Chapter 1447: Chapter 1447

Jenkins nodded. The bishop’s words all but confirmed it: everything he had just experienced wasn't a dream. He had truly traveled back in time.

He remained silent for a moment, choosing not to reveal the pages glowing with a yellow aura in his pocket. Instead, he posed another question:

“Did the Enchanter who appeared back then have any distinguishing features? If he intervened, he must have left some kind of trace.”

“I can’t answer that. It was simply too long ago. Perhaps you could check the archives. Old Joseph, the keeper, will let you in.”

The church archives were small. Sorting by date, Jenkins located the records from 1508, the year the town's Church of Death and End was founded. Tucked away in the records for that autumn, he found an account of the incident. The document's origins were unclear, but its yellowed, faded pages described how a mysterious Enchanter had caused the desolate cemetery to become overgrown with weeds overnight.

“So it really did send me back in time, and my actions even rippled into history... Can a numbered item truly possess such immense power?”

He pondered for a moment before returning the file. After a brief word with the archive keeper, he went back to his room. He picked up the Black Town Secret Records from the floor where it had fallen, settled back onto his bed, and placed the pages from his pocket on the nightstand. Extinguishing the room's lamp, he left only the bedside candle burning, then opened the book to the second story.

The second story was titled "The Tragedy of the Pinecone," a bizarre tale set in the forest near Black Town. Jenkins read it in one go, and as he reached the end, he once again drifted into an unconscious slumber.

Sensing something was amiss with Jenkins, Chocolate, who had only been pretending to sleep, sprang to his feet. The cat padded over to Jenkins’s right side and sniffed at the open book, then froze.

Meanwhile, Jenkins found himself standing silently in a dimly lit forest. It was autumn, but the scenery was far from picturesque. The ground was thick with decaying leaves, and the trees were completely bare. It was late in the season, and the air felt cold, probably around 10 degrees Celsius.

Hearing a noise in the distance, Jenkins ducked behind a nearby tree. A moment later, a man dressed as a woodcutter appeared, a bundle of firewood slung over his back.

Suddenly, the man stumbled and fell hard. Scrambling back to his feet, he let out a stream of curses in a thick local dialect and aimed a kick at whatever had tripped him.

The kick sent him sprawling again. Furious, he scrambled up, dropped his firewood, and began hacking at the ground with his axe. He stopped abruptly, bent down, and picked something up. With a furtive glance around, he abandoned his firewood and bolted into the woods.

Once Jenkins was sure the man was gone, he emerged from his hiding spot. He walked over to where the woodcutter had been digging and used his cane to push aside the rotten leaves and soft muck. Before long, he uncovered a stone box, split open by the axe.

He tried to lift the box, but it felt as if it were fused to the ground. That must have been why the woodcutter’s kick had failed to budge it.

“If the story I read is any guide,” he thought, “there should be a solid gold pinecone inside that box.”

As he mulled this over, he waved his hand, conjuring a quiet flame that began to burn away the rich loam and decaying matter. After ten minutes or so, what lay beneath was finally revealed.

Connected to the stone box was a long-decayed corpse. It was positioned as if holding the box aloft, its skeletal hands gripping it in a tight, unyielding grasp. That explained why Jenkins hadn't been able to lift it.

Neither the box nor the corpse emitted a spiritual aura. After a quick inspection, Jenkins incinerated the bones. On the bottom of the box, he discovered symbols carved in an ancient dwarven script.

He managed a rough translation, a mix of guesswork and deduction. It meant something along the lines of, "The golden fruit shall curse any who are greedy."

“Starts just like a fairy tale,” he remarked.

With that, he picked up the box and headed in the direction the woodcutter had fled.

He had no idea what era he was in. The town was so run-down it looked more like a desolate village in the wilderness. Even though Jenkins had used his Black Robe to disguise himself as a local farmer, the arrival of a new face still drew suspicious glances from the townspeople.

The town had an inn, though it was practically derelict, but Jenkins had none of this era’s currency. He had no choice but to use his power over lies to subtly deceive the innkeeper, and in the process, he managed to learn the location of the woodcutter’s home.

It was a small town where everyone knew everyone else, which allowed Jenkins to gather a good deal of useful information. After securing lodging, he made his way to the woodcutter’s house. He pressed himself against the wall beside the low door, closed his eyes, and listened.

The brick walls were thin, and the sound carried easily. Jenkins could clearly hear the woodcutter and his family arguing about the solid gold pinecone.

Finding such a treasure would unsettle anyone, but the tone of the family’s voices was more than just excited—something was wrong.

He frowned, and after a moment’s thought, reached out to knock. But as his knuckles neared the simple wooden door, an immense force erupted from it, shoving him back.

“In the name of the Sage!”

He uttered a low cry, shaking his cane slightly and transforming it into a scepter. He extended his hand toward the door again. This time, scarlet blood began to seep from the crack at the top of the door, forming the familiar words: "The golden fruit shall curse any who are greedy."

An evil force was actually holding the power of the Sage at bay. Jenkins realized this was partly because he was outside his own timeline, which meant the power he could summon as a Saint was severely weakened. Furthermore, the golden pinecone itself was inside the house, and its power was exceptionally strong.

The last time, in the cemetery, he had only faced a low-level necromancer. This curse, however, would be a challenge even for him at full strength.

Frowning, he slowly drew back his hand.

“Just like in the story... I can’t stop this now. I’ll have to wait for an opening.”

That night, a fire engulfed the woodcutter’s house. By dawn, when the townspeople gathered, no bodies could be found in the ashes. Standing among them, Jenkins’s eyes shimmered with a purple light invisible to mortal sight. Through his vision, he saw a black aura spreading out from the ruins of the house, slowly blanketing the entire town. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel⟡fire.net

He waited until the crowd dispersed. As a light drizzle began to fall, Jenkins returned to the ruins. He plunged his cane into the soft earth, knelt on one knee, and began digging through the debris with his bare hands. Before long, he unearthed a crudely made box.