It was only because he’d seen Miss Capet arrive with reinforcents that Jenkins had dared to leap into the street. As such, he wasn't the least bit surprised to be rescued.
“He can resurrect, from any injury!”
Leaning against Miss Capet and feigning weakness, Jenkins offered the warning. He was, in fact, already feeling much better, but he needed a plausible explanation for how he’d managed to hold his own against a genuine demigod for so long. A convincing display of injury was essential.
“Alfons Carl, I declare you guilty. The sentence is death, to be carried out imdiately.”
Mr. Gilbert declared coolly, swinging his flaming longsword down. Fiery veins raced across the flagstones, rging with the divine power of the Sage as a vast arcane maze unfurled around them.
A surging power, carried on the sound of prayer, filled the bodies of every believer of the Sage present. As the first tentative barrage of spells hamred the old junk shop, Mr. Gilbert led a squad of Scribes skilled in close combat, charging toward Carl under the enhancent of divine arts and flas.
“He's a Believer of Lies!”
Carl roared, thrusting his hand toward the wall. He had noticed Jenkins's companion leave earlier, but he’d never imagined he would be unable to subdue Jenkins so quickly, much less that the woman who departed could summon such a formidable rescue force.
“Who is she?”
He grew suspicious of Miss Capet's identity.
The magician's coat, which had been rged with the shop wall, was ripped free by Carl. With a flick, like a conjurer's trick, the entire shop was scooped up from the outside, all its rchandise vanishing into the garnt.
Carl shook out the coat and slipped it on. His right hand shot forward, catching Mr. Gilbert's blade, while with a flick of his left wrist, a playing card sprang from his sleeve and expanded into a shield, deflecting the other attacks.
“Why don't you claim I'm a Believer of Lies too?”
Mr. Gilbert laughed in fury. His flaming longsword locked with Carl's hand for a tense second before it cleaved the man in two.
“You claid to be a Believer of Lies again?”
In the street outside, a squad of Scribes from the support unit had ford a protective circle around Jenkins and Miss Capet. Miss Capet asked while tending to his injuries. She hadn't forgotten that just that afternoon, on the train, Jenkins had said the very sa thing to the mber from the Gear Artisans' Association.
“I had to stall for a long ti. I needed sothing to talk about.”
Jenkins gave a weak smile. At his feet, Chocolate stood watch, eyeing the surrounding people like a sentry.
Thanks to Jenkins's earlier warning, Mr. Gilbert didn't let his guard down, even after watching Carl die before his very eyes. He and the Scribes who had entered the shop with him scanned their surroundings warily. Suddenly, Gilbert looked up, and with a single sword stroke, shattered the ceiling and the roof above. Through the gaping hole, they saw Carl floating like a balloon, ascending rapidly into the higher sky.
“Williatte, you'll rember !”
His voice drifted down from high above. With the two bright moons at his back, Carl was nothing more than a hazy silhouette to Jenkins.
Imdiately after, two other dark figures appeared high in the sky, silhouetted against the moons. It was Mr. Donas Yassen, known as the "Left Hand of the Sanctuary," and another Church demigod who had remained silent during the holy council eting. They each seized one of Carl’s arms.
The distance was too great for Jenkins to clearly discern the details of the fight that erupted between the three demigods in those few seconds. He heard a piercing scream, then watched as Carl's silhouette was ripped in two by the demigods of the Sage's Church. As the black magician's coat tore apart, hundreds of numbered items stored within rained down, scattering across the roof of the old junk shop.
“He's not dead yet!”
Jenkins said weakly. The cat glanced back; only it could see the thread-like purple light that flickered for an instant in Jenkins’s eyes.
With his clear line of sight, Jenkins finally witnessed Carl's resurrection process in full. The very instant his body was torn apart, a bolt of black spiritual light struck down like lightning, t by another that shot in from across the city. The two flashes of light rged, and Carl rematerialized on the roof of the junk shop.
His body was like an amorphous black fluid, which then solidified into Carl's form.
By then, Mr. Gilbert had also landed on the roof. The Church's Scribes had the junk shop completely surrounded, and under the influence of the arcane maze, faint chains ford of divine runes had even begun to materialize in the air.
At this stage, the Church wasn't about to waste breath on foolish calls for surrender. The mont Carl was "reborn," a new round of attacks was already waiting. The instant his body reford, he was killed again. When he reappeared a few seconds later, the process was repeated.
The Church was no stranger to enemies capable of repeated regeneration. Moreover, this was the Bel Diran diocese—the central seat of the Sage's Church. The Scribes here were far more nurous and powerful than those in the Nolan diocese.
Still feigning weakness, Jenkins watched from the street where he was surrounded by his protectors, his gaze fixed on Carl being killed over and over, growing visibly weaker with each resurrection.
After this process had repeated for perhaps the seventh ti, the reborn Carl no longer appeared in or on the junk shop, but materialized far higher in the sky.
Mr. Gilbert's flaming sword and a golden projectile launched by Mr. Donas Yassen closed the distance in an instant. But because Carl had revived much farther away this ti, he finally had a mont to act before being struck down again.
“You just wait...”
His voice drifted through the air. As he began to fall, the very fabric of space behind him shattered, and a colossal, wrinkled claw shot out, snatching him in its grasp. The sword and the bolt of light slamd into the claw, sending large, dark drops of flesh and blood splattering onto the roof below.
“I will have my revenge!”
Carl's voice lingered until both he and the claw vanished into the spatial rift. Empowered by the arcane maze, Mr. Donas Yassen shot into the rift after them, but when he returned monts later, he carried only a single, severed finger from the massive claw.
So, despite the Sage's Church's assault, Carl had ultimately escaped. Leaning on Miss Capet, Jenkins narrowed his eyes at the spot where Carl had disappeared. Only he had seen the claw actually crush Carl's body to a pulp. But since that death occurred outside the arcane maze, Carl had been able to regenerate in a safe zone beyond its influence.
Jenkins wasn't worried about Carl's parting threat. Forgetting for a mont the loss of nearly all his numbered items, the direct hit from Blasphemous Creation, followed by dozens of forced regenerations, was guaranteed to leave him severely weakened for a long ti.
And as for Jenkins's own revenge, it wouldn't be long in coming.
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