Chapter 8

8. Confrontation (1)

“What, what do you mean by that?”

A flustered voice was heard from behind the sausage factory.

As it was a rarely visited place, garbage and miscellaneous items were piled up everywhere, and here and there, rats scurried about.

There were two men there now. One had a menacing appearance, like a back-alley boss, while the other boasted a handsome, blonde appearance.

They were none other than Tom, the temporary disciple supervisor, and Andrew, Joseph’s star disciple.

“Calm down.”

Andrew said this in an attempt to calm Tom down. However, Tom did not seem to have any intention of doing so. He was extremely agitated.

“How can I calm down?! A match? A test to become a formal disciple? Why should I do such a thing in the first place? This is my rightful place!!”

Despite his rough appearance, tears welled up in Tom’s eyes. He must have felt deeply wronged. After all, if he had to fight for the position of a formal disciple, which was already his, against a newcomer who had only been there for a week, it was a natural reaction.

However, Andrew’s response was cold.

“Enough...! Stop whining. The decision has already been made. Besides, it was decided by the Master. What can you do about it, no matter how wronged you feel?”

“But, couldn’t Sir Andrew have said something?”

“Do you think I didn’t say anything? I did! Even together with the other senior disciples. It’s unreasonable to give such special treatment to someone who has only been here for less than a week! But it was useless. The skill he showed last time was too overwhelming...”

Andrew trailed off, and Tom felt even more despair.

He was there too. It was supposed to be a place to showcase his abilities as the next formal disciple, but ironically, it had become a stage for a newcomer who had only been there for less than a week.

He still had doubts. How could this be possible? Not only extracting such an incredible amount of emotion, but also creating such a form... It still felt like a terrible dream.

Tom said, his voice trembling.

“I feel wronged... I feel wronged. You know how hard I’ve worked to become a formal disciple.”

At that moment, Andrew pushed Tom against the wall.

“Snap out of it! Snap out of it! I’ve already told you, the game is on! And this match is actually a stroke of luck for you. If a guy with that much talent had appeared, you would have been the one to be pushed out!”

Tom’s expression became even more wronged. He had done everything to impress Andrew, even diverting sausages from the factory to sell in the back alley and offering all the money. But instead of help, he only received such words, which made him feel even more wronged.

However, Tom could do nothing. This was the world of black mages, a world where power and hierarchy were everything. Andrew continued.

“Let me say it again, you would have been the one to be pushed out. At least I managed to persuade the Master with the other senior disciples to arrange this match. So, you should be grateful to me.”

Tom couldn’t say anything. He was the one who felt regretful... As his spirit was broken, Andrew, satisfied, spoke again.

“...I understand that you feel regretful, but think of it as an opportunity.”

“An opportunity?”

“Yes, an opportunity. You saw that Oliver guy’s skills, right? What do you think of his talent?”

Tom thought for a moment before answering.

“...It seems quite impressive.”

“Right, no matter what, black magic ultimately comes down to talent. It’s better to take him down now rather than later.”

“Take him down?”

“Yes. If a guy with that much talent starts receiving proper training, I don’t know about me, but you and the others will be pushed out. By a guy who just came in a few days ago... Can you bear that?”

Tom shook his head firmly. Just because he was from the streets didn’t mean he lacked pride or a sense of hierarchy. In fact, he was even more attached to such things.

“It’s hard to do anything openly with the Master watching. So, you have to take him down properly and openly.”

Tom, understanding the meaning, asked cautiously.

“To take him down properly and openly...?”

Andrew took out two small glass bottles from his pocket. They were special glass bottles with strange magic arrays drawn on the outside, and inside, a black light flickered dangerously.

“No matter how talented he is, the only things he can learn right now are the basics: Hayt Bullet and Black Shield. So, you should use this when you get a chance. Just open the cap, and it will look like you used it.”

“What is this?”

“A special Ras Boom I made to easily destroy a beginner’s Black Shield. I wanted to put in a stronger black magic, but that would raise suspicion, so I compromised as much as possible.”

