Genius Warlock

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"You've worked hard. Leave."

Out of nowhere, the mysterious man spoke incoherent words.

Naturally, confusion hung in the air, rendering everyone silent.

The Poor Brothers, the attacking gang, and even the druid himself stood perplexed.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, the man blurted out,

"Well, ain't that somethin'? Don'tcha know? It was quite the buzzword two decades back." He rambled on, uttering incomprehensible words about the sorrow of time.

Some wondered if he had lost his sanity.

The druid entertained the thought, but his well-honed druidic instincts whispered that this man was no ordinary being.

The druid snorted and inquired,

"….Are you a warlock?"

"That's why I reckon I appreciate them druids. Y'all get straight to the point, don't ya? Howdy there, my nameless druid buddy. I'm just passin' a warlock. Pleasure to make yer acquaintance."

He exuded an aura that seemed out of place amidst the battle where lives were being lost.

The druid felt an unsettling discomfort and anger.

It was as if the figure before him was mocking him.

"How in the world did you end up here?"

"I just followed the pointin' of my finger, plain and simple."

"Are you messing with me now?"

"Not even a tad. Take a gander at this."

The man fumbled under his cloak and produced a severed hand. The hand appeared desiccated and contorted, resembling jerky.

His appearance was already grim, and the unsettling amulets he carried only added to the unease.

"It's some kinda guide, ya see. It leads me to the person I aim to meet… The only downside is, it only works when it damn well feels like it, but it ain't been lazy today. So here I am."

"….Whom have you come to meet?"

"My finger's pointin' right at ‘im. The person yer standin' on right now. Could it be Kent?"

Kent, lying beneath the druid's foot, responded.

"Yes….. Do you know me?"

"Let's just say I heard about ya from someone who knows ya… Hey, druid, ya done took one of his arms. Ain't it 'bout time to step back? Ain't that enough for yer catharsis?"

"Why should I do that?"

"Cause the fella beneath yer foot might be the one who saved the world once. Show some dang respect."

The one who saved the world once? In the face of this preposterous nonsense, the druid couldn't help but chuckle.

"Seems like the sewer is teeming with lunatics… Kill him."

The gangsters employed by the druid redirected their guns from the beggars towards the cloaked man.

With a touch of sadness in his voice, the cloaked man muttered,

"Oh… I can't stand violence."

As he spoke, he withdrew a green bean from his pocket. The bean sprouted and explosively grew, entwining around the gangsters who brandished their firearms, crushing them mercilessly.

"Grrr…..urg….chhh-"

-Boom!

-Boom!

-Boom!

-Boom!

-Boom!

Five gangsters burst like water balloons.

Witnessing this sight, the remaining gangsters blanched and lost their will to fight.

The brutality and malice of the attack were too much to bear.

"Y'see, violence ain't nothin' to be pleased 'bout."

"Bean thief?!!"

The druid, now aware of the cloaked man's presence, retrieved a bean, conjuring a colossal beanstalk to counter the man's assault.

The two beanstalks intertwined like braided tails.

The druid should have prevailed. After all, it was his expertise to infuse the power of nature into the bean, rendering it exceptionally potent.

However, for an inexplicable reason, the warlock's beanstalk began to suppress the druid's, gradually overpowering and shattering it.

Thump… thud! Snap….! Crack!!

The Druid was taken aback, but he quickly shook off the beanstalk and closed the distance to launch a direct attack on the cloaked man.

"Uryaaaaa!!"

The Druid let out a battle cry, infusing his fist with the power of nature and swung it.

That very fist had shattered miners, wizards, warlocks, and skeletal gloves.

Yet, to his surprise, the seemingly frail warlock easily blocked the devastating blow with his hand.

This unexpected turn of events left the Druid momentarily stunned.

"Don't go gettin' all amazed. It's thanks to an item, not my own strength."

Upon closer inspection, the cloaked man wore gloves. Unsettling gloves blending red and pink hues, reminiscent of human flesh.

The Druid felt a deep revulsion, instinctively swinging his other hand, but the cloaked man effortlessly twisted his wrist, overpowering the Druid.

A large rat, akin to a wild dog, attempted to come to the Druid's aid, but the cloaked man swiftly intervened.

"The moment ya make a move, I'll snap his neck. Ya okay with that?"

With his other hand gripping the Druid's neck, the other Druid, who was controlling the rat and hiding, stopped the rat.

Whispering into the subdued Druid's ear, the stranger, who had appeared out of nowhere and subdued both Druids, spoke softly.

