Chapter 1819: Chapter 1819

"Can't the fire be extinguished?"

"It's beyond simply putting out the fire now. The Children of the Mist are being born from those flames, and the Mechanized Body Curse, the one the Believers of Lies mentioned, is spreading. Can you believe it? The people who died in that inferno weren't burned to ash. Instead, they've fused with machinery, and they're advancing on the civilized world along with the fire. That curse is even more terrifying than the Believers of Lies described. If the undead plague thirty years ago could still be countered by the power of life, these mechanical corpses are almost completely unresponsive to it. Only divine arts can truly destroy them."

Papa Oliver pressed a hand to his forehead, his gaze drifting up to the sky.

"We stand here in this forest, thinking the world isn't so terrible yet," he began, "but it's already started. And once it begins, it cannot be stopped—at least, not by us.

"The Church has managed to halt the fire's advance for now, but the fog it generates continues to spread, and the Children of the Mist and the mechanical corpses are still emerging from the flames. What's burning now is civilization itself—the entire epoch, Jenkins. The apocalypse doesn't arrive on a set date. Perhaps it was already here long ago, even before Nolan was completely shrouded in mist."

"Do they have enough people in the south?"

Jenkins stood stunned for a long moment before he could finally process the words.

"You don't need to worry about that. In the 18th Epoch, the Church does more than just preach the glory of the gods to mortals. Though the situation in the south is dire, the city beneath our feet is the real focal point now. Solutions will be found for the fire, the Children of the Mist, and the mechanical corpses, but if disaster strikes Nolan—the city chosen by fate—the entire world will likely plunge into the final days of the 18th Epoch."

Papa Oliver hadn't come just to deliver such grim but realistic news. He had also heard about the King Soul and wanted to see Jenkins, to persuade him to keep the Tree Soul and wield it himself against the Believers of Lies.

"I am a dragon, not a man. The four King Souls are a racial myth, forged by your human ancestors. It is a human secret, not a draconic one."

Those were the red dragon's exact words. All it knew was that awakening a King Soul was a matter of probability, and that the Believer of Lies yesterday had simply been the victim of a low-probability event. The dragon believed it would be more valuable to question the Believers of Lies than to ask it.

The Church council in Bel Diran, upon learning that Jenkins had found the Tree Soul, immediately recognized it as an opportunity. Although the Twelve Orthodox Churches were set to form an alliance, it was not yet decided who would lead. If the Church of Knowledge and Books could play another card besides the [World Tree Seedling], it would gain a significant advantage.

The council was keen to uncover the secret of awakening the King Souls immediately, to make Jenkins a true wielder. But even the sages of the Church could find no further records regarding the King Souls. In the end, the Church took the risk of being discovered by the other churches and sent Jenkins to see the red dragon alone, hoping it could offer some advice.

They had kept the matter of the Tree Soul from the other churches because negotiations were still ongoing, and since the Soul had not fully awakened, they decided to keep it a secret for now. Revealing it at a more opportune moment would have a much greater impact.

And so, about twenty-four hours after parting with the red dragon, Jenkins saw it again. The dragon was lying in its nest on the cliff face, surrounded by gas lamps the Church had specially installed, running pipes all the way there.

The sight of a legendary creature of fantasy meeting Jenkins's gaze under the glow of Steam Age gas lamps certainly possessed a unique flavor.

"I really don't know anything else."

The red dragon declared, looking at Jenkins. The movement of its massive head stirred a breeze that washed over him.

"My mission, when I unexpectedly arrived in the material world, was merely to deliver the Dragon Soul. Other matters are of no concern to me. You know the Star Spirits, do you not? Those ancient ones are likely more useful than I."

"I know you've told me all you can," Jenkins replied, "but the Church sent me to ask, and I couldn't very well refuse."

He turned, looking for a chair, but the most plentiful items in the red dragon's lair were one-penny coins. It had earned them working for the Church and had specifically requested the payment in one-penny denominations, just so it could carpet the entire floor of its nest.

But there was no chair.

"So what is it that you truly intend to do?"

The red dragon knew Jenkins was a Saint. It also had a vague sense that he was no mere mortal and, more importantly, had recognized the terrifying cat from the story of the young dragon. That was why it asked:

"I know you wish to help mortals survive the end of the 18th Epoch, but I do not understand why you do not simply reveal your true identity... Of course," it added hastily, "I am merely curious. You need not answer."

"And what identity would that be?"

Jenkins asked the dragon, which was momentarily at a loss for words. It certainly wasn't foolish enough to voice its suspicions about what the young man before it truly was.

"To show you are the true savior."

The dragon chose such a vague phrasing.

