Published at 29th of September 2023 8:16 am

Chapter 311

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

"Gurgl-gurgl…."

In the forsaken sewer of Landa, Bigmouth, the creature summoned by Oliver, eyed him with distrust, contempt, and disgust. Despite Oliver's numerous explanations that the recent fight with a new Glutton bag was necessary, Bigmouth remained unhappy and wouldn't let it go.

Consequently, every time Oliver sought Bigmouth's assistance, he had to pay twice the amount he initially gave. It seemed he had made a mistake; had he known this would happen, he would have engaged two Glutton bags instead of one in the fight.

Determined not to repeat the same mistake, Oliver brewed coffee with a camping pot beside Bigmouth.

"…… Are you a Glutton bag user?" inquired Elizabeth Unna, the female warlock who had attacked Oliver when he was Zenon Bright.

Unna was currently the leader of the surviving Bathory family, sitting alongside Elizabeth Orsho, Elizabeth Kertlin, Elizabeth Undrasi, and Elizabeth Pal, one after the other.

"Yes… Bigmouth has been helping me since I started my solver job."

"That's impressive. A creature that size would usually devour its master."

"People often say that, but it hasn't happened yet. Thankfully, it obeys well."

"It seems pretty upset with you, for something that obeys well."

"Ah… there have been a few misunderstandings. Would you like some coffee?"

Oliver offered, pouring coffee into six cups and distributing them among the disciples of Bathory.

Only a few minutes ago, they were fighting for their lives, and they now felt an odd fear towards Oliver's behavior, finding it grotesquely incongruous—as if they were facing a creature they couldn't comprehend.

"Ah… Can you not drink coffee?" asked Oliver, suddenly realizing that they were half-dead, almost like revenants.

The Bathory disciples he had fought against in Mountain Pace were all revenants, their hearts torn out.

Unna narrowed her eyes, perhaps finding the question impolite.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"… We need to consume blood regularly, but that doesn't mean we can't eat food."

"Ah, I see."

Oliver's interest piqued at the trivial yet intriguing piece of information, displaying the curiosity of a passionate scholar.

"Well then… do you go to the bathroom?"

"… Shut up. Are you mocking us?"

Unna's embarrassment, humiliation, and anger were evident.

"No, not at all. I'm just genuinely curious… I'll shut up now."

Belatedly realizing his mistake, Oliver apologized.

Thankfully, they didn't engage in further argument.

An awkward silence fell upon them.

In an attempt to apologize, Oliver called on Bigmouth.

"Eeep. Eep. Uh-eep. Eeep."

Uttering sounds with his mouth closed, it resembled more of a sob than words, but fortunately, Bigmouth understood and spat out a box, a notebook, and a pen, along with solid fuel and a coffee pot.

"Guuuek! Guuek!!"

Unna glanced sideways at the box, notebook, and pen that landed with a thud.

"What's that?"

Instead of answering, Oliver scribbled in the notebook with a pen and showed her.

[It's a box with fresh blood packs.]

"… Just say it with your mouth."

"Ah, thank you. Writing in letters is harder than I thought."

Observing Oliver's somewhat foolish behavior, Unna and her sisters found it absurd. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had exhibited such admirable magic, black magic, and blood magic…

"Blood packs?"

"Exactly. As an apology. A whole box of blood packs. Would that suffice?"

Oliver presented his proposal with utmost courtesy, and from Unna's perspective, it was a welcomed suggestion.

The situation that Unna and her comrades found themselves in was far from enviable. Their resources were dwindling, and their safety was at risk. Despite their abilities that could have afforded them a life of luxury, the constant need to avoid capture imposed limitations. The frequent consumption of blood was an expensive affair, and they were far from content with their circumstances.

Given this context, Oliver's gift was undeniably generous. However, they couldn't let themselves get too carried away. This peculiar warlock before them had once been their mother's adversary, and they were well aware that men who showed such acts of kindness were few and far between, at least based on their past experiences before they became the daughters of Bathory.

"Your gift is deeply appreciated. Thank you."

"I'm glad you think so."

"But why do you possess such a vast quantity of blood?"

"Is that unusual?"

"To be frank, yes. Blood is used in black magic, but it's a difficult substance to handle, so it's not usually stored in large volumes, unless you require a significant amount of it."

