#725 (Patreon)

Traces of Sin (2)

Blotchy, discolored skin.
 

A crown of thistles wrapped around the head.
 

A dagger forged in the shape of a spike, crafted from raw flesh.
 

Other items like rings, belts, shoes, and bracelets—trophies taken from rival prince candidates.

Unbending Knees looked just as he had the last time Oliver saw him.
 

Of course, he wasn't exactly the same. Changes had occurred.

Some of the trophies had begun merging with Unbending Knees’s body, while one leg, previously appearing as a lump of mangled flesh, had taken on a more complete form. The aura radiating from it was ominous and intense.

Yet, there was something that drew Oliver’s attention more than those changes.

It was the fact that, despite Oliver’s all-seeing eyes, the sins and associated details of Unbending Knees were obscured.

“...”

It was similar to Puppet. Just as demonic power had blackened parts of Puppet’s information, rendering it unreadable, Unbending Knees’s information was similarly veiled. In fact, it was even more obscured than Puppet’s.

From this, Oliver deduced one thing:

At this moment, Unbending Knees was more favored by a demon than Puppet.

It was a chilling realization, indicating that Unbending Knees’s plans to become the apocalyptic Prince of Hell were proceeding smoothly.

But Oliver felt neither fear nor concern.
 

In truth, this response was only natural.

Not only was Oliver aware of Unbending Knees’s plan, but he had also struck a deal with him—
 

In secret, in a village near the Empty Seat.

—I want. To make. A deal.
 

—What kind of deal?

—Do not. Interfere. With us.

The deal was simple: Unbending Knees would become the apocalyptic Prince of Hell, and in return, Oliver would stay out of his way.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
 

If successful, Unbending Knees could fulfill his vendetta, and Oliver could escape the destiny he so desperately wanted to avoid.

Thus, worrying about Unbending Knees’s progress now would have been irrational.
 

In fact, he should have been pleased.

If Unbending Knees became the Prince of Hell, Oliver might finally be free from his cursed fate. There was only one Prince of Hell, and if someone else claimed that title, Oliver’s burden would be lifted.

For that reason, Oliver had gambled the fate of the world in his deal with Unbending Knees.

Yet, Oliver neither worried nor felt joy.

The reason was simple: Oliver was already the Prince of Hell.

This fact led him to question the plans of both Puppet and Unbending Knees, who sought to artificially trigger the apocalypse. Unbending Knees’s condition also played a role in his doubt.

Though Unbending Knees exuded considerable demonic blessings, they were far from satisfactory compared to the true Prince of Hell.

Something was missing.

Even when Unbending Knees suddenly lunged at Oliver and inflicted a small scratch, it only went that far—a mere superficial wound.

It was then that Unbending Knees, having appeared mid-air, broke his stance and lowered his weapon.

“...”

Oliver looked at him with a hint of surprise.

Though demonic power obscured much of Unbending Knees’s sins and information, some aspects and emotions were still visible to Oliver.

And now, what Unbending Knees felt toward Oliver was a blazing hatred.

A deep, endless hatred that seemed to have no bottom.

Given the intensity of that emotion and the nature of the situation, Oliver had expected an immediate attack.

Instead, Unbending Knees suppressed his hatred and attempted to communicate.

Being a candidate of the Swan Sect, he couldn’t speak, so he resorted to sign language.

[Let us go, now.]

Merely watching him, Oliver could perfectly understand what Unbending Knees was saying.

"That won’t do."
 

[If it’s about the abducted individual—]
 

"No, it's not just that. Puppet cannot be released."

Oliver interrupted Unbending Knees’s words, his tone decisive.

Caught off guard by the unexpected reply, Unbending Knees hesitated momentarily before attempting to resume the conversation. His immense rage, hatred, and patience coexisted precariously as he responded.

[...We made a deal.]

 "Yes, we did. And it was you who broke it first."

Oliver’s words weren’t incorrect. When Puppet saw Oliver breaking his promise with Piper, they acted preemptively to shackle him. But at this point, none of that mattered.

It was all secondary. What mattered was the core of the issue.

[Puppet is still necessary. For the apocalypse to begin.]
 

"Perhaps not. Haven’t you already prepared most of what you need?"

[How did you...]
 

"I can see more than you might think. Not everything, but enough. Which is why Puppet cannot be released."

[Why not?]
 

"Because I don’t know what he might do if set free—or what schemes he might already have in motion."

[If that’s your concern—]
 

"Does the reason even matter? If you want reasons, there are many. If not, then none at all."

[What do you mean?]
 

"I mean that I simply don’t feel like releasing Puppet. Don’t misunderstand—I was planning to let him go at first. But the more I think about it, the more irritated I get."

[...]

"Your raid on Landa while I was dealing with Piper, the abduction of Kent, your relentless meddling with those around me—even when I returned and told you to stop, you refused. All of it frustrates me."

[...]

"And I don’t care for the way you cause harm to others as a means to your end."

The more Oliver spoke, the more ripples disturbed the calm surface of his emotions.

They were subtle ripples. But that was enough.

Oliver’s outwardly placid demeanor was not truly peaceful; it was forcibly restrained. Even a small ripple had the potential to grow into a great wave.

"And, let’s not forget, you mocked me as incomplete. All in all, I simply don’t want to let Puppet go."

[This is petty vengeance.]
 

"I won’t completely deny that."

[I need Puppet to truly become the Prince of Hell.]

