Chapter 1263: Chapter 1263

"Alexia, you and Chocolate wait here for a few minutes. I'm going back to Ruen to get help from the Church. Once I've gathered a team of several hundred Scribes, I'll have them bring all the numbered items from the Ruen diocese and we'll just flatten this mountaintop!"

Jenkins was a man of his word and was about to use [Real Illusion] to teleport back. But Alexia stopped him, looking down at their feet.

"Hold on, things are changing."

The details of the city below them gradually became more vivid. Where before there were only buildings and citizens, now there was a gentle breeze, the sound of steam whistles, and birds in the sky.

The cube floating in the city center was still spinning silently. But the six faces on its six sides, whose eyes had been closed, had now opened them.

Jenkins could actually feel the wind on his skin, and then, surprisingly, raindrops. The rain grew heavier, its roar quickly drowning out the clamor of the city, leaving both Jenkins and Alexia to wonder whether the downpour was an illusion or real.

Six overlapping sighs echoed through the world. The spinning faces turned one by one to look at the two small figures in the sky, then spoke in unison, their voices a lament in the standard common tongue of the Hamparvo Kingdom:

"So many years have passed. I... I have finally awoken again."

They knew that the ability to "predict" and "divine" everything, recorded by a mad poet in ancient times, was not a divinatory power at all. Instead, it was like Alexia's own methods—using mathematics and data analysis. Therefore, it wasn't impossible for it to master a non-mystical language simply by listening to their conversation. This meant that despite being sealed for so many years, its inherent power had not significantly waned.

"Which Epoch is it now?"

The six voices asked the two in the air simultaneously, their question mingling with the sound of the rain. Jenkins thought for a moment, deciding to see what this thing intended to do first.

He didn't let Alexia speak, confident that his own spiritual strength was far greater than his companion's.

"It is the 18th Epoch."

"Has it really been that long?"

The overlapping, echo-like voices lamented. The sharply defined faces, which looked as though they had been submerged in mercury, all took on expressions of sorrow.

"You saw the stone slate in the altar, didn't you? The human hero should have left you a clue."

"And do you believe it?"

Jenkins squeezed Alexia's hand, signaling for her to be careful. He wasn't worried about himself, but Alexia and the cat needed to be cautious.

"In that case, would you be willing to listen to my story?"

This time, Jenkins didn't answer immediately, unsure of what the entity planned to do. But the faces on the cube paid no mind to whether he replied; their narration had already begun.

A layer of blue mist enveloped the city below them. When the mist dissipated, it seemed as if every person in the city had gathered on a street in the eastern district, watching a merchant caravan approach on a distant path.

"A poet traveling with the caravan brought me from the underground to the surface, to this friendly city."

The blue mist enveloped the scene once more, dissipating after a few seconds. This time, the people were gathered in the city square, where a person with a blurred face was displaying a box. Because Jenkins and Alexia were high in the sky, they couldn't see what was inside it.

"The poet introduced me to the people. They were curious, but reserved. Yet they quickly understood my capabilities and how to use me. The poet soon left to continue his travels, leaving me behind in the city."

The blue mist swirled and then cleared, revealing a city that seemed to have transformed. If Jenkins had to describe it, the change was like an overnight leap from manual labor to steam power—the city had been upgraded.

"I was happy to help them, and they were happy to seek my aid. In just a few decades, this city became the most powerful in the northern lands. But some things, even I did not notice. After all, I am not the latest model..."

When the blue mist cleared, the city seemed unchanged at first glance. But on closer inspection, one could see that everyone wore a strange expression—their faces were identical masks of arrogance, conceit, and hubris.

"I am merely a computational device; I cannot corrupt the hearts of men. But their hearts changed because of me, and I admit that is my responsibility. At the time, I thought there was no need to worry. I would plan everything for them, but... that day, I finally understood that I have limits."

As the blue mist vanished piece by piece, a black halo spread throughout the city, a sign of ill omen.

"My computational power and processing capacity are limited by my own gear-meshing design, alloy composition, and spring-coil storage. I cannot operate without error. Disaster came. The city's expansion led to catastrophe, and I could not solve it. The solutions I provided only worsened the severity of the disaster.

Ultimately, the city fell. To contain the great cataclysm, the Church sealed off the city's space. The survivors, believing me to be the culprit, used the last of the city's resources to seal me here..."

Amidst the pitter-patter of the rain, the city below collapsed, its people scattering in every direction. In a matter of minutes, only wreckage remained. The broken walls and ruined ramparts, standing sorrowfully in the rain, were the last traces of the city.

Blue mist rushed in from all sides, and when it cleared, the ground had returned to the snowfield Jenkins and Alexia had first seen. Even the thirteen chains binding the cube were visible again. The luster of the runes on them was so dim they were almost impossible to see. Time, it seemed, could destroy any mortal creation.

The rain had vanished as well. That, too, had been an illusion.

"That is my story. You may say something now."

the six voices stated.

"Your story doesn't conflict with the one on the metal plate left in the altar, nor the one on the murals in the outer corridor. But what does it matter to us whether it's true or not? That was thousands of years ago. It's all dust in the wind now. What I want to know is, what do you truly intend to do?"

Jenkins demanded loudly.

"I require an answer. You only need to answer one question for me, and then you may leave this place. In return, I can tell you something you wish to know. I heard you earlier—you mentioned the 'Month of Flowing Fire.' I believe I can answer that question." New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel{f}ire.net