Chapter 127: Chapter 127

"You've taken the wrong path. Go left. There's just a pack of fiends ahead."

The old knight explained, then let out a sharp whistle and settled the stringed, brown cowboy hat onto his head.

A point of blue light erupted in a dazzling display. Lines radiated outward from its center, transparent threads connecting to four other motes of light—one white, one red, one gold, and one yellow—forging a complex sigil.

The hand holding down his hat suddenly erupted in blue flames. A moment later, the hat itself caught fire, burning away flesh until only a skull remained.

The fire streamed down his body, his leather jacket sizzling as it burned, his flesh melting away to reveal a skeleton. Almost simultaneously, his legs and his mount transformed into skeletal forms. The horse's hooves stamped the ground in excitement, leaving behind blazing blue prints.

Blue flames flickered within its eye sockets. The skull, still wearing the hat, nodded at Jenkins and then bellowed:

"May the departed find peace, and in death, behold the end! Order of Undead Knights, ride out!"

With a shriek, the skeletal steed charged forward. The black-robed knights behind him followed suit, their bodies bursting into blue flames as they galloped, transforming them into skeleton riders.

A few seconds later, all that remained before Jenkins were rows of smoldering hoofprints and the roadside weeds burning silently in their wake.

He muttered to himself, then jolted with a start, clutching the box and veering onto the path to the far left.

He pushed through the forest, branches tearing at his clothes. In the distance, he could see the dark silhouette of a manor at the foot of a hill. The grass underfoot gradually turned a withered yellow, and a faint scent of sulfur drifted up from the earth.

The moment Jenkins set foot on the scorched-yellow earth, he heard a sizzle from the soles of his shoes, leaving him bewildered.

The newly acquired golden point of light trembled ceaselessly before his eyes. Faint, jumbled whispers brushed against his ears, and his skin began to prickle. But as Spirit flowed through his body, these strange sensations quickly faded.

He ran a few more steps and saw that the distant manor was now completely surrounded. A dark figure spotted him and immediately headed his way.

He was a tall, lean man with a swarthy complexion. On his left hand, he wore a blood-red glove, and on his right, a white one that seemed to luminesce in the twilight. Thɪs chapter is updated by nοvelfire.net

He seemed to know Jenkins.

"Yes. Mr. Schleich was attacked on his way to the church, so he had me deliver A-10-1-0021 in his place."

Another man ran over. It was Rogers Bentz, the one who had informed Jenkins to go to the sanatorium the last time he was reading in the Secret Trace Library.

"Is Schleich alright?" he asked.

"He's fine, but he'll need to rest for a while. Oh, right, gentlemen—someone broke into the church's Hall of All Things!"

He held out the box, handing it to Bentz.

"Was anyone hurt? What's the situation?"

The two of them immediately grew tense.

"Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, was knocked unconscious. No one else was harmed. It seems the intruder used some kind of disguise to get in, rather than forcing their way through."

The man with the red and white gloves said, "We'll deal with that later. The demon here is the priority. Did anything unusual happen on your way here?"

"I just ran into a group of skeletal knights on horseback."

"Hmph. So it was that bone brigade."

He looked a little angry, but he didn't lash out.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Williams. It's extremely dangerous up ahead. Miss Bevanna is confronting the demon, but it should be over soon. You should go back. If Papa Oliver finds out you came all the way out here, he'll chew us all out for a long time."

Jenkins asked immediately.

"Of course he's at the antique shop. Isn't the whole city under lockdown?"

It was a relief that Papa Oliver was alright. Jenkins watched the two men leave, then quickly ran back the way he came. Once in the forest, he summoned his Black Robe to conceal his identity.

It was only as he stepped onto the leftmost path that he remembered the strange diviner's warning from that night. If everything she said was true, and if parts of what was on the parchment were also true, did that mean Miss Mikhail was really trapped in this manor tonight?

Though they were only casual friends, now that he had this divinity in hand, it might be worth the risk to take a look. Besides, Jenkins was intensely curious about a real demon. Unlike the undead knights, who were transformed humans, this was likely a primordial demon—a true demon, the kind of creature from another world mentioned in that half-finished book.

He approached the manor from another direction, moving in fits and starts. There were quite a few Enchanters from his own church nearby, making it impossible for Jenkins to get close. He retreated back into the woods to rethink his approach, only to see the dual-colored moonlight dappling the ground through the leaves. A familiar, dejected figure was sitting beneath a tree, crying softly.

Withdrawing his Black Robe, Jenkins walked over.

Jenkins answered softly.

The crying woman under the tree was Miss Hersha. A violin was slung over her back, and on her raised arms were a silver-thread bracelet and a golden bell. All three items emanated a spiritual glow.

"Why did you come here? Don't you know a demon from ancient legends has appeared?"

she asked, sniffling.

"I came to see what all the fuss was about. I just saw a group of knights wreathed in blue flames charge down that road over there."

"That's the Order of Undead Knights from the Church of Death and End. Their inherited blue heteromorphic ability requires the seed of a demon's flame as the core of its learning ritual. Now that the true demon is being held at bay by the followers of the Legacy Sage, they're naturally hunting down the remaining half-demons like mad dogs."

Her explanation made it clear why the man in the gloves had been so angry—someone else had swooped in to steal their prize. But Miss Hersha wasn't a high-level Enchanter. How did she know such secrets?

"You need to leave. It's dangerous here."

The girl lifted her tear-streaked face and said, her red hair tied securely at the back of her head.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is Miss Mikhail in the manor?"

"No, this has nothing to do with you! Just go, Jenkins! I might not be able to be your guide anymore. Leave this place. You're not cut out to be an Enchanter. You shouldn't die here. Go back and forget about all of this."

Jenkins shook his head, drew the pistol from his waist, and fired a shot to the side. Thankfully, the woods were some distance from the manor; otherwise, the gunshot would have surely alerted the church's Enchanters.

The familiar whispers rose again, and a dark shadow appeared beneath the shade of the trees.