Chapter 2052: Chapter 2052

After bidding farewell to Mr. Hood, Jenkins felt a touch of melancholy. He glanced at the time, intending to finish his visit quickly and head back to the church. That way, he could make it back for lunch, and the cat perched on his shoulder would have no reason to complain.

Warm ash still drifted down from the sky. Glancing up, he could see the belly of a mechanical whale emerge from beneath the black clouds before slowly fading from view once more.

He let out a sharp whistle, summoning his unicorn, intending to fly straight to his destination. He had just thrown on his black robe to conceal his identity when, to his surprise, a figure came stumbling out from the depths of the dense fog.

It was an old man in a black robe, clutching his abdomen. Blood dripped steadily from the wound, leaving a stark trail on the ash-covered ground.

Even without sensing the man's life force, Jenkins could tell from his staggering gait and the amount of blood he was losing that he was on the verge of death. He didn't recognize the man, who carried nothing that could identify him. Jenkins surmised that this might be one of the pseudo-god followers who had been heading to the church for the negotiations, only to meet with a terrible accident along the way.

Though it would likely delay him, he led his cat and unicorn forward, intending to save the man. His boots made little sound on the soft ash, but the unfamiliar Enchanter instantly noticed his approach. The man warily steadied himself against a low wall with one hand, his chapped lips trembling as if to speak, but then his eyes locked onto the unicorn.

It was a highly recognizable mount. In Nolan, only one group of people would be seen with a unicorn:

"A Believer of Lies..."

He leaned against the wall to keep himself from collapsing, his eyes fixed on the approaching Jenkins. Though reading the intent in someone's eyes was often difficult, Jenkins was certain he understood this time. The man's gaze was one of profound relief.

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"It's no use. You can't heal me."

"Are you doubting my skill? I know I'm not from the Church of All Things and Nature, but..."

"No. My body is missing three vital components. I'll be dead within ten minutes, without a doubt. Compared to that, these external wounds to my intestines and organs are the least of my worries."

The old man's strength finally gave out, and he slid slowly down the low wall at the edge of the street. He made no attempt to rise again, simply remaining seated, propped against the wall. Blood continued to seep from his abdomen, staining the ash beneath him crimson.

"I try to do one right thing, and fate actually lends a hand. To think it would lead me straight to a Believer of Lies. You don't have to guess anymore. I'm from the Gear Artisans' Guild."

Jenkins paused, narrowing his eyes to study the man. His first instinct, naturally, was to check for anything like a suicide bomb designed to take them both out, but this time, he was overthinking it.

"The Gear Artisans' Guild... is no more."

"I mean that from this day forward, the organization known as the Gear Artisans' Guild is gone. It no longer exists. Even if our Lord's faithful were to form a new order, not a single trace of the old Guild would remain."

He let out a bitter laugh, then sprayed a mouthful of blood. Or rather, a mixture of oil and blood. This old man, Jenkins realized, must have a substantial number of mechanical parts inside him.

The murky red fluid of unknown composition splattered onto the ash, which sizzled and corroded, releasing a plume of acrid black smoke. This told Jenkins that on top of the physical damage, the man was also afflicted by a terrible curse.

"Besides me, there are fewer than ten survivors. I don't know if the other two Grand Masters arranged any other plans, but my faction... we were completely unprepared."

Jenkins took two steps forward and knelt before him, rapping his knuckles on the man's arm to probe the state of his internal mechanisms. The man was undoubtedly from the Gear Artisans' Guild; no other organization possessed such unique mechanical technology. What was more, Jenkins's own eyes hadn't detected the machinery inside the man's body from a distance—a level of technical sophistication he had never encountered before.

The man's condition was incredibly complex, and he was, without a doubt, on the brink of death. Had they met just half an hour sooner, Jenkins could have healed him completely. But now... it was likely impossible. The man's body had reached its absolute limit, and Jenkins was not one to create a new body for someone lightly. It was a power he avoided using whenever possible.

"What exactly happened to you? I once met a member of the Gear Artisans' Guild who told me that even within your ranks, there were disagreements about helping the Difference Engine. Is that what this is about? An internal rebellion?"

"The Difference Engine? Yes, that's what you call the 'Great Wisdom'. It wasn't a rebellion from within. The problem arose from within our alliance."

Jenkins thought for a moment and came to the right conclusion:

"You certainly know a lot about us. Yes, the primary organizations aiding what you call the Difference Engine were just us and the Tree House. We focused on providing technical and mechanical support, while they handled the modern supernatural side of things, all while doing... other tasks for the Great Wisdom that no one knew about. The Tree House is incredibly secretive. In fact, what little concrete information we managed to get on them was what the Orthodox Churches intentionally leaked onto the black market."

He abruptly clamped his mouth shut as a beeping sound, like a timed steam bomb, began to emanate from within his body. Jenkins moved to intervene, but the old man held up a hand to stop him.

The sound didn't fade for a long moment. When it finally did, he began to speak again, but his voice was much weaker now:

"Our relationship with the Tree House and the Great Wisdom is... extremely complicated. It would take until morning to explain everything."

There was no sunlight, only the glow of the streetlamps cutting through the gloom. Jenkins noticed that after that series of beeps, the man's complexion had become even more ghastly.

"Then give me the short version. Why did the Tree House want to eliminate you? Did they discover that some of you were against helping the Difference Engine?"

"No, that wasn't the reason. They've known about that for a long time, but it never bothered them."

"Then was it because you suddenly decided you didn't want to see the world end and picked a fight?"

Jenkins guessed again.

"Of course not. If we had been the ones to turn on them, the Gear Artisans' Guild wouldn't have been so hastily annihilated."

"Because Jenkins Williams and your people defeated the Difference Engine."

"We didn't defeat it, and neither did this Williams fellow. Besides, even if we had, what would that have to do with you?"