Chapter 1378: Chapter 1378

"What comes to mind when you hear 'soporific'?"

The god behind the desk posed the question, but he didn't wait for Jenkins to answer, providing the solution himself:

"The true effect of that tobacco isn't felt in reality, but in the dreamscape. With deliberate influence, dreams can be made wonderfully beautiful. For people whose real lives are filled with pain, a false dream might be far more appealing. If you investigate a little, you'll find that those who have smoked that tobacco experience dreams with a high degree of overlap in both frequency and type."

"Connecting their dreams? I never would have thought of that... but what's the point? Is it a way to siphon their spiritual energy?"

"If I simply told you all the answers, wouldn't that make the story dreadfully boring? You can try to figure it out for yourself. It's not a particularly difficult puzzle."

Spiraling Mist once again declined to answer, and Jenkins, not wanting to press the matter, simply nodded. He pondered for a good while before deciding to broach his final topic:

"Regarding the Mad Poet, I actually have many more questions."

"You may ask whatever you like," the god replied. "I just might not answer them all."

"Why would you ask such a question?"

The middle-aged man behind the desk sat up a little straighter.

"From the ancient records I've found, your three-day battle atop the snow mountain seems to have taken place at the very end of that epoch. It was very likely the final battle in the conflict between Saviors. I don't know how powerful the Mad Poet was back then, but from the ruins and accounts left behind, it's clear he had absorbed the power of so many disasters. He couldn't have been considered human anymore, could he? Although it has nothing to do with me, I'm still incredibly curious. In the end, did he actually die or not?"

Jenkins explained his train of thought.

"Alright, I can answer that question. Your guess is correct... Although the battle on the snow mountain ended in my victory, the Mad Poet was not completely destroyed. His body was left in that small mountain village, to be eroded by the great power of time. As for his broken, twisted soul, I used a ritual to banish it from the material world. It was only after I fully came into my own power that I was able to completely erase that soul. So, from this point in time, yes, he is truly dead."

Jenkins nodded in understanding. That outcome was more in line with what he had expected.

"Then are you aware that he possessed a strange mechanical contraption? A machine that could predict the future through a massive number of precise calculations." Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel※fire.net

"I know what you're asking. Is it this?"

The middle-aged man tapped the desk. A swirl of white mist rose, and a familiar cube-shaped model appeared on the tabletop.

Jenkins immediately confirmed.

"I used to wonder what this was as well. After killing the Mad Poet, I learned from his personal effects that he had unearthed this ancient artifact from the southern wastelands of the central continent—near the present-day Nolan region—while searching the world for the causes of disasters.

"I imagine you can guess its origins. It is an incomplete replica created by ancient humans in imitation of the machine in the deepest depths beneath Nolan. But this imitation, besides gaining some of that thing's functions, also perfectly copied its madness and distortion. That is what led to the series of tragedies that followed."

"That original machine beneath Nolan... can it be opposed by human strength? Or rather, does it have any weaknesses?"

Jenkins asked urgently.

"I have never seen it with my own eyes. Even if I were to use my omniscience to find an answer for you, it would be a rigid, inapplicable one. Rather than 'mislead' you like that, it would be better for you to find the answer yourself."

"So... that machine really is the final disaster at the end of this epoch? Or at least a part of it?"

"I never said a thing," the man replied, shaking his head with a smile. "Those were your words." Then he gestured for Jenkins to continue.

"Regarding that unique ability, Child of Disaster, I've managed to learn quite a bit from various sources. I now know there's a group actively seeking this power, and to that end, they are emulating the Mad Poet of old, constantly creating disasters. Is it possible for them to succeed?"

Jenkins asked, stroking the restless cat in his lap. It was repeatedly trying to leap onto the desk.

The god behind the desk thought for a moment, rubbing his chin before finally answering:

"They cannot succeed. That, I can guarantee.

"It's beyond question. The Mad Poet was able to achieve Child of Disaster by absorbing five disasters because the ability was his soul's origin—he was born the Child of Disaster. If one wishes to learn this ability through ritual, it would require far more than just five disasters. You see, God of Lies, abilities of such a unique nature are intrinsically tied to destiny in both their appearance and disappearance. And at this point in time, there is no destiny connected to the Child of Disaster. So it's not that someone is preventing this ability from reappearing, but rather that it is not meant to appear now."

Although the explanation was convoluted, Jenkins inexplicably understood. He then began to worry just what kind of major incident the Tree House would stir up in the end.

"Then is there any ability connected to Child of Disaster? Perhaps one that is its polar opposite."

He asked another question.

"Viscount Franca" gave him a knowing smile and picked up the book from the desk.

"Yes, there is indeed an ability that is the complete opposite of Child of Disaster. Their methods of acquisition are remarkably similar, yet differ at a crucial point. Don't ask me what that most critical step is, because I do not know. Yes, I truly do not know. But I believe you do.

"Oh, I'm going to read a bit longer before I leave. This encyclopedia is quite interesting. You may ask one last question. It's getting late, and I imagine you don't intend to spend the night in the nearby town. You must be in a hurry to get back."

"One last question..."

Jenkins still had a mountain of questions he wanted to ask; he could go on until midnight and still not be finished. But since the other party had said so, he could only ask one more. Today's gains had already been substantial enough.

For a moment, he couldn't decide which question was most important, so he opted for Alexia's:

"I'd like to know, is there any particular reason why your descendants are living so close to Nolan at this moment in time?"

"No reason," the god replied. "It's all a coincidence."

Without even needing his Lie Godhood, Jenkins could feel he was being lied to.