Hathaway's logical mind rebelled against the speculation about Jenkins. While she had always known he was secretive and likely a high-level Enchanter, she couldn't believe he was capable of shooting down an angel.
She had never seen him use his full power, so her best guess put him at level 6 or perhaps 7.
"Perhaps it's just a coincidence," she mused. "Mr. Candle might be using Jenkins's na to stir the pot."
She told herself to remain calm and show nothing unusual, as her friends' discussion continued. She had to admit, their guesses were uncomfortably close to the truth.
"That has to be it! Soone with elven blood, in possession of so single-use, incredibly powerful numbered item, and a follower of the Lying God!"
Silver Flute Miss declared with certainty. Mr. White Cat and Mr. Hood both agreed with her conclusion, while Magic Miss covertly studied Jenkins, wondering if he was the archer in question.
"Perhaps not the elven bloodline, but I strongly agree with the other two points. For the past six months, every major event in this city has been linked to followers of the Lying God. I doubt this ti is any different."
Jenkins added his own agreent.
"It must be elven blood! When that arrow was loosed, I felt an imnse aura of life surge through the city. It was just like the phantom of the World Tree I encountered in a Mysterious Realm five years ago. That kind of presence is absolutely unique!"
Magic Miss offered her own theory, her voice filled with delight.
"I knew the aura I sensed couldn't be mistaken; I'm rarely wrong about such things. We can now be certain that at least one of the Lying God's followers is of elven descent. Perhaps I can find a way to track him down... I've recently been researching ancient rituals from the age of the old elven kingdoms."
"That was many epochs ago. You're incredibly lucky to have found any research materials on the subject."
Mr. White Cat remarked, his tone laced with envy.
"I have the support of an old professor from the local university. A friend asked him to research elven history as well. Speaking of which, that old professor is the most powerful martial artist I've ever t. I suspect he could shatter my strongest defensive ritual with a single punch..."
The conversation drifted onto a strange tangent, but that was fine. Magic Miss's words, however, sparked an idea in Jenkins's mind. Perhaps he could commission this knowledgeable woman to investigate the secrets of the Williams family. The only problem was that doing so might expose his true identity.
Hearing everyone's discussion about elves, Hathaway once again began to suspect Jenkins.
Reason told her that Jenkins couldn't possess that kind of power. Yet the truth was that in this day and age, descendants of elves were rarer than wildflowers in winter. The likelihood of another family with elven blood in this city besides the Williamses was minuscule.
"Could it be his father or his brothers?" she wondered. "Are they secretly followers of the Lying God?"
Her thoughts hit another dead end; she was missing far too much crucial information.
"In any case, three of the four angels were defeated by that arrow. The last one, heavily wounded, was finished off by the Saint Son of the Orthodox Church."
"Ah, the Saint Son..."
When Jenkins shared this information, everyone, including a preoccupied Hathaway, couldn't help but let out a collective sigh of awe.
Though they all concealed their faces in various ways, Jenkins could easily imagine their expressions.
A god's Saint Son held a unique and revered position in the material world. People might speak of a king with disrespect, but when the title of Saint Son was ntioned, even the most arrogant individual would instinctively show a asure of reverence.
They were the earthly agents of the gods, the mortals who stood closest to the divine. With the exception of complete non-believers like Alexia, every Enchanter with a church background held the title in awe.
The heights that ordinary mortals could only gaze up at were an inevitable destination for those fortunate souls truly blessed by a god.
"I wonder which Saint Son it was?"
After a long pause, Mr. Hood finally asked cautiously.
Jenkins, of course, had an answer prepared:
"My source told that there is, in fact, a Saint Son who has been residing long-term here in Nolan. This information has been kept under wraps, so I must ask all of you to keep this a secret. If it gets out, both my friend and I will be in serious trouble."
"Of course."
"Naturally."
"I understand."
"Mr. Candle, we understand the sensitive nature of this information."
"Which church is he from?"
That last question ca from Magic Miss, who seed particularly interested.
"There's a confidentiality pact. My friend couldn't tell everything."
Jenkins shook his head, offering the explanation on his friend's behalf. Magic Miss sighed regretfully, though what she hoped to do with the information was anyone's guess.
As for Louise, the newborn angel from that day, very few people had noticed her. Although she had entered the battlefield amid a city-wide shower of petals, she hadn't manifested the colossal form or terrifying power of the heretical angels, so most were unaware that a fifth angel had even been present.
Even the ever-observant Magic Miss had failed to notice. Of course, that was likely because the angel's deity possessed the domain of Lies.
Jenkins didn't want anyone noticing Louise, so aside from those who had witnessed her directly, no one on the ground had seen the newborn angel's form.
The discussion about the angels continued for at least half an hour, and everyone was grateful to Mr. Candle for providing so much information. Mr. White Cat proposed they pay Jenkins an additional fee, an offer Jenkins certainly didn't refuse.
He had already said more than enough, so he had no need to speak during the next round of information exchange. As was tradition, Mr. Hood spoke first. He reached into his pocket, then placed a closed fist in the center of the group. When he opened his hand, three perfectly intact strands of tobacco lay on his palm. How he had managed to keep them from breaking in his pocket was a small mystery in itself.
"The last ti we t, Mr. White Cat ntioned this peculiar tobacco. I've spent the last month investigating, and it is just as he described. This substance has covertly infiltrated all sorts of circles in Nolan. I've discovered that it isn't being shipped in from elsewhere, but is being manufactured locally. The factory is located..."
"What? You found the factory itself?"
Mr. White Cat interrupted Mr. Hood, his voice sharp with surprise. As the one who had first brought up the dangers of this tobacco, he knew just how difficult it was to investigate.
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