Jenkins remained at the professor's house until dusk, listening as the man spoke with unbridled enthusiasm about the profound significance the discovery of ancient Titans held for modern archaeology. He repeatedly stressed that the two giant stone statues at the abandoned hospital would, under no circumstances, be demolished.
The professor was practically vibrating with anticipation, eagerly awaiting the Church's approval to begin an archaeological excavation at the site. He had even prepared his toolbox in advance.
The professor's enthusiasm failed to ignite a similar spark in Jenkins. He had already experienced his share of excitent the day before, after a narrow victory over the Titan fueled by the sheer power of his soul. Declining the professor's invitation for dinner, Jenkins stepped out into the setting sun with his cat, who had been napping all afternoon. Aware that luck wasn't on his side today, he decided against loitering in the city center in hopes of entering the Doomsday Illusion. Instead, he made his way directly to the black market, intent on procuring materials he couldn't find in Ruen.
He was in the middle of haggling over the price of a honeyflower extract when he noticed the middleman, a man known as the Clown, approaching. It seed there was news regarding his commission for the Huntress.
"I was expecting it would be next month at the earliest before I heard from you," Jenkins said jokingly as he sat down. "Don't tell you're here to discuss a refund because you've decided the job can't be done."
"We made it clear last ti," the Huntress replied, "the deposit is non-refundable, no matter the circumstances. But you're in luck. I actually managed to track down the origins of that stone slate, the one buried in the wall of the post office attic."
The Huntress's answer left Jenkins genuinely surprised; he had been all but certain the investigation would lead to a dead end.
Just as Jenkins had anticipated, the Huntress began her investigation by trying to track down the original contractors and construction workers for the building. However, too much ti had passed, and that line of inquiry yielded nothing. So, she bribed a contact inside the post office, intending to vet the personnel records from the last decade for any suspicious individuals—potential Benefactors. Instead, she stumbled upon a bizarre rumor.
"On the nights around the full moon each month, faint noises would emanate from the post office attic. It beca sothing of a local ghost story within the post office. They even had the Church perform an exorcism, but nothing changed. Eventually, they just assud the sounds were caused by the walls expanding and contracting with the temperature. I followed that clue and searched through the debris from the demolition. Sure enough, I found this at the quarry where they dumped the material."
As she spoke, the Huntress placed a milky-white stone on the table.
"Is this... a Sonabsorbing Stone?"
Jenkins had sought out this type of stone before, thanks to a unique ritual called [Sound Preservation] that he'd acquired from a Month's End Whisper. He'd had no luck finding it in Nolan's churches or on the black market. It was Hathaway, a follower of the God of Music, who later told him that Sonabsorbing Stones were only found alongside deep-sea gem veins. Their rarity made them a priceless treasure for any Benefactor who used sound-based abilities or rituals.
"You recognize it? Good, that saves an explanation. Clearly, whoever hid the slate also stored so sounds in this Sonabsorbing Stone and embedded them both in the wall. The demolition crew who found the slate a few days ago were ordinary people, so they wouldn't have given this unremarkable rock a second glance. By the ti the Benefactors got there to search the scene, it was already on its way to the scrapyard. You're quite lucky. So, can we call this commission closed?"
"Have you listened to the sounds inside?" Jenkins asked.
"Of course. How else could I be sure it was what you were looking for? Listen, sir, when you hire soone to investigate sothing, it's inevitable they'll stumble upon a few of your secrets. Any private detective would tell you the sa. But rest assured, I'm not one to gossip. Besides, I have absolutely no interest in so mad poet from the Fifteenth Epoch."
The Huntress explained, gesturing for Jenkins to examine the Sonabsorbing Stone.
"The fact that you know about the Mad Poet is proof enough. The commission is officially closed. I'm very satisfied with the outco, and you were remarkably fast..."
"So when it's ti to pay the final balance, you're planning on adding a ten percent tip?"
"...so if I ever need anything else, I'll be sure to co to you. I'm confident you're the best rcenary in all of Nolan."
"Flattery doesn't put food on the table," she retorted. "Now, give the rest of my paynt. Cash only. Don't try to palm off any of your strange trinkets on ."
The Huntress extended her hand toward Jenkins.
Jenkins already knew how to activate the Sonabsorbing Stone from what Hathaway had told him. But since this concerned the Mad Poet, he didn't listen to it right away. After leaving the black market, he returned to Ruen and waited until he was with Alexia in her study to finally activate the stone.
It began with a burst of static, which soon gave way to a faint man's voice. The first few seconds were completely unintelligible; the words only beca clear around the seven-second mark:
"...escaped here. I should never have excavated those village ruins in the valley. The power of the Mad Poet of the Fifteenth Epoch still curses everyone in that land. I brought the slate I found in the ruins to Nolan and have hidden it along with this ssage. If you are hearing this, you must rember: the madman's power cannot be used, or you too will beco mad. By the ti of his death, the Mad Poet was no longer mortal. Do not covet any power associated with him.
"If you are a person of goodwill, please go to the secret chamber in the basent of Number 3, Colange Alley, in eastern Nolan, and retrieve my body. If I failed to escape the curse, I will have chosen to die there."
That was the end of the recording. Jenkins fell silent, pondering the words for a long mont before finally turning to Alexia.
"The Mad Poet wasn't mortal before he died?" he asked. "Did he find a way to transform into a different kind of being? Or had he already transcended?"
"Anything is possible," Alexia said. "But if that's true, it raises a much more interesting question: who killed the Mad Poet? If, as that young woman with the glasses said, the hero who defeated him left no na, can we assu he truly left no na? Or that he left one, but it couldn't be recorded?"
Jenkins nodded slowly, leaning toward the latter possibility. He suspected the na had once existed, only to be erased from all records for so unknown reason.
"If the Mad Poet died at the end of the Fifteenth Epoch," he reasoned, "then it's highly likely that the one who killed him was also a Savior candidate, like . That's the only way they could have possessed power comparable to his... If that hero truly ascended to beco a Pseudo-God, then of course his true na wouldn't have survived in the records. It would be the true na of a god, after all... Which ans, if our theory is sound, all we have to do is research which deities only began to be widely worshipped after the Fifteenth Epoch. That should tell us who killed the Mad Poet, shouldn't it?"
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