"Redemptor?"
Hearing the na, Papa Oliver looked up at Jenkins in surprise.
"How interesting."
"What's interesting?"
The na was a test. Jenkins wanted to clarify sothing very important.
"The villain wanted all over the world right now also has the middle na Redemptor. It ans 'savior,' yet..."
"You an that Williams?"
Jenkins asked familiarly, acting as if he knew exactly what the old man was talking about. At the sa ti, he motioned for Miss Windsor and Magic Miss to sit. There were two chairs in front of the fireplace, one of which was Papa Oliver's usual rocking chair.
"Yes, yes, Jenkins Williams, the mastermind behind the Nolan serial killings and a mber of the heretical Gear Artisans' Association. I heard the Church has raised the bounty on him to 200,000 pounds. Oh, by the Sage, 200,000 pounds!"
Papa Oliver shook his head as he spoke, picking up the newspaper again. Since they weren't custors, he didn't need to entertain them, so continuing to read wasn't impolite.
Jenkins took the opportunity to glance at the date printed on the newspaper: Monday, July 15th, 1866, Universal Calendar. It was the sa as the real world's date.
Without turning around, Jenkins could guess the shock on Miss Windsor and Magic Miss's faces. He had confird it: this possibility world wasn't just a world missing one person, but a world where Jenkins had never arrived at all. He couldn't believe that if he had been the one playing the role of Jenkins Williams, the future would have turned out so bleak.
"How strange. The Church's bounty is even higher than the police departnt's."
He leaned against the counter, making a cynical remark.
"The Orthodox Churches always post high bounties for heretics like him. That's perfectly normal."
Papa Oliver said, then, as if just rembering, handed the three of them a towel from the back to wipe the rain from their hair. It would have been better to light the fireplace and let the soaked trio warm themselves, but it was sumr, and Papa Oliver was under no obligation to do such things for strangers.
With Papa Oliver present, the three of them couldn't talk. Jenkins wanted to suggest borrowing a room upstairs, but he couldn't act too familiar with the place.
Just as he was about to speak, intending to go to a nearby clothing store to buy a change of clothes for the two ladies, the bell on the door chid again as it was pushed open. A young man walked in, his head lowered, his face obscured by a ridiculously wide-brimd hat.
Rainwater dripped from his black trench coat onto the floor. The heavy thud of his boots tracked mud from the street into the antique shop.
"Why is everyone going out without an umbrella today?"
Papa Oliver grumbled under his breath, a complaint only Jenkins, who was leaning against the counter, could hear. Then, Papa Oliver began his usual greeting:
"Welco to Pops Antique Shop. May I..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. The young man had already raised a gun and aid it at him. As he lifted his head, he revealed his face—it was "Jenkins Williams."
This ti, Jenkins had a chance to observe his companions' expressions. Miss Windsor's face was a mask of astonishnt, the towel frozen in her hands. Magic Miss, however, was smiling—her usual reaction when sothing piqued her interest.
"A robbery?"
Papa Oliver stood frozen and silent, so Jenkins asked for him. The scene was strikingly familiar. Last autumn, the demigod Frost Attendant from the Club of Light Chasers had burst into the shop in much the sa way. He was dead a few hours later.
Although the newcor Jenkins looked identical to Jenkins Williams, a closer look revealed slight differences in their facial structure. This was partly because Jenkins had completed the final sublimation of the World Tree Sapling, during which his elven lineage had influenced his physical changes, making him younger and more handso. The other reason was that his powerful soul was subtly reshaping his body, bringing the two into greater alignnt. The body was changing to resemble Jenkins's original appearance, but because the two were so different, the change wasn't obvious.
For these two reasons, while the stranger Jenkins and the original Jenkins looked similar, anyone who knew them well could tell them apart. Even more distinct was the complete difference in their auras.
Magic Miss and Miss Windsor felt this even more keenly. The Jenkins Williams they knew was like an unsolvable puzzle, charming yet sowhat unapproachable. But whether he was stone-faced or smiling, he always had the harmless air of a good man.
