Chapter 3: Oliver’s Identity

Oliver clenched his fists in anger. “You can’t do this, Trisha. Your father took me in!”

“And he’s dead! You think he’s gonna crawl out of his grave to stop me?!” Trisha fumed, gritting her teeth.

Glaring at Oliver, she spoke. “I will let everything slide, including what you did to Denver, as long as you leave without making a scene.”

Oliver stared at Trisha for a long time, and her coldness shattered him. “Don’t you love me? Even just a bit?”

Trisha chuckled sarcastically. “I could have married a richer man, but I got stuck with you. Do you think I can love someone who ruined my life? No, and I will never be.”

His heart sank. Oliver loved Trisha more than he loved himself, but he got only hurt in the end.

“You will regret this, Trisha,” Oliver declared as anger consumed him this time. “Not only you will pay, but your whole family as well.”

Trisha frowned, looking at Oliver with disgust. “Stop the nonsense, will you? Just get out of my sight. I can’t even stand being in the same room with you!”

Having no choice, Oliver left the mansion.

He walked to the streets, not knowing where to go. He could only sigh while looking at the remaining bucks in his hand.

‘How could I rent an inn with this money?’

It wasn’t even enough to sustain his food for the day.

And much to his bad luck, his co-workers earlier showed up before him.

“Wow. The great Oliver is in front of me,” Jackson spoke sarcastically, holding a baseball bat on right hand. “Where’s your chick? Did she leave because she realized how loser you are?”

The eight of them, including Jackson, laughed mockingly.

Oliver got furious, but he remained calm.

He was about to walk past them, but three men blocked his way with Jacskon’s instruction.

“I’m not here to fight,” Oliver said, his voice firm and low.

“Too bad. We are.” Jackson smirked.

Jackson glanced at his men, giving a subtle nod. “Beat the hell out of that bastard!”

“Let’s go!” one of the men barked, and their group surged forward.

Oliver fought back, his body moving based on reflex. His attacks were precise and strong, defeating everyone in just a few punches.

A minute later, everyone was on the ground, unconscious.

He didn’t know where his fighting ability came from, but it was like a muscle memory buried deep within him.

Oliver could beat them up if he wanted; he just chose not to do it.

“Let me pass, and I won’t hurt you,” Oliver muttered as he locked eyes with Jackson—the only man still standing.

Trembling in fear, Jackson took a step back. “N-No… Stay away from me.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow in confusion, seeing the fear in Jackson’s eyes.

‘I was begging for him to let me pass. Why would he tremble in fear?’

But suddenly, a flash of memory hit him.

He was in an open minefield, surrounded by the deafening sound of gunfire.

“We’re surrounded, Commander! The only way is to push through the front!” a man shouted, preparing his gun. “I’ll cover you. Samuel, take the rear!”

Samuel, his face pale, shook his head repeatedly. “It’s too risky, Nick! We might not make it!”

“But if we stay here, we die!”

Oliver’s grip on his machine gun tightened. It was a critical fight, but they couldn’t surrender.

“No one will die. Trust me. I’ll get us through this,” Oliver assured, his voice laced with determination. “As your commander, I will protect you all.”

Despite the fear, Samuel and Nick nodded, trusting Oliver completely.

Oliver closed his eyes, followed by the sharp pain lanced through his head. “What… What was that?”

Jackson took the opportunity to his advantage. He swung the baseball bat at Oliver with all his might.

“This is for you, bastard!” Jackson shouted.

Oliver stumbled to the floor as the blood dripped from his head.

The sharp pain made him freeze, but it was quickly drowned out by something deeper—his combat instincts kicking in, taking over.

“U-Ugh!” Jackson groaned when Oliver slammed him to the ground with terrifying force.

Jackson tried to free himself, but Oliver was strong. His mind was blank and he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Oliver!” someone suddenly shouted.

It was the woman from earlier.

Oliver regained consciousness, and found himself with his hand clenched around Jackson’s neck, choking him.

“Shit!” he released his grip, stepping back in disbelief. “W-What happened?”

Gasping for air, Jackson crawled backward on the ground. “Y-You’re not an ordinary man… Who really are you?”

Before Oliver could answer, the woman placed her hands on Jackson’s neck, making him unconscious.

“Even if he tries to tell anyone what happened here, no one will believe him,” the woman told Oliver. “And dealing with people like him is like an elephant crushing an ant. They don’t stand a chance against you. They’re not worth your time, either.”

“I know.” Oliver sighed.

“You also stopped me from intervening earlier,” Melissa added, remembering their encounter at the wet market.

“Yes, because no harm should come to innocent civilians…”

Oliver frowned as he said those words. It felt familiar, like something he had said a thousand times before.

“Even with your memories gone, you still remember the principle you lived by,” Melissa said, a small smile playing on her lips.

Oliver looked at her, curiosity evident in his eyes. “You… Do you really know me?”

“As of now, I know you more than you know yourself,” she responded.

She pulled a business card from her pocket. “I’m Melissa, and I work in the Legion’s cyber operations department as a hacker.”

Oliver studied the business card. His brows furrowed, finding the company name oddly familiar for him.

“The Legion is the largest mercenary company, not just in Colossia but internationally. Our work involves protecting clients and, when necessary, eliminating threats,” Melissa explained.

She added, “Everyone’s been trying to track you down for years, but I’m glad I found you first.”

“And why are they trying to find me?” Oliver asked, confused.

Melissa stepped closer, looking Oliver in the eye.

“Because you, Oliver Hunt, was known as Zero, the God of Mercenaries.”