Tom tightly gripped the unexpected secret weapon.

“Oliver was a guy who used to live in the mines, and he actually has a dull side, so he won’t be able to respond to a sudden situation. At that moment, pretend to make a mistake and kill him. Or at least cripple him.”

Tom calculated. If he used the black magic Andrew gave him to ambush Oliver during their fight, Oliver would surely be shocked by the overwhelming firepower, and if he attacked again, it would be possible to defeat him.

“Then, you become the formal disciple, and the troublemaker just disappears. Our peace is maintained. If that happens, I’ll take responsibility for you from now on. Intermediate disciple... No, senior disciple.”

Tom’s eyes widened. A senior disciple was a position like a noble who was served by servants, received a high salary, and could learn the family business. That was Tom’s goal and dream. To say goodbye to the bottom of society...! Tom’s courage and enthusiasm surged.

Andrew, sensing Tom’s emotions, smiled.

Indeed, people were easy to handle. The stupider they were, the easier they were to handle.

Andrew continued.

“So, you must definitely take down Oliver. Then, I’ll make sure to back you up. Okay?”

Tom nodded, tightly gripping the bottles Andrew handed him.

***

The last day of May, transitioning into June.

This day was originally meant for appointing a new formal disciple.

The appointed one was Tom, and everyone except Tom should have had a gloomy face.

However, a small incident occurred, and as a result, the day for appointing a formal disciple suddenly turned into a match day.

The match between Tom and Oliver.

The prize was the position of a formal disciple.

It was a position that had only become available due to a junior disciple dying from food poisoning, and no one knew when it would become available again.

Therefore, Tom’s expression was tense. He knew how heavy the prize was. In contrast, Oliver maintained his usual blank expression, seemingly unaware of the significant privilege he was about to enjoy!

He looked around the arena. About thirty temporary disciples, twenty junior disciples, ten intermediate disciples, and five senior disciples were visible.

The senior and intermediate disciples treated this match, which determined Tom’s fate, as mere entertainment, smirking. Even more annoying were the eyes of the other temporary disciples.

Their eyes shone coldly with malicious anticipation, hoping for Tom’s downfall.

Tom was inwardly furious. Who was going to fall? These scoundrels who only knew how to mock others’ misfortunes!

Tom, thinking this, fidgeted with the two glass bottles in his pocket, the secret weapons given by Andrew.

If used properly, he could easily finish off Oliver, who had only been there for less than a week. Or perhaps even more.

He might even catch the Master’s eye and receive more training. If that happened, he could advance not only to a junior disciple but also to an intermediate and even a senior disciple... He could become a true black mage and say goodbye to his life at the bottom forever.

That’s right. A street thug like Tom becoming a true black mage.

With this thought, Tom, filled with courage and enthusiasm, stepped onto the arena. Oliver followed.

“Alright, no need for unnecessary formalities. Prove your worth through strength. Match start!”

With Joseph’s words, Tom extracted emotions from the test tube and immediately fired a Hayt Bullet.

Oliver, who seemed to have learned the basics, created a small Black Shield and barely blocked the attack.

‘Of course! No matter how talented he is, it’s hard to learn black magic in such a short time! I can win! I can win!’

Tom, shouting in his heart, extracted more emotions from the test tube and fired another Hayt Bullet.

It was a basic attack, but highly efficient and powerful. Oliver seemed to have difficulty withstanding such an attack, struggling to block it, let alone counter.

Tom, not losing momentum, continued to fire Hayt Bullets. The bullets of hatred rained down relentlessly, and Oliver kept creating small Black Shields to block them.

As the black bullets cut through the air and the black shields blocked them, a voice echoed in his mind.

‘Stop! You’ve already used a lot of emotions, so be careful!’

At that moment, Tom stopped. The voice in his head was Andrew’s, a form of telepathy, prepared for any unforeseen circumstances.

Tom, following Andrew’s advice, paused his attack and checked the remaining emotions in the test tube. Surprisingly, as Andrew had said, only about one-third of the emotions remained.

