Chapter 344: Chapter 344

Jenkins had been prepared for the first three incidents of the day. And while his plans had been derailed by unexpected twists, he had, thankfully, managed to resolve each one.

But this fourth matter—a direct confrontation with the man from the Magic Eye Collection Association—was a different story. For this, he had no solid plan.

Jenkins still had a single drop of divinity remaining. He decided that if he was truly cornered, he would use it to end the battle.

And because he was prepared to use this divinity, he couldn't have Miss Miller by his side. He wasn't yet ready to expose all of his secrets to her.

Following their plan, the two of them made their way to the police cordon near the Replica Shop. Despite the series of incidents that had rocked Nolan City today, the combat squad assigned to guard the area remained at their post.

According to the information Jenkins had gathered from his second experience of the 31st, the man nicknamed the "Thousand-Eyed Priest" was supposed to appear nearby at around three forty-two.

He used the excuse of needing Miss Miller to provide backup from the perimeter while he scouted the building directly above the shop's basement. With that, he and the petite woman went their separate ways.

Jenkins was certain that Miss Miller knew it was just an excuse, but she had agreed without a word. After everything they'd been through, he was beginning to think of her as one of the few people he could truly call a friend.

Thanks to his precise knowledge of the Church's patrol routes and guard posts in the area, he reached his destination with ease.

He stood leaning against a corner for a while, and a dusting of snow quickly settled on his shoulders. He hunched his neck against the cold, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.

"It's freezing," he muttered. "What's taking him so long?"

He started to worry that the day's chaos had altered the timeline of events. The situation at the winery earlier had already deviated from his foreknowledge, though that particular change had worked in his favor, making infiltration easier. Here, however, all he could do was pray. The cultist could be late, but he absolutely had to come.

After standing out in the cold a bit longer, he decided that waiting around like a fool in the snow wasn't going to work. He scanned his surroundings and slipped into a nearby vacant house.

No matter how arrogant the Thousand-Eyed Priest was, he wasn't skilled enough to fight his way past the cordon. His actual method of reaching the Replica Shop was to dig a tunnel.

From what Jenkins knew of the original timeline, the priest was supposed to sneak into this very house at around three forty-two. Then, using some unknown method, he would open a passage to the Replica Shop in under ten minutes.

If he hadn't wasted so much time inside the shop, allowing the Church's guardians to find him, Captain Bincy and his team might never have even had the chance to engage.

The nearby residents had all been evacuated long ago, so the house was empty and cold, but it was still a welcome refuge from the outdoors.

Jenkins brushed away his footprints as he made his way to the basement. Discovering a pile of firewood in the corner, he hollowed out a space within it just large enough to crouch inside, concealing himself to await his target.

"My pocket watch is still broken."

He was currently carrying a lady's watch that Miss Miller had lent him; his own was still broken. It had been a gift from his younger brother, John, so Jenkins didn't have the heart to replace it. He made a mental note to find time to get it repaired.

The minutes ticked by. Half an hour after the appointed time, he finally heard footsteps.

He pulled out the watch's crown to stop the ticking hands from giving him away. Then, signaling for Chocolate to remain silent, he covered his own mouth and peered out through a crack in the firewood.

A man entered the basement quietly, holding a paraffin lamp. He paused on the top step, his gaze sweeping the darkness below before he finally descended.

Just as Jenkins had predicted, the man first released a swarm of eyeball flies, sending them out to confirm the basement was empty before proceeding with his task.

With great care, he took off his black trench coat—the back of which was flared up stylishly despite the still air—and from within its folds, he produced four rectangular, plank-like objects.

He placed the planks—two short, two long—against the eastern wall of the basement. They adhered to the stone bricks as if of their own accord.

He placed the final short plank horizontally along the floor, completing a rectangle with the other three. He rubbed his hands together, and a yellow mote of light before him flared with a dazzling spiritual aura. Taking two steps back, he stooped and pressed both hands against the wall. With a low growl, he focused his power into his palms.

His boots scraped two long marks into the floor as the piercing grind of stone on stone echoed through the basement. Like a hidden door, the section of wall framed by the wooden planks swung inward, revealing a long, narrow passage behind it.

"What kind of strange ability is that?"

Jenkins wondered. He held his position, quietly waiting for the man to disappear into the passage.

As the stone panel began to swing shut, slow and inexorable, Jenkins sprang to his feet. He raised his pistol, aimed into the tunnel, and fired.

Wary of the "magic eye's" power, he didn't dare look directly into the tunnel, but from the sounds echoing back, his bullets seemed to have had no effect. The source of thɪs content is novel⦿fire.net

He emptied the entire magazine, but never heard the thud of a bullet hitting flesh.

The stone door was about to seal completely. Jenkins pointed a finger into the tunnel, and a figure wreathed in thick black smoke materialized behind him before charging headlong into the passage.

A muffled explosion followed, shaking the entire basement. A cloud of dust rained down from the ceiling, and Chocolate, who had been peeking out, immediately ducked back into hiding.

"Damn it, that was way too loud!"

A pang of regret hit him; there was no way the guards nearby wouldn't have noticed the tremor. Still, it had been his best option. He didn't have the nerve to crawl into that cramped tunnel himself—that would have meant a direct confrontation with the cultist, with no room to maneuver.

He wondered, ready to retreat at a moment's notice. But just then, a scraping sound came from inside the wall right next to him. A moment later, another low, rectangular opening materialized in the stone.

The panel was shoved open instantly. The moment a coarse hand emerged, two slender vines shot out of thin air, snaking into the cramped space beyond the opening.

A black mist suddenly billowed out from the tunnel. The vines recoiled as if they'd touched something foul and vanished without a trace.

From within the mist, the Thousand-Eyed Priest scrambled out, looking utterly wretched. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and dust, his once-sleek hair now a tangled mess. He looked less like a fearsome cultist and more like a desperate refugee.

He snarled, just like all the others Jenkins had sent to their graves.