"You're quite perceptive. May I address your questions about Lady Bathory at a later time? For now, would you mind satisfying my curiosities?"

Oliver's request was conveyed with utmost politeness. He had actually expressed a desire to have his questions answered first, as a prize for his victory in the duel – a proposition that Bathory's disciples, including Unna, had agreed to. They had been the defeated, and he the victor. In the warlock society, this was indeed a magnanimous gesture, something to be grateful for.

Oliver began speaking, seeking to ensure he had the right account of events. "Lady Bathory traveled to England and then vanished, leading to other warlock families targeting you, correct?"

Unna nodded to confirm his understanding.

"And you managed to hold your own, but eventually, you were cornered by an attack from Mr. Human-meat Chef's sibling?"

"…His sister's."

"Pardon?"

"I meant his sister's attack, not the Chef himself, but the attack was carried out by the sister of the Human-meat Chef."

"I see… My apologies for the misunderstanding. But that's intriguing. A warlock with a sister."

Oliver's reaction was not uncommon. While rare, it was not entirely unheard of for warlocks to have siblings. Most warlocks came from the lower strata of society, where blood relatives were uncommon due to the harsh and self-centered nature of the black magic world, making it challenging to maintain sibling relationships.

"Hmm… Is she also a Finger?"

"She believes she is, and some others do too, but no. Our Mother dismissed her as a brash girl who wielded too much power due to Chef."

"Is that so?"

"To the best of my knowledge."

"But isn't she a formidable adversary, having single-handedly driven you to a corner despite your victories against numerous other families?"

While Oliver's question wasn't intended to provoke them, Unna and her sisters couldn't help but feel uneasy, regardless of his intentions.

"Just because she isn't a Finger doesn't mean she's weak. She's a warlock who has lived for centuries alongside Chef… and recently, she has gained power by consuming the remains of a wizard king."

"A Wizard King?"

"Yes, even though he was a warlock, he was wholly absorbed in magic."

"Oh…"

"She may not be a Finger, but we cannot deny that she is equally strong. According to rumors, her power is even stronger than Chef."

Oliver was about to inquire further about the Finger's allegiance but decided against it. The organization known as the Black Hand was so secretive that accurate information was hard to come by, and there were often contradictory stories.

Just the revelation of Human-meat Chef having a sister was a significant discovery.

"You must have had a hard time… So, did you come to Landa to find Lady Bathory and avoid tracking and attacks?"

Unna nodded slowly. Of the two reasons, the latter was the more pressing concern.

Observing Unna's emotions, Oliver muttered, "Hmm… I see."

"Is that all you wanted to know?"

Bathory's disciple, Unna, asked.

While Oliver had many more questions, he nodded for now. He had learned about their situation and their reasons for being in Landa. To hear a more detailed answer, he needed to stop here.

"Yes."

"So, can you answer our questions now?"

Unna, despite being a defeated warlock, demanded an answer with an unusual assertiveness. Although it was the agreed-upon arrangement, the situation felt peculiar. In the world of warlocks, winning or losing often meant a winner-takes-all scenario that included life itself. However, the man before her didn't seem bound by these typical rules, which both intrigued and unsettled her.

"Yes, ask your question."

"Do you know where our Mother is?"

"Well… I suppose you could say I know."

"? …Then, can you tell me where she is?"

"Of course, I can tell you. In fact, I can arrange for you to meet her."

Caught off guard by the unexpected response, Unna's eyes widened with suspicion and anxiety.

"You can arrange for us to meet her?"

"Yes… However, I would like to ask one favor of you."

"What is it?"

"Don't get angry."

"……??"

Everyone, including Unna, felt a strange and ominous feeling at the mysterious request, unable to comprehend its purpose.

A profound sense of impending doom enveloped them.

"I'll try."

"That's enough… Bigmouth. Could you give me a hand?"

At Oliver's request, Bigmouth, who was sitting nearby, sprang up, seemingly aware of when it was appropriate to act sulky or not.

Bigmouth approached, and Oliver took out a test tube containing Child-First.

"Kueeek!!"

Bigmouth retrieved the Corpse doll-Bathory.

Oliver opened the test tube and inserted First into the Corpse doll-Bathory, standing it up.

"Here's Lady Bathory-"

While Oliver turned around to speak, Bathory's disciple Unna, consumed by anger, lunged with sharp fingernails towards Oliver.

