Chapter 386

As he gently squeezed the tube, a dollop of mashed liver spread across the cracker.

Oliver inserted the cracker into his mouth and chewed, just as he would with any other military ration.

"How does it taste?"

"I find it quite tasty."

"Tasty... That's good to hear."

Carver responded, genuinely surprised. His reaction was not laced with sarcasm; it was a natural response.

Despite Carver's military background, he had swiftly transitioned into civilian service after his discharge and had rapidly ascended to the position of a city minister at an unusually young age.

His newfound status had elevated his standard of living, rendering military rations unappealing to his palate.

Certainly, Oliver shared a similar background with Carver, but his benchmarks for a comfortable life were rooted in his days working in the mines and his time in the orphanage, creating a noticeable distinction between the two.

Carver paused, deep in thought, before parting his lips to speak.

"Well, rations made in Landa are somewhat edible, so saying they're tasty might not be wrong."

"Is that so?"

"Sadly, yes. Most higher-ups view soldiers as expendable, treating the food they eat more like fuel. Taste isn't considered; it's all about calorie intake. 'If you're hungry, it'll taste good,' they think."

"Is there a reason Landa doesn't do that?"

"Nothing special. Internal studies just showed that feeding them tasty food is better. Eating tasty things boosts morale, and higher morale leads to better fighting."

"Which of the samples A, B, C, D tasted the best to you?"

Oliver gestured toward the third option, C, among the four military ration samples he had consumed.

"It offers a variety of food types, and the portion seems the largest, so it's the best."

"And it's also the most expensive. I'll take your valuable opinion into consideration. Shall we move on to the main topic?"

In an instant, the previously light atmosphere shifted.

Even Oliver could sense it.

Now, it was time for serious business. Oliver wiped his mouth with a napkin and assumed an upright posture.

Carver began to speak.

"I've read the materials you gave me last time. From the data on your past and 'The Chosen Ones' to the files on the dispatched Parter Church and their investigations—all of it. I've checked everything."

"Thank you for taking the time, Minister."

"It's not like I'm particularly busy. As I've said, the busy ones are the subordinates, not the minister."

A falsehood.

"Also, the information you provided was quite interesting, so it wasn't a hardship."

Sincere.

"Firstly, thank you for honestly telling me that you are worshipped as a god by a cult."

"Did it surprise you?"

"Well... To be honest, I was surprised but also not that surprised. My emotions are somewhat dulled since the Magic Tower incident."

"I see."

"Being a former secret test subject for Magic Tower and then becoming a back-alley solver—being worshipped as a god by a cult in a small town doesn't seem that strange, does it? Although the story seems inconsistent, let's just move on."

"Then-"

Just as Oliver was about to respond, Carver raised his hand.

"The world is complicated and chaotic. Just looking at the pile of newspapers on my desk tells you that."

"True."

"Glad you agree. Sometimes it's wise to keep things simple. Can you answer my question first?"

"Go ahead."

In response to Oliver's agreement, Carver's eyes lit up.

"What you ultimately want is for the city to permit 'The Chosen Ones' to settle in Landa and to protect them from the Parter Church, correct?"

"Yes, and for your information, all 'The Chosen Ones', including the cult leader, will cease religious activities."

"Yes, I read that in your material. 'The Chosen Ones' will reform into a community-based organization, right? May I express my honest feelings?"

Oliver nodded.

"I guarantee that will never happen."

Carver's sincerity was evident.

"Why? Because faith isn't something that can easily disappear or be eliminated. Living in Landa, I've seen a few cult religions, so I know. They don't just disappear because someone says they should, even if that someone is a god."

"I am not a god."

"Of course, I know that. It's just that to them, you are a god... Ah, and don't misunderstand. Just because you're worshipped as a god doesn't mean I see you through rose-colored glasses. I'm not particularly surprised by cult religions that worship a person. People on the fringes of society always seek comfort from someone."

"Oh... Is that so?"

"Yes. If you'd like, I can teach you more about it later. But for now, let's focus on our topic... In short, 'The Chosen Ones' will still have faith in you, Dave. They just want to be by your side."

Oliver couldn't deny the truth in Carver's words.

