Chapter 2000: Chapter 2000

Just as Jenkins finished his battle, Papa Oliver’s had also concluded. In the end, he never managed to catch a glimpse of his invisible assailant. But when the foe attempted to strike with a spell, an equally invisible and remarkably elastic membrane of air suddenly materialized before him.

Spells, by their nature, possessed no physical form; they were essentially a manipulation of spirit. Yet, as the ripples of spirit neared the membrane, the enemy's incantation was actually reflected.

Papa Oliver stood his ground, unmoving, and let his attacker be struck by his own power. The cultist's spell was an ability that could irreversibly transform a person’s body into light. The reflected curse didn't hit a vital spot, but it obliterated the user's right arm and stripped a layer of skin from his body, rendering him incapable of continuing the fight against Papa Oliver.

They captured two prisoners. It didn't take much questioning to learn they were indeed members of the Club of Light Chasers, and that they had embarked on this mission fully prepared for it to be a one-way trip.

"We received reliable intelligence, Williams. We know you're a Savior candidate. This time, we never planned on going back alive. But so what? We're not the only ones sent to intercept you, nor is it just our organization. The road ahead is long. Have a pleasant journey." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel⁂fire.net

His words had already betrayed their suicidal resolve. Before Jenkins and Papa Oliver could stop them, the two cultists dissolved into light with smiles on their faces. The very philosophy of the Club of Light Chasers was to transcend their physical forms and become pure light, just like the god they worshiped. Though their methods were often irreversible—less a transformation and more a complete disintegration—it made them incredibly difficult to stop when they chose to use this technique on themselves.

"How much more of this will there be? I suppose the Church was right. This journey won't be a peaceful one."

Confirming the cultists were truly dead, Jenkins headed back toward the carriage with Papa Oliver.

"Of course. Right now, in places we can't see, far more dangerous things are happening. We're just the bait on the surface. Besides, I don't know if you noticed, but they knew you were the World Tree Seedling. That's something only the Tree House and the Gear Artisans' Association should know."

As they were speaking, not yet having climbed back into the carriage, a thunderous explosion roared from the distance.

They turned to look. Across the river, a four-story, gray-black building, standing tall moments before, tilted to one side amid flames and the panicked screams of people. Even the torrential rain couldn't completely suppress the clouds of smoke and dust rising from the collapsing structure.

"See? That's what I mean."

Papa Oliver said, already preparing a ritual and using a triangular talisman to notify the Church of what had just transpired.

Jenkins dried himself with a flicker of flame, then reached into the carriage to stroke the cat he had left inside.

"How terrible. I wonder who was attacked this time. It doesn't look like it's on our route, though. Briny and Julia are headed to the church soon, too. Should we turn back now and pick them up so we can go together?"

He was especially worried about the girls back home.

"The Church knows you're the primary target, which is why they specifically arranged for them to take a different route. Don't worry, Jenkins. Miss Bevanna herself will be picking them up shortly. They're much safer than we are."

"That's good to hear... but if the Church is sending a demigod to get them, why did they send you to get me?"

"Are you complaining about me?" Papa Oliver asked.

"No! Oh, Papa Oliver, how could I possibly have such a terrible thought?" Jenkins immediately denied.

"Besides, do you need a demigod from the Church to protect you?"

Papa Oliver pressed, and once again, Jenkins shook his head decisively.

"There you have it. That's why the Church just sent me to pick you up. To be honest, the biggest problem today isn't that cultists will be causing chaos all over the city, nor that they'll attack our people. The biggest problem is whether or not the Believers of Lies will even show up."

"Didn't they already agree?"

The carriage slowly began to move, and Jenkins offered a small defense for the Believers of Lies.

"You want us to trust a bunch of liars?"

"But you should at least have some proof, right?"

"It was Stevel who raised the possibility. She seems to think... the Believers of Lies aren't taking these negotiations very seriously, as if it doesn't matter to them whether they participate or not."

Papa Oliver stroked his chin, wondering if this was yet another trap. Jenkins, however, gazed at the river scenery outside the window.

"They'll be there," he said with conviction.

The cultists hadn't been so deranged as to plant explosives under the bridge to blow Jenkins and the carriage sky-high, so they crossed safely.

Once they were over, they found that the collapsed building wasn't on their path, so there was no need for a detour.

Jenkins was still uneasy about what accidents might lie ahead, but Papa Oliver wore an unconcerned expression. He was more focused on whether the exertions of the journey would affect Jenkins's performance during the upcoming negotiations.

After the bridge, the road sloped gently downward into an area that, in years past, would have been flooded every five years during the rainy season. Thanks to municipal planning and upstream reservoirs, it now only flooded during the kind of downpour that happened once a decade.

Most of the residents here were poor. The buildings were old and dilapidated, their walls covered with rusted, mottled steam pipes, a world away from the prosperous scene just a few streets over. In the gloomy, rainy weather, the air seemed thick with the scent of poverty and desolation—one of the truest reflections of the bottom rung of Nolan's bustling industrial and commercial society.

"If I become king, perhaps I can solve the problems here," Jenkins said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the graffiti scrawled across a low wall on the side of the street.

Since Jenkins had refused to discuss the negotiations any further, Papa Oliver had picked up a newspaper. Without looking up, he replied, "Oh, Your Majesty Williams, there will always be poor people, no matter the era. You can't change that."

The honorific was clearly meant as sarcasm.

"I know there will always be the poor. After all, without the poor, there would be no rich. It's a relative concept, unless you achieve... But poverty has many degrees. I think I can at least make it so people don't have to live in places ."

"You'll be a good king, Jenkins."

This time, the praise was sincere. Jenkins smiled and nodded.

"I hope so too. Speaking of which, Papa Oliver, are you interested in..."