Chapter 1483: Chapter 1483

After breakfast, Jenkins claimed to feel a bit under the weather. He made his excuses to his colleagues from the Church, returned to his room, and promptly transported himself to Ruen.

Alexia, who had stayed in, listened intently as he recounted the entire night's ordeal. She even thoughtfully massaged his still-aching shoulders and back.

"Looking back on it now, I can't believe I spent the entire night reading fairy tales," he mused with a yawn. "It's just unbelievable."

He felt utterly drained, both body and soul. Even though it was all over, the final story had left him with a heavy heart, fraught with pain and worry.

"I find it unbelievable, too."

While Jenkins, under Chocolate's influence, couldn't grasp the true meaning of the final tale, Alexia understood it perfectly. The cat was now perched on her vanity, purring under Jenkins's touch, and the more Alexia watched, the more unsettling the scene became.

"You need to get some proper rest. Even with your elven blood, pulling all-nighters will only make you age faster."

The petite woman urged, resting her head on Jenkins's shoulder and watching them both in the mirror.

"You're right. I need a long sleep. When I wake up, I'll figure out how to handle things in Bel Diran."

The night of storytelling hadn't been entirely fruitless. Besides the twelve Sin Coins and his new ability, [Aura of Fear], Jenkins had also managed to talk sense into a young man on the verge of turning on his own parents in the tale of "The Lady of the Lake," promising to resolve the matter for good.

In return, Jenkins had made a rather demanding request: that the young man's family pass down a small collection of antiques from that era as heirlooms, safeguarding them until someone came to claim them.

It was a significant risk. He had to count on the family line continuing, and on its descendants resisting the temptation of greed. Fortunately, the story took place early in the current epoch, meaning it wasn't disrupted by the cataclysm of an era's end. Coupled with Jenkins's remarkable luck, by the time the airship took off again, a crate of antiques worth at least 10,000 pounds was nestled in its cargo hold.

It was the largest single sum he had earned in six months.

The young man's descendants had no idea what they were guarding; they simply followed their ancestor's decree, never daring to open the large crates. Jenkins hadn't been ungenerous, either. Had he taken everything, there would have been at least three crates' worth of antiques. He only took a portion, a choice that left him in high spirits. Check latest chapters at novel★fire.net

As the airship ascended once more, a panoramic view of Black Town spread out below Jenkins. He stood on the deck, hands resting on the railing, taking in the unobstructed vista.

Through his Eye of Reality, he could see a faint, black aura still clinging to the town. His night of adventure had only given him insight into the place; it hadn't solved its fundamental problem. In truth, just as he'd learned from the stories, as long as the Beast of Calamity born in Black Town was not utterly vanquished, the town's ordeal would never truly be over.

The Young Flower Seller had warned him that at the end of the eighteenth epoch, the power of sin would erupt in Black Town once more. His night of "storytelling" had, through some unknown mechanism, significantly diminished the sin clinging to the place. But the outlook was far from optimistic. Jenkins believed he would have to return in a decade to try and weaken the influence of that black aura again.

"I wonder what hatched from that final egg," he mused aloud. "Speaking of creatures born from eggs... could it have been a snake? No, the history of the Ouroboros is surely far older than that."

As Jenkins pondered, he failed to notice his cat, Chocolate, peering out from his breast pocket, its front paws hooked over the edge. The cat was also gazing down at the ancient forest below—a forest that had sprung from the residual life-spirit of the colossal tree that had vanished long ago, allowing it to endure from antiquity to the present day.

Seeing the faint remnants of sin lingering over the town, the cat silently opened its mouth. As Jenkins turned his gaze to admire the distant mountains, Chocolate inhaled, sweeping the black aura clean from the skies above Black Town. It was a temporary solution, of course, not a cure for the root cause. But after this little "cleanup," any further horrors in Black Town would likely have to wait until the next epoch.

The rest of the journey passed without incident. Aside from a scheduled landing to replenish fresh water and perform brief maintenance, the airship remained airborne. They flew until Wednesday evening, the 15th of May, finally descending slowly in the outskirts of Bel Diran as the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky.

The journey had taken half a week, covering hundreds of miles to reach their final destination. Aware of their fatigue, the Church dispensed with a welcoming ceremony. Instead, Jenkins was led directly to the same room he had occupied during his last visit to Bel Diran and told to rest well for the night; the Pontiff would see him in the morning.

After dinner, Jenkins retired to his private quarters—a bedroom larger than his entire house. But his return to Bel Diran wasn't the only important event of the evening. Mr. Hood had finally remembered that it had been far too long since their last gathering.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Mr. Hood began, "but nearly every topic brought up at our last meeting ended up spiraling into a major incident. Miss Skylark's dice game, Mr. White Cat's plan for an aberration attack, Miss Silver Flute's Mysterious Realm..."

The evening's gathering was held in a dilapidated, long-neglected house on the western outskirts of Nolan. As usual, Jenkins and Mr. Hood were the first to arrive. They stood together in the shadows, making small talk as they watched the moon.

"What happened with the Mysterious Realm?"

Mr. Hood wasn't fully aware of the incident with the Doomsday Illusion, so Jenkins gave him a brief summary. After hearing the account, Mr. Hood nodded, then offered a rebuttal.

"But the issue with the tobacco I brought up last time hasn't caused any problems so far," he pointed out.

"That's only so far," Jenkins countered. "I'm sure you've heard the news. There have been multiple large-scale manhunts on the eastern coast of Cheslan for the so-called 'Perfume Appreciation Committee.' At the same time, the followers of the 'Spiraling Mist' are trying to distance themselves, claiming the committee isn't entirely under their sect's control. If that situation explodes, the fallout will be far worse than anything that happened last month."

"That's a problem for another day," Mr. Hood said. "I trust the Orthodox Churches are capable of handling them."

Mr. Hood replied distractedly, his gaze repeatedly drifting upward as if he were worried a meteor might suddenly plummet from the sky.