Genius Warlock

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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?"

"You did splendidly. You proficiently used both the black suit and armor, and your utilization surpassed my own. Truly remarkable," Oliver praised.

"This is the extent of my talent," Joe replied honestly, not with humility but with sincerity. And it was not far from the truth.

The fact that Joe had reshaped the black suit was astounding, but it was a testament to his more limited talents compared to Oliver's.

Yet, Oliver rejected this notion.

"No matter what, something amazing is still amazing. I never imagined the depth to which you could utilize the black suit and armor. Thanks to you, I've also learned a thing or two," Oliver spoke sincerely, as always. Even if Joe pretended otherwise, he couldn't hide his satisfaction.

"…Thank you for your praise. Is there anything I can improve on? I've managed to figure out this much on my own, but I can't think of how to further improve," Joe asked, seeking guidance.

"Hmm… Compressing the gloves might be a good idea," Oliver quickly responded to Joe's request. It seemed like a casual suggestion, but it hit the mark.

"Compression?"

"Yes, the gloves are too thick, limiting your agility. This forces you into a firepower battle, which isn't ideal. By compressing the gloves, you'll maintain power, restore mobility, and see improvements," Oliver explained, pinpointing an issue that Joe had instinctively noticed.

Joe reluctantly agreed, but he was also at a loss. "But isn't compression a challenging task?"

"I'll think of a way as well. Additionally, it might be good to practice with fire weapons."

"Fire weapons?"

"Yes, I don't mean for you to learn long-range attacks, but rather to transform your black suit into black magic, like Las Bomb. This will significantly increase the power of your close-range attacks. In the past, you weren't skilled enough to consider this, but now that you have perfect control over the black suit, a little more practice should make it possible."

Just when Joe thought the conversation had concluded, Oliver presented a new task. However, instead of feeling exasperated, Joe felt invigorated by the possibilities.

"Hmm… Is there any way I can acquire long-range attack methods? It's not a big problem when I'm part of a team with support, but sometimes I have to fight alone."

"I wonder… You could learn, but I'm not sure if it would be efficient. Ah, what about throwing your gloves?"

"Throwing my gloves?"

"Yes, similar to how you transform the shape of the black suit and armor, you could slightly tear the gloves and throw them in chunks. Merely throwing them would have the effect of throwing a lump of metal, while transforming the properties of the gloves would be akin to throwing a bomb. I believe this would be the most efficient approach," Oliver explained further. Although his words were improvised, Joe was convinced it was the best course of action.

"May I ask a question, if you don't mind?" Oliver asked, noticing Joe's renewed enthusiasm.

Joe straightened himself up, signaling that he was ready to listen. "Sure, go ahead."

"You seem more driven than before, and you've achieved some results. Did something happen?"

"No… There was no special event. I just felt that we made a mistake last time, so I'm trying to rectify it," Joe replied honestly.

"Last time? You mean…when you asked me to become the captain of the Fighter Crew?"

"Yes… I really… I'm truly sorry," Joe apologized sincerely, from the depths of his heart.

"At that time, I thought it was an act of gratitude and respect, but looking back now, I realize that we tried to exploit Dave's abilities. We didn't focus on becoming stronger ourselves; instead, we tried to use Dave," Joe confessed, regret evident in his words.

"I don't think you went that far."

"No, regardless of the circumstances, I made an unreasonable request. Especially after I took charge of the ABC job, I realized… Thanks to that, I came to my senses. Not just me, everyone did," Joe pointed out, gesturing towards the members of the Fighter Crew around him, who all nodded in agreement.

"It's good to see," Oliver spoke sincerely. He had felt slightly disappointed due to the previous proposal, but now he felt that his disappointment had been compensated.

"Forrest mentioned that you'll be taking a break from work for a while. Is that true?"

"Yes… He said it's better for safety reasons."

"In that case, may I ask you for a favor?"

"A favor? What is it?"

"Dave has taught us black magic, so we have all become strong enough to protect our own lives. But due to the nature of our work, we still suffer losses. So, we need to recruit new members. Could you help us train them?"

"New members?"

"Yes, we need to replenish our manpower."

It wasn't an unusual request. In their line of work, it was inevitable to lose strength and constantly seek new recruits.

"We'll do our best to match the payment."

"No need for compensation—" Oliver started, but Joe interrupted him.

"No, we would appreciate it if you accepted payment," Joe insisted politely but firmly.

"It may not be right for us to say this since we've already received your help several times, but I think it's better if things are clear. If Dave doesn't accept payment, we might end up relying on you again. It's not about buying Dave's teachings with money, but rather a token of sincerity for a healthy relationship. If you keep helping unilaterally, people might misunderstand. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

Joe's argument made sense, and Oliver nodded in agreement. "…You're right. Then I'll accept it. Can we determine the amount through Mr. Forrest?"

"Of course. May I ask when we can start?"

"Could you give me a moment? I need to check a few things," Oliver responded, considering his schedule at the magic tower.

It seemed that evenings or nights would be the best time since he would be returning from work.

‘It's going to get busy for a while,' Oliver thought, recalling his early days of training the Fighter Crew and his life as a staff member at the magic tower.

From morning to evening at the magic tower, and from evening to night in District X—it was a truly busy schedule. Not that he minded.

‘Should I start keeping a training log from now on?' Oliver contemplated, considering the increased workload.

Oliver contemplated various infrastructures he had seen at the magic tower and recalled Kevin's work attitude. Although he wasn't particularly interested in this area, it didn't seem like a bad idea to give it a try.

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)

OR

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