Chapter 310: Chapter 310

Jenkins scanned the entire wall of clocks, one by one. He soon discovered that an unremarkable brown wooden mantel clock in the corner was radiating a brilliant white spiritual aura.

"A Bestowal?" Orıginal content can be found at Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

He never would have expected it—to find such an item in an ordinary clock shop. But then he froze, his hand tightening its grip on his hat.

"Most of the Bestowals I've seen inexplicably draw me to touch them, but this clock doesn't. So... it already has an owner?"

A jolt of alarm shot through him at the thought, because the shopkeeper was right behind him.

"Sir, are you quite fond of this clock?"

The shopkeeper's voice echoed just then, but judging by the sound, he should have still been behind the counter.

"No, it's just that compared to the other clocks in your shop, this one seems rather plain."

This wasn't just an excuse; it was the truth. The other clocks in the shop were all decorated in some way, whether with patterns outlined in gold or silver thread, intricate carvings from a patient artisan, or uniquely shaped pendulums.

In other words, it was a clock in its purest form.

A hand rested on Jenkins's shoulder. He turned to see the shopkeeper, who should have been on the other side of the store, now standing right behind him.

Jenkins's heart trembled, but his acting skills had reached a sublime level. On the surface, his expression remained perfectly normal.

"He can use his abilities at this range, and he has two other special items on him. Plus, he's a level-seven Enchanter. No, I can't force this."

"How many gold pounds for this one?"

He smiled, pointing to the left of the Bestowal at an ordinary clock that shared a similar style. "I still think it ought to have some decoration. It would be a bit rude to greet guests with something so plain."

"This model is a bit cheaper."

His hand remained on Jenkins's shoulder, a gesture that was highly impolite.

Jenkins's smile slowly stiffened.

"You can drop the act."

he asked, turning his head as he simultaneously summoned his motes of light.

"Blasphemous Creation!"

Two green vines shot out from the void. At the same time, a rag doll at the shopkeeper's waist suddenly flew into the air. The vines, like tentacles, coiled around the crudely made doll. Then, as if venting their rage, they burrowed through the stitched seams and tore it to shreds before retreating back into the void.

"Substitute dolls are quite expensive, you know."

The middle-aged man spoke calmly. He clapped his hands, and the scraps of cloth on the floor vanished without a trace.

Jenkins shrugged his shoulder, shaking off the man's hand, then spun around and threw a punch. The shopkeeper blocked the blow with his forearm, but a layer of frost instantly coated his entire right arm.

Activating Cat's Grace, he rolled smoothly across the floor and lunged for the shop's entrance.

His vision went dark as a figure abruptly materialized out of thin air.

Jenkins felt an immense force rushing toward him. He dodged his head to the left, but an iron crowbar slammed into his shoulder. Like a batted baseball, he was sent flying back the way he came, tumbling across the floor several times and crashing into a few clocks against the opposite wall.

A searing pain shot through his right shoulder. He didn't need to check to know it was broken.

The person who had appeared at the door and struck him with the crowbar was, impossibly, the shopkeeper.

"Spatial travel? No, that's not right..."

With an audible sound of whirring gears from within his body, the frost on the shopkeeper's right arm vanished at a visible rate. He casually tossed the crowbar to the floor with his left hand, and then the man disappeared into thin air once more.

He reappeared in front of Jenkins, crouching before him as he lay on the ground, a pistol now in his hand, aimed at his head.

A silver band of light materialized before Jenkins. He jerked his head forward, and a massive disc of light shot out. The shopkeeper's figure flickered like a distorted television screen, and a pedestrian who had been walking outside suddenly appeared in his grasp, blocking the disc.

He held up the unfortunate pedestrian and vanished again, reappearing at a distance and using the person's body as a shield to block Jenkins's bullet.

"How do you have so many dangerous abilities?"

He seemed reluctant to get any closer to Jenkins, leaning back against the counter in a relaxed posture.

"Don't bother struggling. I'm not a particularly cruel man. Now, tell me, why did you come here today? Was it just to get your pocket watch repaired? Or did I expose my identity somewhere? If you're honest, I can find you a respectable grave."

Jenkins's eyes darted toward the outside, but the shopkeeper was faster. Using that teleportation-like ability again, he appeared near the display window. With a flick of his right finger, all the curtains fell shut.

"Don't try anything else, sir. I can assure you, you are going to die today. Answer my question, and I'll make it quick. Otherwise, I will show you things far more terrifying than death."

His right hand took the pistol from the counter and aimed it at Jenkins's head, while his left methodically rolled up his right sleeve. Beneath the cuff was not an arm of flesh, but a mechanical limb of brass, assembled from countless tiny gears, springs, and bearings.

The arm possessed a chaotic beauty, its bearings and intricate gears spinning at different speeds. Though it looked as if the slightest movement would cause it to fall apart, each component seemed to keep the others in check. The shopkeeper pressed a few spots on the upper part of the mechanical arm. With a small hiss of steam from where the wrist's artery would be, a small silver case popped out from beneath the gears of his forearm.

The shopkeeper chuckled and, with a click, snapped the case open. Inside was a syringe filled with a murky, rust-colored liquid.

"Since you're an Enchanter living in Nolan City, you must have heard of A-08-1-9990, the Gear Germs, haven't you?"

"I've heard of it, cough..."

The final cough brought up a spray of bloody foam. He could feel the nut hanging on his chest radiating an astonishing amount of heat.

He glanced up at Chocolate. The cat was standing on the floor nearby, nuzzling the package he had prepared to send to Mary.

Jenkins tried to give it a look, a signal to run, but the cat didn't seem to notice.

"So, you're with the Gear Artisans' Association?"

He nodded, pointing the syringe needle upward with his left hand. With a gentle push of the plunger, a single drop of the turbid, rusty water oozed from the tip.