#760

Oliver (1)

A sinner, shamelessly yearning for salvation despite committing atrocious crimes, shouted:

“I know better than anyone that my sins cannot be forgiven by mere words! Stopping you is nothing but an act of our will─!!”

Surprisingly, those words were sincere. Repenting for his sins while yearning for salvation, he risked his life to stand before Burnt One, despite knowing he might not be saved.

By his own will.

Honestly, it was quite astonishing.

A fool who only faced his sins after punishment and self-pity acted like this. Could this be called progress, in its own way?

Burnt One started to understand, even just a little, why He left a final chance, even after deciding on the End.

After that brief thought, Burnt One belatedly questioned:

[...Our?]

As if in answer to that question, countless people surged from all directions.

The sinners of arrogance, who worshipped Him as a god to fill their superiority, the Chosen Ones.

The sinners of greed, who wielded violence in the slums to satisfy their desires, simply because they were born into poverty, the Fighter Crew.

The sinners of deceit, who repented for their sins for the salvation of themselves and their twisted descendants, the Anti-Development Committee.

The sinners of wrath, who, despite being victims themselves, passed down hatred to their children and used it, the Kel Liberation Army.

The sinners of sloth, who used the nature of their jobs as soldiers and police as shields, blindly following orders even when they knew it was wrong, the kingdom’s soldiers and police.

At this moment, these sinners laid down all their sins for one purpose: to save Oliver. They charged at Burnt One.

Just as the flaming ring above Burnt One's head spun rapidly, ready to sweep away the charging sinners—

Grab!

From Bartholomew's twisted body, a new arm sprouted and grabbed the flaming ring.

Screeeeech!

A piercing, ear-splitting noise echoed all around as smoke billowed from Bartholomew's hand, with melted flesh dripping down.

A mortal from the human world had grabbed the power bestowed by a god. An impossible act, but exposed to Hell and a sinner of Hell himself, Bartholomew made the impossible possible.

Thanks to him, the charging people safely reached Burnt One and thrust their weapons at him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Even though an invisible wall blocked their strikes from reaching Burnt One's skin.

Sizzle...

That wasn’t all.

Though not as severe as Bartholomew, who touched the flaming ring directly, the hands gripping the weapons pointed at Burnt One slowly began to burn.

The foul stench of burning flesh spread, and black smoke rose.

Crack!

Despite the excruciating pain, the people clenched their teeth tightly, not one letting go of their weapons.

Even knowing they couldn't reach him.

Even knowing their hands would burn.

They held on.

For one reason alone.

To buy Oliver even one more second to escape, they willingly set themselves ablaze.

“Ughhhhh...!!”

Even as teeth shattered and blood flowed from the excruciating pain, no one retreated.

Burnt One, observing them, mocked them with the tongue of a demon.

[...Do you think this will change anything—?]

Click.

At the faint sound, Burnt One abruptly closed his mouth in surprise.

It was just a little.

Barely the distance of a single sheet of paper, but the sinners had managed to encroach upon Burnt One's domain.

How?

Burnt One wondered. Was it because Bartholomew held onto the fiery ring above his head? Or was it some other reason?

Even Burnt One, a demon who knew nearly everything, couldn’t find an answer this time.

How could such a thing be possible?

It was, quite literally, a miracle.

Witnessing this miracle unfold before his eyes, Burnt One briefly closed his eyes before reopening them.

Then, the fiery ring, gripped by Bartholomew's burning hand, began to spin rapidly, scattering embers like lightning in all directions.

Whoosh!

A fierce blaze erupted, tearing Bartholomew’s body apart as if it had been sliced with a searing blade. His remains crumbled into ash.

Most of the people surrounding Burnt One were also incinerated, leaving not even ashes behind.

The only survivors were Marie, Joe, and Willes, the commander of the Kel Liberation Army, and even they were only spared because the Children intervened.

“Kyaaaaaaah!”

