Chapter 1867: Chapter 1867

Although it was impossible to know the exact number of 'occultists' among them, the Church's assessment was that the young woman in the first-floor hall was most likely an Enchanter. After all, when the middle-aged doctor turned into a ghoul, she hadn't panicked but had chosen to turn and run—a level of decisiveness not typical of an ordinary person.

So Jenkins decided to use this woman as the breakthrough point for his investigation.

His voice resounded directly in the young woman's mind. Just like the middle-aged doctor, she covered her mouth, her expression one of terror. Jenkins didn't try to determine whether she was acting, instead posing his question:

"Excuse me, are you an occultist?"

"No, oh, sir, how could I possibly be..."

Of course, Jenkins couldn't understand her words, but he knew that a shake of the head meant 'no' in any era. His divine domain immediately alerted him that it was a lie. Jenkins knew he had found the right starting point:

"Please, listen to me."

His voice continued to echo in her mind, but he had no intention of directly explaining that the hospital had been trapped in a time loop for nearly ten thousand years. Past experience had shown that any attempt to do so would force the next time loop to begin, so Jenkins tried a different approach:

It wasn't that Jenkins wanted to show off his writing talent. This sentence was a description from the Church of Destiny and Equilibrium regarding the void of fate and the peculiarity of time—a rather ancient proverb. He chose it specifically to gauge what level of Enchanter—or rather, occultist—she was.

If she understood the phrase, Jenkins would choose to cooperate with her. If not—whether she was pretending not to understand or truly didn't—Jenkins would head straight for the second floor. After all, he was short on time.

Fortunately, she understood.

The woman's expression suddenly grew calm. After a second of silence, Jenkins felt a consciousness reach out to his own. He didn't refuse and, in turn, heard the woman's voice in his mind. In stark contrast to her plain appearance and way of speaking, the voice that echoed in his thoughts was unusually cold and clear:

"What do you mean by that?"

Jenkins didn't answer. Instead, he took a coin from his pocket. It wasn't a Fidektri copper penny, but a Blasphemy Seed. He curled his right index finger, balanced the coin on its side, and flicked it with his thumb, sending it spinning into the air.

But it didn't fall; it just kept rotating in midair. This was an effect akin to telekinesis, created by immense spiritual power—a fairly common skill for high-level Enchanters.

The woman's eyes fixed on the coin, the flashing heads and tails reflecting in her pupils. Suddenly, she lowered her head, covered her mouth, and coughed. Jenkins noticed dark blood seeping between her fingers.

The woman's voice echoed in Jenkins's mind, which, paradoxically, left him a little confused:

"What do you understand?"

"I understand everything. Everything about this place, my fate, and your origins."

Jenkins had thought things might go smoothly, but he hadn't expected them to be *this* easy. Worried he might have misunderstood, he asked again to be sure:

"What do you think is happening right now?"

"You're here to make the coin land."

Because this entire conversation took place in their minds, it happened very quickly. To the middle-aged doctor, it looked as if the two had merely exchanged glances for a few seconds before suddenly moving toward the stairs in perfect accord.

The doctor wanted to ask what was happening, but as the handsome young stranger disappeared from view, a question suddenly surfaced in her mind:

"What does this have to do with me?"

A powerful urge to stay put made the doctor sit back down. Staring at the empty chair opposite her, she resumed speaking.

The time was 5 minutes and 41 seconds into the loop. Jenkins and the woman entered the second floor together.

He introduced himself, and after a few seconds, her reply came to his mind:

Together, they looked to the left of the stairwell. The doors lining both sides of the corridor were shut tight. Fluorescent stone lamps hung on the walls, casting a warm, bright glow no dimmer than a gaslight. Benches made of steel pipes were placed against the wall at regular intervals, and on one nearby, a lonely, bald-headed boy sat with his head bowed.

"May I ask how exactly you understood?"

As the man and woman walked toward the boy, their mental conversation continued at a rapid pace.

"I know an excellent diviner. She once read my fortune with divination cards, and the card symbolizing the future was a spinning coin. I sought insight from my god about this prophecy, but the answer was cryptic. When I saw the coin you tossed, however, I think I finally understood. I suppose for a long time I was simply unwilling to believe in such an outcome. I also never imagined I would encounter this the day after receiving my god's revelation."

