While Jenkins rarely resorted to using charms, he always carried a few of his practice pieces on him. The one he'd just deployed was designed to create an undispellable smokescreen of steam upon contact with any form of fire—one of the more cost-effective options for obscuring an opponent's vision.
Perched atop the ruins of the staircase, Carl spat out the cigarette butt, leaving only the filter. His eyes bored into the roiling steam. Suddenly, his ear twitched, and he spun to the side. His right eye, once normal, flared a deep crimson, unleashing a tangible beam of red light that pierced deep into the mist. A mont later, all he heard was the clatter of bones collapsing to the floor.
"A Demon Eye?"
Jenkins's voice echoed from the other side of the thick fog. A sneer twisted Carl's lips as he lifted his right foot and kicked sharply. A shower of wooden splinters shot across the floor. After a dull thud, the whirring of gears echoed from a corner of the room. The projectile had struck a strange, oven-like machine. Its door swung open, and it began to rapidly suck all the steam out of the air.
"Who knew an air purifier would co in so handy?"
As Carl spoke, his vision cleared. Jenkins was already at the shop's entrance, his hand pressed against the door, but it refused to budge. The mustachioed rchant let out a cold laugh, pressed his hand against the adjacent wall, and drew a black shotgun straight out of the solid surface.
The shotgun's fra was a massive spine, dyed black, and its trigger assembly looked disturbingly like the bones of a human hand. Surgical sutures were visible where the stock t the barrel. The mont Carl gripped it, a mouth on the stock latched onto his hand.
"Williatte," Carl snarled, "I don't care who you really are. Since you don't have what I need, it's ti for you to die."
The mouth latched onto Carl's hand seed to be draining the Enchanter's very spirit. With an audible sucking sound, the gun's black fra began to fade, turning completely white in a matter of seconds. A deafening crack echoed through the room, and a terrible sense of foreboding seized Jenkins.
He flung the cat from his shoulder to the left as he dove to the right. His sharp reflexes allowed him to track the bone bullet as it changed direction mid-flight, swerving to follow him.
He grabbed the nearest object and hurled it at the projectile, but it did nothing to alter the bullet's course. Before his feet even touched the ground, the bullet tore through his chest, right where his heart should have been. The impact slamd his airborne body back against the wall. He slid to the floor and collapsed, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart was no longer visible. Black, weed-like tendrils began to creep from the wound, spreading across his body.
"So this is the price for opposing ... wait, that's not right!"
The black demon shadow was already lunging at him again. Carl had no ti to recharge his weapon, nor did he dare confront the eerie silhouette head-on. He tried to sidestep, but the sole of his shoe felt as if it were glued to the floor.
Only then did he notice that a thin layer of frost now coated the entire room. While the machine had absorbed most of the steam, the lingering moisture on the walls had been more than enough for Jenkins to use his [Ice Solidification] ability and create an environnt to his advantage.
A deafening explosion rocked the room. Jenkins, having survived the grievous wound thanks to his [Undying Man] ability, pushed himself to his feet, already nding his own flesh. He snatched up his cat as it darted toward him and offered a silent prayer to the Sage. The power of divine art surged through his veins.
"Hah!"
With a sharp cry, he charged into the shop's display window. Though the pocket dinsion created by the Black Magician's Coat severed the direct spatial link to the street outside, the power of the Sage's divine art allowed Jenkins to shatter both the glass and the invisible barrier behind it.
He tumbled out onto the street in a shower of shattered glass. The gaping hole in his chest had already sealed itself shut, but the strange, tentacle-like substance still clinging to his skin and the imnse drain on his spirit left him deathly pale. He pushed a hand against the pavent, trying to rise, but his body trembled uncontrollably.
Back inside the antique shop, Carl, who had taken a direct hit from the Twin Demons, was in far worse shape. Demonic fire had seared away half his face, exposing the bone beneath. His left arm was gone entirely, and as he struggled to his feet against the wall, black flas still licked at his leg.
Both n tried to rise at the sa mont, and both stumbled and fell. Inside the shop, Carl suddenly broke into a fit of laughter.
"Is that all you've got?"
He violently slamd his own head against the wall, shattering his skull. A mont later, a new Carl—whole, but visibly weaker—appeared on the second-floor landing. With the staircase gone, he simply leaped down.
Laughing, he waved a black top hat, and the lingering demonic flas were instantly sucked into it, erasing all traces of the recent battle.
"Looks like I win this round, Williatte," he declared.
He bent down and retrieved the black shotgun from the rubble of the staircase, once again allowing the mouth on its stock to latch onto his hand and drink its fill. When the weapon's fra turned a brilliant white, saturated with a vast amount of spirit, he pulled the trigger, loosing a second deadly bullet.
"eeow!"
Chocolate, still dazed from the fall, leaped into the air, claws extended, trying to intercept the shot. Jenkins snatched the cat out of the air and pulled it close, just as Miss Capet, who was now behind him, swiftly yanked him back.
Behind Miss Capet stood hundreds of Scribes from the Sage's Church. They were gathered in the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlights, their hands raised in unison as they prayed:
"May the Sage illuminate the path before us!"
A breathtaking golden light flooded the entire street. It was already eight o'clock at night, and the dim glow of the streetlamps was completely eclipsed by the overwhelming power of the divine art.
As hundreds of elite Enchanters prayed in unison, a massive, seemingly solid shield in the shape of a book materialized, sealing off the entire street. The bullet slamd into the barrier, held for a re second, and was then utterly vaporized into ash by the imnse divine power.
"Are you alright, Jenkins?"
Miss Capet placed a hand on his back, and a warm, life-giving spirit flowed into his body. He managed a weak smile, feigning that he was on the verge of collapse.
"Saint Williatte."
Mr. Gilbert moved to help Miss Capet support Jenkins, but seeing how frail he looked, he hesitated, afraid of interfering with her treatnt.
He gave his longsword a flick, and orange flas danced in the moonlight, gradually enveloping the blade from hilt to tip. The Scribes of the Sage's Church were also poised for battle, their faces illuminated by the continuous shroud of divine light.
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