In reality, after meeting Jane and parting ways, Marie had pledged to discontinue the religious activities of 'The Chosen Ones' and restructure them as a community while preserving individual faith as a matter of personal choice.

And Oliver had agreed to this arrangement.

From Oliver's perspective, Marie had already compromised considerably and didn't wish to infringe on personal freedoms.

It was a matter that could be resolved over time.

Oliver conveyed this fact to Carver and acknowledged it.

"Are you admitting this too easily?"

"I remember what the Minister said. If there's something that could harm the city, let you know in advance. I agreed."

"I remember."

"So I told you. It's a promise... Also, to be honest, it's courteous from my perspective to discuss all the situations."

Sigh...

Carver inwardly sighed.

Whether to describe him as honest, upright, naive, or enigmatic was difficult to determine.

The problem was that in any case, it was quite demanding.

It felt as if he shouldn't resort to any underhanded tactics with this man in Landa.

"Minister."

"Yes."

"I will make one promise. Even if they don't abandon their faith, while 'The Chosen Ones' are in Landa, they will absolutely not cause any religious issues in the city."

"I trust you, Dave, but I don't trust them. I don't know them... What will you do if they don't keep their promise?"

"Then, I will kill them."

Carver felt a slight shiver down his spine at the concise yet resolute response.

"...You'll kill them?"

"Yes, it's a promise. They've agreed as well."

Sigh...

Carver didn't know what to say.

Upon reflection, when he had mediated the contract between the Fighter Crew and the Crime Firm, there was a similar provision... Seeing it in action was both reassuring and unsettling.

Because it could also imply that he would act similarly.

"Um, may I ask one more question?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"What will you do if we refuse to help and ask you to leave?"

"I would have no choice but to leave with them."

To depart with them.

Oliver stated something momentous as if it were a mere detail.

"You mean you'll leave together?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think it's a waste, considering the reputation and experience you've built as a solver in Landa?"

Oliver contemplated for a moment and then responded.

"To be honest, it's a waste. I like this city, and I like the people of this city... But it can't be helped. If we can't accommodate 'The Chosen Ones', it would be burdensome from the city's perspective as well."

"If it's just Dave, it should be fine. There's an institution that vouches for Dave's identity—"

"—I think that's something we'll find out later. Also, I want to help 'The Chosen Ones' until they settle down elsewhere."

"Are you worried about them?"

"Hmm... It seems so."

It was quite surprising.

Concern—an emotion universally felt, yet it felt peculiar coming from Dave, a man who was undeniably unique in his own right.

It didn't appear that he was feigning it either.

'This is tricky. He seems genuinely concerned, but he also said he'd kill if promises are broken... No, no. The key point is the cost and benefits.'

Having organized his thoughts, Carver spoke.

"I've reviewed the materials you provided, Dave, and have reported to some council members. They have agreed to accept your terms and are willing to protect you from the Parter Church."

"Really?"

Although he could see the sincerity, he sought confirmation.

"Yes, well, it's not a final decision yet, and we'll need some time. We have to persuade other council members and coordinate various issues. Such as where to place 'The Chosen Ones', and what to ask from you... Please understand. Even if it's an unofficial alliance, the exchange should be definite."

"I understand and have no complaints. I am rather grateful for the city's kindness."

"That's good to hear."

"May I ask how long it will take?"

"I can't give you a specific timeframe. It's a political issue, and politics is like cooking—it requires patience and a careful approach."

"Ah... I've heard a similar saying."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, they say politics is like a sausage. Because if you know the process—"

"—The rumors are true then."

"Rumors?"

"Yes, that you're not the type to joke, Dave."

Oliver gazed silently at Carver, the city's minister of internal affairs.

***

Click. Click. Click. Click. Beep! Beep! Beep—Thunk!

[Is this you?]

A soft voice came through the city's internal communication device.

"Yes, councilor. How are you?"

[Doing well, woke up on my own two legs from the bed.]

The councilor made a jest about his advancing age. Carver got straight to the point without responding.

"I met him and did as you said."

[Good. Now let's pray this is the right choice.]

"I believe it is."

[Is it not because of your personal fondness for Dave?]