Her body moved before her mind could fully process the action.

Fortunately, First, now inside the Corpse doll-Bathory, was quicker than her.

Swoosh —— Bang!!

First moved skillfully and intercepted Unna's attack, just as Oliver intended, not too forcefully, but enough to stop a severe fight from breaking out.

The other disciples, excluding Unna, were unable to accept the sight before them and refrained from acting recklessly.

After all, the revelation that the being they referred to as ‘Mother' had become a solver's Corpse doll was shocking enough. It was enough to incite anger and frustration.

However, Oliver was determined to continue the conversation, so he swiftly moved on to his next action.

"What are you doing! Kill that bastard immediately-"

-[Blood Web]

Oliver quickly manipulated the blood he had previously placed, ensnaring them once again with a spider web made of blood. This was why they couldn't attack even when Oliver had apparent vulnerabilities, such as when he was preparing coffee or talking.

They found themselves trapped like mosquitoes in a spider's web.

"…Everyone, please calm down-"

"-Kya hya hya hya hya hya hya!!! You son of a bitch! You fucker!! I'll kill you!!! I'll skin you, gouge out your eyes, and disembowel you!! Kya hya hya hya!"

Unna, who had previously been composed and rational, now spat out curses as if she had transformed into a completely different person. The anger and sorrow she displayed were enough to consume even her sanity. Her facial muscles and tendons were grotesquely highlighted, and her canines grew like a beast's, much like the other disciples of Bathory that Oliver had encountered at Mountain Pace.

"…It's amazing."

After enduring minutes of curses, Oliver suddenly remarked, "I don't know what it's like to have a mother, but it seems like you all truly think of her as your mother?"

Oliver observed the last five disciples of Bathory, each crying without tears.

Unna, who had earlier cursed vehemently, replied, "She gave us a second life. She is our mother!!"

Oliver could grasp the sentiment behind her words. Based on Bathory's past remarks, despite them being half-dead in a hospice, and by recalling memories of Joseph, Oliver's master, Bathory must have indeed helped them. And it was from this act of grace that she likely nurtured loyal disciples who saw her as their mother.

‘Is the idea of sharing her surname also part of this concept?'

Nevertheless, regardless of this sentiment, Bathory did not view her disciples as anything more than useful tools, similar to how other warlocks saw their disciples. In fact, when Oliver and Willes killed many of her disciples, Bathory felt more regret than sadness. It was the regret of losing useful tools.

Oliver contemplated sharing this fact with them but decided to postpone it. Something else was bothering him.

Instead, he tried to calm them down.

"Well… I initially suggested to Lady Bathory not to fight and to part ways peacefully. I proposed reconciliation several times during the fight. But Lady Bathory refused."

"So what? Are you saying you had no choice…?!!"

"To be honest, yes. I didn't want to die then, and I don't want to die now… Can you understand? I had to harm Lady Bathory in order to survive."

Oliver, who had killed their mother, asked for their understanding, a sight that might have even shocked hardened gangsters. Yet, Oliver was sincere. He wanted to have more conversations with them, and he didn't want to harm them any more than necessary.

"Why don't you want to hurt us? You also hurt our mother?!"

"True, I did harbor some resentment towards Lady Bathory… But I didn't target her from the start. And I don't hold any personal feelings towards all of you."

"I certainly do!!"

Their conversation and emotions clashed dramatically.

Unna felt the suffocating and frustrating feeling of her head and chest about to burst.

"Well… Can't you still understand? Didn't you come to Landa not only to find Lady Bathory but also to protect your remaining colleagues?"

Oliver could see through the emotions of Unna and the others.

Unna felt responsible for the four female warlocks: Orsho, Kertlin, Undrasi, and Pal. In turn, Orsho, Kertlin, Undrasi, and Pal trusted and believed in Unna.

Unna couldn't confirm whether Oliver's perception was entirely accurate, but it held some truth. She cared about her colleagues' safety as much as she sought revenge.

While Bathory may have referred to her disciples as daughters merely as a ploy, they considered each other real sisters.

It was an intriguing dynamic.

"…What do you want from us?"

"I'll help you settle in Landa. Can you agree to make peace with me for a while…? Just for at least a year."

Oliver made a truly preposterous proposal.

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