Within the maze-lock of the Purification Field, an eerie wind howled. A colossal humanoid figure, entangled in a web, roared in fury. As glass rained down upon the street like snowflakes, the web tightened its grip, and even the mysterious sound of a children's choir began to fade.
Red sparks shot up from the end of the street, signaling the attack. Imdiately, the first team of thirty charged toward a half-collapsed building, damaged by the giant's struggles. In the brief ten seconds it took for them to advance, at least fifty different, non-conflicting beneficial enhancents were cast upon them, bestowed through abilities, numbered items, rituals, and even talismans.
Outside the maze-lock, twenty-four demigods hovered in the air, standing guard against any unforeseen events. anwhile, on the very edge of the construct's interior, Jenkins stood upon a distant rooftop, his focus dedicated to maintaining it. Hooded, he watched as the battle erupted in full force. The fierce wind whipped at his hood, sending the hem of his robes fluttering.
He squinted, silently gazing ahead. Beneath the dim, heavy sky, lights of every color exploded like fireworks. The very air shimred, distorted by spiritual power warping reality, making the sharp angles of the buildings seem bizarre and surreal. Heart-stopping booms echoed one after another, and a black fog, descending as if the celestial river had burst its banks, still strained against the full might of the maze-lock.
But a brilliant golden light, rising from the ground, guided the attackers forward like a miniature sun. Gradually, a resplendent golden radiance began to coalesce even around Jenkins, who stood seemingly inactive. This light was no illusion; it danced with the raging wind, making the black-hooded Jenkins appear wreathed in golden flas. The fiery tails swayed with the gusts, the raw essence of divine arts pouring from them and flooding the surroundings without restraint.
The operation had been executed with trendous stealth. Though ambushed, the Perfu Appreciation Committee managed a decent, if hasty, counterattack. But guided by the Twelve Orthodox Churches' resolve to win this first battle at any cost, the illegal organization's resistance ultimately amounted to nothing more than tossing a pebble into a river. It kicked up a small, pretty splash, but it was ultimately inconsequential.
From the mont the maze-lock solidified to the end of the battle, only forty-nine minutes had passed. Thanks to the inescapable construct, not a single one of the so-called tobacco rchants managed to escape. A demigod of unknown origin was struck down on the spot by an old gravekeeper from the Church of Death and End, while the remaining Benefactors were mostly captured alive. They would prove to be valuable leads for the ongoing investigation into the Gearsmiths' Guild and the Tree House.
What was peculiar, however, was that while the formula for the strange tobacco was discovered in the rchants' lair, no instructions detailing its purpose were found. The captured Benefactors, for their part, claid to have no idea what effect the tobacco actually had after it linked people's dreams.
Among them, only two were even aware of the Sin Nightmare's invasion of reality back in Bel Diran. It seed that in this continent-spanning tobacco affair, this particular group was responsible only for production, sales, and profit. They were rely cogs in the machine, participants who knew nothing of the grander sche.
"So where exactly did the tobacco formula co from?"
That afternoon, Jenkins, finally getting a chance to rest after a long and hectic period, sat on Bevanna's sofa with his cat cradled in his lap and posed the question bluntly. The docunts recovered from the tobacco rchants' lair—those that hadn't been destroyed in ti—had all been moved to the Evergreen Forest for collective safekeeping and analysis. Since Jenkins had no plans to leave the city, he hadn't yet received the latest updates.
"It's highly probable that it didn't originate with the Perfu Appreciation Committee. At least, the foundational principles weren't sothing they ca up with on their own."
Bevanna offered the explanation from behind her impressive mahogany desk. A tal quadrant rested on one corner, though Jenkins had no idea why it was there.
Although the weather outside was scorching, the office was exceptionally cool, and Jenkins didn't mind staying a while longer.
"The Tree House?"
Jenkins asked, and the cat he was stroking purred contentedly, rolling over on his lap to expose its belly.
"It's a possibility. But within the recovered texts, we found a portion of the 'Children of the Mist' plan—I trust you rember it. It seems that group was also involved in what happened in Nolan last year, we just didn't detect their presence at the ti."
"Doesn't that just make it even more likely that the tobacco formula ca from the Tree House?"
"You could say that."
Bevanna nodded.
Besides their connection to the Children of the Mist plan, this group, adept at manipulating smoke, had also analyzed the fog surrounding Nolan after arriving in the city. Because this research wasn't considered vital, it hadn't been imdiately destroyed, and the Orthodox Church confiscated all of it.
According to their analysis, the recent string of murders occurring in the night fog, as well as the so-called monsters in the mist—which had been witnessed by many, but for which no physical evidence existed—were, in fact, real.
Although both attempts to activate the 'Children of the Mist' plan had failed—the second even drawing the attention of six deities—the sche had nevertheless managed to agitate the fog around Nolan. That fog, by its very nature of warping the natural world, already possessed latent supernatural tendencies. After being subjected to various rituals, tainted by the bizarre power of a Heretical God's Scion, and burdened by the accumulated sins of the Epoch's End, it had finally manifested its first truly supernatural characteristic.
"Crawlers in the Fog?"
Jenkins accepted the report Bevanna handed him. In addition to the text, several blurry photographs had been glued to its pages. They appeared to have been taken at night; Jenkins could only make out the faint outlines of buildings, while everything else was pitch-black and indecipherable.
"Without any additional rituals or sacrifices, over ti, the fog on Nolan's outskirts will naturally give rise to supernatural life forms composed entirely of dense mist?"
He read aloud a key piece of information from the report.
"Yes. Your senior, Stevel, has already confird it. She ntioned encountering a strange creature with the Believers of Lies. We originally thought those charlatans had played a trick on her—it's certainly sothing they're capable of."
Bevanna said with a smile. As she was good friends with Miss Stevel, she could joke about her without worrying about causing offense.
Aside from the followers of the Spiraling Mist, the Perfu Appreciation Committee understood the properties of the fog better than anyone. They had therefore easily accomplished what the Orthodox Church could not. The group had conducted a detailed investigation into Nolan's pervasive fog and reached the obvious conclusion: even if left alone, it would inevitably escalate into a major catastrophe.
Therefore, while waiting for the fog to undergo a further qualitative transformation, they had classified the creatures they dubbed the 'Crawlers in the Fog.' Using thods the Orthodox Church had yet to decipher, they investigated the nature of these fog-monsters' powers and roughly divided them into three categories.
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