Genius Warlock

Chapter 299

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[Hate Bullet]

As the sun descended, Oliver aimed his hate bullet directly at Joe from the Fighter Crew. His finger became a metaphorical gun, loaded with emotions ready to be unleashed.

With a swift motion, the emotions surged to the tips of Oliver's fingers and were promptly fired off, flying straight towards Joe's face.

However, Joe skillfully defended himself, calmly shielding his face with his arm to block the concise and forceful attack.

Clang!

Oliver's hate bullet collided fruitlessly with Joe's black suit and armor glove, vanishing into nothingness.

Oliver had put all his seriousness and strength into that shot, without holding anything back.

"Impressive," Oliver exclaimed, leaping into the air. He wrapped layers of his black armor around the tip of his quarterstaff, forming a spearhead, and brought it down with all his might.

The attack possessed immense physical strength, capable of shattering not only golems but even Shamus's wooden armor.

Oliver intensified the force of gravity in his powerful strike, while Joe, instead of evading, prepared to withstand the blow by pulling back one fist.

It was a wise decision.

Joe's black magic gloves were as thick as exoskeleton gloves, making avoidance futile. Meeting the attack head-on was the better choice.

Just like driving a nail into the ground, Oliver slammed his quarterstaff downward, while Joe concentrated the power of his glove on one arm and swung his fist upward, as if punching the sky.

———————BANG!!!!!

The collision between the quarterstaff and Joe's fist unleashed a small shockwave accompanied by a deafening roar. Nearby windows shattered, and the members of Fighter Crew watching the spectacle closed their eyes and covered their ears.

After a moment, as the roar subsided, the members of Fighter Crew opened their eyes one by one and gazed ahead.

Before them stood Joe, who had withstood Oliver's blow, and Oliver himself, admiring the torn spearhead.

Joe had boldly faced Oliver's attack head-on.

The members of Fighter Crew watching were astonished by this sight, expressing their admiration and cheering for Joe with a resounding ‘Ohh!!'

Oliver was among them.

"That's truly impressive," Oliver commented, observing the torn black armor spearhead wrapped around the end of his quarterstaff. The spearhead had a tear on one side, akin to an iron bead caught in a cutter, with emotions seeping out from the wound.

"When did you learn to reshape your fist?" Oliver inquired, glancing at Joe's pointed fist, resembling a hydraulic hammer.

"Since I became fully accustomed to the black suit and armor. I found it more efficient to transform it rather than simply enlarging it. Like this," Joe explained. He concentrated the power of his glove on one hand, increasing its size and forming it into a claw that reached out towards Oliver.

Instinctively, Oliver attempted to defend himself by swinging his quarterstaff, but as previously demonstrated, the current strength of both Oliver and Joe was comparable.

Consequently, Oliver's attack was caught in Joe's claw.

Squeeze...!

Once again, Oliver marveled at Joe's prowess.

Not only did Joe skillfully handle the black suit and armor, but he also utilized them with greater depth than Oliver.

However, what impressed Oliver even more was Joe's emotional state.

Joe had yet to ensure victory, but he was prepared to land a solid blow on Oliver.

It was the epitome of determination.

When Joe asked him to be their leader before, he had his doubts. Yet, it seemed his concerns were unfounded.

Joe was actively striving for personal growth.

"It's not over," Joe declared, gripping Oliver's quarterstaff while transforming his other fist.

This time, it took the shape of a hammer, with the intention of smashing the quarterstaff.

"Oh, that could pose a problem," Oliver acknowledged, discerning Joe's intentions. He channeled the emotions gathered at the end of his quarterstaff, causing an explosion of anger.

The explosion was formidable, fueled by the substantial amount of emotions that had formed it. The watching members of Fighter Crew exclaimed in shock as they witnessed the spectacle.

It was not unfathomable. In the past, Joe would have been shattered to pieces by such power.

But that was not the case now.

At most, Joe endured enough damage to stagger his Life-force, and his black magic gloves were only partially destroyed, flung far away and embedded into a wall.

Oliver directed a black magic spell towards the disoriented Joe.

[Targeting]

A dartboard materialized between Oliver's hand and Joe's torso, as Oliver intensified the obsessive emotions, drawing Joe closer.

Joe was pulled toward Oliver, unable to resist.

Wearing the same black suit and armor as Joe, Oliver formed a massive fist with one arm, swinging it around and completely obliterating Joe's partially destroyed gloves.

Exhausted of energy, Joe collapsed on the floor and asked, "Haah... How was that?"

Just as Oliver was about to respond to Joe, a loud voice boomed through the crowd of spectators from the Fighter Crew.

"Oh...! They still lockin' horns, huh? That salty friendship between men, it warms my heart like a campfire ready to burst."

