Chapter 242: Chapter 242

Chairs were scattered around the table, two of them even knocked over on their sides. Before the head of the table stood a three-meter-tall cross, its white wood stained with splatters of blood that looked alarmingly fresh.

Jenkins bent down and picked up the three items at his feet. He slipped the two rings onto his left and right hands, fastened the brass cylinder to his waist, and then strode toward the cross.

The blood on it was real; Jenkins could even smell the heavy, coppery tang of it in the air.

He scanned the cramped space one more time, making sure he hadn't missed any crucial clues, before finally moving to the door.

It was a stone door, blending in so seamlessly with the wall it was almost invisible. He pushed it open with some effort, revealing a quiet, narrow corridor beyond. The walls were constructed from rough-hewn stone blocks.

There was no light here either, only a trail of bloody footprints leading down the corridor to his right.

In such a dim environment, creating a light source would be like broadcasting his position to any enemies lurking nearby. Jenkins had just dismissed his starlight sphere and was debating which way to go when he heard a sound from the corridor to his left.

It wasn't footsteps. It was the sound of someone moving rapidly through the enclosed space, a whisper of friction against the still air. Only in a silent cellar , by holding his breath, could he have possibly heard it.

Jenkins took a step back, melting into the shadows behind the stone door. A few seconds later, a figure in a black robe hurried into the room.

The figure was dressed in the standard attire of the Gem Assembly, just like Jenkins himself. The lack of footsteps made sense—a projection couldn't physically interact with the floor, but its form could still displace the air. Jenkins wasn't an expert on the exact mechanics of it, but he understood the principle. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by noⅴelfire.net

The robed figure stood frozen in the doorway for a long moment. Just as Jenkins was beginning to wonder if the mysterious person, gender unknown, had passed out on their feet, they suddenly stumbled forward and collapsed at the foot of the cross.

It was a woman's voice, and a young one at that. It sounded vaguely familiar, likely someone who had spoken at the last gathering, but Jenkins couldn't quite place her.

“Why can't I get back...”

Her low murmur reached his ears, laced with confusion and helplessness.

A Gem Assembly had been in progress when something went wrong with Constantine. Two other Enchanters from the Orthodox Church had been present. One had been struck by a mental attack, and their physical body had died instantly. The other had sacrificed their own life to send out a distress call, which was the very reason Jenkins was here now.

He had, however, only just learned that the others were trapped and couldn't return.

Maybe I can ask her about the situation, Jenkins thought. She might know how to get out of here.

Jenkins considered this from his hiding spot behind the door. Not wanting to startle her, he gave a deliberate cough.

The gloom was too thick to make out the woman's exact movements, but as the sound of his cough faded, an awkward silence descended upon the cellar.

Jenkins instinctively held his breath. Just as his lungs began to burn, the young woman finally spoke:

Her voice trembled. He had startled her after all.

Am I really that frightening?

Jenkins, still concealed behind the door in his hood, wondered to himself. He coughed again.

He took a step forward, summoning his starlight sphere to once again illuminate the space. “It’s me,” he announced. “Mr. Zircon.”

Perhaps the light gave her courage, because the woman got to her feet. She didn't approach, but gave a wary nod. “Hello,” she said. “I am Alexandrite.”

Ah, the miss who provided the information about the Creation Slate, Jenkins recalled.

Seeing that she remained cautious, Jenkins directed the starlight sphere to hover in the space between them. “Miss,” he began, “you can surely see that I’m able to use my abilities. You can hear my footsteps on the floor. That means I am here in the flesh. While my situation is more perilous than yours, it also means I have a far greater chance of getting out of here...”

“What is it you want to know, sir?”

Her tone had returned to normal. Anyone who became an Enchanter was far from a fool.

“I want to know what’s going on outside,” Jenkins said. “And where is Mr. Constantine?”

He directed the sphere of light to circle the edges of the cellar, scanning for any hidden messages or clues.

“First, you answer a question for me,” she countered. “Why did you come here?”

The woman took a step closer in a show of goodwill. While her projected form was immune to physical and most non-physical attacks, her consciousness was present, making her vulnerable.

She's an unregistered Enchanter, Jenkins reasoned, so she won't trust anyone from the Orthodox Churches. Therefore...

“Mr. Constantine is a level-eight Enchanter,” Jenkins explained. “I was intrigued by his methods for organizing these gatherings, so I used divination to find this location.”

“You’re level eight yourself?”

she asked sarcastically.

“No. But some things are more terrifying than being level eight.”

It was a true statement. A pseudo-god that kept to the shadows, for instance.

The woman considered his words and seemed to agree. In her current state, most of her abilities were useless. If she wanted to escape, she would have to cooperate.

The woman nodded, though she didn't remove her hood. She first asked Jenkins to still the sphere of light, finding it too distracting, before she began to explain:

“There were eleven of us trapped here from the gathering,” she started. “Seven are dead. Constantine captured two. Another escaped with me, but has since disappeared. I’m the only one who made it back here. This is the cellar of a castle, and we aren’t far from the surface, but what’s above us...”

She raised a pale, slender hand and pointed upward.

At the same time, Jenkins narrowed his eyes.

He couldn't see clearly, but her skin looked delicate, with no calluses... No, wait. There was a small one on the side of her middle finger. A writer's callus?

“...is not ordinary earth. It’s solid rock. You’d need a special ability to get through it. I don’t know where Mr. Constantine is now, but I just tried to go up the stairs. The moment I leave the effective range of this gathering, my projection should dissipate and I’ll be free. But Constantine forced me back. He... he’s not human anymore.”

Her voice trailed off, her words swallowed by a strange noise coming from beyond the stone door. It sounded like the slithering of a massive serpent, its belly scraping across the floor.

They both held their breath simultaneously. After a long, tense moment, the sound gradually faded. Jenkins felt a phantom cold sweat trickle down his spine—a sensation without substance, as his body was currently incapable of such a reaction.