Chapter 1289: Chapter 1289
Bidding the huntress farewell, Jenkins followed the sewer pipes out of the black market's territory until he found the spot where Hathaway had left the small blackboard.
The small blackboard was still there, adorned with chalk drawings: a small bird, a cat, a pentagram, a candle, and what looked like a robe but was actually a hood. This signified that everyone except Silver Flute Miss would participate in the 'Story within a Story' game. Considering she had temporarily fled Nolan, her absence was perfectly understandable.
"I hope she stays safe."
Jenkins whispered. The stench was so overwhelming he had to breathe through his mouth, which made his voice sound muffled.
Lifting the small blackboard, he found a string of numbers written in chalk on the wall behind it. After applying the cipher—multiplying the odd numbers by three and adding two, while subtracting one from the even numbers—the resulting six digits would reveal the exact month, day, and hour the game was to begin.
Next, he ran his fingers along the iron-bound edge of the blackboard and felt several raised bumps in the bottom-right corner. Jenkins couldn't read by touch, so he materialized some red pigment, dabbed it onto the bumps, and pressed a piece of paper against them. The impression revealed the meeting location for this Friday.
"I happen to be free this Friday... Then again," he mused, "isn't this Friday the day Silver Flute Miss claimed the Fidektri Kingdom and the Cheslan Kingdom would go to war?"
By the time he emerged from the reeking sewers, it was lunchtime. Since neither Alexia nor Dolores would be returning to the manor for lunch, Jenkins decided not to bother going back himself.
The cat, having hidden quietly inside his coat all morning, was now starting to protest. He found a nearby restaurant for a meal, and only after eating did he begin to search for the suitcase's origin, guided by the results of Alexia's divination.
He made his way to Greengrove Street in eastern Nolan. Turning at the corner, he walked halfway down the block before slipping into an alley. A left turn brought him to a rusty, external iron staircase. He climbed it to the third floor, knocked, then ducked to push open the door. Inside, he found a luggage shop.
"It's so well hidden. If not for that little sign outside, I'd never have guessed there was a shop here," Jenkins thought. "How in the world did Alexia's divination lead me to this exact spot?"
The shop's owner, an old man who looked even more ancient than Bishop Parrold, was slumped over the counter, seemingly taking an afternoon nap.
Jenkins decided not to disturb him immediately. Instead, he took a slow turn around the small but exceptionally cluttered shop. Just as he'd hoped, he spotted a suitcase identical to the one he was investigating in a corner near the door.
He ran a hand over it. The surface texture felt identical. It was, he concluded, the very same model.
"Excuse me, sir. How much is this one?"
Jenkins turned to ask the sleeping proprietor, deliberately raising his voice to wake him. But the old man didn't respond, his head still hanging low.
"Maybe his hearing's bad, or perhaps he's just a very deep sleeper?"
After calling out twice more and getting no response, Jenkins approached the counter and rapped his knuckles on its surface. A feeling of unease washed over him. He pulled on his gloves before carefully, but firmly, lifting the old man's head.
The eye sockets were empty, filled with nothing but dried, black blood. There was no life left in the body. The man had been dead since this morning, at the very latest.
"Gouging out the eyes... Was it to prevent a ritual from revealing the last face he saw?"
Jenkins mused in shock. He lifted the hinged section of the counter and stepped behind it, intending to examine the corpse for a cause of death.
Aside from the gouged-out eyes, the body showed no external injuries. The man's clothes were tidy, and there were no signs of a struggle.
Remembering the signature traits of his adversary, Jenkins reached down to pry open the corpse's tightly clenched jaw. The moment he did, a thick, putrid yellow mist erupted from the mouth, blasting him in the face.
Jenkins cried out and staggered backward, clutching his face. He convulsed for a moment before managing to pull himself to his feet.
"That's absolutely foul!"
It may have been a trap left by the killer, but the poison itself was useless against Jenkins. The problem was the smell—a nauseating blend of the toxin and the fermented food residue from within the corpse. The vile stench was almost enough to make him retch.
Still, the discovery of the trap all but confirmed the killer's identity. It had to be a member of the Perfume Appreciation Committee, here to tie up a loose end.
A quick search revealed no ledger; he assumed it had been taken. Jenkins carefully laid the body flat on the counter, bowed his head, and traced a holy symbol over the man's chest in a quiet prayer for the unfortunate soul. Afterwards, he stepped outside, hung the "Temporarily Closed" sign on the door, and instead of leaving, climbed onto the roof to observe the streets below.
He spotted two uniformed officers patrolling nearby. He drew the pistol from his belt, fired a single shot into the air, and then calmly made his exit across the rooftops, disappearing down the far side of the alley.