Oliver turned his head to see Ewan pushing his way through the crowd. The crowd reluctantly made way for him, grimacing at his presence. Corpse Dolls Sniper and Duncan followed closely behind him.

Oliver approached Ewan and asked, "Are you done with your business?"

"Nah, somethin' new's popped up on the horizon. I reckon it's a mighty fine plaything, and boy, it sure is a hoot. You reckon you could toss one my way?"

***

It was an unexpected request.

The first to react were Corpse Dolls Sniper and Duncan, who accompanied Ewan. The Child-Second, inside the sniper, aimed the sword and shotgun at Ewan's head from behind, spewing curses like a machine gun. Duncan quietly retrieved his meat tonfa, prepared to swing it if necessary.

Oliver raised his hand to stop them. "Calm down, everyone."

At Oliver's words, the excited Child-Second and the silently furious Child-Fourth exchanged glances and slowly put their weapons away. It was more of an effort to restrain themselves for Oliver's sake rather than truly calming down.

Oliver spoke up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ewan. I can give you the Corpse Dolls, but I can't give you the Child."

"But I got a hankerin' for it!" Ewan shamelessly demanded.

The Fighter Crew, watching from the sidelines, began to express their discomfort, exchanging glances with each other. However, Oliver, the one directly involved, remained calm in his response.

"I apologize."

"Ah... Didn't reckon it'd come to this, but didn't I lend a hand to your pal too? Yet here you are, holdin' back like a scrooge. Think 'bout what's right and just."

"I've always appreciated your help. Sincerely... So, is this the favor you're asking of me, Mr. Ewan?"

"A favor?"

"Didn't you ask me to return the favor by helping you in the future? Is this it?"

"Nah, that ‘n this... Ah... Nevermind. Didn't figure you'd be so sly. I took ya for a fool, but you done turned your back on me. Mighty disappointed, I must say."

"I apologize once again. I can't give you the Child because I'm writing an observation diary."

"Observation diary?"

"Yes, about their growth."

Ewan suddenly showed great interest. "A log trackin' the growth of some critter conjured up by black magic... Now that's interestin'. Share it with me, partner. I'm itch' in to read them words."

"Understood." Oliver readily accepted, and Ewan burst out laughing.

"Well, ain't you just givin' away valuable knowledge without a second thought. I knew it, you truly are a fool. You've proven my point!"

"It's not free, though?" Oliver dropped another bomb, and Ewan furrowed his brow once again. His facial expressions were indeed versatile.

"......What?"

"There's an item I'd like to request in exchange. It's something that can preserve a large amount of blood and prevent its properties from mixing together."

At the mention of ‘blood,' Ewan halted his anger and responded. "Ho... You're askin' me to whip up somethin', bold move, I'll give ya that. But the notion itself, now that's somethin' worth ponderin'. Blood... You plannin' some kind of venture?"

"It's not a business, but a personal matter... I can't share the details. Can you create it? In return, I'll provide the observation diary on the Child and match the payment as much as possible."

"Um... Alright, pardner. We got ourselves a deal. Truth be told, I would've done it even if you'd asked for just one thing. You sure know how to play the fool."

"I'm glad you're happy. I received great help from you, Mr. Ewan, so I'm happy too," Oliver replied. Ewan, who had intentionally been rude, frowned at those words. Was it the futility of striking at thin air with all his might? So, he changed the topic.

"Got any other requests up your sleeve?"

"Actually, I have one more. Big Mouth... Do you know any way to increase the capacity of the Glutton Bag? I've been using it for a while, and it seems to be full now."

"Well... Only way I know is to have 'em Glutton Bags tusslin' it out. Same size or bigger, one's gotta chow down on the other."

"Consume?" Joe echoed, reflexively surprised. The method seemed rather bizarre.

Ewan didn't deny it. "Black magic is naturally messed up. That's why I love it."

Oliver, seemingly unfazed, pondered calmly. "Consume... So, I just have to feed it?"

"Nah, to be exact, ya gotta pit 'em against each other in a brawl, and the victor's gotta feast. Can't rightly explain the mechanics, but that's the way it rolls."

"Um... In that case, Mr. Ewan, can you create a Glutton Bag for me? Slightly larger than a person?"

"Now, if ya need specifics, ya oughta ask my apprentice, Smith... But are ya sure 'bout this? What if your own Glutton Bag ends up as supper?"

"Then, I will buy the winner," Oliver suggested, his proposal rational. However, Big Mouth and Child, who had a close relationship and were in a similar position in a way, stared at Oliver with wide eyes, as if to say ‘that's not it.' Ewan had the same reaction.

"Whoa... You got a real dark side, don't ya?"

(To be Continued)

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