"I ain't here to tussle with ya… So, what's yer decision? Shall we end it here, or will ya yield?"

The choice was not difficult.

The subdued Druid relented, leaving with the gang, while the cloaked man approached Kent, pale-faced and missing an arm.

"Ya all right there?"

"Huff… Huff… First of all, thank you for your help. But who are you?"

In a precarious state, with consciousness slipping away, Kent expressed gratitude to the unknown man while also seeking to ascertain his identity.

As the leader of an organization, it was vital to determine whether the figure before him posed a threat.

"The name’s Ewan Bremner, and I’m a skilled craftsman who can create all sorts of miraculous items. I’m also a master negotiator, able to trade a mere bag o’ beans for a fine ol’ cow. And if that ain’t enough, I’m also quite the debtor and a wanderer too!… ‘Scuse me for a moment."

The cloaked man retrieved a vial of blood replenishing potion and a painkiller with a needle, injecting it into Kent's arm. He deftly disinfected the wound and wrapped it in bandages, displaying remarkable skill.

"Huff… Huff… What made you help me?"

While skillfully tending to the bandages, the cloaked man replied.

"As I mentioned afore, ya might be someone who saved the world once. So I saved ya in return."

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

Tak. Tak. Tak.

Oliver visited the abandoned sewer in the slum beneath the land he had visited with Jane in the past.

This marked his third visit.

In the past, many beggars had gathered here, forming a small village. But now, it appeared as though it had been ravaged, with everything in ruins and bodies scattered about. Though some beggars still clung to life, most of them were injured.

"Ya came mighty quick, considerin' how occupied ya are."

As Oliver reached the center, he was greeted by Ewan.

Encountering someone unexpected in an unexpected place was quite surprising.

"Hmm… What's got yer curiosity stirred the most?"

Ewan posed an abrupt question.

"Eh?"

"What's got yer curiosity stirred the most?"

"…Where is Mr. Kent?"

After a brief moment of contemplation, Oliver asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.

Ewan nodded and pointed towards a patched-up beggar's tent.

"He's in yonder."

Oliver expressed his gratitude to Ewan, who had beckoned him and guided him, and slowly approached the tent.

Tak. Tak. Tak.

As he entered, he found Kent sleeping with one arm severed.

"……."

"How did you end up here?"

Kent, awakened by the noise, spoke to Oliver, who stood silently observing him.

In response to the question, Oliver remained silent for a moment before mechanically answering.

"I received a message from Mr. Ewan. I heard you were injured," Oliver explained to Kent, who was still grappling with the effects of the painkillers.

"Ah… so he's a friend of a friend… That's what it means… Do you know him?" Kent asked, his mind muddled by the painkillers.

"Yes, in a way… But more importantly, are you alright?"

It wasn't the best question to ask someone who had just lost an arm, but Kent simply laughed it off.

"I'm fine, aside from the dizziness caused by the painkillers… But how did he find out about me?"

"I happened to mention you to him… I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. Thanks to that, I survived. He may be a bit peculiar, but he helped save me and my group. I'm grateful. To both you and him."

Kent expressed genuine gratitude.

Normally, such words would have brought at least some sense of satisfaction, but this time, Oliver didn't feel that way.

How should he describe this feeling…?

"Who attacked you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm just curious. Who attacked you?"

"It was a minor dispute that occurred during work. It's common in Landa. You don't need to concern yourself."

Kent tried to dismiss Oliver's inquiry, but it had little effect.

In fact, Oliver could piece together fragments from the keywords "work," "dispute," and "Landa."

"Mr. Kent, right? The one who took the photographs of Mr. Shamus's hotel affair."

"Technically, it was one of my members who did it. He works at the hotel… But you've become sharper. You were quite naive when you first arrived. Hehe."

"Was it for money?"

"In the end, yes… Can you come closer for a moment?"

Despite his injuries and the haze induced by the painkillers, Kent asked for a favor.

Though Oliver didn't understand why, he knelt down beside Kent as requested. With his remaining wrinkled hand, Kent tightly gripped Oliver's hand.

"You're my friend, right?"

"Yes."

"And you also owe me a debt, right? For taking you to the contaminated zone."

"Yes."

"So, as a friend, I'm asking you to repay that debt."

"If it's about Mr. Shamus, I-"

"Don't seek revenge."

"Pardon?"

"I said, don't seek revenge. Don't get angry. That's my request as a friend."

Kent spoke earnestly to Oliver, his plea laced with concern for his friend, hoping to dissuade him from seeking vengeance or becoming consumed by anger.

Oliver suddenly found himself perplexed. Utterly perplexed.

