As a major comrcial street in western Nolan, Fifth Queen's Avenue had long been equipped with streetlights. Under the dim, yellowish glow of the gas lamps, two squads from the Orthodox Church faced off against a group of bizarre creatures.
Jenkins had initially assud they were aberrations summoned by the cult, the Dead Man's Whip, for support, but he quickly realized the spiritual auras emanating from the monsters weren't particularly strong.
"Are they so kind of chiras or alchemical constructs?"
He speculated but didn't approach rashly. Instead, he circled the area until he found a high rooftop with a wide, open view and crouched down. It was an excellent vantage point; Jenkins was perfectly concealed in the shadows, making him nearly impossible to spot even for soone looking directly his way.
Among the horde of monsters confronting the Orthodox Church, only two appeared to be human. One was completely shrouded in a cloak, their face completely obscured. The other was the sa man who had threatened Jenkins in the illusion. He looked far less composed now, his face pale with a sar of blood at the corner of his mouth. A dark, reddish-black stain soaked the front of his shirt over his abdon, which Jenkins guessed was a consequence of breaking free from the illusion.
"Why would his abdon be bleeding? The way he uses the umbilical cord... could it be...?"
To avoid detection, Jenkins had positioned himself too far away to overhear their conversation. He could, however, clearly see the corpses of several strange creatures strewn across the street between the two opposing groups.
These bizarre creatures were likely just disposable cannon fodder, as Jenkins noticed that neither the Scribes nor the Nightwatchn had sustained any injuries.
His purpose here was to eliminate the man who knew he possessed the umbilical cord. If he could do it without revealing his presence, all the better.
He glanced at the scene on Fifth Queen's Avenue. The distance was too great; neither [Knowledge Bestowal] nor [Blasphemous Creation] could lock onto the target. anwhile, [Twin Demons] would cause too much of a commotion, and Jenkins had no desire to add the cri of destroying a city street to his record.
After a mont's hesitation, he summoned the White Bone Holy Sword. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he raised it and pressed his forehead to the flat of the blade, concentrating on sensing the power within.
He could feel the power of life without even concentrating, but the power of death was far more subtle to him. Fortunately, his [Contact with Death] ability allowed him to perceive it more clearly. Within two minutes, he had grasped the unique power dwelling within the sword.
"Rise!"
he whispered, pronouncing the word in an ancient tongue as he channeled his own spirit into the blade. As he issued the command, a circular runic array, symbolic of death, flickered beneath his feet. A dim, decaying light then began to emanate from his body.
It was Jenkins's first ti attempting to wield necromantic power, but the results seed promising. Under the control of the White Bone Holy Sword, the corpses lying between the two factions began to tremble violently. Before anyone could process what was happening, every last one of them had scrambled back to its feet.
Sensing a faint but distinct connection to the reanimated undead, Jenkins gripped the White Bone Sword and focused on controlling them. The process was surprisingly smooth. The revived undead imdiately lunged at their forr masters.
Though the Church mbers had no idea what was going on, they seized the opportunity and pressed their advantage, charging the enemy alongside the revived undead.
Jenkins used the chaos as cover to move across the rooftops, quickly positioning himself above and to the left of the fray. He noticed the stranger from the illusion lurking at the very back of the monster pack, poised to flee the mont things turned sour.
He raised a hand, allowing the silver ribbon of [Knowledge Bestowal] to coil around his arm, but then thought better of it and dispersed the light. His form shifted rapidly, shrinking from a tall, imposing figure into soone small and slender. He then moved from the two-story rooftop down to the awning of a streetside candy shop.
The awning wasn't as sturdy as a proper roof; standing on it directly would likely have torn the fabric. Lying prone, however, would distribute his weight effectively, and from below, it would be almost impossible to notice anyone was there.
In Captain Bincy's eyes, the night's events were utterly baffling. Containnt breaches weren't unheard of, but one occurring without any warning was always suspicious. Then, the Church had received reports of strange creatures appearing in the city. After deploying all combat units, they discovered that while the creatures looked fearso, they posed no significant threat.
On their way back, they had finally stumbled upon a clue near St. George Avenue. Following a trail of blood on the pavent led them straight to these monsters and their masterminds.
The subsequent reanimation of the dead was even more unexpected, but the situation was now clearly in the Church's favor. Captain Bincy's main concern was letting the culprits escape. He kept his eyes fixed on the one man whose face was showing, who had now retreated to the front of the candy shop on the corner.
With a wave of his hand, he erected a golden divine barrier, intercepting a vial of black liquid hurtling toward them. Captain Bincy muttered a short incantation, and tattoos ford from divine script instantly appeared on his exposed skin.
"With !"
he bellowed. The Scribes who had a free hand followed his lead, raising their left hands in unison. Under Captain Bincy's direction, a circular, golden sigil of exorcism blossod in the air, its montary radiance outshining the nearby streetlamps.
Within that brilliant glow, Captain Bincy saw the middle-aged man turn and bolt down another street. But from the darkness above, a pair of hands descended in utter silence.
No one saw where the hands ca from. They expertly seized the head below and twisted viciously. The fleeing man had no ti to resist as his entire body was lifted into the air and spun a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
He felt his neck snap. He tried to struggle, but in the next instant, his entire head was engulfed in orange flas.
The hands holding the head burned along with it. As the man let out a piercing shriek, flas erupted from his eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth. The process was rcifully swift; his suffering did not last long.
No one could have intercepted the strange hands. The mont they had appeared, the middle-aged man's companion had already fled in the opposite direction. Thus, as the man's intact body and its scorched, blackened head collapsed onto the flagstones of Fifth Queen's Avenue, the situation had bizarrely transford. Now, the mbers of the Orthodox Church were left fighting a leaderless horde of monsters, with a mysterious figure of unknown allegiance standing on the other side of the fray.
Jenkins noticed Captain Bincy had seen him, so he nonchalantly hopped down from the awning.
He looked past the rampaging monsters and the bursts of spiritual light toward the Scribes and Nightwatchn. In turn, the mbers of the Orthodox Church all turned to look at him.”
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