another vast area filled with countless tomes.

At first, Oliver thought this was a storage room for research materials from the lab above, but upon further inspection, he realized it wasn’t.

Strangely, rather than research documents on souls, there were photographs of children and meticulous records about their upbringing.

Age, gender, height, weight, likes, dislikes, what they learned, when they turned adults, what career they pursued after leaving the orphanage—it was all meticulously recorded.

However, these records displayed more detachment, like one would treat a test subject rather than genuine affection.

Oliver realized that all the records were about children and saw how many had passed through Puppet’s hands.

Contemplating the ice cave, he thought further.

This ice cave—it was as if it embodied Puppet’s heart.

The top was deceptively mundane like a crevasse, but the deeper you went, the more private and sensitive things you uncovered.

Having exited the lowest level archive, Oliver examined his surroundings.

There was no path down; all that was present was a seemingly bottomless abyss.

Oliver stepped toward the dark and unfathomable chasm.

Tap.

Before he knew it, he was already at the bottom, having stepped down.

It was pitch black all around, and in that darkness, Oliver saw a small, humanlike puppet.

Walking up to the puppet, Oliver greeted it.

“Greetings.”

His voice echoed in the deep, deep ice cave.

The echoing voice slowly dispersed the surrounding darkness, revealing a wooden figurine in the shape of a boy concealed within.

A wooden puppet carved from scorched pine, its body blackened entirely by the flames of The Burned One.

“…”

The wooden puppet said nothing, just stared at Oliver.

Oliver examined the wooden puppet instead of urging for a response.

Its black wig, the long nose, finely crafted smooth skin, and its meticulously made joints.

The craftsmanship spoke of care, and the boyish clothes whispered affection.

Although the clothes were frayed after hundreds of years, the affection stitched into them was still evident.

Undoubtedly, the outfit was precious to Puppet. Otherwise, there was no need to keep wearing something so worn.

After examining Puppet, Oliver observed his surroundings as well.

Unlike the upper levels with their expensive equipment, security spells, trap spells, and scientific tools, this lower level was barren.

It felt untouched, as natural and desolate as the crevasse entrance.

It was like an ice-formed Hell.

The only thing here was Puppet’s true body.

“Don’t you feel cold being here alone? Or is it because you’re a wooden puppet, immune to the cold?”

“…What happened to the child?”

Puppet, who had done nothing until now, suddenly asked about Lilith’s whereabouts instead of speaking for itself.

Just as Lilith had fought to overcome her fear and stop Oliver, Puppet seemed to care for Lilith too.

“I sent her away for a bit.”

“You must have something for her to do.”

Puppet’s tone suggested he already knew something.

Looking back on it, it wasn’t that strange.

After all, Puppet had once processed the Archive into Zombie Puppets.

And not just one or two of them, but several.

Perhaps Puppet understood the Archive even better than Kevin did now.

Clearly, he knew what Oliver would do next.

Oliver answered honestly.

“Yes, is there an issue with that?”

Puppet shook his head weakly.

The sight of the pinewood puppet’s natural head movement was strangely unsettling.

Oliver wasn’t disturbed, but others might have been uncomfortable seeing it.

“No, I don’t even have the strength or will to question anything anymore.”

His tone was more resigned than agreeable.

“In a way, it’s for the best. It’s better she’s elsewhere than witnessing my end. For both of us… Are you finally going to do what you came for?”

In a calm voice, Puppet spoke like someone who had surrendered everything.

Oliver approached Puppet.

Towards the wooden figure standing alone on the icy, barren ground.

Upon reaching the figure, Oliver lowered himself, and the air invisibly took the form of a chair to support him.

The very elements of the world cradled Oliver.

“Do you think you know what I desire?”

“You wish to destroy me, naturally. I killed someone precious to you. Or perhaps you want me to suffer eternally. Either way, I don’t care. Do as you wish.”

“Heh… Quite brave of you.”

“…”

Puppet fell silent again. Oliver pointed it out.

“You’ve gone silent again.”

“What is there for me to say if I can’t do anything? I’m more curious… Why are you going through all this trouble with someone like me?”

“You mean why I haven’t destroyed the puppet that killed Lord Kent and instead engaged in conversation?”

“If you’re trying to mock me, I’ll tell you it’s pointless. My hundreds of years of effort have already been crushed, and I know humiliation well. Physical pain won’t matter either. As you can see, my body and soul have already suffered terribly at the hands of The Burned One.”

Puppet showed his body, scorched by fire.

“You could make me suffer more, but it won’t make a difference.”

“Don’t be so sure. After all, there are many kinds of suffering.”

“Apologies, but I’ve learned all about suffering. Physical pain, disdain, scorn… I’ve endured countless life-threatening dangers, struggled toward unreachable goals… I’ve known suffering beyond what any short-lived human could ever imagine.”

Puppet placed a hand over his chest and grew quiet.

