Chapter 135: Chapter 135

In his Eye of Reality, the holy emblem radiated a brilliant golden light; it was undoubtedly a special item. The problem, however, was that items from the three categories—Cursed Items, Extraordinary items, and Bestowals—could not be offered as sacrifices to a god. That much was common knowledge.

Carefully placing the holy emblem in a suitable spot on the floor, Jenkins gazed at the matching emblem on the great bronze door before him. He knelt on one knee and began to pray softly:

"I seek Your gaze. Praise the Sage. Your brilliance illuminates our path forward."

With his eyes closed, he couldn't see that as the ritual progressed, the holy emblem had begun to glow faintly.

He found he couldn't open his eyes. His body felt as if it were plunging through clouds as a majestic voice resonated from all directions. A figure approached from the distance, heralded by a gentle hymn much like the choir's songs during Sunday service.

He couldn't discern its form, nor did he dare to look directly at the silhouette. Jenkins lowered his head, feeling—just as he had before—a gentle gaze upon him, so tangible it felt physical.

A few seconds later, a cool, soft touch graced his forehead. Then, as if struck by a sledgehammer, he was falling again.

When he opened his eyes, the holy emblem before him had vanished. He subconsciously reached up to touch his forehead.

"Mr. Williams, it seems your devotion to the Sage is truly unparalleled."

Jenkins, of course, knew it was simply because he had experienced scenes far too many times.

But the question remained: gods were said to have no physical form. Their state of being was superior to mortals, lacking any shape the human senses could perceive. So why, on all three occasions he had met a god, had the being's appearance always matched his expectations?

The old man handed him a handkerchief. Jenkins took it and wiped his face, only to find it stained with blood. He was bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on noveⅼfire.net

"Ah, the vitality of youth!"

Elder Wood praised from the side.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I feel... a little dizzy."

"That's not what I mean. I'm asking if you've gained any new knowledge, a new ability, or some profound insight."

Jenkins blinked, taking a mental inventory. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, as usual, but there was nothing new. The motes of light representing his abilities also remained unchanged.

Surely the Sage wasn't angry with him for pocketing those two drops of divinity, was he?

"You can take your time to absorb it all when you get back," the elder said. "I was beside you just now, and I felt the Sage's immense power and boundless knowledge. The blessing bestowed upon you is far greater than that of any other living Saint of this generation... Ahem. That's just my personal opinion, of course. Best not to repeat it to anyone."

Jenkins immediately nodded.

Becoming a Saint wouldn't significantly impact Jenkins's daily life, nor would he be required to take on any additional duties. To put it bluntly, however, the benefits were substantial. Aside from what Papa Oliver had mentioned—being buried in the Hall of Fame Library after death—he would now have priority and discounts when purchasing items from the Church. All Church members at the rank of bishop, captain, Keeper of Secrets, and above, in every diocese both domestic and foreign, would be informed of his Soul Emblem. And as long as it didn't conflict with the Church's core interests, he had the authority to call upon a Scribe squad for assistance.

The elder went on to mention a number of other miscellaneous details, which Jenkins dutifully committed to memory. Finally, the old man turned to the matter of a tangible reward.

"Mr. Williams, as a Saint of the Church, you are entitled to one of our treasured Bestowals. It is a symbol of your new status. I'm not sure if Oliver ever mentioned this to you, but Bestowals actively choose their own masters. While anyone can technically use one, only its chosen master can immerse it in their spirit and unlock its full potential."

He knows Papa Oliver, too?

Jenkins was startled, but he kept his expression carefully neutral.

As he spoke, the elder waved his robes, and three blue phantoms materialized in the air. The first was a palm-sized book that looked scorched. The second was a strangely shaped, slightly curved dagger that more closely resembled a scimitar. And the third was... an eyeball?

"According to procedure, we first allow you to choose from the Bestowals in our local collection. If none are a match, Mr. Williams, then you and I will have to take a trip to the royal capital. What you see are projections of their auras, captured by our diocese's Keeper of Secrets. I've used a little trick to project them for you. Now, open your spirit and tell me if you feel any particular connection."

Jenkins closed his eyes. In truth, he'd felt a connection the moment the phantoms appeared. All three items seemed to be beckoning him, drawing him to reach out and touch them.

"May I ask about their specific functions?"

Jenkins inquired, not yet giving a direct answer.

The elder raised an eyebrow, a look of interest crossing his features. "By the rules, I shouldn't. But since it's you... very well. I'll give you a brief overview. The first item can imprint images from your mind onto its pages; the speed of the projection varies with the clarity of the memory. The second can slice through space, but it is extremely dangerous! Extremely dangerous! I strongly advise against choosing it. The third, which looks like an eyeball, is actually a gemstone that can locate unclaimed treasures in the user's vicinity."

"I'll take the book!"

he declared without a moment's hesitation.

The elder didn't ask for a reason. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the projections, took a few steps forward, and with all his strength, pushed open the Gate of All Things.

With a tremendous, grating groan, the Gate of All Things swung fully open, revealing a familiar, blinding white light beyond the threshold.

With a whoosh, a small golden book shot out, and the bronze doors swung shut behind it.

Jenkins reached out to catch the eagerly approaching book, but it didn't even pause in his hand, plunging directly into his spirit.

The Creation Pencil vibrated obediently, and the mote of light representing Psychography quivered in unison, as if welcoming a new member to their ranks. With the addition of this book, Jenkins imagined it would work in concert with the other two to produce an even more powerful effect.

"Excellent. I admire your choice. C-10-5-9001, the Book of Memories. It now belongs to you."

the elder congratulated him, while Jenkins stared at the gate in confusion.

"Sir," Jenkins began, "I've been through two Mysterious Realms myself. That white light just now..."

"Yes, your senses are correct. The gate's origin is tied to a particular expedition into a Mysterious Realm, though it did not happen in this epoch. If you're interested, you can look up the relevant records at the Holy See. I don't believe our Nolan diocese has any information about this particular item."

Jenkins nodded again.