Chapter 1446: Chapter 1446

Jenkins's footsteps halted. He spun around, swinging his cane through the air before him. The immense force sent the cane whistling, parting the thick fog to reveal the figure of a female corpse in a white wedding dress hidden within.

A veil obscured the corpse's face, but its posture was unnervingly clear. It stood on tiptoe, as if suspended from above by an invisible string, its arms extended rigidly forward. The sight of its blackened fingernails and decaying palms was utterly repulsive.

Ordinarily, such an undead creature would pose no threat to Jenkins, yet a chilling fear crept into his heart. It was a terror that defied all logic, for he knew he had no rational reason to be afraid.

"This isn't the [Fear Aura] ritual," Jenkins deduced. "It's the ability. An Enchanter is close."

With that thought, he swung his cane again, striking the bridal corpse. It unleashed a piercing shriek and, still poised on its toes, slid backward into the dense fog. The sight sent a shiver down Jenkins's spine, but his confusion over the inexplicable fear was quickly turning to anger.

He flicked his cane through the air in frustration and turned to press on, only to collide with a rotting corpse that was pressed right up against his back.

It was a male corpse dressed in a black formal suit—the groom from the story, no doubt. The moment they collided, its arms shot out, wrapping Jenkins in a tight embrace. A cold draft prickled the back of his neck; without even looking, he knew the bride's corpse had silently glided back on its tiptoes.

The inexplicable terror crested, reaching its absolute peak. But instead of overwhelming him, the fear only stoked his anger, snapping his mind into perfect clarity.

A brilliant green light exploded across the cemetery path. Weeds shot up from the gravel walkway, growing at a visible rate. For a fleeting moment, the eerie fog surrounding the graveyard receded, only to surge back an instant later, even denser than before.

As he considered this, Jenkins glanced down at the two corpses, now overgrown with grass. The surge of life spirit had dispelled the necromantic spell that animated them. Now, they could finally rest in peace. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ nοvelfire.net

Instead of proceeding deeper into the cemetery, he peered into the depths of the dense white fog before him. A few seconds later, a hoarse male voice drifted from that direction—unquestionably the Enchanter who had raised the dead:

"I have no wish to trouble you, so please do not interfere with my work. Leave this place now, and I will pretend none of this ever happened."

"Do you really think I came to a cemetery this late at night just for a stroll?"

Though, in a way, Jenkins really was just passing by.

"Did the Swanns hire you? No... I can't let you take these two bodies. It took me a great deal of effort to find such suitable specimens."

As the voice spoke, a rustling sound echoed from the same direction. A moment later, a skeleton holding an old-fashioned musket shuffled into Jenkins's line of sight.

The matchlock it held was undoubtedly an antique. Such firearms, from the earliest days of gun development, had been rendered obsolete centuries ago.

"Even if you think so little of me, you didn't have to use a weapon like that..."

The gun cracked, and just as he'd expected, it backfired. Jenkins hadn't moved an inch. With a sudden flick of his wrist, he hurled the White Bone Holy Sword forward. It flew into the fog with a sharp whistle. By the time Jenkins, now wearing the monocle that let him see through the mist, reached the sword's landing spot, the necromancer was already dead, collapsed before a tombstone with the blade buried in his heart.

"He never would have expected an Enchanter like me to be passing through such a remote town," Jenkins thought. "Right... this is a dream. I almost forgot."

It might have been a dream, but it felt far too real. After searching the Enchanter's body, Jenkins followed a set of footprints to the crypt the man had been using as a hideout. Inside, he discovered another matchlock and a supply of ammunition.

The bullets were wrapped in newspaper and stacked neatly in a box in the corner of the crypt. Jenkins paid no mind to the bullets; instead, he carefully unfolded the newspaper. It was a local paper from the autumn of 1508, Universal Calendar. Aside from the front page, which featured a story on the Hamparvo royal family, the rest of the articles were dull local news.

"If this is a dream, it's unnervingly realistic," he murmured. "The level of detail is incredible."

He turned and scanned his surroundings. His gaze swept past a cabinet filled with vials of preserved human organs, then caught a golden glint from beneath the pillow on a low cot on the other side of the room.

He crossed the room and picked up the book-sized object, which looked like a sheet of gold foil. The golden sheen vanished the moment he touched it, revealing three or four handwritten pages torn from a string-bound book. They contained a short story titled "The Ghoul in the Graveyard."

At the top of each page, the same small title was written in black ink. He had every reason to believe it was the name of the book itself:

"Black Town Secret Records."

The instant he read the title aloud, Jenkins shot upright in his bed back at the church. The old book resting on his chest tumbled to the floor. In the spartan, carpetless room, the sound of the book's corner hitting the ground was surprisingly loud. Chocolate, startled awake, let out an indignant cry at Jenkins.

Jenkins took a deep breath and stared at the pages in his hand. There was no way someone could have slipped them into his grasp while he slept. Even if he'd been unconscious, Chocolate would have surely sensed a stranger's presence.

"Interesting... a dream," he murmured.

Muttering to himself, he got out of bed, placed the reluctant cat on his shoulder, and padded down the hallway in his sleepwear. It was only nine o'clock, and many people were still awake and about in the church. Jenkins found the old bishop praying in the main hall and quietly took a seat on the pew beside him.

"There aren't many patient young men like you anymore."

The old bishop remarked ten minutes later, once he had finished his prayers. Then he asked:

"Was there something you needed?"

"Excuse me, Bishop. Back around 1508, was there ever an incident involving an unregistered Enchanter raising the dead in a nearby cemetery?"

"1508?" the bishop murmured. "Let me see..."

The old bishop fell into thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Have you been reading one of the stories from 'Black Town Secret Records'? Most of the tales in that book are based on real events. They're versions circulated among the public to conceal the traces of certain supernatural phenomena. A few months ago, some curious author collected them, adapted them, and published them... I've read the book. 'The Ghoul in the Graveyard' did happen. An Enchanter, who was just passing through, killed the necromancer but never revealed his identity. No one knows who he was, and he didn't take any of the spoils. It was as if he was only there to kill the trespasser in the cemetery..."