For the sake of the cash, and given that the stranger wasn't breaking any laws, the gravedigger changed his clothes and led Jenkins toward the crematorium on the other side of the cetery.
Jenkins didn't know the deceased's na and had no way to contact his relatives, so it was left to him and the gravedigger to offer prayers and see the poor soul off. By the ti it was all over, it was already two in the morning.
After bidding the gravedigger farewell and returning to Ruen, Jenkins found the girls and the cat fast asleep. Chocolate had originally followed him, but had grown unbearably drowsy at the cetery and returned early.
Without disturbing Alexia, Jenkins quickly washed up, then lay down on his bed and opened the book he had taken from the darkroom drawer.
It was an entirely handwritten book, chronicling all the research on the Mad Poet conducted by the Enchanter who had left behind the sonabsorbing stone. The author had clearly spent a great deal of ti studying this madman from the end of the Fifteenth Epoch, and the book contained things even Jenkins didn't know.
It detailed the Mad Poet's movents outside the Northern Continent, a complete mystery to Jenkins. The research ntioned the Mad Poet and that strange machine, but offered little description of the ruins where it was discovered, aside from a short passage stating that the site could no longer be found.
However, the book placed great emphasis on the "Child of Disaster." It revealed that, contrary to the information Jenkins had received from the mories at the World Tree's altar and what most secret records claid, the Mad Poet hadn't acquired this ability from so unknown ruins. The Mad Poet had lied to everyone; the ability was innate, though it hadn't been activated at first.
...the mont he beca an Enchanter, he clearly felt the threads of fate and knew that he was the chosen one. An indistinct swirl of colors signified that this powerful ability had not yet taken shape. For this reason, he resolved to hide his soul's origin from everyone and planned to spend his life exploring this secret, a fact I can prove from the diary fragnts I discovered...
These were the book's exact words, and the more Jenkins read, the stronger his sense of déjà vu beca. He then realized it sounded remarkably like the description of a natural-born Savior receiving their Soul Emblem.
"But I've already confird that Child of Disaster isn't... right. Child of Disaster isn't a qualification for a Savior of the Eighteenth Epoch, but that doesn't an it wasn't the qualification for a Savior of the Fifteenth. Wait... after Alexia and I destroyed that machine in the snowy mountain Mysterious Realm, its data leaked. An image of the Mad Poet appeared and ntioned sothing similar... If that's really the case, then it's even more likely that the naless hero who defeated the Mad Poet was the final victor at the end of the Fifteenth Epoch. Maybe what the lady in glasses said about them fighting for three days and three nights on the summit wasn't an exaggeration at all—it might have even downplayed the ferocity of the battle."
Catching a faint glimpse of the truth from the distant past, Jenkins felt a surge of excitent. All signs indicated that the naless hero who killed the Mad Poet had truly ascended to godhood. This ant the first shortcut to divinity was indeed viable—a revelation of extraordinary significance, even for the Jenkins of today.
The section on the Mad Poet's death took up most of the book. The researcher had cross-referenced nurous sources to finally pinpoint the Mad Poet's burial site. The location was clearly recorded at the end of the book: in the northern mountains of Ruen. It was a fair distance, but Jenkins calculated he could reach it in about three hours by flying at full speed on his unicorn.
"This is the most valuable part," he thought. "There's definitely information I need there. And even if there isn't, finally putting an end to the Mad Poet's curse will be a great service to the northern kingdom."
He mused to himself and closed the book, only then noticing that Chocolate had woken up. Glancing toward the window, he saw morning light filtering through the curtains. The night was over; a new day had begun.
Today was Sunday, and Jenkins had originally promised Mr. White Cat he would join him in an operation to intercept so aberrations. A group of ghouls, bone-eaters, and frenzied demons were planning to attack the Fidektri National Bank's Nolan branch construction site in the west of the city, searching for so so-called "treasure." Mr. White Cat, for his part, needed a large quantity of frenzied demon claws.
He felt bad about breaking his promise, but his curiosity about the Mad Poet couldn't wait. Without even catching up on his lost sleep, he first discussed a plan with Alexia, then headed to the eting point in Nolan. He apologized to Mr. White Cat, explaining that he couldn't join the operation. The excuse he gave was that his injuries from the battle with the Titan on Friday hadn't fully healed yet.
Mr. White Cat understood Jenkins's predicant. Although it put him in a tight spot, he accepted the apology.
The man who had left the sonabsorbing stone had repeatedly emphasized that the Mad Poet's burial place was wreathed in curses, so any expedition required flawless preparation. Jenkins and Alexia discussed several plans, deciding to set out at dusk.
Dolores wanted to go with them, but Julia talked her out of it. She waited anxiously at the manor late into the night, finally spotting the unicorn on the horizon as it carried a weary Jenkins and Alexia back ho.
"We're fine, just a little tired."
The unicorn landed on the second-floor terrace, and Jenkins helped Alexia dismount. They all returned to the living room, where Jenkins imdiately collapsed onto the sofa, too exhausted to move.
"You will not believe what we ran into."
He pulled the dozing cat from his lap and tossed it toward the coffee table. The cat sailed through the air in a neat arc, landed with a nimble bounce, and sprang onto the back of the opposite sofa.
"We found the legendary village where the Mad Poet was buried, deep in a mountain valley. It was unbelievably still intact. Hundreds of ghosts, trapped there for a millennium by the Mad Poet's power, had been tortured into mindless, evil spirits. After we dealt with them, the great tree in the center of the village—the one the Mad Poet's corpse was hanging from—had absorbed so much power from the body that it ca alive. It turned into so kind of godforsaken monster.
The ancient tree's root system was at least a hundred tis larger than what you could see above ground. When it all started to move, it nearly caused a landslide. If you felt any tremors in Ruen today, that's why. A distant mountain actually collapsed."
Jenkins didn't even want to recall the scene. He'd been on his unicorn, with Alexia flying under her own power, and they had watched, helpless, as the mountain range itself seed to heave. The colossal, ancient tree with its innurable tendrils stirred to life—it was as if the mountains had awakened and sprouted a dense forest of tentacles. The sight was terrifying even in mory.
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