Chapter 513: Chapter 513

After returning home, Jenkins lit the fireplace and changed into comfortable pajamas. He practiced the postures Bevanna had taught him on the carpet for a while, and when the time was right, he settled into a comfortable position and lay down. Follow current novᴇls on Nove1Fire.net

The distant chime of a clock tower rang out. In that very instant, Jenkins lost all control of his body, plummeting into an endless expanse of clouds.

Low, powerful voices seeped into his ears, a chaotic and disorderly clamor. Something immensely "heavy" seemed to press down from above, a presence so immense it compelled him not to look up.

Amidst the whispers, a weathered, ancient song began to rise—a melody he had never heard before. It was filled with a sense of the sacred, yet it also carried an undercurrent of profound sorrow, a desolation that felt as if the world itself was reaching its end.

He struggled to commit to memory the melody that battered his very soul, a tone so jarring it felt like he might cough up blood, but this was the absolute limit of his endurance.

Torn from that state, his consciousness plunged into the deepest chaos.

When he opened his eyes again, it was already one-forty in the morning. He had woken up a little earlier than last month, which he took as a good sign.

Chocolate lay on the desk, eyes closed, its small head resting against the Life Pearl. It seemed fast asleep, so Jenkins moved with deliberate care as he picked up a pen and paper.

During the whispers, he had focused most of his attention on that terrible song, so he had only managed to glean two meager pieces of complete knowledge.

Individually, their strength was negligible, but they were terrifying in a swarm. These insects possessed incredibly long lifespans and tenacious vitality, reproducing by devouring corpses and souls. If a single one entered a human body, it could birth thousands more in mere seconds, stripping a person down to a skeleton.

A disaster involving Blackhide Soul-Eaters had occurred in the year 579 of the Universal Calendar, during the current epoch. A group of ordinary people had accidentally opened the tomb of an ancient Enchanter, a tomb that lay directly beneath a sizable town...

Papa Oliver had sighed endlessly while recounting the incident, warning Jenkins to be extremely cautious around any ancient tombs.

This cultivation technique clearly originated from the Righteous God of December, [Death and End]. Yet, in all the materials Jenkins had ever encountered, there was never any mention of these insects being connected to a Righteous God.

"I recall that the domain of [Death and End] does include [Guardian of Tombs]. Could that be the reason?"

He muttered to himself, then glanced down at the paper covered in writing. He picked it up and tossed it into the fireplace. Tongues of flame instantly enveloped the sheet, and it burned away in moments, leaving only a few ashes to drift down onto the charred logs.

"This is far too dangerous. I'd better not even attempt it."

The second piece of knowledge was the method for learning an ability called [Chronicler (Golden Divine Art)].

This ability originated from the Righteous God [The Trackless Traveler], and its effects were formidable. An Enchanter who learned it could accumulate experiences, stories, and knowledge throughout their travels and transform that information into personal power.

For instance, if a Chronicler encountered a great drought in a village and personally experienced the event, they would temporarily gain the ability to cause arid weather.

The broader their knowledge, the longer their journey, and the more remarkable their stories, the more powerful the [Chronicler] became. Moreover, the power forged from these experiences could even solidify into permanent abilities without taking up an existing slot—in other words, it could create entirely new bubbles. That alone was enough to prove the ability's immense value.

Unfortunately, the minimum requirement to learn [Chronicler] was to possess five traveler-type divine arts and to have reached the level of a demigod.

The ability was useless to Jenkins, but it offered a glimpse into the kind of power wielded by Enchanters from the Churches of the Righteous Gods—those with a true heritage. His thoughts immediately turned to Bevanna, and he wondered if she had learned abilities that were exclusive to demigods.

"Perhaps," he mused, "Enchanters of the Church of the Sage can draw power directly from books."

The paper with the information on [Chronicler] followed its predecessor into the fireplace. Jenkins watched until it was completely consumed by the flames, only then did he avert his gaze.

He sat on the sofa, leaning back until his body was pressed firmly against the cushions. The tension on his face slowly began to ease.

The pocket watch on the coffee table caught the firelight, and the flickering flames made the shadows in the room dance gently.

He hummed through his nose, trying to follow the impression in his mind and replicate the strange song he had just heard. The attempt was utterly useless, however, and only succeeded in waking the sleeping Chocolate, who shot him a very unfriendly look.

The final month of 1865 Universal Calendar had finally arrived. Though Nolan City had been through all manner of turmoil this year—or more accurately, this latter half of the year—most of its citizens were still eagerly anticipating the Year-End Festival at the close of December.

On Saturday morning, the city was miraculously free of fog, but a sky full of heavy snow provided a new reason for people to stay indoors.

That morning, Jenkins ventured into the snow in his slippers to retrieve the milk, newspaper, and mail. Among the letters, he found one sent from Maidenhaven Road. In it, his father wrote that exam season was fast approaching at school, and the family's youngest son, John Williams, was in the throes of intense preparation. He asked Jenkins to come home for the weekend, hoping that his recent accomplishments would inspire John to study harder.

"But if I recall correctly, the original Jenkins barely scraped by with a diploma from the Nolan Secondary Institute of Mechanical Technology and never cracked a book again. Is that really going to inspire John?"

Despite his reservations, he still planned to return to Maidenhaven Road for dinner that evening. After all, another banquet awaited him on Sunday night.

When he arrived at Pops Antique Shop, braving the snow, he found a carriage bearing the Mikhail family crest parked out front.

He quickly pushed the door open and stepped inside. Two familiar ladies were seated in front of the shop's fireplace. Papa Oliver was nowhere in sight, but the door to the back courtyard was open, so Jenkins figured he was in the warehouse.

"Good morning, Miss Mikhail, Miss Hersha."

"Good morning, Mr. Williams."

It wasn't even eight o'clock yet. Jenkins was genuinely surprised to see them this early.