Chapter 1404: Chapter 1404

In the courtyard of the Legacy Sage Church, Mr. Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, asked Papa Oliver, his voice laced with confusion. With his hands clasped behind his back, Papa Oliver tilted his head up, his brow furrowed as he stared at the nascent ball of light blooming in the darkness. He, too, had no answer.

"I only know of the blue and red moons," Mr. Smith muttered to himself, "the colorless moon representing the great Unlit Moon, and the yellow moon devoured by the Devouring Moon Spirit Cat in ancient times. But this white one... Could the Devouring Moon Spirit Cat have returned to the material world of its own accord? No, that can't be right. The texts say it made a pact with the gods to wait..."

The Keeper of Secrets mused aloud.

Papa Oliver declared with certainty. He and Mr. Smith watched as the ball of white light intensified, slowly expanding outward in a perfect circle. As the light spread, its outermost ring blazed with the greatest brilliance, while the light at its core gradually dimmed.

And so, as the light illuminated half the sky, those brave enough to look up finally saw him—the man who had performed a miracle.

In the heart of the expanding radiance, where the light had driven back the gloom, the dark, chaotic cityscape seemed to superimpose itself upon the vast night sky, both rendered hazy and indistinct by the white glow.

A figure, his features blurred, was mounted on a unicorn draped in golden armor. He stood poised against the night sky, his scepter raised high.

Were it not for the fact that both man and unicorn were suspended upside down, the scene would have looked like a heroic masterpiece, a veritable oil painting. But the people would remember this moment. Having witnessed the deepest, most profound darkness, they would all remember the man who brought them the light.

Within the Doomsday Illusion, Jenkins was channeling all his power into activating the white gem at the tip of his scepter. The resulting radiance was so intense that even he could not keep his eyes open.

But it was all worth it. The sudden darkness that had descended after the whistle shattered had been driven away. Though the city below was now deathly silent, Jenkins could sense it steadily marching toward its final destruction.

The boundless light felt as if it could assimilate both him and the unicorn, turning them into pure luminescence. Jenkins had never felt the power of light so intimately. If he had any empty ability slots—any bubbles left—he might have even gained a unique ability like Light Transformation. But alas, even with twice the number of abilities as a normal human, Jenkins still had his limits.

A peculiar sensation arose in his heart. Jenkins tried to grasp it, to hold on to the feeling, but it was as ephemeral as a dandelion seed on the wind—the moment he reached out to catch it, it would inevitably drift away.

As the light continued to expand, those at its epicenter could finally open their eyes and see. Maintaining his pose with the scepter held high, Jenkins scanned his surroundings. The doomsday city below had become incredibly ethereal. This new light had injected a strange vitality into the city, but it was a vitality that signaled its final, decadent end.

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A voice drifted from ahead. An old man in a simple cloth robe strode through the air, holding himself at the same altitude as Jenkins. The mouth that had once been in the palm of his right hand had now migrated to his face, where it was surrounded by a dense cluster of eyes.

"I was beginning to think you'd never make it out of that clock tower."

Jenkins retorted with a sneer.

"By destroying this city, you have also shattered its fundamental rules," the old man explained, his gaze fixed on Jenkins's scepter. "That has granted me a certain degree of freedom."

"Had I known you possessed such a weapon, I would have killed you at our very first meeting instead of giving you this chance."

"So, what's your plan now? Once the end begins, it can't be stopped. I'll throw your own words back at you: even if you kill me now, it won't change a thing. Honestly, I thought you'd take advantage of the weakened spatial barrier, risk breaking through into the material world, and bide your time for revenge. I never imagined you'd have the nerve to show your face to me directly."

"My only path has ever been to become the king of the city where doomsday and reality converge. My plan was a violation of the rules from the very beginning; the great ones would never permit any other entity to establish a stable, self-contained space outside the material world. To enter the material world directly would mean exposing myself to the gods and masters. I never had any such intention."

The old man explained.

"So I've come to take you down with me."

It stated calmly. At that moment, every eye on its face snapped open, unleashing an eruption of the Gizmo's power. The twenty-odd eyes, more terrifying than any demonic eye, instantly assailed Jenkins with a barrage of debilitating effects: Petrification, Paralysis, Madness, and more. Simultaneously, the old man's twisted, bizarre soul condensed into a terrifying mass of power and launched itself at Jenkins in a final, suicidal charge.

Just then, the infinite light reached its zenith, decisively tipping the scales against the darkness. The white radiance no longer expanded slowly; instead, it stretched out smoothly, blanketing the entire sky. And within that brilliant light, Jenkins extended his empty left hand and finally caught hold of that which he could always feel, but never before touch.

It was a single thread of pure white, of light made manifest. Upon touching Jenkins's palm, it melted into his skin as if it belonged there. Then, as he slowly pushed his hand forward, a shield resembling a pair of white wings materialized before him, intercepting the self-detonating soul.

The Inexhaustible Purification Candle, dormant within his soul, awoke. Its eternal, purifying flame flowed forth and into the shield. A sacred, pure white fire enveloped the shield's surface, causing it to grow larger and even more magnificent.

The moment the old man's soul touched the flames, it let out a piercing, miserable shriek. The spirit recoiled, and when it materialized in the air once more, its form had become translucent—a clear sign of a damaged soul.

"How can this be... a sacred flame? This clearly belongs to a god..."

Jenkins called softly in his heart. An invisible bond connected the god to his angel, and the god to his follower.

The call echoed simultaneously in the hearts of the slumbering angel and the fledgling believer. Back in the church, Finney hurried from the common room for the choir apprentices and slipped into the washroom alone.

She stood on her tiptoes, steadying herself on the washbasin as she peered into the mirror. Behind her reflection, the little angel, radiating a pure white light, was already smiling back at her.

"Louise, Mr. Williamette needs our help."

The girl told the angel, clenching her small fists and pressing them against her chest.

"Go, I'll be right here, cheering for you."

She said, her little face scrunched in determination. She was still too young to do anything more.