The lead from the luggage shop was a dead end, proving that the organization behind the strange cigarettes was exceedingly cautious. Jenkins already knew from his time in Ruen that the churches had launched a joint operation to trace the cigarettes' origins, and newspapers had begun warning the public of their dangers. Yet, there had been little progress. After a moment's thought, he decided to visit the cigarette factory Mr. Hood had mentioned.
Though he wasn't privy to the details of the situation in Nolan, he assumed the Church had already dealt with the factory.
Just as he expected, the atmosphere near the mining district felt off. Jenkins shifted his appearance to that of a gaunt, wiry man and slipped in with a group of miners starting their shift. Overhearing the local chatter, he learned that a fierce gunfight had erupted nearby on Thursday night, followed by muffled explosions and bizarre flashes of light.
Thursday afternoon was when the intelligence from all three sources had been consolidated by the Church. The Nolan diocese had acted with impressive speed.
He followed a gravel road made for cargo carts toward the secret tobacco workshop and spotted disguised Church Enchanters on patrol. Employing a bit of stealth, he slipped in through a skylight, dropping into the workshop's ransacked interior.
The place must have been operational right before the raid. While the Church had confiscated all finished and semi-finished products, raw materials still lay scattered across the floor, catching the faint sunlight.
Jenkins crouched to examine the materials but found nothing unusual. He then activated his supernatural sight and scanned the area, detecting a faint spiritual aura emanating from beneath the floor in the northeast corner.
"You really shouldn't keep spiritually active materials in a secret room," he thought wryly. "For someone with my sight, it's like putting up a sign."
He crept low along the wall to avoid being spotted by the patrols outside. Reaching the spot above the glow, he examined the floor but found no sign of a trapdoor.
Realizing the entrance must be deeply concealed, he left a spiritual lodestone on the spot and exited with his cat through the skylight. He summoned a unicorn to fly him to a distant hill overlooking the factory, where he left Chocolate with an illusion of himself. Using a projection, he returned to the workshop and detonated his Twin Demon ability directly above the spiritual glow. Then, retrieving the lodestone, his projection dissipated, and he was back beside Chocolate. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on n0velfire.net
The hill provided an excellent vantage point. He watched as the hidden Enchanters panicked, rushing from their positions toward the site of the explosion. He knew the Church would now tear the place apart in their investigation. The secret chamber was as good as discovered.
"Later tonight, I'll go to the church in Ruen and ask to be connected with the Nolan diocese. I'll report my activities for the week to Miss Bevanna, then inquire about the latest developments. That should tell me what they find in that secret room."
He was pleased with his cautious approach, confident it was the optimal choice. He glanced at the sky. Through the thick smog, the sun was a pale disc with a black halo, still high overhead. Since it was early, he decided to swing by Fifth Queen's Avenue for a quick, distant look at Papa Oliver before heading back to Ruen.
"Chocolate, let's go."
He beckoned to the cat sitting at his feet. It sprang into the air, and Jenkins deftly caught it, setting it on his shoulder.
Turning away from the mining district below, he gazed out at the sprawling city on the coastal plain. This was his home now, the place where the people he loved lived. And Jenkins swore to himself that he would protect it.
The unexpected has a way of ambushing you. The mining district was in the east, while Pops Antique Shop was in the west, near the Docklands. He was walking across the city and had just reached the downtown area when the world around him shifted once more.
The ambient noise of the city died away. He looked up and saw an enormous yellow moon hanging in the sky. Jenkins knew at once he had entered the Doomsday Illusion again.
With two prior experiences, Jenkins remained calm. He surveyed his surroundings, then began wading through fetid water, pushing aside thick cobwebs as he made his way toward the clock tower that loomed in the distance.
Its real-world counterpart was Nolan's clock tower. Jenkins hadn't forgotten what Silver Flute Miss told him: in the Mysterious Realm she'd entered, the clock tower was the location of the being that announced the realm's rules.
The last time, it had been too far away; he'd returned to reality before he could get close. This time, however, the clock tower was just a street away.
On his way, he encountered another one of those monsters that dissolved into ash when killed. Jenkins engaged it in a brief duel before felling it with a clean, leaping slash.
Approaching the clock tower, he found the public square at its base was a complete void, just like his home and the church Silver Flute Miss had described. He then remembered the aftermath of the Twin Demon incident last year, when the gods bestowed their grace upon the Church's Enchanters in this very spot. Captain Bincy had mentioned that for the next six months, divine rituals and arts would work with exceptional ease within the square, and it would automatically repel any evil creature.
That was for the best—certainly better than a square swarming with monsters. The only problem was that he couldn't get into the dilapidated clock tower through the main entrance. The door looked as if it had been hit by something immense; it was jammed tight in its frame and wouldn't budge. Blasting it open would only attract every monster in the vicinity. After a moment's consideration, Jenkins concluded that his only option was to climb.