Chapter 124: Chapter 124

He grabbed his suitcase, clapped his black hat on his head, tucked his cane under his arm, and scooped up Chocolate. Follow current novels on novelꞁire.net

"Sir, I forgot to turn off the steam valve at my place. I have to go back," Jenkins declared.

He dashed out of the shop. Old Jack peeked out from the back, holding a tray with a puzzled look on his face.

"Didn't I tell him Oliver was fine? Kids these days... Huh? Why can't I ever get that lucky and find an apprentice as good as him?"

Jenkins hailed a carriage back to the station, bought a ticket to Nolan City, and by dusk, he had finally returned to the home he'd left only a day ago.

Nolan looked the same as always, but the air quality today was exceptionally poor. The city was unusually quiet for dusk, though a clamor seemed to drift from the factory district to the east.

Jenkins climbed into another carriage, directing the coachman on a route through the city.

The horse's hooves clattered against the cobblestones. The coachman hung out a kerosene lamp, and the carriage cut through the lingering fog as it made its way down the street.

He took a few steps forward and mounted the white stone stairs. The sigil of the Sage was carved into the great door before him.

Jenkins wondered with a flicker of alarm.

Normally, the Church of Knowledge and Books would never be closed at this hour, but now its newly repaired golden doors were shut tight.

he shouted, trying to push the door, but it wouldn't budge.

He circled around to the back entrance he usually used and found it sealed just as securely. Yet, the threads of fate were undeniably pointing inside.

Footsteps echoed from the other end of the alley, and a tall man emerged from the fog.

Jenkins dropped Chocolate and the suitcase, holding his cane in one hand and a pistol in the other. Only then did he realize the approaching figure was Jerry Schleicher, the middle-aged man with the full beard from Captain Bincy's squad.

Half of the man's face was caked in blood, and his right arm hung limply at his side at an unnatural angle.

Jenkins blinked, shifting to his other vision. The points of light on the man's body were the same as before. It was him.

"Sir, what happened to you?"

Jenkins immediately rushed over, pressed his hand to the man's scalp, and activated his ability. Beneath the matted blood was a ghastly wound.

the man asked, his voice dazed.

"It's me! What's going on here?"

"Behind you! Watch out!"

Jenkins swung his arm back. His right hand, wreathed in white mist, collided with a charred claw engulfed in black flames.

The black fire and white mist annihilated each other. Mr. Schleicher stared in astonishment.

"Besides divine arts, a common frost ability can also counter demon fire!"

A faint smell of sulfur wafted from his opponent, accompanied by a soft whispering. For once, the murmurs were perfectly clear, recounting blasphemous tales and forbidden ritual knowledge.

Perhaps the story the professor had once told was simply a record from some cultist who had listened to these very whispers.

Laying Schleicher down gently, Jenkins plunged back into the fog alone. Bang! He fired the pistol in his left hand, then swung the cane in his right behind him. The sharp clang of metal on metal rang out instantly.

Sensing something, he spun to the right, dodging a ball of black fire, and fired another shot in that direction.

The hem of his black coat billowed with the movement, brushing against a hidden creature and immediately catching fire.

The cane struck something again. Jenkins deliberately created an opening, firing in the opposite direction, and immediately heard the whistle of a fist cutting through the air behind him.

With a pistol in his left hand and a cane in his right, he couldn't counter with a punch of his own.

"Blasphemous Creation!"

His target was right behind him. Without waiting to see the result, he retreated rapidly, firing the pistol repeatedly at the spot where a low scream had erupted.

A few minutes later, the screaming stopped. Jenkins advanced, cane at the ready, only to find a pile of black dust on the ground. He kicked it aside, revealing a translucent, ethereal coin and a small, flickering black flame.

"Not even enough for a full coin? That's not right. This ability isn't supposed to be lethal, is it?"

He wondered, perplexed, as he pinched the coin and slipped it into his pocket, then immediately swiveled the pistol to point behind him.

It was Jerry Schleicher.

"You dealt with it that quickly?"

he asked in disbelief.

"Was that a demon just now?"

"No, a real demon wouldn't be that weak. That was a demon-man."

He grabbed Jenkins's arm and spoke quickly. "No more questions for now. Come with me."

He pulled an old pocket watch from his coat, flipped open the cover, and turned the hands counter-clockwise twice. The sound of colliding gears rang out—click, clack—and two seconds later, the watch crumbled in his palm into a pile of springs, metal plates, and gears.

From the mess, he picked out an oddly shaped metal axle, felt along the nearby wall, and inserted it.

With a loud clank, a fissure opened in the wall.

"It's an emergency, so the church is sealed. Only those with a key can get in."

The two of them stepped through the opening. Chocolate, having licked up the last of the flames on the ground, scurried in after them, and the fissure sealed shut behind them.

The church was empty, but Jenkins could see clusters of hidden light spots scattered around the room.

the man said, panting heavily. "I came back to retrieve something, but I was ambushed. I can't move well. You need to take A-10-1-0021 to Heisend Manor in the countryside. Be quick."

They were heading toward the underground Gate of All Things, which, coincidentally, was exactly where the purple line of destiny was leading him.

They descended the stairs and crossed the empty great hall. Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, was sprawled on the floor, and the bronze Gate of All Things was half-open, the angle suggesting it led to the sealing chamber.

A figure in a black robe limped toward them, holding a very familiar mirror.

"By the Sage, how dare someone break in here!"

the bearded man leaning on Jenkins cried out. He took several deep breaths and raised a hand as if to say more, but gasped for air and fainted.

The robed figure let out a pair of derisive chuckles. Ignoring Jenkins's deep frown, he clutched the mirror and started to leave.

Jenkins stepped in his path; the purple line pointed directly at him.

The robed man said nothing, simply angling the mirror in his hands to face Jenkins.

The dusty surface immediately cleared. A pale hand reached out, and a grotesque figure wrapped in white bandages crawled out of the mirror. It fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.

"Damn it. Cough, cough. Why is there so little sin?"

the robed man complained slowly, though without any panic. From the sound of his voice, it was clear he was also heavily injured.

"Get out of my way now, and I'll spare your life!"