It wasn’t without cost. The Corpse dolls—Bathory, Durans, Shamus and Human-meat Chef—along with the First, Second, Third, and Fourth, fell to the ground, screaming in agony from the burns.

The flames, capable of scorching even souls, had damaged their very essence.

Burnt One raised his hand toward the fallen Children and swung it.

At that moment, Marie, blessed by the woman on the camel, stepped in front of Burnt One, wrapping her arm in her own hair.

Marie’s hair and both arms ignited, and she collapsed to her knees.

“Ughhhh...!!”

As her arms burned away entirely, a cry of pain threatened to escape her lips, but she clenched her mouth shut, suppressing the sound with all her might.

She feared her scream might stop Oliver.

Burnt One silently gazed down at Marie, and she, in turn, silently looked up at him.

[...]

“...”

Her eyes, unlike her kneeling body, did not yield.

Burnt One quietly raised his hand toward Marie and struck downward.

Whooshhhhhhhh──!

Just as his hand was about to strike her, a radiant light burst forth from the distance, forming a colossal pillar that reached the heavens.

The awe-inspiring sight drew Burnt One’s gaze, and soon the light gently blanketed the earth.

It encompassed everything—Burnt One, his sword, and all those present.

The warm, gentle light embraced the world.

Moments later, as the light that blanketed the world dissipated, Oliver stood before Burnt One.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

***

Everyone, including Burnt One, turned their eyes to Oliver.

His hair, which had turned a pale white, returned to its original deep black. His scorched, severed right arm was restored, and the grievous wounds covering his body had vanished completely.

That wasn’t all. Oliver seemed to have grown slightly taller, and the youthful traces on his face, once hidden beneath a leather mask, had faded just a little.

His presence was monumental yet subtly unchanged, captivating everyone who gazed upon him.

Even Burnt One, mesmerized, couldn’t take his ember-filled eyes off Oliver.

Step.

Realizing something was amiss, Burnt One glanced down at his own feet.

To his astonishment, he had unconsciously taken a step back.

He, one of the 72 lords of Hell who had descended to bring about the End.

[...]

Recognizing this truth, Burnt One lifted his gaze to see Oliver.

With his newly regenerated right hand, Oliver was healing Marie and the others around him.

Marie’s severed arms had regrown, and not only were the physical wounds of others mended, but even the burns etched onto their souls were healed.

“O... Oliver...?”

A half-dazed Marie called out to him.

Oliver turned to her and gently requested, “Could you step back for a moment?”

“...”

Neither Marie, unable to process the situation, nor the others around her could respond. They simply stared blankly at Oliver.

Seeing this, Oliver pressed his thumbs lightly against the corners of his lips and lifted them into a smile.

“It’s okay. Please don’t worry.”

Reassured by his expression, everyone finally stepped back, leaving Oliver and Burnt One to face each other alone.

“...You’ve reclaimed what is yours,” Burnt One spoke, his voice directed at Joanna, who had returned to being an ordinary person.

His demonic voice, which would ordinarily cause mere mortals to explode upon hearing it, filled the air.

And yet, not a single person around them perished.

Not even one showed signs of discomfort.

As if someone was suppressing the overwhelming power within the demon’s voice.

“It’s all thanks to everyone who helped. Including you, I am grateful.”

Oliver, looking directly at Burnt One, expressed his gratitude.

There was no pretense or mockery in his words.

Only pure sincerity.

“Me?”

“Yes, Burning One. Without your consideration, we wouldn’t have even had the slightest chance.”

Burnt One opened his mouth as if to respond, but upon meeting Oliver’s gaze, he swallowed his words.

The clear, deep eyes seemed to already know everything, leaving even the shameless Burning One unable to lie.

“Thank you... for taking on such a difficult role that no one else would. Truly, I am grateful.”

It was as though Oliver’s tone implied that Burnt One had not killed people or attempted to bring about the end of the world out of personal desire.

