Chapter 1811: Chapter 1811

Beneath the moonlit sky stretched an endless expanse of fields.

Jenkins and the unicorn were now near the edge of the city, in the heart of Nolan's primary agricultural district. Decades ago, large landowners had swallowed up the surrounding village plots, consolidating them into sprawling farms.

Having finally touched down, they found themselves in a summer rice paddy, a sea of emerald green stretching to the horizon. A night breeze swept through, sending ripples across the rice stalks like ocean waves. Jenkins crouched low, and the unicorn lay down beside him. From the air, they would be nearly impossible to spot without careful scrutiny.

From the ground, however, the battle raging in the sky was starkly clear. A red dragon flew in panicked retreat, occasionally blasting a gout of crimson dragon's breath behind it that painted the misty sky with dazzling color.

In its wake pursued a troop of phantom horsemen on skeletal steeds. Cloaked in black, full-plate armor, they nearly vanished into the night sky. They seemed to gallop upon an invisible road of ice; with every stamp of their spectral hooves on the air, a thin, transparent sheet of frost would form, only to vanish moments after the last rider passed, leaving not even a drop of rain to fall upon the earth below.

The armor made it impossible to discern their skin or facial features, but its design—deliberately forged into a terrifying visage of spikes and sharp angles—was enough to transform the night's events into a grim fairytale, the kind that would become a thrilling bedtime story for generations of children.

Since it was a chase and not a direct engagement, the terrifying pursuers kept their weapons sheathed. Only the captain at their head used spells to repeatedly fend off the dragon's fiery breath.

The horsemen flickered in and out of the mist, and Jenkins couldn't get an accurate count. He could only make out two captains, distinguished by their unique armor, which suggested this was one of the later of the seven hunts.

Hard on the heels of the phantom cavalry were the Church's demigods, launching attacks even as they gave chase. Behind them, a magnificent, sun-yellow carriage that radiated light and heat tore across the sky. It was piloted by Benefactors from the Church of Sun and Justice. Though the carriage had limited space, they had somehow managed to cram seven people inside.

"So there's no need for me to get involved at all."

Jenkins murmured, sinking back down beside the unicorn. Together, they remained hidden in the rice paddy, waiting for the figures overhead to pass.

But things didn't go as he hoped. While the dragon's roars faded into the distance, the air grew colder. He could even see snowflakes beginning to fall as he lay on the ground.

The chaotic thundering of hooves grew louder. He looked up. At some point, the phantoms had abandoned their pursuit of the red dragon. Now, drawing their longswords with their right hands and gripping the black reins with their left, they spurred their steeds into a terrifying charge toward the ground.

And the target of their charge was aimed directly at the man, the beast, and the cat concealed on the ground below.

"Hm? Chocolate, what are you doing hiding here?"

He saw that Chocolate was mimicking him and the unicorn, crouching low to the ground. But given a cat's size, the phantoms probably wouldn't see it even if it stood up.

"The ground's filthy."

He said, pushing himself to his feet and tucking the bristling cat into his pocket.

Facing the snowflakes that now swirled through the air, Jenkins looked up at the charging phantom knights and raised his hand:

"Ice Solidification!"

A faint, unnatural crackle filled the air. As moisture condensed, a massive sheet of ice materialized directly in the path of the dragon-hunting cavalry.

The two cavalry captains, wielding what looked like staves, pointed forward. The ice sheet exploded mid-air, shattering into a spray of glittering shards. From the heart of that crystalline shower, Jenkins charged upward on his unicorn, sword in his right hand, scepter in his left:

"How dare you come for me!"

A flash of white from his blade lit up the night sky, cleaving the charging phantom cavalry in two. But the light didn't fade. The jewel atop his raised scepter blazed with an infinite luminescence over the dark fields. As Jenkins ascended, the light shot into the heavens, a brilliant column that blinded the Church members and the returning red dragon above, obscuring whatever was happening at its core.

They could only hear the cries of battle, the clang of steel on steel, and the thud of heavy bodies hitting the earth. Every so often, the immense blade of light would sweep out like a spinning wheel in the air, followed by a series of sharp cracks echoing from the sky.

When the white light finally receded, converging back into the jewel atop the scepter, the orb dimmed. Of the cavalry that had charged them head-on, only the man on the sacred white unicorn remained hovering in the air.

He held the scepter in his left hand slightly raised, while the sword in his right hung loosely at his side. The combat instincts granted by his [Hero] ability, combined with his power to suppress Cursed Items, had given Jenkins the absolute upper hand in the sudden skirmish.

