Chapter 1505: Chapter 1505

A sudden tension filled the banquet hall. The Countess leisurely swirled the wine glass in her hand, a faint smile playing on her beautiful, pale lips. Jenkins did his best to project an intimidating aura, knowing full well he was no match for the monster before him.

"You're threatening the Church."

"Yes, it is a threat. Let me be perfectly clear: the power of the arcane lock, the 'Scarlet Banquet,' has grown to a considerable level. Within this lock, you have no way of killing me. You have one week. If I haven't received the three items by the time your week is up, I will expand the arcane lock's domain even further."

She was supremely confident. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. The woman before him wasn't telling the whole truth. It wasn't that she was impossible to kill within the arcane lock; it simply required a devastatingly powerful attack.

A single fatal blow, followed by the complete destruction of her body and soul at their very source, would utterly annihilate her. The problem was, mortals didn't seem to possess such an ability, and it had been a long time since Jenkins had possessed any divinity.

"As a show of good faith for our 'cooperation,' I've already sent your other three companions safely out of the arcane lock. You two may leave at any time. I have opened the most direct path for you."

She pointed a red-nailed finger toward the grand doors behind Jenkins. With a creak, the doors swung open just enough to reveal a sliver of the quiet manor hallway beyond. Read full story at novel⸺fire.net

"I have a question for you."

"You left Nolan and fled to Bel Diran to seek refuge in the first place. Now you've reappeared . Aren't you worried that the god from that oil painting might show up again?"

"I admit, I did flee here to escape the pursuit of the Believers of Lies."

The Countess acknowledged with a slight nod, but Jenkins didn't recall himself or Fini ever hunting anyone down.

"But things are different now. My foolish kin were killed because they tried to release a terrible creature sealed within the red moon. I have no such ambition. That great being is unlikely to come after me simply because I've reappeared... As for the Believers of Lies, as luck would have it, I happen to have found a rather capable group of helpers myself."

Jenkins immediately equated her "helpers" with the Tree House. Without another word, he stood up, took Miss Capet by the hand, and turned to leave. He had to admit that he was powerless at that moment. Inside the arcane lock, he was no match for the vampire, not even if he unleashed his full strength combined with the power of the Saint.

It had been a long time since he had encountered such a thorny predicament.

They encountered no other enemies on their way out of the manor; the Countess had opened the most convenient path for them. At first, neither Jenkins nor Miss Capet spoke. After a while, the young woman finally asked cautiously:

"Jenkins, do you have the blood of another species in you as well?"

"I thought you already knew. Why else would you always be encouraging me to ask Miss Knight that question with you?"

"Because we were companions during the Mirror World adventure, and Miss Knight disappeared mysteriously partway through..."

"So, do you know what species you're descended from? That's a very important clue."

"Yes, I think I'm probably descended from elves. It's easy enough to tell—an outstanding talent for life-based abilities, an unusual affinity for plants and animals, and recently, I've even started to inexplicably understand a bit of Elvish. It's only a few words, but I swear I've never been exposed to that kind of knowledge before."

She poured out her worries to Jenkins, who listened and nodded, feeling as though he were looking at a version of himself from before he learned the truth.

He tried once again to tell her the truth, but just as he started to speak, he heard the lady beside him cry out in pleasant surprise. The manor gates had appeared before them.

Just as the Countess had said, Miss Knight and the other two were already outside the manor. Before Jenkins and Miss Capet even appeared, a complete rescue plan had been hammered out. The Legacy Sage Church had even been prepared to send in a demigod to tear down the arcane lock, regardless of the consequences.

Their safe return was, of course, the best possible outcome. Only after being tested and confirmed to be free of the Blood Mosquito Curse were Jenkins and Miss Capet able to report what they had learned to the Church, including the information about the young Paramont's ring and the details of their conversation with the Countess.

This was crucial information, so the night's exploration was called off; all plans would have to be redrawn. The representatives of the Twelve Orthodox Churches present would convene another meeting the next morning to discuss the matter. So far, no one had agreed to compromise with the woman inside the arcane lock.

The whole ordeal lasted until one in the morning on Monday. A weary Jenkins and Mr. Gilbert sat around a campfire at the Legacy Sage Church's temporary post outside the manor, discussing the day's events. Both were deeply troubled. The manor was located on the outskirts of Bel Diran; if the Blood Mosquito Curse were to spread, the entire city would be doomed.

Seeing it was about time, Jenkins stood up to go to the station and meet his family. His work here was done for the day, so after bidding farewell to the others from the Church, he took one of their carriages to the station on the other side of the city.

The night in Bel Diran was as quiet as in Nolan, only without the strange fog that enveloped the city. Inside the carriage, Jenkins leaned against the small window, letting the breeze cool his face as he mulled things over. The cat lay on his lap with its eyes narrowed, either feigning sleep or already lost to it.

Everything that had happened since his return from Ruen had been completely unexpected. He had never imagined he would have a chance to become king. In truth, he didn't feel a strong sense of belonging to this country. After all, he had been here for less than a year—hardly enough time to develop any interest in, or sense of duty or mission toward, becoming its ruler.

He arrived at the station with a sigh. As expected, the train was late. After waiting an extra half-hour, he finally saw the driver hang a lamp on the locomotive in the distance. A short while later, with the rhythmic clatter and vibration of wheels on iron rails, the train pulled into the station, venting steam that billowed out in clouds of white mist.

People waiting by the doors scrambled out of the unbearably stuffy carriages. The once empty and silent station was instantly flooded with passengers clutching suitcases and holding down their hats. A cacophony of noise filled the air as vendors, appearing from nowhere, pushed their way through the crowd, hawking food and souvenirs.

For a moment, it was as if the dead of night had transformed into a bustling city square at noon. But just as quickly, the crowd vanished, swallowed by the labyrinthine streets of the vast city. The station fell silent once more, leaving behind nothing but a floor littered with trash and Jenkins, standing alone at the entrance.