Instead of denying it, Burnt One smiled, his jagged mouth like a cracked boulder curling upward. As he did, the flames within his mouth glowed even brighter.

“You speak as if all the problems have already been resolved.”

“If I offended you, I apologize.”

“You don’t deny it, though.”

“I don’t.”

Oliver’s response was confident.

The cracks in Burnt One’s body began to blaze with an intensity far surpassing anything before. The fiery ring above his head spun wildly.

Ziiiiiiiiiiiing!

At the same time, Burnt One stepped forward, reversing his earlier retreat, and threw a punch at Oliver.

The fist, imbued with the flames of Hell, unleashed a heat so intense that it seemed capable of evaporating everything in its path, engulfing everyone nearby.

But that destruction never came to pass.

From a white shadow beneath Oliver’s feet, twelve massive wings unfolded, shielding everyone from the hellish flames.

“...!”

Burnt One’s eyes widened in shock.

Whooshhh!

The wings then released a fierce gust of wind, dispelling Burnt One’s heat and halting the fist that was aimed at Oliver’s face.

Ssssiiiiiiiii...

The wind extinguished the flames clinging to Burnt One’s body and seeped into the cracks of his wounds, cooling even the heat within.

Burnt One tried to resist but couldn’t withstand the gusts. He was forced backward, eventually tumbling across the ground and crashing into the far corner of a building.

Everyone witnessed the scene.

Oliver, with twelve wings unfurled from his shadow, stood firm while Burnt One, powerless against him, lay buried in a cloud of dust.

Whoooomph!

From within the dust, fierce flames erupted, revealing Burnt One once again.

Strangely enough, the wounds inflicted by Oliver—his torn arm, side, thigh, and shoulder—had all healed, restored to their original state.

Even Burnt One seemed surprised as he asked, “What are you doing?”

“My way of returning the favor,” Oliver replied. “Even if it wasn’t your intention, you came all this way. Go ahead and do everything you wish to try.”

Burnt One’s hollow eyes widened, and the embers within them flared brightly.

“...Are you serious?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Unable to refute, Burnt One gazed at Oliver, who stood before him with twelve wings spread behind him, and let out a laugh.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! ...Arrogant. Just like your father!”

"Is that so?"

"Yes! Exactly like him...! However, while everyone acknowledges your father, we do not yet know about you... Very well! I shall confirm it myself, with all sincerity, whether you possess his caliber! Come forth, my sword!!"

Burnt One extended his hand toward the fiery sword suspended in midair.

Oliver also stretched out his hand into the void, calling for his quarterstaff.

"Come to me."

Whoosh!

The fiery sword and quarterstaff sliced through the air, returning to their respective masters.

Gripping their weapons, Burnt One and Oliver faced each other.

Burnt One, now fully restored and wielding his sword, raised it high toward the heavens and commanded:

"Fire, return to your master!"

At his command, the world trembled. A blackened sky tore open, unleashing a sea of flames, a blend of yellow, orange, and crimson, cascading down.

The mere sight of it was enough to blind, the sound to deafen, and its proximity to evaporate all it touched.

Oliver responded by spreading his wings wide, shielding everyone from the infernal heat.

However, while he could protect the people, he couldn’t stop the hellfire from being absorbed into Burnt One's sword.

The sword, once a mere fiery blade, drank deeply of the infernal flames, growing to a size that seemed capable of piercing the heavens.

Burnt One did not stop there. He fused the fiery ring above his head with the sword, forming a perfect blade.

It was a weapon born to execute divine punishment upon the earth.

Crack!

The surrounding colors drained away, the air distorted, the ground fractured, and space itself began to crumble.

Everyone understood instinctively: even a single swing of that blade could bring about the End.

With both hands gripping the massive sword, Burnt One steadied his stance and raised it high above his head.

As he prepared to strike, Oliver lightly tapped the ground with his quarterstaff.

Thump!

In an instant, a colossal pillar of light pierced through the fissured heavens, descending directly upon Burnt One’s head.

[Judgment]