Chapter 335: Chapter 335

"While meddling with two people's timelines simultaneously would carry a greater cost, this is just a level-two Enchanter..."

With that thought, the middle-aged man drew upon the grandfather clock's power, concentrating it in his palm before directing it into the young, blond man. Follow current novᴇls on novel-fire.net

Since Jenkins hadn't shown up at the church on the morning of the 31st, no one was tactless enough to disturb Miss Bevanna's reading.

To others, this demigod-level Enchanter, despite being a woman, always appeared exceedingly stern. In truth, however, she enjoyed relaxing with knight novels to pass the time.

The book Miss Bevanna was reading today wasn't the recent continental bestseller, "Detective Knight Biography," but rather a poorly selling work brought from the Hamparvo Kingdom by a traveling merchant. Rumor had it the author was an influential noble, which explained how a book with disastrous prose and a calamitous plot could even get published. Most people, however, would sooner sample canned herring than make it to the third page.

Bevanna had a fondness for such books. They reminded her of her youth and the foolish things she'd done. She, too, had once tried her hand at writing, and it was only after a disappointing failure that she had resolved to dedicate herself to the study of the arcane.

"The author must be young and rather naive," she mused, "but their depiction of court life is surprisingly authentic."

Amused by a particularly ridiculous passage, she narrowed her eyes, her hand reaching out to turn the page, curious to see just how much more chaotic the book could become.

Her fingers paused in mid-air, and her brow knitted in confusion.

Puzzled, she pulled a pocket watch from her drawer. She snapped open the cover with a soft click, only to find its hands behaving in the exact same way.

A strange feeling emanated from the eastern part of the city. She walked to the window just as iridescent streaks began to paint the eastern sky. Amidst the ethereal colors, indistinct mirages of a city flickered into view.

Her deputy, a Mr. Gaskell Peters, rushed in without so much as a knock. She didn't reprimand him, her gaze fixed for a moment on the clock, which had now returned to normal. Then, she strode to her desk and hastily opened a book.

"The entire city can see the phantoms in the sky! We've determined the epicenter is likely located in..."

She held up a hand, silencing her deputy's report. Her eyes were fixed on the book as its pages began to flip on their own. The tome was incredibly thick, but the fact that the pages kept turning for a full minute was still unnerving.

When it finally stopped, Bevanna glanced down at the words on the page, and her already knitted brow furrowed even deeper in concern.

"A temporal anomaly has occurred in a sector of the city. It won't last long. The celestial mirage is a manifestation of that area's past and future. It will vanish shortly. Also..."

"Ma'am, you must see this! Oh, my God!"

Peters cut her off with a groan, bowing his head and frantically tracing a holy symbol across his chest.

Bevanna looked out the window. The iridescent mirage now clearly reflected a bustling city. Squinting, she could just make out a distinct figure, bathed in a beam of light descending from the heavens. A golden radiance erupted from the being, and pure white light flooded half the city.

The vision lasted less than ten seconds before vanishing. One would have had to be watching intently to discern anything from the chaotic colors and distorted images, but Bevanna, having caught that exact moment, understood.

"A god will descend openly, at some point in the future?"

She had no time to ponder it further before the illusion in the sky finally vanished. The brilliant colors seemed to collapse inward, shattering like tiles. Staring out at the falling snow, the entire event felt like a dream.

"Notify the 7th, 8th, and 9th Standing Squads. Have them proceed to that location immediately and assess the situation."

Leaving Peters in her office, she stepped out to address the staff who had rushed to the scene.

A man started, his tone troubled.

"That will be sufficient. This wasn't a Cursed Item, nor was it divine power. A Bestowal has shattered. Get to the scene immediately, investigate, and retrieve any clues."

She then turned to a nun standing nearby with her head bowed. "Mother Rita, does Bishop Parrold know of this?"

"We all saw it. The Bishop is organizing the priests and nuns to calm the congregation. He said he's already sent envoys to the other churches to discuss a response. The plan, I hear, is to announce to the public that the event was a miracle from one of the Righteous Gods."

"I won't interfere with secular affairs. That's a fine solution."

She was almost certain the incident had been caused by a mortal, with no divine involvement. Therefore, claiming it was a miracle, while perhaps an unethical way of promoting a god's glory, did not constitute blasphemy.

Miss Bevanna turned once more, her gaze falling upon a stone-faced young man at the back of the group. "Are all the Keepers of Secrets present?"

"All three are before the Gate of All Things. The incident caused changes in several of the horological items behind the gate."

"Inform Mr. Smith. Have him accompany the squad. We need him on-site to identify what we're dealing with."

Her orders delivered with swift efficiency, Miss Bevanna grabbed her coat and joined the others in the courtyard.

She paid no mind to the bows and greetings from those around her, instead narrowing her eyes as she gazed up at that same patch of sky.

Jenkins was also staring upward, his face a mask of utter astonishment.

"How did that cause such a stir...?"

The instant the shop owner tried to impose the power of time upon him, something went wrong—just as he'd expected.

His body may have been mortal, but his soul was that of a god. When the power of the Bestowal was applied to a divine soul, it was bound to cause problems. The first casualty was the Bestowal's owner himself. He had no time to offer any last words or bemoan his cruel fate before he disintegrated into a pile of dust. Nothing remained but the test tube filled with bacteria.

The Bestowal itself had also malfunctioned; the divine essence of Jenkins's soul had inflicted a fatal blow upon it.

All Jenkins could remember was the grandfather clock's hands spinning wildly, so fast they left afterimages. They spun and spun until the entire mechanism flew apart. As metal components scattered across the floor, a violent wave of nausea nearly sent Jenkins toppling into the pile of ashes.

And the entire city witnessed what happened next.

"Sage preserve us, I didn't mean for that to happen."