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#766
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 04:43:10 +0000 UTCOliver (7)
The pure white sky, the pure white snow, and the pure white land.
The land of ice, called the end of the world, could be summarized as such.
It was all white, with nothing else to be seen.
Due to its harsh environment, no human had ever conquered this land, and Oliver entered a hole in its midst.
It was so deep and vast that calling it an entrance seemed inadequate; it felt more like a cliff or a chasm. Yet, when Oliver stepped forward—
Thud.
A stepping platform of suitable size jutted out from the rough ice wall to support Oliver's foot.
When Oliver stepped forward again, another stepping platform emerged. One after the other.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Each heavy sound was followed by the appearance of more platforms, forming a staircase.
Oliver descended further and further down this staircase.
After descending for tens of meters, the scenery changed.
The naturally formed massive crevice began to take on a neatly carved appearance, as if touched by human hands.
Many entrances, passages, and concealed magical traps appeared.
These were devices Puppet had prepared, anticipating the arrival of some foolhardy intruder.
However, simply by walking, Oliver bypassed the traps and proceeded inward to investigate.
“Hmm…”
Oliver murmured as he examined the corpse dolls hidden throughout the labyrinth-like secret base entrance.
Since this was where Puppet's core resided, there were countless corpse dolls.
They ranged from warlocks to mages, druids, magic users, soldiers, and more.
There were even zombie weapons shaped like spiders, crafted from mutations. And in large numbers, too.
Breaking through by conventional means seemed utterly impossible.
Yet, among all those corpses, not one reacted to Oliver's presence.
They stood still like puppets with severed strings.
“This place…”
As he descended further, unimpeded, Oliver muttered while examining a certain room.
It was a massive ice storage-like space, filled to the brim with neatly preserved corpses, like butchered meat.
This seemed to be Puppet's largest corpse storage facility and corpse doll workshop.
Since the walls were made of ice, it offered decent conditions, provided the user could adapt to this environment.
Proving this, further down was a workshop for mass-producing corpse dolls and working corpse dolls.
Before hundreds of workbenches stood corpse dolls with multiple arms, and intricate surgical machinery was suspended from the ceiling.
Further down, a laboratory appeared, filled with numerous experimental tools and chemical testing equipment.
Oliver realized this laboratory was dedicated to researching souls.
As he continued descending, he came upon a vast space containing a massive collection of books.
At first, he thought it was a repository for the research data from the laboratory above.
But upon entering and examining it, he realized it wasn’t.
Interestingly, instead of soul-related research data, the books contained photos of children and detailed childcare records.
Age, gender, height, weight, likes, dislikes, what they learned, when they became adults, when they left the orphanage, and what jobs they took—all meticulously documented.
Although these records lacked warmth and exuded a clinical detachment akin to viewing test subjects,
Oliver discerned that all the books densely packed in this space were records about children.
He realized how many children had passed through Puppet's hands.
At the same time, he pondered about this ice cavern.
This ice cavern seemed as though it embodied Puppet’s mind.
The uppermost layer was disguised as an ordinary crevasse, but the deeper one descended, the more personal and sensitive aspects of Puppet emerged.
Oliver exited the lowest level of the ice cavern, the book storage room, and looked around.
There was no path further down, save for a deep, bottomless abyss.
Oliver stepped toward the pitch-black chasm.
Tap.
Before he knew it, he had descended to the bottom of the abyss.
The surroundings were shrouded in complete darkness, and within that darkness, Oliver saw a small human-like figure.
Standing before the figure, Oliver greeted it.
“Hello.”
Oliver's voice echoed in the deep, deep ice cavern,
And the echoing voice gradually dispelled the surrounding darkness, revealing a wooden doll in the shape of a boy hiding within.
It was a wooden doll made of charred pinewood, scorched all over by the flames of Burnt One.
“······.”
The wooden doll did not respond, only staring at Oliver.
Instead of urging a reply, Oliver carefully observed the wooden doll that was staring at him.
A black-haired wig, a long nose, smooth, polished skin, and meticulously crafted joint areas—
The wooden doll exuded the touch of a master artisan, while the boy-like clothes it wore conveyed a sense of affection.