"Simply declaring it is not a convincing method. I must prove it. Besides, even if I did, the desires and demands of mortals would compel them to choose their own paths anyway. My hope is to unite everyone. To do that, I must present a formidable enemy, one that forces people to stand together."

The dragon nodded, not daring to pursue the question. It thought for a moment and then asked:

"You are acquainted with a silver dragon, are you not? Yesterday, I caught the scent of a truly ancient one on you."

"You shouldn't say such things so casually," Jenkins warned. "If Princess Sophia were to hear you, I'd have a hard time explaining myself."

Jenkins warned, though he didn't deny knowing the legendary silver dragon. Sparks shot from the red dragon's enormous nostrils as an intrigued expression crossed its face.

"I've only heard of that dragon in stories from my homeland. Is she really as powerful as the legends say?"

At that moment, the red dragon's excitement was much like a human meeting a hero from legend.

"Extremely powerful," Jenkins confirmed. "So powerful, she's almost unlike a dragon."

"Of course! She's the only dragon in history with the audacity to publicly marry a human—and a human woman, at that!"

the red dragon declared with pride, though Jenkins couldn't fathom what, exactly, it was proud of.

In any case, after bidding the red dragon farewell, Jenkins could only report back to the Church with the regrettable news that it truly did not know how to awaken the Tree Soul. Though disappointed, the Church leaders understood that some things could not be forced, and they told Jenkins to go home and rest. Fresh chapters posted on novel·fıre·net

Jenkins returned to the city with Papa Oliver, and they discussed many things on the way. Jenkins was curious how the old man had felt upon meeting Miss Stevel again, but the moment he asked, Papa Oliver slapped him on the shoulder.

"Stevel told me you knew she was in Nolan all along, did you?"

Jenkins didn't dare broach the subject again.

Papa Oliver, for his part, asked Jenkins's thoughts on kingship. He wasn't particularly concerned with whether Jenkins would become king, as he suspected Jenkins himself had no strong desire for the throne.

Jenkins answered frankly, explaining his true feelings, the predicament he now faced, Queen Isabella's conditions, and her repeated concessions since. He asked for the old man's advice, but Papa Oliver just shook his head, saying he didn't want to meddle in politics. In the end, however, he offered some guidance:

"Just do as you think is right. No matter the outcome, this country will need a king in the end. Besides, you now possess a King Soul. Do you know what that is? It's not matter, not energy, not even information. It's an artifact that can interfere with fate itself. It burns in your chest, and it will inevitably draw your destiny toward the throne. I've heard from the Church of Destiny that the ability associated with this Savior qualification is called [Uncrowned King]. But with or without a crown, one who possesses a King Soul is destined to become a king. This is the fate you chose for yourself when you accepted the Tree Soul."

Papa Oliver tapped the air twice before Jenkins's chest.

Jenkins thought for a moment.

"So, does the ritual to fulfill this ability require its wielder to be a king in the literal sense?"

"I don't know. The Millstone of Fate doesn't write the requirements for Savior abilities in its pages. Only the Believers of Lies probably know that. I've discovered that group seems to have a way of foreseeing Savior abilities. Otherwise, there's no explaining how they're always one step—or even several steps—ahead of the Church.

"Perhaps they possess an artifact similar to the Millstone of Fate, but I don't recall anything like that existing in the material world."

Papa Oliver's thoughts went down a rabbit hole.

The journey back from the Evergreen Forest took a considerable amount of time, and it was already eleven o'clock when he finally reached home. Hathaway and Briny had already retired to their bedrooms. Julia had prepared hot tea for Jenkins and a tasty late-night snack for Chocolate before also going to bed.

Only Jenkins remained, sitting alone at his bedroom desk, turning the two halves of the World Tree seed over in his hands.

The "Tree Soul" was undoubtedly related to "life" and "trees," so the awakening of the Tree Soul might also depend on the World Tree's seed.

But Jenkins didn't dare to casually piece the World Tree seed together. He couldn't be sure what consequences it would trigger. Pondering it alone yielded no answers, so he decided to head out again and seek the old elf who lived in the city.

Seeing Chocolate sleeping so soundly, he hadn't planned on taking it with him. But while he was changing clothes, the cat somehow ran into his pocket, curled up, and went back to sleep.

Jenkins was helpless about this. He carefully patted its little head, an action that elicited a soft mumble from the sleeping cat.

Although visiting someone after midnight was a very rude thing to do, Jenkins had been very busy recently and couldn't find the time. He had already prepared himself for the old elf's complaints, but to his surprise, the door opened immediately after he knocked.

The elf held a short, thick, but straight wooden staff, its surface covered with carvings of elvish hymns. He looked out the door warily, and only after seeing it was Jenkins did he let out a sigh of relief.