"I won't deny that. I like him personally. It's rare to find someone both competent and trustworthy. Of course, you know that too, which is why you took my word."

The councilor responded with silence.

The councilor had also concurred with Carver that letting Dave go would be a waste.

"I think you've made the right choice, councilor. The world is chaotic right now, with issues from Gallos' Rokuri University, the rebels of Northland, the warlocks of the New Continent, the resurrecting anti-development committee, the pressure from the central congress, and the royal family... Losing a solver like Dave would hurt too much."

[But it also puts us in opposition to the Parter Church.]

"We have enough to pressure them too. It's not a topic for a communication device though... Above all, we're the free city of Landa. Why should we care about religious fanatics?"

Carver sensed that the councilor was smiling on the other end of the line.

"And in the long term, helping Dave benefits Landa. Whether he intends it or not, Dave has built good relations not only with our city but also with the Sisterhood, Crime Firm, and some capitalists. He solved tough issues like a champ. Dismissing him lightly would make no one trust the city. People will judge us as we judge them, so—"

[Alright, alright. Got it. I didn't know I'd get a lecture at this age.]

"What about the other council members...?"

[I'll try to persuade them. Prepare your formal report and keep an eye on Dave.]

"Yes, understood."

[By the way, be careful when you watch him. Don't take it lightly.]

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

[Just thought that having leverage on Dave would make him easier to control and monitor. Isn't that what you're thinking?]

Carver couldn't deny it. It wasn't as though he hadn't considered that possibility.

Certainly, he had no intention of manipulating Dave like a marionette, but he thought having a means to restrain him if necessary could be advantageous.

People often become vulnerable when they have something to hold onto.

[It's not a wrong idea, but you should be careful. There's nothing as weak as a human who has something to hold onto, but conversely, there's nothing as dangerous either. It's like a double-edged sword. Do you understand?]

"I understand, and I'll keep that in mind."

[Good attitude. Keep it in mind. After all, the world is a treacherous place.]

***

In a diminutive village nestled in the heart of the continent.

The village once bore a name, but now it had been forgotten.

Why? Because it was withering away.

Its sole inhabitants were seven elderly individuals, and even they were nearing the end of their days, with just one clinging to life.

This octogenarian lay within a dilapidated shack.

He had grown so feeble that even the act of breathing proved arduous. He lacked the energy to swat away the fly that landed on his eyelid.

A living semblance of a corpse.

There were but two things he could do.

One was to await the arrival of death, and the other was to observe the stranger beyond the shattered wooden door.

A most peculiar stranger donning a hood...

This enigmatic figure appeared to be awaiting someone, and before long, that someone arrived.

The elderly man witnessed a man stepping out of a luxurious vehicle unlike any he had seen in his lifetime, accompanied by a boy astride a curious bird with wings resembling those of insects.

"Haha..."

The elderly man chuckled vacantly. It felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare. A nightmare.

Even in life, his existence had been akin to a nightmarish ordeal, and now, in death, he was confronted with yet another nightmare.

In the depths of utter despair, the elderly man closed his eyes and never opened them again.

"Thank you all for coming."

In this dying village, the hooded stranger spoke.

The stranger was an exceedingly elderly man, the sort you might encounter anywhere.

"I see you quite often these days, Puppet."

The burly man who emerged from the opulent car remarked.

Despite being clad in a smart suit, his well-built physique was perceptible.

"You wanted to see me, Chef."

"Do you have something to ask... By the way, did you call for that brat?"

Chef gestured toward the nighttime sky.

In the firmament, a peculiar bird with jet-black plumage was descending.

A strange bird with the head of a woman and the wings of an insect.

Of course, Chef wasn't actually pointing at the peculiar bird but rather at the flame-haired boy riding atop it.

"Haha! Good to see you, old folks!"

The vivacious, orange-haired boy greeted them with enthusiasm as he dismounted from the avian creature.

He displayed no trepidation or hesitation, even when faced with two representatives of the Black Hand, for he was one of their own.

"Thank you for coming, Pan."

Puppet extended his appreciation to the orange-haired boy, who responded with a grin.

"It sounds like there's going to be an interesting story. Kick!"