Despite the passage of centuries, the affection imbued in the clothes remained evident, even as they had worn thin over time.
Undoubtedly, these clothes must have held great significance to Puppet.
Otherwise, there would have been no reason for Puppet to wear such tattered garments.
After observing Puppet, Oliver began to examine his surroundings.
Unlike the upper levels filled with expensive equipment, security magic, trap magic, and experimental tools, this place below was barren to the point of desolation.
It looked untouched, like the entrance to the crevasse, embodying the rawness of nature.
As a result, it radiated a stark, desolate emptiness.
It felt like a frozen hell, made entirely of ice.
The only thing present here was Puppet’s core body.
“Don’t you feel cold staying here alone? Or perhaps, as a wooden doll, you don’t feel the cold?”
“… What happened to the child?”
Puppet, who had taken no action as Oliver made his way here, broke his silence by asking about Lilith’s whereabouts.
Just as Lilith had thought of Puppet enough to overcome her fear and try to stop Oliver, Puppet seemed to think of Lilith in return.
“I’ve sent her away for a while.”
“You must have a task for her, then.”
Puppet spoke as if he already knew something.
On reflection, it wasn’t so strange.
Puppet had a history of processing Archivers into corpse dolls for use—
Not just one or two, but many.
Perhaps Puppet, more than anyone else, had a deep understanding of the Archiver.
Naturally, he would have an idea of what Oliver intended to do next.
Oliver replied honestly.
“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
Puppet weakly shook his head.
The motion of the pinewood-made doll shaking its head so naturally created an uncanny sense of discomfort.
While Oliver wasn’t affected, others might have found it unsettling.
“No, I lack both the strength and will to raise objections anymore.”
Puppet’s tone leaned more toward resignation than affirmation.
“That’s probably for the best. It’s better for her to be elsewhere than to witness my end. As for me and you... What are you waiting for? Shouldn’t you do what you came here to do?”
Puppet spoke calmly, as though he had relinquished everything.
Oliver approached Puppet, who sat alone on a bare patch of icy rock.
Upon arriving in front of Puppet, Oliver lowered himself, and the invisible air supported him like an unseen chair.
All the elements composing the world seemed to uphold Oliver.
“Do you really know what it is that I want?”
“To destroy me, I presume. After all, I killed someone precious to you. Or perhaps you wish for me to suffer eternally. Either way, do as you wish.”
“Heh... You’re quite bold.”
“…”
Puppet fell silent again, prompting Oliver to point it out.
“Once again, you choose silence.”
“There’s nothing I can do, so what would you have me say? In fact, I’m curious. What’s the reason for all this effort you’re putting in against someone like me?”
“Are you asking why I’d go to such trouble to talk instead of simply destroying the wooden doll that killed Kent?”
“If it’s to mock me, I can tell you it’s meaningless. I’ve already tasted the ultimate humiliation, having had centuries of effort trampled upon. Physical torment would be equally pointless. As you can see, my body and soul have already been thoroughly tormented by Burnt One.”
Puppet gestured toward his charred body.
“Even if I were to suffer more, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
“Don’t be so quick to assume. Pain comes in many forms.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already learned a multitude of pains. From physical suffering to disdain and humiliation, the pain of countless threats to my existence, and the agony of striving for unreachable goals. These are pains I’ve endured over an unimaginably long time, far beyond the lifespan of an ordinary human.”
Puppet paused and placed his hand on his chest.
“Even if you could inflict more pain upon me, there’s no type of suffering I don’t already know.”
Oliver fell silent for a moment, partially agreeing with Puppet.
As Puppet claimed, he had experienced numerous forms of pain—though perhaps not all.
“My thoughts differ slightly, but I’ll set that aside for now. That’s not why I’m here. What I want to ask is—why do you wish to become human?”
Oliver placed a few books he had brought from the library Archiver in front of Puppet.
“Did you go so far as to raise orphans just to become a fleeting human? … Was it truly because you weren’t blessed by God that you sought humanity?”
“…”
Puppet fell silent once again.
This time, however, the silence felt different.
It wasn’t a deliberate silence, but rather the kind of silence that comes from not knowing what to say.
