"Yes," she confird. "I was the one who guided you here."
The Countess swirled the contents of her glass, her gaze hazy as she watched them.
"I must say, I'm impressed by the Orthodox Church's judgnt. Sending two of your kind, who also carry the blood of another race, to et with ... That's quite insightful. It's an honor. I trust your kind far more than I trust humans. Please, have a seat, my guests. I will state my demands, and you will carry my ssage back to the Church. There's no need to be tense."
As she spoke, she swirled the glass. The scarlet liquid sloshed within, leaving a thin, granular film on the crystal with every pass, like a residue of blood. It was sothing far more sinister than re blood; just the sound of it moving made Jenkins imagine he could hear the wails of a thousand tornted souls.
Through his Eye of Reality, Jenkins could see that the crimson mist suffusing the vast banquet hall was far denser here than anywhere else they had been. The spiritual aura emanating from the seated vampire was even more powerful than that of the demigod he and Alexia had faced—and killed—back in January.
Neither he nor Miss Capet moved from the doorway. Jenkins narrowed his eyes, his gaze drawn to an imnse oil painting that dominated one wall. It was so large, its brushwork so fine and masterfully executed, that it felt less like a painting and more like a window into a real, living scene.
"I don't recall the God of Lies descending in January," he remarked casually. "I do, however, rember a teor shower that destroyed a couple of city blocks."
He said it deliberately. The truth was that an ancient Calamity Beast, the Scarlet Ephera, had appeared. He had been forced to use his divine power to plant a lie in the minds of all who witnessed it, though the Church, of course, knew the truth.
"Indeed," Miss Capet added, "I haven't heard anything of the sort."
Miss Capet spoke the truth. She genuinely knew nothing of a god's descent; the incident had concluded before her arrival in Nolan City, and the local diocese would have no reason to share such a sensitive secret with a mber of another faith.
"It seems the Orthodox Church keeps secrets even from its own," the Countess mused. "Sit. Perhaps we can discuss it."
The Countess extended her invitation once more. Miss Capet remained still, waiting for Jenkins's cue. After a mont's hesitation, Jenkins nodded. He strode to the end of the long table and pulled out a chair along its side for Miss Capet before taking the seat at the head of the table himself, directly facing the Countess and the massive oil painting. The instant he sat, his Fear Aura flared to life.
An imnse, oppressive presence emanated from Jenkins. Even facing a demigod, one tainted by the influence of a Cursed Item, his aura was in no way inferior. Miss Capet, however, was startled. In her eyes, the man who had just taken his seat seed like a completely different person.
Miss Capet attributed the change to the power of the Sage, but the Countess's brow furrowed, as if she sensed sothing else, sothing far more unusual, within his presence.
"Feel free to help yourselves to the food on the table. Consider it a sign of my respect for your shared bloodlines. And of course, the adorable little cat is welco to partake as well. I'm quite fond of cats, you see."
Hearing himself ntioned, Chocolate, perched on Jenkins's shoulder, paused his grooming to glare at the woman. Though he had a healthy appetite, he was also a picky eater and would never touch anything that slled foul.
"That won't be necessary," Jenkins said, his tone firm. "Just tell us what you want."
He spoke gravely. His eyes could see a black, malevolent aura clinging to the surface of the colorful, tempting dishes. A single bite would be enough to inflict the Blood Mosquito Curse. Jenkins had been worried his cat might succumb to the temptation, but he was surprised and relieved by its sharp instincts.
I'll have to give Chocolate a treat when we get back.
He thought to himself.
"Aren't you curious about what happened last January?"
the Countess asked again, taking a delicate sip from the glass pinched between her fingers. To Jenkins, it looked no different than if she were devouring a soul whole.
"Not in the slightest,"
he replied honestly.
"Such a dull man. Very well, then. My demands are simple. If the Church provides with three items—B-12-3-5800, the Vampire Fangs; B-03-2-2944, the Holy Blood Stained Cloth; and B-01-2-8100, the Elents' Blood—I will imdiately dismantle this Miasma Lock. You will be free to deal with all the cursed creatures here as you see fit. Furthermore, I will depart from the main continent of this material world and swear an oath to the Great One that I shall not return for one hundred years."
"And what do you want with those items?"
"That is none of your concern,"
the Countess replied with practiced grace. She tilted her head, staring directly into Jenkins's eyes, trying to glean so hidden truth. But neither her innate vampiric abilities nor the new powers granted by the curse could pierce his defenses. All she saw in his eyes was a bottomless abyss.
"It most certainly does concern ," Jenkins countered. "I have to report this to the Church. Without a compelling reason, I highly doubt they will compromise with you. That's not even considering whether they currently possess these B-class Extraordinary items. Surely you don't believe that my companion and I can persuade the Church to agree to your terms on our word alone?"
"First, allow to correct you. All three items are indeed in the possession of the Orthodox Church. To be more precise, they are all right here, in the Nolan diocese."
The Countess averted her gaze. A sudden, sharp interest in the man's blood flared within her, but instinct scread that it was a dangerous path to consider. The conflict between desire and intuition put her on high alert. She was no fledgling; she knew that sotis, instinct was more important than reason.
Jenkins raised an eyebrow. The Elents' Blood had only been secured by the Sage Church last month, following the incident with the Corpse Gentleman and the Titan. For her to know that already ant she wasn't acting alone. A powerful organization had to be backing her, and when he thought of mysterious, elusive groups, the Tree House was the first na that ca to mind.
"Secondly," the Countess continued, "the Orthodox Church will have no choice but to compromise. Because I'm about to tell you exactly how this Miasma Lock works."
The Countess flashed a confident smile at Jenkins and Miss Capet.
"This is the Scarlet Banquet. It invites any being outside the lock to co and explore. Every person who enters adds to its power. If the Church chooses not to send people inside to periodically clear out the cursed inhabitants of the courtyard and manor, their Blood Mosquito Curse will continue to evolve. I don't know what the final stage of that evolution looks like, but I'm quite eager to find out. In other words, the Orthodox Church must compromise. Otherwise, the Blood Mosquito Curse will inevitably spread to the city of Bel Diran."
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