Unbending Knees pleaded once more, suppressing his hatred toward Oliver with sheer will. His determination for his goal was admirable, as was his patience. But it didn’t last.

"

Shall I be honest with you? Your plans and deals no longer matter to me."

[Because you are now the Prince of Hell—]

"No, it’s not because of my current state. It’s because I no longer have faith in you, Unbending Knees."

[...]

"This isn’t to dismiss your rage or efforts. Your anger is immense, and your progress is evident. Perhaps it’s because you sacrificed all your tribespeople during the demon summoning."

[Not all of them. One still remains.]

"Really? I couldn’t tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter."

Oliver dismissed it as if it were nothing.

Perhaps it was due to his heightened emotions, or perhaps the layers of his façade had cracked. Or maybe he had simply seen too many sins borne by too many people.

He felt nothing anymore. Just exhaustion.

Unbending Knees, filled with anger at Oliver’s indifference, trembled with fury. Yet Oliver paid him no mind and continued.

"What I’m trying to say is this: I know you used your rage to gain the blessings of a demon. But I no longer expect anything from you."

Oliver’s words were brutal.

He dismissed the anger of a man who had lost all but one of his people. He dismissed the effort fueled by that anger.

Cruelly. Arrogantly.

A sharp crack echoed in the tense air.

At those words, Unbending Knees was visibly shaken, his fists clenched in anger.

 This agitation, like Puppet, began to reveal bits of Unbending Knees’s information, which had been obscured by the demon’s influence.

 It was nothing too surprising, though.

 Just typical, clichéd details.

Born of the Red Race, suffering persecution and humiliation,
 

Unable to bear it, he resorted to learning black magic,
 

And attempted to gain power through terrorism, seeking to reclaim his rights.
 

A tale as old as time.

Then, he was seduced by the eternal child Pan and sought to summon a demon.
 

However, it was an all-too-familiar story, one that didn’t require much thought to understand.
 

Oliver knew how the tale would unfold.

The Red Race succeeded in summoning a demon, but in truth, it was a failure.
 

The Red Race, unaware of what demon summoning truly entailed, were sacrificed as offerings during the process, turning into kindling, dancing puppets, and vessels to contain the demon’s form.
 

There was no need to witness it.

Yet, Oliver’s eyes, despite his will, showed him this past.
 

Reluctantly, he could see it—
 

The knights searching for the Red Race, the heaps of burned bodies. And among them, Unbending Knees.

"Ahhh...! Aaaaahhh!!"

Unbending Knees screamed, a mixture of agony and despair.
 

His skin was burned and discolored, one of his legs reduced to a mass of flesh, while a boy lay in his arms.
 

"Aaaaaaaahhhh!! Aaaaahhhh!!!"

The knights, upon finding Unbending Knees, advanced to subdue him. But as Unbending Knees swung his hand, the knight’s head fell to the ground.
 

Amidst the chaos, Unbending Knees, clutching the dying boy, screamed desperately.
 

"Don’t die! Aaaaah! Please, don’t die...! You fucking God!!! Aaahhh...!!!"

The boy in his arms was his younger brother.
 

Slow, unattractive, and neglected by his elder sibling.
 

The boy was dying, caught in the disaster wrought by the demon’s flames. And then—

Thud!

A sharp spike flew toward Oliver’s face, jolting him from his thoughts.
 

Unbending Knees had leapt through space and struck.
 

Oliver caught the blow effortlessly.

With the distance now between them, Oliver and Unbending Knees faced off.
 

This gave Oliver the chance to see Unbending Knees’s face clearly—
 

The face of a man who had lost everything, the face of someone whose world had burned away.

Unbending Knees, his patience having shattered, desperately attacked with the spike, but Oliver subdued him with ease, forcing him to kneel.
 

For all the rage and hatred the Red Race carried, they knelt easily before Oliver.
 

The scratch he had managed to inflict was evidence of how little it mattered.

It wasn’t an insult—it was simply a fact.

Just as Oliver was about to speak,
 

Crack!

A powerful magical force, infused with emotion, crashed toward Oliver from a distance, striking the arm that held the spike.
 

It was Lilith.
 

One of the three Eve’s that Oliver had unintentionally created, the weakest of the Eves, and the one who had been taken by Puppet.

She appeared in the borrowed body of the Human-meat Chef’s younger sister, Gretel, and mercilessly struck Oliver’s arm.
 

Boom!!
 

The tremendous sound, like an avalanche, told Oliver how desperately Lilith was striking.

Eventually, Oliver dropped the spike.
 

As soon as he released it, Unbending Knees stepped back, and Lilith moved to stand beside Puppet.
 

She helped Puppet to his feet.

"You didn’t, by chance, come here after rejecting Eve and Pandora, did you? Impressive..."
 

"Room 444, Cross King Hotel."

Lilith cut him off, mentioning a hotel room number.
 

"Kent is there."
 

"So, you want me to let him go?"
 

"Yes... and you owe me a debt."

A debt. Oliver couldn’t deny it.

"So, please, just this once, spare me, Oliver."

Lilith’s desperate plea.
 

Oliver glanced at her, at Puppet, whose soul had been drained, and at Unbending Knees, whose rage had been rejected, leaving him in shock.

On the surface, they seemed unrelated, but Oliver noticed one common thread among them.
 

They were all outcasts, abandoned.

Oliver hesitated for a moment before silently leaving, heading to meet Kent.