Chapter 2221: Chapter 2221

A faint click echoed through the air. Jenkins, along with the cat perched on the windowsill, turned his gaze toward the intricate mechanics behind the colossal clock face flanking the platform. As the sound reverberated, a brass-colored light coalesced deep within the gears and levers. A massive, circular emblem, much like a second clock face, materialized just behind the first. Its form was strikingly similar to a Savior's Emblem and bore a strong resemblance to the insignia of Alexia Miller's [Mathematical Principles].

The gears behind the clock face whirred manically. Bathed in the brass light, the gear man emerged, stepping onto the platform once more. This time, its entire frame was forged from the Difference Engine's most powerful special alloy. The previous body had been a mere probe; this was its true, ultimate form.

Without exchanging words, Jenkins brought his greatsword down in a powerful arc. The gear man parried the blow, and Jenkins immediately followed up, driving his free left fist toward its metal skull.

The gears within the metal skull whirred, splitting the automaton's face open to form a cavity that perfectly caught Jenkins's fist. A bronze glow, carrying the flow of his Spirit, shimmered over his skin. Even though his [Principle of All Machines] could no longer be actively triggered, its passive ability to suppress creations of the Difference Engine still worked.

The gear man froze for a fraction of a second, as if suspended in time. It was just long enough for Jenkins to press his advantage, forcing the fiery greatsword down past its metal arms. Before the automaton could recover, the blazing blade was inches from its metallic skull.

"Did you really think I wouldn't anticipate you bringing this sword?" the automaton's voice grated. "Or that you would find a way to shield it from my control?"

Its spherical metal eyes rolled back into its head, and in their place, a new demonic eye appeared.

"Just how many of those demonic eyes do you have?" Jenkins demanded.

As the demonic eye flared with Spirit, the flames wreathing Jenkins's spiral sword vanished in an instant, as if they had never been there. Simultaneously, the flow of his own Spirit through the weapon was frozen solid, sealed within the metal. The blade felt inert in his hands, as if it had died.

"What kind of demonic eye is that?"

"A-02-2-9321, [The Swordsmith's Hateful Gaze]," the automaton stated. "It suppresses all sword-type numbered items."

"You always have a new trick up your sleeve, don't you?"

"This is hardly new. I have considered every possibility. After wearing down your abilities and weapons through the first eight Mysterious Realms, how much power do you truly have left?"

The gear man advanced on Jenkins with heavy strides. With a series of intricate clicks and whirs, its right arm morphed into a long, brass sword. The blade itself, constructed from interlocking gears, had a skeletal, hollowed-out appearance. Within that empty space, however, ancient runes glowed, linked together in a shimmering chain. Steam hissed from between the whirring cogs as the automaton swung its arm, bringing the sword down on Jenkins.

"Even with what little power I have left," Jenkins declared, "it's more than enough to deal with this shell of yours."

He met the blade with a punch, pitting pure physical strength against a longsword accelerated by steam and supernatural power. Jenkins felt the bones in his arm snap. A moment later, the full extent of the damage registered: the bones in his right fist were shattered, his skin was broken and bleeding, and the soft tissue was severely bruised.

The impact bent the gear man's sword-arm out of shape, but a single, sharp swing through the air was all it took for the cogs to realign and restore the blade to its perfect form.

"You see?" the automaton said. "In your current state, you cannot even match my physical power."

Jenkins gave his hand a quick shake, the shattered bones and torn flesh knitting back together in an instant. His arm was fully restored.

"Why don't you just bring your core out?" he said, his voice level. "This skirmish is pointless."

"Every bit of your strength I force you to expend has meaning," the automaton replied.

The gear man advanced again, its sword-arm swinging down in the exact same arc as before. This time, Jenkins blocked the blade with his forearm and drove his foot into the automaton's torso.

A deafening, deep thud echoed from the impact, and a web of new cracks spread across the automaton's metallic hide. But just as quickly, the squirming gears within its body shifted and reconfigured, sealing the fissures.

"I cannot defeat you," the gear man stated, "but neither can you defeat me quickly."

The gear man brought its blade down a third time, moving faster than before. The very air pressure from the slash shimmered with an azure light.

"Another martial ability?"

This time, instead of meeting the blow with his fist, Jenkins summoned his spiral sword. It materialized seemingly inert, but he brought it down with enough force to shear through the automaton's own blade. Before the gear man could reform its arm into a hammer or some other non-sword weapon, Jenkins clamped his hand over the stump:

"You seem to have forgotten that I can control metal, too."

The regeneration halted instantly. The mangled cross-section of the arm smoothed over, the gears fusing together as if melted.

The gear man's mouth gaped open, the gears splitting apart to reveal a maw of sharp metal fangs aiming for Jenkins's throat. Jenkins answered with another punch. The impact was so severe that the front of the automaton's face caved in, creating a visible bulge at the back of its skull.

The two broke apart. The gear man retreated into the shadows from which it had emerged. It made no attempt to restore its right arm; instead, with a flick of its left, the arm reshaped itself into a short staff.

Jenkins backed away, positioning himself in the pale moonlight spilling through the window. He reached into the air and produced his own staff.

