Genius Warlock

“It’s, it’s an angel…”

Someone exclaimed in amazement.

It could have been the individuals inside the temple or the servants who had fallen nearby.

One thing was definite: someone referred to it as an angel, and there was no dissent.

In fact, there was consensus.

And with good reason. It possessed wings on its back and radiated light from its body, illuminating the night sky.

Considering it as an angel wasn’t unreasonable.

Even Galahad, who had devoted his life to being a holy knight and Marie, who had unwavering faith in Oliver, couldn’t help but think of the word ‘angel.’

Everyone was entranced by the figure that had appeared in the nocturnal heavens.

Everyone except for one person. Only Oliver.

While Oliver admired the winged man soaring from the distant sky, he observed him with a sense of composure.

He did find it impressive.

After all, it had wings on its back and traversed the skies.

However, unlike the others, he didn’t regard it as an angel. Because it wasn’t an angel; it was a human.

Just as a crow remains a crow regardless of how colorful its feathers may be.

So, while everyone regarded the winged man as a divine being, Oliver simply saw him as a more captivating human.

“Sir… Is that your real target?”

Recalling Galahad’s intentions that he had discerned earlier, Oliver inquired.

Galahad nodded.

“Yes. And he’s the savior of humanity who will judge you… Bonifa!”

Galahad declared, and the savior of humanity, Bonifa, descended from the brilliantly illuminated night sky.

At first glance, his speed was astounding, and when he flapped his wings made of light, a sonic boom reverberated.

To fly with just one’s body, let alone at such a velocity and withstand it, was nothing short of astonishing.

[Windstorm]

Oliver, recognizing the need for a targeted assault rather than a widespread one, merged fury with the air magic of the Enril school to conjure a dark whirlwind.

The instant the whirlwind took form, flames merged with it, evolving into a colossal vortex of fire charged with anger and avarice.

Employing the same spell that had previously shattered Shamus’s large-scale magic.

The immense, ferocious column of fire threatened to indiscriminately unleash its might, devouring and incinerating everything in its path.

Then, Oliver harnessed its power, halting its uncontrolled expansion and instead compressing it to envelop only Bonifa.

The colossal column of fire transformed into a black dragon and surged toward Bonifa.

At first glance, it was spine-chilling, yet Bonifa advanced, radiating an even more intense brilliance.

Whooooooooosh – Boom!!!

Bonifa, hurtling through the air with determination, entered the column of fire without hesitation.

Bulge!

After engulfing Bonifa, the column of fire bulged on one side, as if it had herniated. But that wasn’t the end.

Bulge!

Bulge!

Bulge!

Bulge!

Cracks fissured across the elongated column of fire, resembling a serpent, and it crumbled with a thunderous detonation.

In the midst of the massive explosion and its aftermath, Bonifa calmly emerged, displaying his power and vitality.

The servants, Marie and her companions within the temple, as well as the onlookers among the residents and beggars, were all left awestruck.

It was reminiscent of an image from legendary tales, where a hero subdued a dragon.

But Bonifa didn’t stop there.

He hovered above the servants and holy paladins, emitting a gentle light from his wings to heal them.

It appeared to be a form of divine technique, as the light effortlessly mended everything from minor abrasions to severe burns.

It was akin to a miracle.

The servants who received aid and the spectators around them were left astounded.

“Oh…”

“Bonifa! Son of the Angel…”

“He said he would participate in this operation…”

“Oh… Oh…”

“Angel! A true angel!! The savior of humanity!”

The servants cheered for Bonifa, uttering heartfelt words of admiration.

These were not mere platitudes; they were profound emotions.

Thanks to this, the emotions emanating from the servants resonated with each other, creating a potent synergy. This emotional wave spread, influencing those nearby.

It reached Marie and her group within the temple, as well as the residents and beggars who were covertly observing the scene.

Some of them, synchronized with the servants’ emotions, also whispered that Bonifa was an angel.

Intense emotions possess a remarkable power of contagion.

However, Oliver remained affected, albeit not entirely.

“He’s impressive, but… isn’t he not an angel?”

Oliver, who had been vigilantly observing his surroundings, softly voiced his thoughts, tinged with a hint of unease.

Despite his calm tone, everyone in the vicinity turned their gaze toward Oliver, wearing stern expressions.

This was a natural reaction.

When emotions swell to such heights, they leave little room for other perspectives. Like a mighty tide, they seek to overwhelm anything in their path.

“How dare you. It’s blasphemy! What do you know?”

“I apologize if I offended you. But isn’t he also a human? Even if he emits light from his body and has wings made of light on his back, a human is still a human. Just as a crow with colorful feathers is still a crow.”

Oliver offered a sincere apology while expressing his initial thoughts without reservation. To him, no matter how remarkable Bonifa’s abilities were, he remained a human—a simple, undeniable fact.

“You, you…!”

Several servants expressed their indignation at Oliver’s composed yet resolute words.

All those participating in this operation were extremists who sympathized with the Parter religion. However, there was another reason behind their anger.

The potent power and divine aura of Bonifa that they had just witnessed, along with the elation derived from his healing technique, were instantly tempered by Oliver’s words. Without resistance.

In that moment, the servants felt as if their faith and belief were being put to the test, experiencing a surge of rejection, guilt, and anger.

“Did you cast a spell on us?!”

“I just-“

“-Don’t listen to him, everyone.”

Just as Oliver was about to respond, Bonifa, with his radiant wings, intervened.

His regal presence once again ensnared the hearts and minds of those present.

“Why would the proud warriors of God try to converse with a false God? Every word from his mouth is poison that tests your faith. Do not listen.”