Well, given how he had been attacking, it was perhaps inevitable. But what was surprising was Oliver’s condition.

Despite the intense attack, Oliver was unharmed. Not only that, his expression showed no signs of disturbance, and the remaining emotions in his test tube were similar to the beginning.

At that moment, Tom realized. Oliver wasn’t struggling to block; he was just blocking appropriately. He was using Tom as a practice dummy.

Like a thug playing with a weak child.

At that moment, Tom felt a twisting anger. To be treated so disdainfully.

Tom discreetly took out the glass bottle hidden in his pocket and shouted.

“Let’s see if you can survive this! Ras Boom!”

He threw a fist-sized black sphere at Oliver. Oliver, seemingly startled, hastily created a Black Shield, but it was in vain.

The moment the sphere of rage hit the Black Shield, an explosion large enough to engulf a person erupted, shaking the basement.

Those sitting near Oliver were caught in the explosion and fell backward, and cries and exclamations of amazement filled the air.

“Did you see that?! How did a worker use Ras Boom...!”

“How did he learn it?”

“You need to be at least an intermediate to learn that?”

Tom smiled.

He had made his presence known to everyone. Surely, the Master would also be watching him. Ha! What a sight. Just because he had some talent, he thought he could show off, but in the end, like this... Huh?

Tom hesitated, his joy interrupted. As the smoke gradually cleared, he saw Oliver standing there calmly.

“Oh... How did you do that?”

Oliver asked, showing no fear or surprise, but rather, seeming pleased.

What was going on? This was a spell that Andrew had made himself; how could he do this?

Thump! Thump! Thump! Tom’s heart raced, and he felt an odd emotion, one he shouldn’t have felt.

‘Right, something is definitely wrong. How could a newcomer withstand Andrew’s attack...’

Tom, not realizing his cognitive dissonance, hastily took out the last Ras Boom. He opened the glass bottle and threw it at Oliver again, but Oliver, seeing it, instantly fired a Hayt Bullet, causing the Ras Boom to explode in mid-air.

Another explosion echoed, sweeping through the area. This time, Tom was also caught in it, and he fell backward, unable to withstand the shock.

“Huh? Huh?”

Seeing Oliver, who was still standing unharmed with a Black Shield, Tom let out a dazed sound.

What was this? What was he fighting against? Fear rose in his mind, along with countless questions.

He was supposed to be promoted to a formal disciple today, eating proper meals instead of bread and soup, and learning black magic instead of factory work... What was this?

“Are you okay?”

Oliver approached and asked. All Tom could do was let out a “Hiiik!” and look around, pleading for help.

But contrary to his hopes, no one came to his aid. All he saw were mocking and cold eyes, the same ones he had received while wandering the streets all his life.

Anger rose. Anger at the world, anger at the sudden obstacle.

Tom, using this anger as fuel, tried to fight again, but at that moment, a demonic voice spoke.

“Oh, thank goodness. You’re okay.”

The demon said this and extended his hand, extracting Tom’s anger as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“...”

Tom, unable to resist even with his eyes open, watched as Oliver immediately lost interest in him and began processing the extracted anger.

“This is... Ras Boom...”

Tom’s instincts screamed. Run. But his body wouldn’t move. What was this?!

Oliver processed the Ras Boom again. He compressed the fist-sized bomb and overlaid a Hayt Bullet on it, aiming it at Tom.

“...Aren’t you going to defend yourself?”

With those words, Tom, paradoxically, prayed to God while deploying a Black Shield, pleading for help and mercy.

At that moment, the demon spoke.

“Ras Bullet.”

The incantation was followed by a bullet of rage, which flew straight and penetrated the Black Shield. The bullet, showing no mercy, pierced Tom and exploded inside his body.

Bang――――!

With an explosion far more powerful than Tom’s Ras Boom, a red rain, which should not have fallen, poured down in the basement.

As everyone was stunned, someone quietly said.

“Winner. Oliver.”