Chapter 1653: Chapter 1653
The cultist, his body now only twenty percent flesh and blood, slowly approached Jenkins. Through the swirling, scorching steam, he fearlessly reached out with large, rough, calloused hands, cupping them as if to embrace the miner's lamp.
At that very moment, a fist wreathed in flames pierced his chest and grasped his semi-mechanized heart. The sensation was bizarre—partly the damp, slick feel of flesh, partly the rigid, unyielding texture of metal and gears.
As death loomed, his consciousness suddenly cleared. He stared in astonishment at the broken chains on Jenkins's wrists and, illuminated by the lamp's blue glow, the murderous intent on his face.
"So, a mechanical ability was all it took to escape. I thought it would be far more complex."
Jenkins remarked, pulling his hand back while clutching the heart. The heavy body crashed to the floor, not with the thud of flesh, but the clang of metal. With eighty percent of his body being mechanical, he didn't die immediately, even with his heart torn out.
His consciousness was clear, yet his mind remained captivated by the miner's lamp. The profound terror of death, combined with the epiphany he'd had upon seeing the lamp, seemed to grant him a final moment of enlightenment into the Principle of All Machines:
"This is the ultimate!"
He gasped, pointing a finger at Jenkins. His voice was fading, but his face was flushed with excitement:
Ignoring the man's dying declaration, Jenkins made sure the cultist was truly dead before using the miner's lamp to break the chains on the old elf and Viscount Ludos. But the strange pocket dimension persisted, and the temperature inside continued to climb. Viscount Ludos, the only ordinary person among them, was beginning to gasp for air.
"Since they intended to use this to break the seal, it should work now as well..."
Jenkins thought, retrieving the black iron key he'd hidden within his spirit. He set the key upright on the floorboards and gave it a half-turn clockwise.
All three of them heard a phantom sound, and the jets of steam erupting from the floor instantly vanished. They froze for a second, then rushed to the nearest windows and threw them open. The warm night breeze swept into the third-floor room, and all three leaned out, gulping down the air.
Even though the wind outside was warm, it was a refreshing change from the oppressive heat of the room. The tightness in their lungs and the stinging on their skin gradually subsided with the breeze. Jenkins even found the foul, burnt smell lingering in the air to be almost welcome.
He took a moment to recover, carefully checking that the cat on his shoulder hadn't passed out from the heat. Only then did he turn to face Viscount Ludos. The viscount, in turn, realized that even though the most dangerous man was dead, the two remaining home invaders weren't exactly saints.
"Do you have a carriage?"
Viscount Ludos didn't grasp the question's significance at first. It was only a short while later, as he sat in his own carriage driving the cultist's corpse to the nearest Church of Death and End, that it dawned on him: they weren't going to kill him.
After watching the trembling Viscount Ludos and the corpse disappear inside the church, Jenkins and the old elf headed back to the elf's rented apartment in the city center. Despite a few unexpected turns, the night's mission had, on the whole, gone rather smoothly.
However, the moment they were back in the apartment, the elf poured himself a large glass of gin to settle his nerves. Jenkins, for his part, had assumed elves didn't drink.
"Another one of humanity's crude stereotypes about other races."
The old elf remarked dismissively. When he set his glass down, he already looked much better.
"The mission went well, all things considered. I didn't expect us to wrap things up in just an hour and a half. See? It's not even midnight. Couldn't have gone better. And this key... it seems capable of breaking barriers, domains, seals, maybe even maze-locks. I'll have to study it."
Jenkins leaned back in the armchair beside the sofa, completely relaxed, with Chocolate curled up on his lap.
"You call that smooth? Fine, whatever you say."
The old elf looked exhausted. He set down his glass and sank back into the sofa:
"I'll let the rest slide, but I need to know—what was that mechanical ability you used? I'm old, I've seen a great deal, and I know that abilities capable of manifesting objects are exceptionally rare and bizarre. And that's not even mentioning the miner's lamp you summoned. Just looking at it unsettled me. Something is wrong with that power. Very wrong!"
He wouldn't admit that, for a few seconds, he had found the beauty of its unnatural mechanical structure capable of surpassing even nature itself.
"I seem to recall you've seen this lamp before."
Jenkins muttered, though he wasn't entirely sure, then summoned the lamp again and set it on the table.
"The origin of this ability is complex, but at its core is the power of a Star Spirit." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel-fire.net
The elf asked doubtfully, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. Jenkins nodded slowly.
