Chapter 2078: Chapter 2078

"Are you really sure you want to do this now?"

To Jenkins, Alexia's voice seemed to drift in from a great distance, as if from the very edge of the sky.

"Yes," he answered. "If I enter the tower and win, only to come out and find you all dead, what meaning would that victory hold?"

The first half of his voice sounded normal enough, but the second half splintered into echoes that reverberated down the street, crowded with the Church's Enchanters.

Jenkins closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his right hand now held the metal block he always carried. The golden radiance resonated with the sacred silver of the block. From his vantage point nearby, Papa Oliver could see that the six faces of the block were engraved with the six emblems of a Savior.

"Don't worry, I'll be back."

He whispered to Alexia one last time, but she could no longer see his expression. A golden light had completely enveloped him, its magnificent radiance splashing outward, painting a brilliant stroke across the dark-filled night.

Everyone, whether on the street or in the town square at its end, noticed the blaze of color. The crowd spontaneously parted, clearing a path for Jenkins to walk toward the square and face the approaching monster.

With every step, the golden light left an imprint on the ground, as if a carpet of gold were unrolling over the earth he crossed.

People heard singing, and then the peal of bells. Amid the chaotic gusts, a sharper, more piercing wind began to blow.

The sacred silver metal gradually dissipated in his raised palm. Jenkins paid no mind to the expressions on the faces in the crowd; he simply walked on.

A pillar of pure white light pierced the black clouds overhead, enveloping him. The golden light surged outward like an ocean, instantly scattering the gray mist and the strange, floating ash.

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Beside Papa Oliver, Miss Strass didn't even realize her mouth was hanging open. As a Saint of her god, she understood this power far better than any ordinary person.

A pressure even more potent than the one hanging over the square radiated outward like a tidal wave. People bowed their heads. Even the Church's demigods and Saints could no longer look directly at the savior they had chosen.

A hymn. It was unmistakably a hymn that rang in their ears. Few had ever heard the anthem that accompanied the arrival of the God of Lies, but now, there was no doubt: this was a divine anthem.

Miss Bevanna had to remain at the church, so it was Mr. Gilbert who had come to see Jenkins off. He had been fighting the demon at the edge of the square just moments before, so he hadn't been able to rush toward Jenkins with Papa Oliver.

As the saint cloaked in the pillar of pure white light drew near, Gilbert finally confirmed the unimaginable. A wave of dizziness, unlike anything he had ever felt, washed over the middle-aged man. It wasn't caused by the power from a higher dimension, but by his own inability to accept the truth. He began to suspect he was going mad.

"But how is this possible?"

Like most people, Mr. Gilbert believed he must be dreaming. But as the anthem swelled and the figure one dared not gaze upon passed before him, the boundless power and divine pressure finally convinced him that this was real. A god was confirming reality itself; the presence of a god meant this moment was absolute reality.

"Is Jenkins a vessel for the God of Lies?"

The thought crossed countless minds.

The voice, divine and resonant, echoed in their ears. Suppressing his fear, Mr. Gilbert raised his head, only to see the back of the figure in the light receding into the distance. He couldn't understand how, but he understood who. The one he was watching was Jenkins. He was the god.

White ash drifted down from the sky, only to slide away in another direction before it could touch Him. The single drop of divinity, condensed from the domain of Lies, had been completely absorbed into his soul.

The divine soul ignited the divinity, and the divinity completed the divine soul. With a sigh from the God of Lies, like a whisper in a dream, everyone understood.

They looked up at the god walking the earth. Under their collective gaze, He strode step by step into the center of the square. At that exact moment, nine emblems materialized at his feet. Their colors flashed in succession, overlapping until a rainbow pillar of light shot toward the aperture in the sky. From the depths of that gaping hole, a terrifying shriek echoed in response.

He spread His arms and, as the crowd watched, ascended high into the air. A soft white light showered down below as the nine emblems at His feet merged into one. The god pointed a hand toward the sky, and the pillar of rainbow light collided with a long, black tongue that shot out from the aperture.

"By the laws of this world, you have no place here!"

The aperture, opened by sacrifice, began to close at the god's command. But before it sealed shut, a thick, greasy black arm, like malleable clay, squeezed its way out of the relatively small opening.

The god threw a punch, meeting the arm head-on. As black light and golden light collided, the world itself seemed to shudder. Abyssal radiance scattered across the sky. Then, the god, still cloaked in the pillar of pure white light, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The clash had dispersed the black clouds overhead, allowing the light of the twin moons to break through and bathe him in their glow.

The ground was trembling, but no one paid it any mind. They only watched as the pillar of smoke shrouding the metal tower dissipated in what must have been the umpteenth earthquake that year.

A deep rumbling echoed from below, and as promised, the ninth level of the tower rose at the stroke of midnight to stand beside the god in the sky. And as the ninth level appeared, the tower's bell rang for the very first time.

The bell tolled twelve times. It was midnight.

The tolling of the bell was accompanied by the roar of a steam engine. Simultaneously, jets of scorching white steam shot out from the seams between each of the tower's nine levels, like the hissing cylinders of a locomotive grinding to a halt.

The god pointed toward the tower. A beam of golden light shot forth, but it only left a black scorch mark circled in gold on the exterior of the third level.

Then, the pure white light around the god faded. The unsettling yet captivating hymn gradually fell silent. As the power receded, the oppressive atmosphere vanished with it.

His power exhausted, the god descended. The young writer landed before the gate of the ninth level, under a sky once again veiled in black clouds. With his descent, the clouds overhead grew ever thicker, and the moonlight faded.

The moment his feet touched down, the light vanished completely.

He was mortal once more, fallen from divinity to the same station as everyone else present. Without a word, he grasped the iron handle of the gate. He turned one last time to look back at the dumbstruck crowd.

He gave a slight nod, but said nothing.

Pulled the gate open.