“You could increase my suffering, but there is no kind I have yet to learn.”

Oliver was silent for a moment. Though he didn’t fully agree, he conceded some of the points.

Puppet truly had experienced a great deal of pain, though not all of it.

“I still disagree, but let’s move on. That’s not why I’m here. What I want to ask is, why did you want to be human?”

Oliver placed several books he collected from the archive in front of Puppet.

“You went as far as raising orphans. Was it really all to become human because you were not blessed by God?”

“…”

Once again, Puppet remained silent.

Yet this silence felt different from before.

It wasn’t intentional. It was as if Puppet didn’t know what to say.

Oliver waited, and Puppet eventually answered.

“I don’t know. I truly don’t… Why did I want to become human? At first… I think being like this was enough.”

Puppet’s voice trailed off, almost hypnotized. He then let out a bitter chuckle.

“Perhaps… perhaps it was the children’s teasing that got to me.”

“You mean the children’s teasing?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand what I mean.”

With a low growl, Puppet snarled.

Though he had given up on everything, his reaction showed how deep his anger ran.

It was rather surprising. After enduring countless threats as a Dark Sorcerer for hundreds of years, for him to rage over mere children’s teasing.

“Did being called a wooden puppet whose only worth was imitation anger you that much?”

“…”

“As much as the murder of the grandfather who created and loved you?”

“I was merely a replacement. A stand-in for a dead grandson. No matter how well-crafted I was, I was still a fake.”

“That may have been the case at first, but you know now that it became more than that, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m still just a fake.”

“Does it really matter that much, whether something is real or fake?”

“When a rich man says money isn’t everything, it sounds virtuous. When a poor man says it, it’s just pathetic.”

“But don’t you look down on humans? With your superior intellect and near-immortal existence compared to them?”

“Yes. Humans are foolish and weak. I’ve dissected more of them than I can count. But did you know this?”

“Know what?”

“Even those foolish, weak, and sometimes evil humans have the right to stand trial when they die.”

“You envied that? The right to a trial?”

“…And the right to form genuine relationships with others. But I could never experience that, not even with my own creator. I am a solitary being.”

“Do you truly believe that’s only because you are not human?”

Puppet paused for a moment and then chuckled.

“How ridiculous. What’s the point in discussing this now?”

“And what if there was meaning in it?”

“What? Are you going to make me human?”

“Oh, how did you know?”

As Oliver spoke those words, he grasped hold of Puppet’s hand.

At that moment, the scene shifted in an instant, as if the world had blurred.

White sky, white snow, white ground.

It was similar to the Land of Ice, though technically not the same place.

There was a small village nearby. This was the outer region of the winter kingdom adjacent to the Land of Ice.

However, Puppet didn’t care much about the change in his surroundings.

What mattered more to him was the sudden change in his own body.

He felt cold and pain simultaneously.

The air was cold. The snow falling from the sky was cold. His body, covered in burns, ached.

He shouldn’t have been able to feel anything as a wooden puppet, yet now, Puppet could truly experience the sensations of both cold and heat.

This was not the imitation of sensations from a Zombie Puppet—this was genuine.

With trembling hands, Puppet inspected his arms and saw that they were human, made of flesh and blood, not pinewood.

Human arms, covered in burns.

“Huh? Huhh…?!”

Disbelieving his senses, Puppet touched his body over and over, gradually accepting the impossible reality.

He had become human.

The boy his grandfather had yearned for.

His body was still burned, but he was human.

A human!

Puppet felt a thrill of delight coursing through him, despite the disbelief, and he looked at Oliver.

And he asked.

“…Why?”

Why would his enemy fulfill his wish?

Instead of answering, Oliver asked a question.

“Are you happy?”

Puppet remained silent, but his emotions answered. He was happy. Dying now, he’d have no regrets.

Oliver responded to that unspoken answer.

“Savor that joy now. Soon, a pain you’ve never felt before will meet you. That’s the punishment I give you.”

Saying those words, Oliver vanished as if he had never been there in the first place, leaving Puppet all alone.

In the white world of falling snow. Though not entirely white like in the Land of Ice.

There was smoke rising in the distance, indicating a village and a forest nearby.

Rustle.

As Puppet inspected his surroundings, the sound of branches snapping drew his attention.

Hearing the sound with his newly human ears, Puppet realized his dark magic had dissipated.

But before he could even process that fact, a man emerged from the forest.

“Look, we found a person.”

The men were Dark Sorcerers.

Like any Dark Sorcerers on the outskirts, they exploited the chaos of the times to raid villages, stealing goods and people.

From the blood on them, it seemed they’d already done just that. Yet, Puppet smiled despite their murderous intent.

He was powerless, yes, but he was human.

Whatever fate awaited him, he didn’t care anymore.

As he thought this, one of the Dark Sorcerers approached and brought a club down on him, saying:

“Why is this guy smiling?”

And with that, the club struck Puppet’s head, knocking him unconscious.