"Am I angry right now?"

"If you're not, that's good."

"Why shouldn't I be angry?"

"I simply thought it would be better if you weren't. I like your unique personality."

"Is my personality unique?"

"Very much so."

Kent chuckled. Each time he laughed, pain pulsed through his wounds, but he continued to laugh—for Oliver.

"How is my personality unique?"

"You appear naive yet you're clever, you seem fragile but you're stubborn, you don't easily get angry and you value everything… I like that about you. So, please, don't let these events consume you with revenge, anger, or hatred. Those emotions… can be incredibly addictive. I'd rather you steer clear of them."

Oliver blinked, processing Kent's words.

"But-"

"-I am not the victim."

"……."

"I am merely the perpetrator who has become a victim. I have committed countless sins. I've driven a mother and child out of their home, sold a child into prostitution, exploited honest workers, injured and killed countless people… all for the sake of money."

"……."

"Now, I am simply receiving what I deserve. That's why you shouldn't let anger consume you."

Kent firmly grasped Oliver's hand. Even without the eye of a warlock, Oliver could sense the sincerity in Kent's words.

"I didn't intend to relay Priest's words to you. I'm not qualified to do that. I just… ask that you refrain from harboring anger. Can you do that for me, my friend?"

Kent asked solemnly, dropping the facade of nonchalance. It was as if he was desperately trying to protect something precious.

Oliver remained silent for a while before responding.

"I… promise."

"Thank you. I am truly grateful… I'm feeling tired now."

Kent closed his eyes, as if he had achieved his objective.

Oliver gazed at Kent for a moment before stepping out of the tent.

Ewan was waiting outside.

"Did ya have a meanin'ful conversation?"

"Yes…"

"And I reckon ya got plenty o' questions."

That was true. Oliver had numerous inquiries—about how he had ended up here, or why he had come here in the first place. However, he had something else to do first.

"Thank you, Mr. Ewan."

Oliver bowed politely to Ewan, expressing his gratitude.

Ewan appeared surprised.

"Why the tone of this conversation done switched all of a sudden?"

"Oh, I didn't explain… Thank you for helping Mr. Kent. Mr. Ewan. As you mentioned, I have many questions, but I felt it was important to express my gratitude first. Thank you once again."

"I didn't expect ya to be so appreciative."

"He is my friend… If it's alright with you, could you take care of his treatment and ensure his safety for the time being?"

"I ain't got no objections, but my services come with a steep price."

"If it's about money-"

"-Ah. Ah. Ah. Settlin' this with money is like a thief's mindset."

"Then…?"

"Hmm… How 'bout ya do me a favor down the line? Repayin' a favor with another favor."

Oliver nodded, finding this arrangement acceptable. It seemed fair.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. Seems like ya grasp somethin'. As a reward for a fine deal, I'll give ya this."

Ewan retrieved two tonfas from his cloak. These were the ones Oliver had requested, crafted from a portion of the meat hammer.

"This is what I asked for last time."

"Yeah, I made 'em a while back, but I found it to be a hassle to deliver. By the way, any issues?"

"No, thank you for returning them at the right moment."

Oliver received the tonfas as he responded.

"What's yer plan now?"

"I should return to my work… I was working before coming here."

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

After bidding farewell to Ewan, Oliver retraced his steps.

The abandoned sewer was enveloped in darkness, and the rhythmic sound of Oliver's quarterstaff striking the floor echoed as he walked.

Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak…….

While walking, Oliver came to a sudden halt, seemingly entranced.

Simultaneously, dozens of rats, both large and small, emerged from the cracks in the sewer. These were ferocious rats that had grown accustomed to feeding on their own kind and the corpses littering the sewers.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

Their squeaks formed a rhythm.

However, Oliver appeared unaffected by the swarm of rats, fixated on something. He sat on a protruding ledge of the sewer and retrieved an item from his pocket.

Five letters.

"As I thought, I couldn't resist… I'm sorry, Elder."

Oliver seemed to resign himself as he tore open one of the letters and examined its contents.

Inside was a letter, written in somewhat clumsy handwriting.

Meanwhile, the rats of all sizes had completely surrounded Oliver, and as the encirclement was completed, two beings possessing the power of nature quietly revealed themselves.

They were Shamus's subordinates, the ones who had attacked Kent.

"I didn't expect a moment's wait to turn into such good fortune. I can present a gift to the boss. You must be-"

"-Shhhh. Please wait a moment."

Oliver placed a finger to his lips and spoke, before resuming reading the letter.

(To be Continued)

OR

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