"Yes, exactly that kind of Star Spirit."
The elf narrowed his eyes, peering at the violet-blue light within the lamp. After a long while, he straightened up, his voice a bit hoarse when he finally spoke:
"Jenkins, you must remember this: you are a descendant of elven priests, one favored by the World Tree. Powers of death and machinery are not things you should be meddling with. If you feel your own strength is lacking, I can teach you every ability I possess. I have no issue with that at all.
Do not heed death's call, nor trust the lures of the Star Spirits."
"The Star Spirits'... temptations?"
Jenkins echoed doubtfully. From what he'd heard from Papa Oliver and read in books, the Star Spirits were always depicted as positive, staunchly neutral figures.
"Yes. Human history is fragmented, broken by the turning of Epochs, so there are many things you don't know. But the elves have kept complete records. We know what the Star Spirits are truly like... They are ancient and immensely powerful, practically the masters of the Astral Plane. They claim to never interfere with the course of history or the fate of the material world, and to never meddle in the affairs of mortal races. But in truth, those ancient beings, who spend their eons staring into the cold, silent cosmos, love nothing more than guiding mortals and meddling with destiny."
The elf badmouthed the Star Spirits without hesitation:
"They may be cold by nature and dislike interacting with life beyond the Astral Plane, but they're still intelligent beings. Do you think it's interesting to spend every day looking out over a sea of stars? The Star Spirits claim non-interference in the material world, but in reality, they love meddling more than anyone—and they refuse to admit it."
"So, you can trust the Star Spirits, but don't treat them as mentors or guides. They are a bunch of..."
The elf searched for the right words and quickly found the perfect phrase:
"They are a race that loves a good show and doesn't care how big the fire gets."
Jenkins believed the old elf completely. If the Star Spirits were truly without desire, then the current God of the Starry Sky wouldn't have come from their race. That was something Jenkins had figured out long ago.
Jenkins understood the elf's deep concern. He was afraid that by dabbling in "unclean" powers, Jenkins would fail to awaken his [World Tree Seedling]. That ability was not just the highest honor of the elven people, something that could not be sullied, but it was also the key to this Epoch's very survival.
The elf clearly felt it was his duty as an elder to guide Jenkins. Jenkins understood his good intentions, so he didn't argue back. He just offered a silent apology in his heart to the Star Spirit, Rakul, for being so thoroughly slandered.
The key recovered tonight appeared to have the power to break seals, though he wasn't sure if it could break all of them. He already possessed another key-type Bestowal, the [Silver Spoon], a strange artifact from a Mysterious Realm that could open a gateway between the material world and what lay beyond.
According to the principle of like-devouring-like, the two keys could absorb each other. Since they were both Series C Bestowals, the process wouldn't be difficult. In fact, just having them both within his spirit, he could feel a slow, mutual attraction between them.
Jenkins wasn't certain, however, if their unique properties would be fully preserved after the fusion, so he refrained from merging them. Either key, if it fell into the wrong hands, could become a pivotal tool for wreaking havoc on the material world. For that reason, Jenkins decided not to hand over the Bestowal he had acquired tonight, intending to keep it and study it himself.
He bade the elf farewell and headed home. It was late, but the young women in the house were still awake. When Jenkins opened the front door, he saw Hathaway and Briny in the living room, discussing the decor and furniture, while Julia was in the kitchen preparing tea.
"Why are you still up?"
"We were waiting for you to come home, of course. Are you always this late?"
"Not always. I've just been busy lately. You don't have to wait up for me."
He said cheerfully, his mood excellent after the night's successful operation. Coming home to find people waiting up for him made it even better.
At his words, Hathaway and Briny got up and headed upstairs. Jenkins stepped from the foyer into the living room as Julia came out of the kitchen carrying a tea tray.
"You don't have to wait up so late either. You should go get some rest. If you wear yourself out, Dolores will complain to me."
"Mr. Williams, this is my job. And besides..."
The maid glanced up toward the second floor:
"The two ladies were waiting for you specifically. I think you should have at least said something more considerate, instead of... shooing them off to bed."
"Is that so? But it really is time for bed."
"...I really don't see what the princess sees in you."
The maid muttered under her breath. But before Jenkins could respond, she announced that she was retiring for the night. She left him standing there, pondering her words and thinking that he still had much to learn.