Chapter 457: Chapter 457
He grumbled at Jenkins's interruption, then stood and prodded the coals in the fireplace with a poker before continuing his explanation.
"The level isn't the key. The real issue is the vast difference in his strength between his normal state and his killing state. That's the fundamental reason we couldn't find any clues about these madmen.
In the end, after losing several lives, the Nightwatch squad still hadn't found the culprit. It wasn't until a lone Night Watcher, on patrol by himself, had the incredible luck to stumble upon the man and kill him in a one-on-one duel. And guess what happened next?"
Papa Oliver deliberately paused at the most crucial moment.
Jenkins thought for a moment, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the countertop. He decided to go with the most dramatic guess he could think of.
"He discovered the killer was his captain, or perhaps his closest friend!"
A look of suspicion crossed Papa Oliver's face. "Did you spend your entire week of travel reading nothing but adventure novels? What about those books I assigned you..."
"I read them. Please, continue!"
Chocolate remained curled up on the counter, but his twitching ears showed he was listening intently.
"You probably wouldn't know what it is. Even the Orthodox Church had to put in a great deal of effort to identify it. It's A-01-1-6377, the Killing Mark. The last time something appeared was back in the 14th Epoch."
Chocolate's adorable features twisted in disgust, as if he had just heard something utterly revolting.
Jenkins wracked his brain, sifting through the knowledge he had accumulated under his various identities, but he had indeed never heard of a Killing Mark.
He leaned his right arm on the counter, his body tilting forward in a clear display of curiosity.
"It's a ritual, or perhaps... a test. According to the fragmented ancient records we managed to unearth, the Killing Mark typically appears in the triple digits. The bearers of these marks can strengthen themselves by killing any intelligent being, and what's more frightening is that this enhancement has almost no limit."
Papa Oliver shook his head as he spoke.
"They get stronger by killing, and the more they kill, the stronger they become?"
Jenkins asked, a suspicion forming in his mind that this might be some god of slaughter's method for selecting a vessel to possess for a resurrection.
"You could say that."
Papa Oliver affirmed his summary.
"And at a certain stage, these bearers of the Killing Mark will instinctively seek out another mark bearer and fight to the death. The victor gains the entirety of the loser's power, until only one remains. During this period, any unmarked person who defeats a mark bearer in a one-on-one fight will acquire their identity and power."
"So, that Night Watcher who discovered this..."
He asked with concern.
"Don't worry, the mark can be completely removed through a divine ritual, but it requires the person's willing cooperation."
But the expression on Papa Oliver's face remained grim.
"The longer one bears the Killing Mark, the more unstable their mind becomes, and the desire to kill grows stronger. It's difficult for those who suddenly gain such power to willingly give it up. Trying to encourage these killers to turn themselves in through this method is simply impossible."
Jenkins nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to a vase by the wall. The whole affair felt deeply strange. Could it be that because the epoch was drawing to a close, all sorts of bizarre and mysterious things were beginning to manifest?
"Papa Oliver, what happens to the last bearer of the mark, the one who wins the killing game?"
Papa Oliver didn't answer him, instead shaking his head gently. "I know the answer, but I can't tell you here. Aren't you going to the church this afternoon? Go find the Keeper of Secrets on duty at the Gate of All Things and ask them. It's safe to speak there."
The rest of the morning was spent catching up on the week's interesting news. Of course, Jenkins also shared the tale of his adventure involving the Kremen Treasure with Papa Oliver.
Papa Oliver knew a few legends from the area around Bel Diran himself, so he was quite captivated by the story. Fresh chapters posted on novel★fire.net
After lunch, Jenkins took Chocolate and headed for the church. Since it was a weekday afternoon, there weren't many faithful present for prayer.
The first acquaintance Jenkins ran into wasn't the bishop, but Roberts, the priest, who was in the cloister directing several young men hanging an oil painting.
He was facing the wall, helping the man on the ladder position the painting correctly, so he didn't notice Jenkins passing by.
The massive painting had a somber tone. The background appeared to be the foyer of a grand mansion, with a staircase and furniture visible near the edges of the frame. The floor was strewn with bodies and people cowering with their hands over their heads. The central figure was a young man, captured mid-leap, facing a giant serpent that was lunging out from a painting within the painting.
Only his back was visible, so it was impossible to identify who he was. But according to church tradition, such paintings glorifying heroes, which were worthy of being hung in the church itself, usually depicted Enchanters who had truly performed great deeds.
Like the one to the left depicting a knight slaying a dragon, or the battlefield duel around the corner of the corridor—all of these were real events.
"Which Scribe has earned such an honor recently?"
He wondered to himself, then heard the old priest shout.
"Justin, a little more to the right! You all need to hurry. I know it just arrived from Bel Diran, but we have to get it properly hung before sunset. It's a matter of attitude, do you reckless young men understand?"
"That couldn't be me, could it?"
The realization finally dawned on him.
Bishop Parrold's office was as spacious as ever. When Jenkins knocked and entered, the old man was pressing his ring of authority onto a document, sealing it.
"Ah, Jenkins, you're here. Was your trip successful?"
"Good afternoon, Bishop Parrold. The trip went very well."
As he spoke, he turned to close the door behind him, casually taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. It wasn't a simple iron hook mounted on the wall, but a solid wood hall tree, its upward-slanting arms carved with floral patterns and coated in a brown varnish.
Upon entering, Chocolate gracefully leaped from Jenkins's shoulder. He first landed on the guest sofa, but apparently finding it uncomfortable, he trotted over to the windowsill to bask in the sunlight that illuminated his beautiful fur.
The cat let out a great yawn.