"How will you know how many incidents we've dealt with? Are you just going to take our word for it?"
Jenkins voiced his doubts in the dragon's lair. Since arriving in this world, he'd navigated nurous Mysterious Realms and beco intimately familiar with their deadly rules. Compared to those, the dragon's ga seed laughably simplistic.
"After you resolve an incident, you can bring back so interesting 'souvenirs.' I have my own thods for discerning what's genuine," the dragon declared. "Saint of the Sage, I am an eminently fair red dragon, and one filled with wisdom."
The dragon spoke, then glanced at a pocket watch smaller than its own eye.
"You have ten minutes to prepare. Then you may depart."
"Jenkins, do you know sothing I don't?"
Once Jenkins had finished speaking with the dragon, Miss Capet eyed him with suspicion.
"Well..."
Jenkins hesitated, deciding against telling her the legend of the Saviors. It wouldn't do her any good.
"Tomorrow morning, after sunrise, I can tell you everything if you're still interested. But for now, please, listen to . Let be the one to stop the Tree House. You shouldn't get involved... It's not that I'm trying to eliminate the competition, it's just that this could be dangerous for you..."
The mont the words left his mouth, Jenkins knew he sounded like he was trying to sideline her. He truly believed it was a bad idea for Miss Capet to get involved; she wasn't a combat-oriented Enchanter, and plunging headfirst into this would be incredibly dangerous.
But Miss Capet didn't argue. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her lovely eyes sizing him up for a mont before she turned to the red dragon.
"Very well," she announced. "I forfeit."
The dragon nodded in acceptance but stipulated that she was not to inform the Church of this matter until the ga concluded. It wanted to prevent them from offering Jenkins any assistance.
"But regardless," she added firmly, "I want the full story tomorrow morning."
The blonde woman spoke with earnest gravity, then opened her arms and gave Jenkins a brief hug.
"You be careful, too. Stay safe."
"I'll be fine," he promised.
With his assurance, Miss Capet finally seed at ease. She cast one last glance at the dragon, then turned and departed without a mont's hesitation.
Although Jenkins considered Nolan City to be in a temporary state of peace, the truth was that a steady stream of seemingly minor supernatural incidents had been plaguing the region since the previous year. For an Enchanter, dealing with them was often a trivial affair—sotis as simple as tossing a talisman—but for ordinary people, these events were inescapable nightmares.
In a typical year—before Jenkins had even arrived in this world—the combat squads of the various churches spent most of their ti handling these simple problems. The few more complex issues could be resolved by the churches' demigods. Jenkins had never been involved in such cases, partly due to his semi-clerical role, and partly because his ti was invariably consud by far more perilous threats.
After leaving the dragon's lair, Jenkins didn't imdiately rush off to hunt for supernatural incidents. Instead, he leisurely took his cat to a restaurant for a hearty al, ensuring he'd have plenty of energy for a sleepless night. Afterwards, he returned ho, dug out an old tourist guide he'd bought from the post office ages ago, and studied the map, planning to sweep the city from south to north.
It would have been far more convenient to don his black robe for such a task; he could act more freely without worrying about being recognized. However, Jenkins feared the dragon's unknown thod of verification might fail to credit him for his work if he was disguised. Thus, he decided to operate under his own na.
His first stop was the public cetery on the southern outskirts of the city. The sun had completely set, and the graveyard was shrouded in a thick fog, creating an atmosphere straight out of a horror novel.
The ceteries of large cities were all watched over by gravediggers from the Church of Death and End or at least regularly inspected, making spontaneous undead reanimations a rarity. Jenkins had chosen this place as a starting point purely as a precaution. He never expected to see strange spiritual glimrs flickering within the grounds as he approached the iron fence.
"My luck's turning already?"
He thought happily, stroking Chocolate, whose head was peeking out from his collar, and ntally warned the cat not to make a sound that might alert the gravediggers. Taking two steps back for a running start, he agilely vaulted over the fence and into the cetery grounds.
Even out here on the city's edge, the thick fog carried that familiar, acrid stench. Jenkins covered his nose with one hand as he followed a narrow path toward the source of the glimring light. It didn't take long for him to find it: a small, utterly unremarkable tree.
The light was emanating from the tree itself. Jenkins circled it twice before he finally spotted it on the lower trunk: a distorted human face etched into the wrinkled patterns of the bark.
This wasn't the result of an Enchanter's ritual. When a tree planted in a cetery has its roots in contact with too many corpses over a long period, it can develop necrotic properties through an effect akin to a slow, unintentional sacrifice. Once fully animated, such a tree would beco the equivalent of a high-level, intelligent undead. The process, however, takes more than a century and requires a staggering number of bodies, which is why such trees are typically only found on ancient battlefields or in old tombs where human sacrifice was once practiced.
"Soone must have ignored the cremation regulations again."
With that thought, Jenkins slapped his palm against the trunk. The static face in the bark writhed, its features twisting wildly. The patterns on the bark rippled like water, and the face slowly dissolved back into the natural grain of the wood. The tree's nascent undead properties vanished completely.
Jenkins had simply channeled a bit of his life energy into the wood, flushing out the faint traces of death that had taken root. The task was trivial for him, but had an ordinary person wandered by the tree at night, the illusions it could generate might have driven them mad or scared them to death.
"Well, that's one incident down. Next up should be..."
He was about to turn and leave, but his Eye of Reality, still active, caught sight of two familiar Enchanters appearing in the cetery. They looked as if they had only just arrived.
"Odd."
He glanced around before ducking into a patch of overgrown sumr grass. With a nudge of his power, he encouraged the low-lying shrubs to grow even thicker, their leaves completely concealing him. A mont later, Magic Miss and Silver Flute Miss walked past, completely oblivious to the man and his cat crouching just a few feet away.
"Huh? That's odd. I'm sure this was the tree."
The pair stopped beside the very tree Jenkins had just treated.
"It took forever to find this necrotic wood. I was planning to use it for a ritual. How did it turn back into a regular tree?"
Puzzled, Magic Miss ran her hand over the spot where the twisted face should have been. She was certain it was now just an ordinary tree.
Her face, bathed in moonlight, was a mask of confusion. Silver Flute Miss looked just as startled and even scanned the surroundings, but neither of them saw the awkwardly grimacing Jenkins hidden in the bushes.
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