Oliver waited patiently, and Puppet eventually replied.
“I don’t know. Even I don’t know… why I wanted to become human. At first… At first, I think I was content as I was.”
Puppet’s muttering sounded as though he was entranced. Then, after a moment, he let out a faint laugh.
“Maybe it was because the children teased me.”
“The children teased you?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
Puppet stopped laughing and growled softly.
Even in his state of resignation, the reaction hinted at his anger.
It was surprising. A warlock who had endured countless threats over centuries was so enraged by mere teasing from children.
“Did being called a wooden doll instead of a human upset you that much?”
“…”
“As much as the murder of the grandfather who created and loved you?”
“I’m just a substitute. A replacement for his dead grandson. No matter how well I was made, I’ll always be a fake.”
“That may have been true initially, but you know that isn’t the case now.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still a fake in the end.”
“Does it really matter so much whether you’re real or fake?”
“A rich man saying money isn’t important sounds virtuous. But if a poor man says it, it’s just pathetic.”
“Yet, don’t you look down on humans? After all, you possess extraordinary intellect and something close to immortality compared to humans.”
“You’re right. Humans are foolish and weak. I’ve dissected more of them than I can count. But do you know what I’ve realized?”
“What is it?”
“Even those foolish, weak, and sometimes wicked humans have the right to be judged after death.”
“Did you desire that right? The right to be judged?”
“They can also form genuine relationships with others. But I can’t. I couldn’t even do so with my creator. I exist as a being entirely on my own.”
“Do you really believe it’s because you’re not human?”
Puppet hesitated for a moment before laughing and answering.
“How absurd. What’s the point of this conversation now?”
“What if there is a point?”
“Are you saying you’ll make me human?”
“Oh, how did you guess?”
As Oliver spoke, he grabbed the wooden hand of the doll.
In an instant, the scene blurred, and the surroundings changed.
A pure white sky, pure white snow, pure white land.
It resembled the land of ice, but it was not.
Small villages dotted the landscape, making it clear that this was the outskirts of the Winter Country near the land of ice.
But for Puppet, the environment was secondary.
What mattered more was the sudden transformation of his body.
Coldness and pain coursed through him.
The air, the snow falling from the sky, felt icy, and the burns covering his body radiated pain.
Though he had been a wooden doll unable to feel anything, Puppet now felt the cold and the heat simultaneously.
These were true sensations, not imitations experienced through corpse dolls.
He raised his trembling arm to confirm it, and instead of pinewood, he saw a human arm made of flesh and blood.
An arm marred by burns.
“What? What…?!”
Disbelieving the sensations he felt, Puppet ran his hands over his body, gradually accepting the unbelievable reality.
He had become human.
The boy his grandfather had so dearly wished for.
Though his body was covered in burns, he was now human.
Human!
Puppet felt a rush of joy akin to an electric current, yet he looked at Oliver with disbelief and asked:
“...Why?”
Why had his enemy granted him this wish?
Instead of answering, Oliver posed a question of his own.
“Are you happy?”
Puppet remained silent, but his emotions answered for him. He was happy. So happy that he could die without regret.
Oliver responded to that unspoken answer.
“Relish that happiness now. Soon, a pain you’ve never known will come for you. That is the punishment I bestow upon you.”
With those words, Oliver vanished as though he had never been there, leaving Puppet alone.
Alone in the snowy, white world. Though it wasn’t as pure as the land of ice.
In the distance, smoke rose, hinting at a village and a forest.
Rustle.
While surveying his surroundings, Puppet turned at the sound of a branch snapping.
For the first time, Puppet noticed he no longer sensed the black magic he had spent centuries perfecting.
Before he could fully process this realization, figures emerged from the forest.
“There’s someone here.”
They were warlocks.
Like those who took advantage of chaos in remote areas, raiding villages for wealth and people.
Bloodstains on their clothes hinted that they had already struck once.
Puppet smiled, even as he faced their murderous presence.
Though powerless now, it didn’t matter.
For he was human, and nothing else mattered.
As he thought this, one of the warlocks approached him, raising a club.
“Why’s this bastard smiling?”
Then, without hesitation, the warlock struck Puppet on the head, knocking him unconscious.
