Unfortunately, the closest Enchanter to Jenkins was currently in the Shadow Realm, so no one was around to appreciate the sheer terror of the mont.
The cat, perched on a rock and feigning distress, saw Jenkins about to charge over. It knew the show had gone on long enough; any longer and its cover would be blown.
So, while Jenkins was distracted by his own shouting, the cat gave a kick with its hind legs. An invisible force, manipulating the power of shadow, seeped into the Shadow Realm. From Jenkins's perspective, he had barely taken two steps when his opponent was suddenly launched out of the Shadow Realm as if violently kicked, reappearing in the material world directly in his path.
"I want you dead!"
Furious, Jenkins halted his charge. He instinctively drew back his right leg and dropped into a slight crouch. As he gathered his strength, his foot pressed an imprint into the very ground. The powers of ice and fire coiled around his leg, opposing forces now in perfect, terrible harmony—just as life and death had been when he vanquished the Pestilence Evil.
"Hah!"
Twisting his upper body to the right, he pushed off the ground, channeling the force from the earth and the torque from his torso into a single, devastating kick. A blinding, brilliant flash of red and blue light erupted. The man, still disoriented from being violently ejected from the Shadow Realm, could only watch, wide-eyed, as a picture-perfect roundhouse kick streaked toward his head.
He instinctively threw up an arm to block, but the mont the precise, vicious kick connected, the combined power of ice and fire detonated at the point of impact.
A deafening boom filled his ears, and a split second later, he realized it was the sound of his own arm exploding. The unstoppable kick continued on its trajectory, pressing toward his head. Everything it touched—skin, bone, nerves, and fluid—was obliterated, erupting in a chain reaction from the clashing powers of ice and fire.
When Jenkins retracted his leg and settled back into his stance, the man opposite him was missing a significant part of his upper body. It was as if Jenkins hadn't thrown a kick at all, but had instead swung an eraser capable of wiping away reality itself.
"Oh, Chocolate!"
As the man died, the fog began to thin. Jenkins rushed to Chocolate's side. The cat imdiately leaped into his arms, nuzzling against him to show how scared and worried it had been.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. Coming back to his senses, he inspected the man's body but found nothing of value—not even a single item to identify him.
With no other option, he picked up the large case of tobacco and left the area, making sure to erase all traces of his presence before he departed.
As for the man's corpse, Jenkins had initially intended to burn it. However, considering the man was a follower of the "Spiraling Mist"—a rare sight in Nolan—he decided to dig a hole and bury the body instead.
Instead of returning to Ruen imdiately, he first made his way to the underground black market. Through a middleman known as "the Clown," he contacted a woman called "the Huntress." For three shillings, he hired her to take half the case of tobacco, along with what he knew about the Perfu Appreciation Committee, and pass it through a chain of interdiaries before finally selling the information to a black market broker.
"The important thing is to find reliable people," he stressed. "And nothing can link back to ."
To facilitate the deal, Jenkins had already revealed that he was a follower of the Lying God, one who had contacted her many tis in the past. That was why the Huntress so readily accepted what was, for her, a very generous commission.
Though the fee from Jenkins was small, selling such information to the Church would fetch a handso price.
As he was about to leave, the Huntress teased him with a question:
"Do you know anything about what's going on in the far north? I heard your associates were responsible for that ss. If you have any information to sell, I can offer a very handso price in gold pounds."
"I wasn't aware you were interested in matters outside of Nolan."
Jenkins retorted, having no intention of selling his information for profit.
"There are always exceptions."
Seeing his lack of interest, the woman gave a dismissive reply.
Jenkins guessed she wasn't gathering this information for another client, but for her own organization, the War Church. At present, the only people who likely knew the truth about the far north were the followers of the Lying God, and their most prominent base of operations was Nolan.
To Jenkins, the events in the far north were a minor affair; the most crucial part of that journey had been the intelligence revealed by the ice-sculpture priest. To mortals, however, it was a clear sign that the new Lying God was expanding his sphere of influence. Given the deity's morally ambiguous nature, his every move warranted close scrutiny.
Furthermore, in the half-year since the purple star heralding the End of the Era had appeared in the sky, this god had descended upon the material world on more than one occasion—a frequency that was frankly alarming.
He arrived back in Ruen at half-past twelve, a little later than planned but just in ti for lunch. Dolores and Alexia were already back from the city. They reported that the thick ice covering Ruen still hadn't lted, making the downtown area much colder than the outskirts, even in broad daylight.
Fortunately, the residents of Ruen were well-accustod to the harsh cold and were simply treating it as a winter that was overstaying its welco.
Jenkins gave them a brief summary of his morning's adventure, and Alexia expressed absolutely no surprise that he had once again found himself in the middle of trouble.
After lunch, Alexia examined the half-case of tobacco Jenkins had brought back. But for once, the ever-capable woman had to admit she was out of her depth. She had little expertise in potions or alchemy, even less than Jenkins, who had at least received a week of specialized training from Old Jack.
"As far as I know," she began, "there are very few Enchanters in the entire material world who are skilled in potions and alchemy. Most of them are kept under the strict protection of the Church. After all, mastering such arts requires not only years of training but also exceptional innate talent. You can't just mass-produce experts through so systematic program."
Alexia sighed, placing the case back on the dining table. Dolores chid in to agree.
"I tried to recruit people skilled in alchemy or potions a long ti ago, but I never found anyone. In fact, it's likely there isn't a single person with that expertise in the entire Ruen region. At least, I've certainly never heard of one."
Perhaps knowing Old Jack for so long had given Jenkins the false impression that expertise in potions and alchemy was common. But thinking back on it now, he realized that since arriving in this world, he had never once t anyone who regularly carried potions or specialized alchemical items.
"So, apart from waiting for the Church in Nolan to develop a counterasure, is there really nothing we can do about this tobacco?"
Jenkins asked with a hint of frustration. It wasn't that he was trying to ddle, but he was keen to find out if the cult behind this was connected to the fog plaguing Nolan.
"Of course there's still sothing we can do," Alexia replied. "We have a large supply of this tobacco. Even if we can't reverse-engineer it, we can at least run so experints to determine its unique properties."
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