Chapter 97: Chapter 97

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the squad set out. Each member was clad in a matching black trench coat, designed for stealth in the dead of night, and armed with standard-issue weapons.

It was then that things began to grow strange.

Nolan City was unusually quiet tonight. The usual sounds—the rowdy shouts of drunkards, the rumble of carriage wheels over cobblestones—were completely absent.

Jenkins and the others were positioned around a three-story, ochre-colored building in the slums, while the frontline assault team had already breached the entrance.

The red and blue moonlight cast a silent, eerie glow. Standing in the bleak, cold night, Jenkins tilted his head back, straining to catch the faintest sound on the wind.

The building had long been abandoned, typically serving as a shelter for the city's homeless. Tonight's battle would undoubtedly catch them in the crossfire.

"May the Goddess bless you."

Jenkins made the sign of the sacred emblem over his chest.

Suddenly, a sharp crackle of explosions erupted from the building, and a dark figure vaulted from the rooftop.

In the moonlight, Jenkins recognized the face—it was the disheveled, grimy face of Barnard.

He sighed. He never imagined that against such odds, he would run into his benefactor here.

But the real Barnard had died the moment the evil spirit possessed him. Jenkins, having experienced his own soul being driven out by a malevolent entity, knew this outcome was inevitable.

There was no flashy exchange of blows, no dance of light and shadow. In just a few breaths, Barnard was severely wounded, felled by a single punch from one of the men.

Staggering, he released a cloud of white mist, but a Scribe dressed as a black-robed cleric raised his hands, and a gentle golden light dispelled the unnatural haze.

He darted left and right within the encirclement. Just as Jenkins thought the fight was over, a gap opened in the circle, and Barnard's body broke through. He stumbled down the alley, his filthy black robe in tatters. With vacant eyes, he charged straight toward Jenkins and the others.

The Scribes below the building didn't give chase. They stood silently in the moonlight, watching him run. Jenkins's own teammates also fell back in a coordinated, unspoken move.

Jenkins heard a familiar voice behind him. A moment later, he was shoved from his hiding spot, thrust directly into the path of the wounded Barnard.

He cried out, stunned. The most update n0vels are published on novel※fire.net

Under the moonlight, the possessed man and Jenkins were face to face. With no way to retreat, Jenkins threw the handful of swamp charms he'd been clutching in his left hand. As the advancing figure suddenly slowed, Jenkins swung his right fist, which radiated an intense, freezing aura.

A thin layer of frost spread out from where his fist made contact. The man's eyes, showing only the whites, stared at Jenkins before slowly closing. His entire body went limp and collapsed backward onto the ground.

"Mr. 092 has neutralized the target. Mission complete."

Someone behind him shouted. At that, both the attackers by the building and the members of the outer team began to applaud.

A tall figure stepped out from among the Scribes. He removed his black top hat, gripped the brim with both hands, and with a deft flick, a white stretcher appeared on the ground.

"Isn't that... a hat trick?"

Jenkins hadn't even finished his sentence when someone clapped him on the shoulder. With the battle over, everyone sprang into action. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several men in black, the crescent emblem of the Unlit Moon on their chests, kneeling to carefully place Mr. Barnard's body onto the stretcher.

The person behind him was Papa Oliver. A sense of betrayal flooded Jenkins's heart. The events of the last few minutes were too much to process; he had no idea how to react.

Papa Oliver led Jenkins to a nearby carriage and, reaching out, straightened his collar.

"You guessed right. The ones who attacked you that night were from our own church. It was an arrangement from the higher-ups."

He paused deliberately, watching Jenkins's reaction.

He casually tossed a silence charm onto the seat cushion beside him.

"In fact, the Church headquarters had already prepared your commendation, but for that same reason, all your rewards have been postponed."

"Because of that Mysterious Object from the Shattered Isles."

Papa Oliver patted his own cheeks. "The Church was in the wrong on this. I hope you won't hold it against the Goddess. Mortals are bound by many constraints when they act... This is the explanation the Church asked me to give you. But... I also need to admit my own mistake. I knew it was our own people the day after you were attacked, but I didn't tell you..."

"I don't blame you, Papa Oliver. But I still want to get to the bottom of this."

Jenkins's hand gripped the carriage handrail tightly. The carriage made a turn, and the church came into view ahead.

Without a word, Jenkins followed Papa Oliver through the main entrance of the church. They passed through the wide, newly repaired archway built of white marble and offered a quiet prayer to the great statue in the sermon hall.

They crossed the courtyard, nodded to the patrolling Captain Bincy, and turned into an office.

Jenkins had been here before. The Special Items Processing Office.

Inside the office were an unfamiliar middle-aged man, the familiar face of Mr. Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, and an elegant woman dressed in a conservative nun's habit.

Seeing the two of them enter, all three stood up.

"This is Mr. Coppola Bellini, director of the Special Items Processing Office. You've met Mr. Smith. And this is Miss Susan Bevanna."

"Hello, Papa Oliver. Please, have a seat. Mr. Williams, this is our first meeting, isn't it? Please, sit down."

Mr. Bellini said cordially. Of the three people already there, his status was the lowest.

Jenkins knew the rank of Keeper of Secrets held a special significance within the Church. As for this Miss Bevanna...

Fourteen points of light, one bubble. So this is the strongest member of the Church of Knowledge and Books in the Nolan diocese?

Jenkins gave a subtle nod, his expression unreadable.

Just like last time, Mr. Bellini and Mr. Smith worked together to seal the room. Once a large, spectral projection of the Sage's emblem appeared on the door, everyone took their seats.

"I know we were in the wrong about this," Miss Bevanna began. "I hope you won't let it cause you to doubt your faith."

It was Miss Bevanna who spoke, and her words were almost identical to what Papa Oliver had said earlier. It seemed he had really just been repeating the Church's official lines.

But to be honest, Jenkins knew this had little to do with Papa Oliver. He was just a low-level, semi-clerical staff member. At most, his longer tenure granted him a higher security clearance than Jenkins, but that was all.