Chapter 251: Chapter 251

Spirit flooded into his eyes, momentarily sharpening his vision. In the distance, where Papa Oliver and the stranger with the magic eye had vanished, two familiar clusters of light flickered into view.

It was a struggle, but he had finally pinpointed their location.

The Eye of Reality, the most unexpected ability Jenkins had acquired since arriving in this world, hadn't changed noticeably despite two enhancements. However, the improvement to his perception of spirit was now enough for him to locate strong spiritual auras from a great distance, even through walls.

Of course, this method was mentally draining and put a heavy strain on his eyes. If he tried to monitor the city with it daily, he'd soon go blind.

Keeping his head down and a hand on his hat, Jenkins followed Fifth Queen's Avenue, staying close to the brick walls in the fog. He brushed past a man carrying a suitcase. To conserve spirit, he only pinpointed Papa Oliver's location every three minutes. He continued this way through the fog-shrouded city until he reached the Joël Bridge spanning the Westminster River. As he paused, pretending to watch the bustling laborers on the banks below, he saw that Papa Oliver and the other man were no longer moving.

He tightened his collar to hide his face, held his hat against the wind with his right hand, and peeked over the edge of the bridge. Down below, Papa Oliver and the man were standing together on the riverbank, deep in conversation.

"Discovered so quickly?"

With no time to think, Jenkins raced down from the bridge, circled around one of its massive pillars, and reached the stony bank. A gunshot had already cracked through the air.

Without questioning Jenkins's presence, Papa Oliver kept a wary eye on the man, who stood with half-lidded eyes and his hands in his pockets, and yelled:

"Normal bullets are useless! I'm sure of it—he's from the Magic Eye Collectors' Association. That eye is B-05-4-1072, the Sprinter's Eye of Slowness. Within his line of sight, most objects can't move faster than he can!"

Jenkins caught two key words: 'normal bullets' and 'most.' His mind immediately jumped to his special ammunition. But before he could act, the tall man kicked a footful of pebbles. With a deafening boom, like a steam bomb detonating, a spray of sharp stones shot toward them.

Jenkins dove behind Papa Oliver, who braced his shield with both hands and deflected the stony barrage.

The spiritual light in the magic eye flared, and at the same time, several points of light began to bloom in the air before him.

He uttered the word softly, and as the sound faded, the fog on the riverbank instantly thickened. Within seconds, the man had vanished completely from their sight.

They stood back-to-back, aiming their freshly loaded pistols into the white haze.

"Be careful. He's at least a level four."

Papa Oliver warned in a low voice, then suddenly swung his gun to the left. A shot exploded from the muzzle, smoke billowing out, but there was no sound of impact.

"These bullets are no good either... Did you bring the sanctified ones?"

Before he could finish, a buzzing sound erupted from their left, like an approaching swarm of bees. Jenkins fired again, but what emerged from the fog was a swarm of fly-like creatures—dripping, bloodshot eyeballs propelled by fluttering wings made of the nerve clusters trailing behind them.

Jenkins felt a wave of nausea as the eyeballs stared at him; in the reflection of the nearest one, he saw bizarre illusions. The swarm descended on them. Jenkins fired repeatedly, managing to hit only five. The ruptured eyeballs splattered onto the stony ground, their fragile forms bursting against the sharp pebbles as a murky, viscous fluid oozed out.

As Jenkins’s spent casings clattered on the stones, a torrent of fire erupted from the muzzle of Papa Oliver's pistol. With firepower rivaling a flamethrower, it instantly incinerated the swarm of eyeballs, filling the foggy air with a sickening stench.

"Another one of Papa Oliver's abilities?"

Jenkins wondered, since even ritually-prepared bullets should still fire as bullets, not as a jet of flame.

The stream of fire continued, but a sudden, inexplicable alarm seized Jenkins. He spun and fired to their side.

The bullet found its mark. A surprised voice cried out from within the dense fog:

"What kind of bullet was that?"

It hadn't been stopped by the magic eye. Instead, it had struck the man as he advanced with a dagger. He spun around, clutching his wounded left arm as shadows spread from his feet to engulf his entire body, and he vanished into the fog once more. Follow current novels on N0veI.Fiɾe.net

"I was about to say: 'No... extra ones.' They're already in my magazine."

Bracing against the heavy recoil, Jenkins fired several more shots with one hand while his other fumbled in his pocket for a spare magazine.

"Get ready. I hear something."

Papa Oliver murmured. The flames from his gun finally died down, but the next attack they expected never came.

A thick white fog blanketed the entire riverbank. Deep within it, a shadow flickered in and out of view. Back-to-back, the two men circled slowly, sharp eyes scanning the space before them.

"If he dares get any closer, I'll give him a lesson in 'knowledge' and see if his head explodes!"

Jenkins had already decided. It was his only invisible ability, so there was no risk of it being detected beforehand.

But before Jenkins could act, it seemed Papa Oliver's flames had drawn attention from elsewhere. A commotion erupted on the bridge above, followed by the heavy thud of something massive hitting the ground.

The fog swirled violently. After the sound of several wet smacks, like flesh hitting flesh, a man roared in anger. An unknown power quickly dispersed the fog, and Jenkins spun, aiming the dark muzzle of his gun toward the area beneath the bridge.

Captain Bincy stood up, removing his hat. He smiled and waved at them from beneath the bridge. Behind him, dozens of men in black trench coats were leaping down from above, the owner of the magic eye already pinned to the ground beneath them.

One of the agents knelt down, his right hand clawed as he reached for the captive's right eye socket. Without a moment's hesitation, ignoring the man's screams, he frowned and gouged out the green eye that glowed with a red spiritual light. He then pulled a clear glass tube filled with a murky yellow liquid from his pocket and dropped the still-twitching, squirming eyeball inside.