"You used a trick to disable my sword," Jenkins said. "What scheme have you cooked up for my staff?"

"Your staff is not like your sword," the automaton replied. "It is more akin to a plant, an elven creation. Even if I were to break it, you could instantly restore it."

"It seems you know me well."

The two opponents stared at each other. After a few seconds of tense silence, they surged forward simultaneously.

Wood and metal clashed. The two long staves met in a blur of rapid strikes that churned the air, filling the space between them with a continuous crackle of impacts. Sight was useless in the flurry of motion; every movement was pure instinct, a twitch of muscle and a flick of the wrist reacting faster than thought.

Through Chocolate's eyes, the battle was a series of intersecting arcs that flashed through the air and vanished. The sharp cracks of the staves striking one another blurred into a single, continuous roar. The cat could see this was no evenly matched duel; Jenkins held an absolute advantage in both skill and power.

The automaton's voice, produced by mechanics rather than muscle, cut through the din of battle. "Is this the power of the Hero you inherited?"

"You know this ability well?" Jenkins asked, seizing an opening to thrust his staff forward. The gear man deftly parried the blow. Jenkins instantly retreated a step, dodging the counter-swing of the metal staff before pressing forward again, giving his opponent no time to recover.

"I have encountered many Heroes," it said. "On several of the occasions when intelligent life managed to seal me away again, an inheritor of the [Hero] legacy was present."

The Difference Engine's avatar slashed its staff diagonally, and for a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as though a thousand metal staves were descending at once. It was no illusion, but a high-level combat technique. Jenkins closed his eyes, letting his instincts guide his movements. A calm mind, he knew, was the warrior's greatest asset.

"So, do you consider me a Hero?" Jenkins asked. He took a nimble step forward, and the tip of his staff finally connected with the automaton's chest—right where its hidden compartment lay. But before he could press his advantage, he was forced to pull back on the defensive.

"You are the most un-Hero-like [Hero]."

"Why do you say that?"

"You are an ambitious man, one might say," the machine elaborated. "But you do not strike me as the kind of Hero who would sacrifice everything for the sake of the world."

"Oh, you're right about that one."

Jenkins suddenly stopped moving, letting the automaton's staff slam into his shoulder. The divine enchantments on his greatcoat flared, reacting against the black spiritual aura coating the weapon. Even so, the blow was devastating, turning Jenkins's right shoulder into a mess of shredded flesh and bone.

"Good. In that case, I'll get a little more serious."

He rolled his shoulder, the mangled wound sealing itself shut in an instant. Then, he lunged, his left hand reaching for the gear man. The automaton tried to back away, only to find its retreat cut off by a thick web of vines that had sprouted from the floor.

The automaton's body temperature skyrocketed. As it pressed back against the barrier, the vines melted away like ice exposed to flame. But it was too late. Jenkins's hand closed around its head. As his fingers made contact, the world reflected in the machine's eyes seemed to show the very sky caving in:

"You've already touched the edge of godhood?"

"No," Jenkins replied. "I've been a god for a long time." Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NoveIＦire.net

He tightened his grip on the automaton's head. A brilliant bronze light erupted from his palm, and spreading out from his hand, the brassy hue of the machine's body began to shift, transmuting into the same deep bronze.

At that very moment, however, the machinery hidden in the darkness behind the great clock face whirred to life once more.

Streams of brass-colored light shot out from the hidden mechanism, connecting with the automaton. The machine in the shadows was pouring its power into its avatar, helping it resist Jenkins's transmutation.

Jenkins knew he wouldn't win so easily with that main machinery in play. So, while keeping one hand clamped on the automaton's head to maintain the stalemate, he pointed his other hand toward the unlit gears of the Nolan clock tower, deep in the shadows.

Instantly, a swarm of newly sprouted vines slithered up the inner walls of the clock tower like a nest of snakes. Meanwhile, the automaton in Jenkins's grasp had not given up the fight.

Even with more than half of its head transmuted from brass to bronze, it still controlled the rest of its body. Its left arm swung its staff toward Jenkins again, but a volley of vines shot out from the side, ensnaring the raised limb.

It tried to repeat its earlier trick, superheating its body to burn the vines away, but this time it wasn't so simple. A veritable flood of vines swarmed its left arm. No matter how much strength it exerted or how high it raised its temperature, with Jenkins's hand locked on its head, its arm could not break free. Layers of vines were incinerated and torn away, only to be replaced by fresh waves surging from the shadows:

"You should know that life can survive even in the harshest environments."

"So you specially prepared heat-resistant plants?"

As it spoke, the gears in its torso churned, and a large vent opened in its chest. A jet of scalding steam blasted out, aimed directly at Jenkins's face.

Jenkins didn't flinch. He simply let out a slow breath. A current of absolute cold flowed from his lips, instantly desublimating the water vapor in the steam. A shower of tiny ice crystals rained down on the floor at their feet.

"You can still control ice?"

The automaton asked in surprise. It knew Jenkins had already expended his [Ice Solidification] ability in the first Mysterious Realm—the Sea of Lava.