"I see... Forgive me for asking, but which god do you believe in?"

"My lord is the God of Destiny."

"It's good that you understand. In any case, I intend to resolve all of this. I already told you most of what I know on the stairs, so what can you tell me about this hospital?"

"This psychiatric sanatorium is a stronghold for an illegal organization. They use it mainly to find ordinary people with a talent for the supernatural, who they then imprison and brainwash. I came here looking for my missing cousin. The doctor who was speaking with me is a member of that cult. Based on your description, I suspect she possesses an ability like 'Ghoul Transformation' or something similar. I just don't know why she suddenly lost control. It might be related to the basement you mentioned."

"Just an illegal organization? If it isn't a cult, then it should be less dangerous. What are they called?"

"The Order of Counter-Light. Their goal is to achieve eternal life. You can probably imagine that such an objective is most attractive to the corrupt who fear death."

Jenkins had heard of this organization. Due to a severe conflict in their doctrines, they were enemies of another illegal organization, the Club of Light Chasers.

The Order of Counter-Light was a relatively well-known illegal organization. Of course, since it was just a gathering of mortals with no common faith, it was a step below a true cult. The organization's history was one of ups and downs; it had enjoyed brief moments of glory, but spent most of its time hiding like rats. As a result, it had appeared under many different names, but by the end of the Eighteenth Epoch, it was gone.

During the Seventeenth Epoch, the Order of Counter-Light was reported by the Club of Light Chasers and wiped out in a raid by the Orthodox Churches. A search of the group's lair uncovered several ancient and dangerous numbered items, the most famous of which was the Blade of Light. Thirty years ago, that very weapon defeated the Skull Sword of the Departed Soul and its wielder, who had caused the Great Plague. Papa Oliver had mentioned the Order of Counter-Light once as background when telling old stories.

"Then do you know this boy?"

Jenkins gestured to the bald-headed boy on the chair, who hadn't reacted to their approach.

"I've never been to the second floor. In fact, as far as I know, I've never been anywhere but the first-floor hall. I only just arrived."

Miss Ross herself was not exceptionally beautiful, but there was something incredibly poignant about the way she looked with her eyes downcast. Jenkins felt a pang of sorrow for her unfortunate fate, but at the same time, he wondered what would happen to the others here once the loop was truly broken.

At 6 minutes and 3 seconds, they reached the boy. He finally lifted his head to look at them, his gaze vacant. His eyes first fell on Miss Feydina Ross:

"Your fate is truly unfortunate."

The boy muttered to himself. Miss Ross translated for Jenkins, her expression turning deeply unpleasant.

The boy then looked at Jenkins and immediately lowered his head. Although Miss Ross's translation was a simple complaint, Jenkins suspected from the tone that the boy's actual words had been far less civilized. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel•fire.net

"He must be one of those who awaken naturally. A child who possesses extraordinary abilities without having formally become an occultist."

Miss Ross surmised. Jenkins had met someone similar in the Eighteenth Epoch: the boy from the Leviathan family, who had tragically died due to the Mysterious Realm in the serial killer's room. Though not an Enchanter, he had been able to vaguely depict the interior of the Mysterious Realm with a paintbrush.

"He 'saw' the incident in the basement the moment it happened. It's a shame he couldn't escape in time. That talent of his is truly remarkable."

Jenkins remarked, speculating internally that only these few people were trapped in the time loop, perhaps because they were the only ones connected to the supernatural. But that explanation didn't feel right. Of the seven, only the boy was supposedly a 'patient.' And according to Miss Ross, this hospital should have housed many people with supernatural talents, yet the Church's investigations had never detected anyone else.

Jenkins and Miss Ross decided to have the boy join them. Although time was short, the boy's talent—something akin to instinctive premonition—made him readily believe Jenkins's story, which, while not the whole truth, was close enough to reality.

No one wanted immortality in the form of a brief, minutes-long loop. Whether they sought permanent peace or simply their freedom, they weren't about to sit back and do nothing.