Below the unicorn, dozens of empty suits of armor lay scattered across the ground. The skeletal steeds writhed among the crops, their black longswords plunged into the soft earth of the paddy like grave markers, standing silent in Nolan's chilly night air.

The man on the unicorn didn't leave right away. He didn't look up at the circling dragon, nor did he engage the stunned Church members who hovered in the sky, unsure of what to say.

He lowered his head, deep in thought, clearly contemplating a matter of great importance:

"Do these things down there count as my spoils of war?"

It was a crucial question, of course, but the armor sets were far too heavy. With only his unicorn for transport, he could never carry them all away. He decided to leave the spoils for the Church. They were valuable, certainly, but not exceptional enough for Jenkins to bother with.

As he mulled it over, a demigod from the Church descended slowly from the sky, stopping at his level. Only one came down: Lady Carol Hoffman, a demigod of the Dark and Hidden Church stationed long-term in Nolan. She and Jenkins were acquaintances.

"Good evening, Believer of Lies."

She greeted Jenkins with a slight curtsy, holding the hem of her dress.

"Good evening," Jenkins replied. "Just ask what you want to ask."

He glanced around at the darkness.

"I'm in a hurry to get back to the city. I don't have much time to linger."

He needed to get home before Hathaway, or things would get suspicious.

"Why would these phantoms suddenly abandon the dragon to charge at you? My apologies, this isn't an interrogation, merely curiosity. What you just defeated was the fifth manifestation of A-03-5-2737, the Phantoms of the Dragon Hunters. We must ensure their final two appearances remain controllable. This is Nolan, after all. If a Cursed Item runs rampant, I'm sure you can imagine the consequences." Thıs text ıs hosted at novel~fire~net

"To be honest, I have no idea why they came for me," Jenkins said. "Don't give me that look, it's the truth. In fact, your dragon and those phantom horsemen flew right over my head earlier today. I was indoors at the time, and they didn't pay me any mind... So why now? I recall the records stating that A-03-5-2737 only ever hunts a single dragon at a time and never changes its target."

If he still had the Primeval Amber Stone gifted to him by the Silver Dragon Lord Anathasia, Jenkins might have suspected its cause. That stone had been in the dragon's possession for so long that it might have imbued him with a "draconic signature" far stronger than the red dragon's, thus altering the Phantoms' behavior.

But the amber stone was long gone, and the red martial ability he'd gained from it, Malicious Polymorph, had nothing to do with dragons. The only dragon-related trait Jenkins now possessed was the slender, red flame that flickered in his chest—the Dragon Soul, one of the Four King Souls. It was a unique power forged by ancient humanity, a force created through myth and legend by an entire race striving to emulate the formidable physique of a dragon.

"Could it be the Dragon Soul?"

He wondered, glancing up at the red dragon as it stretched its wings and circled high above.

"Perhaps you should ask the dragon. It's likely their kind understands this Cursed Item better than humans do."

Lady Hoffman nodded, but she didn't leave.

"For safety's sake, could I ask you to remain here for the time being? We don't understand why the phantoms attacked you. If you enter the city, and they reappear only to seek you out instead of falling into our trap, at least several hundred people could die."

Her logic was sound. As much as Jenkins wanted to get home, he didn't fancy a host of phantoms tearing his house down in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn't agree too quickly. He feigned a troubled expression and pretended to consider it for a moment.

"Very well. But I can only stay for a little while. I have important business to attend to tonight."

With that, he urged the unicorn to fly higher. But just then, the snow, which had ceased with the phantoms' defeat, began to fall once more. A flake landed on the pink nose of the cat peeking out from his pocket, causing it to shake its head with a violent shudder.

Both Jenkins and Lady Hoffman froze, their eyes fixed on the distant fields. A dense, white fog, radiating an intense cold, was rising from the ground and surging toward them at an alarming speed.

Within the mist, they could hear the chaotic, unnervingly dense thunder of hooves. The smell of rust and blood hung so thick in the air it almost completely masked the scent of the rice fields below.

This cold fog was entirely different from the thin, gray mist in the sky—it was sharper, more dangerous. Through his monocle, Jenkins's gaze pierced straight through the fog to what lay behind it. He quietly asked the woman beside him:

"I seem to recall that once A-03-5-2737, the Phantoms of the Dragon Hunters, are defeated, they don't reappear for at least an hour. It's been less than ten minutes, hasn't it?"