Chapter 1299: Chapter 1299

Acquiring the [Red Martial] ability, [Child of Disaster], required no ritual. All one needed was to possess a copy of the "Disaster Poem" and trigger five large-scale disasters.

The copy of the Poem would absorb power from each catastrophe, and once all five had been claimed, the ability would fully materialize.

This was how Jenkins deduced that the man clutching the clay tablet was from the Tree House. After all, only that particular group would be interested in such a horrific and malevolent ability.

"If you choose to surrender, I can arrange for a more favorable interrogation environment. I do have that authority," Jenkins offered.

He didn't actually expect to persuade the man. He was waiting for his companions to make a move, unaware that the demigods were waiting for him, their Saint, to strike first.

"Do you think this is all over, Your Holiness?" the man challenged. "Here's an interesting question for you: when forced to choose between saving the city below and pursuing your enemy, which would you pick?"

The man's voice boomed as he posed the question. Jenkins noticed the massive, grotesque black shadow behind him was writhing.

"The city has already been saved," Jenkins answered, his voice clear and firm.

"Then I shall bring it a new crisis."

With a deafening boom, the colossal shadow was forced to self-destruct, unleashing all of its power. The violent surge of spirit slammed into the nine figures in the sky, forcing them toward the ground. The man clutching the clay tablet seized the opportunity, using the blast to propel himself into the distance.

"Just a friendly reminder," he called out, "if you don't intervene, the resulting chain reaction will annihilate Ruen."

He cackled as he flew toward the distant mountains. Above the city, the chaotic and disordered spirit from the explosion simultaneously affected the shadow realm that ran parallel to the material world. Recognizing the danger, the demigods abandoned their pursuit and immediately worked to stabilize the flow of spirit and repel the encroaching shadows. Jenkins, lacking expertise in elemental balance or shadow powers, furrowed his brow and pretended to collapse from exhaustion in mid-air. Mr. Rossier quickly caught him and carried him down to the ground.

Down in the city of Ruen, pale blue light pulsed around Alexia. She held her blue cube, its glow washing over the agitated shadows like a calming tide.

Dolores gazed worriedly at the sky, a touch of longing in her eyes for those who could fly so freely. Meanwhile, Chocolate stood on the railing beside her, its mere presence a deterrent to the shadows. As long as the cat remained, the power of the shadow realm could not possibly affect the city.

Above the dark mountain range, the man clutching the clay tablet was beginning to tire. He landed breathlessly on a snowy peak and looked back. The lights of Ruen were just tiny specks swallowed by the darkness.

He collapsed unceremoniously into the snow and, by the light of the moon, examined his clay tablet. The first of its five indentations was now completely filled with a fractured black gemstone.

He threw his head back and laughed, a wild, mad sound that echoed through the desolate peaks. Suddenly, a strange noise cut through the air. The man instinctively threw up his arm to block. The sharp clang of metal on metal rang out, accompanied by a shower of sparks. He rolled aside and saw that he was surrounded by snowmen, with a blurry-faced man standing in the distance.

he shouted. When the figure didn't reply, his tone became certain as he spoke again:

"A follower of the God of Lies! I knew it. I suspected your group would make an appearance before I even acted, but I never imagined you'd anticipate my escape route."

"How does everyone seem to figure me out?" Orıginal content can be found at novel{f}ire.net

Jenkins wondered. His physical body was still back in Ruen; this was a projection he'd sent back to the Ice Palace to hastily gather his snowman army. He retracted his scepter, drew his sword, and silently commanded the snowmen to attack.

Dozens of snowmen surged toward the man on the peak, instantly burying him in an avalanche of snow and ice. But a moment later, fiery red magma erupted from beneath the snow. With a sound like a shrieking steam whistle, scorching vapor blasted in all directions, melting away half the bodies of the closest snowmen.

"You are no demigod, but I am," the man snarled. "Who gave you the courage to confront me alone?"

Veins bulged across the surface of his body, glowing with a dull red light like magma flowing through the earth's veins. The man's entire form seemed to be burning; indeed, he had already melted more than half of the snow on the summit.

"I don't believe the current situation suggests I was planning on a one-on-one duel, do you?"

Jenkins retorted sarcastically, the holy sword in his hand reflecting the desolate moonlight. He swept the blade across the snow, unleashing a flash of white light so brilliant it seemed to dim the stars for a few seconds. But as the sword light passed through the man's body, it wasn't fragments of flesh that fell to the snow, but pieces of searing hot obsidian.

Jenkins froze for a moment. As the snowmen retreated to reform, he hurried forward and used his sword to push aside the pile of stones. In the center lay a string of paper talismans.

"Damn it! He was long gone. This was just a decoy!"

He swore under his breath, his eyes, tinged with a faint purple glow, scanning the silent night. But there was no longer any trace of his opponent.

*Chocolate, on the run...*

After Jenkins settled his snowman army, he dismissed the projection and returned to his body. When he "awoke," he was disappointed not to hear the classic line about an "unfamiliar ceiling," so he muttered it to himself—nearly convincing the nun waiting by his side that he had gone mad.

He had only been "unconscious" for half an hour, but the chaos in the city had already subsided. Once the enemy vanished, the city's immense capacity for self-recovery took over. Coupled with the fact that Jenkins's earlier technique had restored mobility to most of the injured, the turmoil ended as soon as the demigods re-stabilized the balance of spirit.

Standing by the window, however, he could still hear the shouts of police patrols in the streets outside the church, urging citizens to stay home. A great deal had happened tonight. Even though the demigod from the Tree House had retreated, the business with Dolores's siblings was far from over.

Mr. Rossier was still occupied. Upon waking, Jenkins had received a letter delivered on behalf of Alexia, so he wasn't worried about his cat or the young women.

He had the church prepare some food and sat alone in his room, waiting for Mr. Rossier to return so they could discuss the night's events.

His thoughts returned to the man who had escaped, and to the "Disaster Poem." Jenkins heaved a heavy sigh and, cup in hand, turned to gaze at the sky outside his window. It was a restless night under two full moons, but the starry sky above remained as cold and indifferent as it had been for ten thousand years.