Jenkins suppressed his astonishnt, and the lingering frustration he felt toward Miss Hersha over the chain ability vanished in an instant—though he had to admit, he wasn't blaless. It was all thanks to her that he could collect the fla seed. Otherwise, he would have been out the equivalent of dozens of properties!
"I don't want gold pounds. A stack of paper won't do any real good."
"One conch, and a fifth of a fluid ounce of Red-Eyed Magma Lizard blood, with a red dragon bloodline concentration of 52.3%."
That purity level and species sounded familiar. Was this the person who bought the dragon blood last ti, or the one who sold it?
"Alright, it's a deal."
With Corpse Gentleman as their witness, Jenkins produced the crystal containing the black fla. The other man brought out a small iron box with a sliding lid and a sealed wooden vial, no thicker than his thumb.
They completed the exchange.
Jenkins saw nothing else that caught his eye for the rest of the session. The last person to make a trade, however, made a direct request to Corpse Gentleman.
"Sir, I have a red martial ability that I need to either evolve or erase. Do you have any ans of doing so?"
Clang!
A drawer in the lower-left corner of the morgue cabinet shot open. By the faint light of the Sealing Room Candle, Jenkins could make out a set of dical equipnt. It consisted of three parts: the largest was an iron canister, its surface so clean it was reflective. A transparent resin tube was attached to the top, but the tube itself was disgustingly filthy, caked with unidentified red and yellow substances. At the other end of the tube was an extrely fine syringe.
He judged it wasn't plastic because this world didn't seem to have petroleum. The bicycle tires Jenkins had drawn weren't the familiar industrial products from his past life, but a remarkably similar substitute he had to keep hidden. No petroleum ant no synthetic plastics, which led him to conclude the tube was made of resin.
"B-01-2-8100, the Elents' Blood. After injection, it is guaranteed to evolve one of an Enchanter's red ability nodes. However, the direction of the evolution is random, relating to natural elents such as water, fire, tal, or lightning."
"What are the risks?"
With Series B or C items, there were always risks involved.
"For three months, your blood will turn green. It will return to normal afterward. That is all that is currently known."
Corpse Gentleman explained slowly, but Jenkins knew it couldn't be that simple.
"What must I give in return?"
Corpse Gentleman didn't answer aloud, but the Enchanter nodded. "Understood."
It must have been so kind of telepathic ability, similar to what the Keepers of Secrets used.
Jenkins didn't see the Enchanter place any item into the morgue cabinet. Instead, the man skillfully picked up the syringe and injected it into the back of his exposed hand. A green liquid flowed from the black canister, through the transparent resin tube, and into his flesh.
He let out a low groan, then pulled out the syringe and returned it to its place before respectfully retreating to the wall. A few drops of dark green liquid dripped from the needle's tip, but they made no sound as they hit the floor.
Before the gathering officially concluded, soone followed the usual custom and posed a question to Corpse Gentleman.
"Sir, I've heard that so cultists have arrived in the city recently. They seem to be connected to the riots in the factory district."
"Pay them no mind. The demon is dead; that business is concluded. The remaining cultists are rely trying their luck in this fated land."
With that, he ignored the assembly and lay back down in his morgue cabinet.
The black-robed figures departed in their usual order. As the last one vanished up the stairwell, the Sealing Room Candle extinguished itself.
In the pitch darkness, Corpse Gentleman's voice echoed once more, muffled by the tal of his cabinet:
"That's not necessarily true... If soone were to find the clues the demon left behind, perhaps..."
But there was no one left to hear his words.
As he climbed back over the hospital's outermost fence, Jenkins felt a wave of relief wash over him, his spirits lifting imdiately.
He glanced back at the area shrouded in white mist, wondering how, after all these years, no one had ever noticed anything unusual about this place.
As Professor Burns climbed over the fence, he stepped on a jutting rock and nearly stumbled. But he displayed astonishing agility, executing a full spin in mid-air before landing perfectly steady on his feet. ṙÅNȏʙЁȘ
It was a feat worthy of an acrobat, yet the old man perford it effortlessly. Jenkins recalled the ti the professor had single-handedly carried Papa Oliver's golden statue. Could it be that all of Professor Burns's abilities were related to physical enhancent?
The two had a good relationship, a friendship that bridged their age gap, so Jenkins felt comfortable enough to ask directly. The professor was now a level-four Enchanter, a level higher than when Jenkins had first t him in the castle. He had nine ability nodes, four of which were red.
"That's not far from the truth."
The old man replied softly, "You see, learning red martial abilities improves one's physical condition. Yellow spells expand ntal capacity, and golden divine arts make it easier to resist abnormal statuses. I'm getting old, but there's still so much I want to research. I detest the idea of extending my life through evil rituals, so my only option is to learn as many of these abilities as I can..."
"Are you familiar with B-02-3-8810?"
"The Spear of Longevity at a Slight Cost? Yes, I know of it. I heard Captain Bincy ntion it the last ti we were chatting at the church. But its side effects are far too severe. I would only consider using it if the day cos when I truly have no other choice."
The professor slowly explained his views on longevity as he led Jenkins eastward, away from the city.
After first attaining his godhood, Jenkins had managed to piece together a life-extending ritual from the fragnted knowledge within his divine power. Unlike the typical rituals that demanded massive blood sacrifices, this one only required the transfer of life force from living things, whether animal or plant.
Jenkins glanced at the professor walking ahead of him and sighed. He decided he would share this knowledge with him when the ti was right.
"Oh, that's right, I forgot to congratulate you. I heard you've been made a baron because of your story collection?"
"An honorary baron," Jenkins corrected humbly. "It doesn't make a true noble."
"And I also heard the kingdom's cultural departnt wants to nominate you for this year's Ritter Prize?"
"I haven't heard anything about that," Jenkins replied. "But I hope they don't. I hear the award ceremony is held in the royal capital, and I simply don't have ti to travel."
The Ritter Prize was the highest literary award in the Fidektri Kingdom, presented annually to an outstanding writer and recognized even in the kingdoms of Cheslan and Hamparvo. Typically, however, the award was reserved for esteed elderly gentlen, a token of gratitude for their distinguished contributions to the kingdom's culture.
The prize money was a modest 100 pounds, but the dal itself was a blue gemstone the size of a pigeon's egg, its value far surpassing the paltry cash award.
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