Chapter 1816: Chapter 1816

Standing in the field beneath the night sky, Jenkins clutched his throat, his expression contorted in pain. His entire lungs felt like they were on fire.

He swore that unless absolutely necessary, he would never use such a power again. He was a human, or an elf, not a dragon; he should never have done that. He didn't possess the organs to produce a "Dragon's Roar." Even with the spiritual power granted by the silver dragon, it was merely an imitation, which was why he hadn't acquired a [Dragon's Roar] ability. Not unless his [Malicious Transformation] could truly turn him into a dragon.

If not for his potent regenerative abilities, that single roar might have permanently destroyed his respiratory system.

But it was better that it hadn't become a permanent ability. Otherwise, Jenkins had no idea where he would find an empty bubble to accommodate [Uncrowned King].

Summoning his unicorn and cat, he took to the sky again, sword in hand. The red flame in his chest danced joyfully, feeding a ceaseless stream of vitality into his body. The awakening ritual was not yet complete; until he dealt with all the wraiths, the Dragon Soul could not be considered fully awakened.

But now, with the power bestowed by the silver dragon, the oppressive aura of the Dragon Hunter wraiths had vanished. Moreover, the wraiths slain by the dragon's power did not revive.

The Dragon Soul was, at its core, a racial myth forged by ancient humans who coveted the physical might of dragons. The small red flame couldn't turn Jenkins into a dragon, but it enhanced his physical body in every way, making him feel almost perpetually tireless.

A flash of white light erupted as his swirling sword dance swept through the air. A black, grinning demon soared into the sky, and behind it, Jenkins, perched on the unicorn's back, unleashed his gluttonous vines.

A verdant glow enveloped his sword, intertwining with the gray, decaying aura of death to deliver devastating blows to their enemies. A sudden inspiration struck Jenkins. Though he had just resolved not to use his new ability, curiosity drove him to activate his [Life Source] while imagining the sensation of retching.

Jenkins was already clutching his throat again, coughing violently. He was certain now that this was not an ability a human Enchanter was meant to use. Seeing the slender red flame in his chest burn even brighter with the demise of the strongest wraith, he seized the opportunity to once more raise his sword and cane to the sky.

In a flash of white light that illuminated nearly all of Nolan's eastern suburbs, the armored wraiths disintegrated one by one, their dust scattering into the night.

By the time the Church's forces reached the epicenter of the light explosion, they saw only a colossal, spectral dragon shrinking into the chest of the man on the unicorn's back. When he opened his eyes, the Church's demigods instinctively flinched, struck by an inexplicable pressure.

It wasn't the oppressive aura of a god over a mortal, but that of a chosen human leader over ordinary people.

"What was that just now? Believer of Lies, have you dealt with those wraiths?"

Someone called out. From the sound of the voice, it seemed to be the old gravedigger from the Church of Death and End.

"The wraiths have been dealt with."

He could feel the spirit the world was feeding back to him, but it wasn't much, as he hadn't permanently destroyed the individual wraiths.

"As for what just happened... have you heard the legend of the Four King Souls?"

A red dragon circled higher in the sky, doing its best to feign ignorance.

"The Four King Souls?"

A woman from the Church of Destiny and Equilibrium called back in question.

"You've obtained the [Dragon Soul]?"

"Since you are the keepers of the Epic of Ages, you should know what the appearance of the Four King Souls means for this epoch. It seems fate has chosen us once again. I look forward to our next meeting. I wish you a successful opening for your conference tomorrow."

With that, he clutched his chest and rode his unicorn into the distance.

The members of the Church didn't stop him. Miss Bevanna cast a solemn look at Miss Audrey. Jenkins had learned of the King Souls from the old shopkeeper in Bel Diran and had reported it to the Church. Miss Bevanna had assumed the matter would unfold around Jenkins, but now the Believer of Lies had beaten him to it.

Miss Audrey, who knew most of the truth, simply wore a regretful expression, unwilling to share what she knew about Jenkins.

As for Miss Bevanna, she had already made up her mind.

Meanwhile, when Jenkins arrived home, it was no surprise that Hathaway was already there. As he entered, the red-haired young woman was sitting on the sofa with Julia, learning to knit. A musician's hands were nimble on the piano keys but clumsy with long needles.

"What is that smell on you?"

He had just stepped into the living room when Briny, carrying a teacup, emerged from the kitchen and questioned him.

It was, of course, the smell of dragon blood. Though Jenkins had summoned a small, localized rain shower to wash away the stains, he hadn't expected the scent to be so potent. Even Chocolate refused to approach him. The moment the unicorn landed, the cat had darted into the house, clearly resolved to keep its distance until Jenkins was clean.

Jenkins smiled awkwardly, not mentioning that it was the smell of blood. He hesitantly sniffed his own clothes, then made a face of disgust himself.

"I'll go take a bath, then."

"The hot water is ready."

Julia placed her knitting needles back in the basket and stood up, heading upstairs to prepare a change of clothes for Jenkins. He nodded at her, then touched his chest, feeling the constant stream of vitality coursing through him. After a moment of hesitation, he blushed slightly and asked in a low voice:

"Does anyone want to bathe with me?"

He was promptly struck by a book and a ball of yarn. The cat, perched on the third step of the staircase, mocked him inwardly. It knew normal people didn't like bathing.

And so came the next day, Saturday, when the long-awaited Joint Conference of the Twelve Churches was finally set to begin.

Early that morning, Jenkins stood before the mirror, adjusting his attire. The cat was still drowsy, and by the time it was fully awake, Jenkins had already washed up and gone downstairs.

Chocolate let out a sleepy meow and rose from the pillow. Seeing the man was gone, it sat up straight, its head swiveling a full 180 degrees as it scanned the room. Confirming Jenkins wasn't in the bedroom, it froze for a moment before darting nimbly into the hallway, deeply displeased that Jenkins had woken up before it.