At Bonifa’s words, the servants regained their composure and rallied around him.

Bonifa’s unwavering faith, pride, and unwavering conviction, rooted in his deep belief, enthralled the surrounding individuals with its compelling influence.

Through the eyes of a warlock, Oliver could vividly perceive how Bonifa’s intense emotions, coupled with his techniques, swayed the nearby servants.

He had witnessed such behavior in individuals with formidable leadership qualities, but Bonifa, perhaps due to his inclusion of techniques, possessed a unique charisma.

‘I’m not sure if this is right.’

Observing Bonifa, who influenced others’ wills with his unyielding beliefs, Oliver couldn’t shake off his discomfort. He didn’t believe he had the authority to judge, but something about this situation felt amiss, reminiscent of the notion of ‘The Chosen Ones’ or cult-like devotion.

“Bonifa, the Holy Knight of the Parter religion. I command you in the name of God. Unbeliever, disarm and surrender immediately.”

Bonifa pointed his gilded sword at Oliver and proclaimed.

The radiance emanating from him harmonized with the golden sword, creating an aura of benevolence and sanctity.

For Oliver, it was almost blinding.

“Hmm… Sir, have you ever met God?”

Oliver asked directly.

Initially, he had planned to clarify that he wasn’t a God and greet Bonifa politely, but he had discussed this with Galahad and decided to forgo that approach.

Considering Bonifa’s heightened emotional state, Oliver doubted he would be open to such a conversation.

So, Oliver simply posed the question that had long piqued his curiosity: whether the followers of the Parter religion had ever genuinely encountered God.

In truth, this question had been lingering in his mind for some time. Because…

“…Everyone seems so certain.”

“I warn you, do not speak of God with that blasphemous mouth.”

“I only inquired if you had met God since you claim to speak in His name. Sir Holy Knight. If you use His name without having met Him, isn’t that also a sin? ‘Do not use my name in vain. It is arrogance and a sin. Always be humble and modest; do not seek to teach, but to learn.'”

Oliver quoted a passage from scripture.

The Paladins and servants in the vicinity appeared mildly surprised. They had never expected a warlock, especially one from a heretical faith, to quote scripture.

‘Should I be grateful to Ms. Joanna?’

As Oliver observed the reactions of those around him, he recalled Joanna. The reason he had delved into scripture was entirely due to her influence.

However, this recollection was a mistake, as it brought an unexpected wave of weariness.

Perhaps it was inevitable.

Upon receiving the news from Edith, he promptly began rewriting his thesis from scratch, held consecutive meetings with Merlin and Forrest to elucidate the situation, and swiftly headed to Wineham to assist others, including Celine, who had been apprehended by the Paladins.

Rest had been a stranger to him for quite some time now.

Despite his wearied state and the ongoing combat, he found the battles bearable—almost welcome, even.

Though unintentional, these skirmishes had allowed him to harness the power of nature proficiently, gain a tangible sense of it, and acquire knowledge.

What truly drained Oliver, however, were his interactions with the Paladins.

Whether it was due to his poor eloquence or not, communicating with them felt draining and incongruous, much like it did now.

“How dare you quote the scriptures. How can someone without faith ever utter the scriptures?”

“…Why can’t I quote the scriptures if I lack faith?”

Driven by fatigue and diminished concentration and patience, Oliver asked without overthinking.

It wasn’t solely because of physical exhaustion; this question had lingered in his mind for some time.

Why were the scriptures of the Parter religion constructed in a manner that discouraged interpretation?

It felt as unnatural, unfair, and frustrating as shackling one’s feet.

“It’s to prevent blasphemers and infidels like you from distorting it.”

“And who determines this ‘distortion’?”

“Obviously, it’s our Parter religion. We spread teachings on behalf of God and protect humanity.”

“Why do you think only you can do that? Isn’t there a possibility that others might be right, and different interpretations could be correct in some cases?”

“How can a human’s arbitrary interpretation of God’s teachings ever be correct? Such an act itself is blasphemous.”

“I don’t think so.”

Of all the conversations Oliver had ever engaged in, this statement was delivered with the utmost conviction.

Surprisingly, no one could instantly refute it.

Because there was an undeniable dignity about him, even acknowledging he was a false God.

“Isn’t it strange? If they prohibit human interpretation, why create scriptures? Why write the scriptures in a narrative form that can be viewed and interpreted from various angles?”

“Right now, in front of the Paladins-“

“-Personally, I like God. I might not believe as devoutly as you all, but separately from that, I like Him. He seems very generous and fair. The rich and the poor, children and adults, women and men, even good citizens and cunning outlaws seek Him at their most crucial moments… It’s, well, very godly.”

For a brief moment, the servants and the Paladins sensed something unusual.

The individual before them had just committed a grave act of blasphemy.

How dare this impious non-believer invoke God.

Yet, none dared to rush into anger. For while they could only revere a distant God from below, this unbeliever standing before them had bridged that gap.

It was almost envy-inducing.

“It doesn’t seem like someone like Him would say not to think and just read the scriptures as interpreted by the Parter religion. What do you think? I’m genuinely curious.”

An unnatural silence pervaded.

Confronting the blasphemous presence before them, they felt as though their rightful path and position had been wrested away.

They had arrived to quell a heretical faith, but somehow, they were confronted with the injustice of becoming heretics themselves.

It was profoundly unfair.

An emotion that no one affiliated with the Parter religion could tolerate.

Particularly not someone designated as the “Son of an Angel” by the hardliners of the Parter religion.

Confronted with the unsettling figure seemingly challenging the very core of his beliefs, Bonifa finally spoke.

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“It seems, after all, there’s no point in conversing with a heretic.”