"The Nolan diocese is likely concerned that the ritual to divide space could cause irreversible damage to the city, or perhaps attract so unfriendly entities. That's why they've asked the Church's Saint Son to help stabilize the space while the ritual is underway."
That was Alexia's assessnt of the incantation, and she considered it a perfectly normal precaution.
Forced to help stamp official docunts at a low table nearby, the young princess, Angelina Stuart, overheard the words "Saint Son." Her eyes lit up, and she shot an excited glance at Jenkins, only to receive a harsh glare from her older sister.
"Stabilizing the space? That's certainly necessary. Even though Magic Miss guaranteed the ritual itself wouldn't destabilize Nolan's spatial foundations, it's always best to be cautious."
So Jenkins returned to the church and spent the afternoon morizing the tongue-twisting ancient incantations. He even tried reciting them to his cat twice. Having listened to Jenkins drone on with the sa phrases all afternoon, the cat had grown rather impatient. When he began his third recitation attempt, Chocolate nimbly sprang onto the windowsill, let out a single "ow" at Jenkins, and then leaped outside.
Jenkins wasn't worried about him running off; the direction Chocolate had vanished in was likely toward the church kitchen.
At half-past six in the evening, Jenkins subrged his head in the waters of the Basin of Delusion and found himself looking at a wide-open rooftop with golden lines etched across its flat surface. In the distance, a city rose from a thick fog, its buildings' external tal pipes glinting brilliantly in the twilight.
Judging by the surrounding scenery, he was still at the church. Among the cluster of church buildings, the only one with a flat roof was the one situated directly above the Gate of All Things. Jenkins had never been to this rooftop before, so he had never viewed the city from this particular vantage point.
"Everything is ready. All we have to do is wait for the signal."
Papa Oliver stood to one side, flanked by the Keeper of Secrets, Mr. Smith, and the apprentices who had co to assist. The ritual array for stabilizing the space had already been inscribed on the rooftop. Even as dusk settled, Jenkins could still make out the faintly glowing lines.
"What kind of formula was used for this pignt? The color is quite impressive."
He directed the question to Papa Oliver.
"It's pure gold. The color of wealth," Papa Oliver replied. "How are you with the recitation?"
"I have it down pat. I even recited it for Chocolate, and he didn't once speak up to tell I was wrong."
"If your cat actually did speak, that would be the real problem."
Papa Oliver remarked, his gaze drifting toward the darkening city in the distance. Over the course of the winter, the municipal streetlight project had advanced rapidly. The main reason, of course, was that an increasing number of churches and businesses had been willing to "donate" funds to the cause.
From their current position, they could see the city lights just beginning to flicker on, speckling the twilight and tracing the city's silhouette. It was a quiet, peaceful evening. The average citizen had no idea what was about to unfold.
Papa Oliver and Jenkins waited for the signal from the heart of the ritual in the public square. As soon as the ceremony began there, they would start theirs in sync. The wait wasn't long. In fact, Papa Oliver didn't even have ti to fully explain the matter of the Doomsday Illusion to Jenkins before a brilliant burst of fla shot into the sky from a nearby street. Monts later, with a series of sharp cracks, a firework exploded in the air before them.
"It's starting!"
Papa Oliver exclaid, hastily retreating to the edge of the roof to give the Keeper of Secrets room to conduct the ritual. Jenkins cleared his throat with a single cough and began to loudly chant the incantation he had spent all afternoon morizing.
The Saint Son, the church, and the ritual array inscribed upon the building—the power of all three resonated together. Driven by Jenkins's incantation and the array's influence, an invisible force radiated out from the rooftop, spreading to every corner of the city to reinforce the fabric of space.
anwhile, in the public square not far away, the last vestiges of divine grace from six months prior combined with the space-rending ritual to affect the surrounding area. When this power touched the altar beneath the clock tower, the surface of the dais hidden within the sewer pipes began to crack.
A squad of Night Watchers had been stationed there. Upon observing the cracks, they imdiately used special ans to notify the Church. It was proof: the ritual was indeed affecting the beacon that guided the way to the Doomsday Illusion. The thod was working.
As the ritual progressed, dark clouds gradually blotted out the sky. A fierce wind swept through the city's streets and alleys, bringing a sudden chill to the late spring evening.
While chanting the incantation, Jenkins gazed out at the distant city through his Eye of Reality. He suddenly noticed a point of black light rising from the ground, which swiftly transford into a pillar of light that pierced the heavens.
"That looks like... the clock tower."
Although only Jenkins could perceive this spiritual light, the others all raised their heads as well, for behind the ominous clouds, a strange phenonon was growing clearer. When the pillar of black light finally pierced through the cloud cover, a distinct image of a ruined city appeared, reflected upon the night sky.
The night sky was like a deep, dark pool of water. Beneath its rippling surface, the ghostly silhouette of the ruined city stood, blurred and indistinct. It was as if an entire city was suspended upside down above the real Nolan, only this one was far more decrepit, and far more terrifying.
"Is this normal, or has sothing gone wrong?"
Jenkins wondered, though the incantation never faltered on his lips. But as the inverted city materialized in the sky, the golden ritual array on the rooftop began to flicker. Its brilliant light sputtered like the fire of an unstable steam furnace, flashing dozens of tis before abruptly going out.
"That's enough. You can stop now, Jenkins."
Papa Oliver's voice cut through the howling wind. Jenkins imdiately fell silent, waiting for an explanation.
"That's all for today's connection. Just wait for news in Ruen, alright?"
"But Papa Oliver, what just happened?"
Jenkins asked anxiously, suspecting sothing had gone wrong with Magic Miss's ritual.
"Soone in that ruined city detected our actions and forced an acceleration of the rger between their Nolan and ours. We don't need the stabilization ritual anymore—the fusion of the two realms has already ensured maximum spatial stability. You can go back now, Jenkins. I'll contact you again in a day or two."
With that, he patted the shoulder of Mr. Smith, who was still gazing up at the sky. The two n then began directing the apprentices to clean up the ritual site. Jenkins knew that, being 'in Ruen,' he was of no use here, so he offered a quiet farewell and departed.
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