This familiar stranger before them, however, looked every bit the vicious villain.
Not to ntion, the man had appeared without a cat by his side. This fact alone convinced them just how absurdly different this possibility world was from the real one.
While having a cat didn't necessarily make soone Jenkins, not having a cat definitely ant he wasn't Jenkins.
"Young man, put down the gun. What do you want? Is it money?"
Papa Oliver finally asked, slowly setting down his newspaper. He looked at the ard youth without much panic.
Jenkins—the outsider Jenkins—tilted his head and glanced outside. After the "robber" Jenkins had entered, two n in gray, double-breasted coats and hats had taken up positions on either side of the shop's entrance. The robber was smarter than the Frost Attendant; at least he knew not to act alone.
"Yesterday morning, did you or did you not acquire a wrench from a destitute woman carrying a baby?"
The robber demanded. Jenkins's lip twitched. It seed this world truly was universally connected.
"Yes."
Papa Oliver answered almost imdiately, without needing to think. The shop didn't get many custors in a day, so he rembered yesterday's events clearly. He also clearly rembered identifying the wrench as a special item after learning the woman had gotten it from a strange tavern.
"Hand it over."
the young robber said. Seeing such a ferocious expression on a face so similar to Jenkins's was deeply unsettling for both Magic Miss and Miss Windsor.
Papa Oliver didn't respond right away, so the gunman turned his weapon on Jenkins.
"I'll count to three. If you don't hand it over, I'll kill him."
"What does this have to do with ?"
Jenkins couldn't help but say, then casually reached out and wrapped his hand around the barrel of the gun from above. A cold sensation traveled from his palm to his brain. Sothing was wrong with this gun. It was no ordinary pistol; even with the overwhelming presence of spirit in this possibility world, he could see that the aura of the weapon was exceptionally strange.
"Let go!"
The young robber ordered the young writer. His threatening voice was laced with a ntal influence, a fact Miss Windsor, newly awakened as a Benefactor, could clearly sense.
"What did you say?"
Jenkins tightened his grip on the gun and, with a sudden burst of strength, twisted his wrist upward, pointing the barrel at the ceiling. The robber, holding the butt of the pistol, struggled to force the muzzle back down, but his strength was no match for Jenkins's.
"You..."
A dim, coppery light spread from the robber's arm toward the pistol, enveloping Jenkins's right hand in an instant. Within that glow, the young writer's hand slowly began to take on a tallic sheen.
"This world is more interesting than I thought."
He remarked, tapping the barrel with his tallic index finger to ascertain its internal structure. Then, a green light blood, dispelling the chanizing glow. The young writer released the pistol and, with a flick of his right hand, a book with an iron-gray cover appeared in his grasp.
Behind him, Magic Miss's eyes lit up, though she knew that the battle was the priority now. After confirming that this unfamiliar Williams was his opponent, she let Jenkins confront Jenkins.
She told Miss Windsor to stay put, while she herself headed for the door to deal with the two n outside.
"Who are you? Why do you have the power of the World Tree?"
The robber wasn't flustered. Instead, he questioned Jenkins in a stern tone. A green light appeared in his hand, intertwining with the yellow light that chanized flesh, and both energies flowed into the pistol.
Even though he had walked a completely different path, Jenkins Williams was still a descendant of the World Tree's priests.
"That's not important. What I want to know now is, where did you get this strange chanical power? The entity that gave you this power... has it broken its seal?"
The gun was raised, the trigger pulled, but there was no sound. Jenkins's enhanced vision caught what flew from the muzzle—not a physical bullet, but a strange tallic pellet wrapped in what looked like tentacles.
"I definitely can't dodge that."
He thought to himself. A beam of light shot out from the book in his hand. A chanical bird flew straight into the "bullet," exploding on impact. The blast's force didn't ripple outward at all, but where it had detonated, a terrifying black rift appeared in the void, lingering for at least two seconds before vanishing.
The power of that pellet had just torn through the incredibly solid barrier of the material world's space.
Jenkins had never experinted with combining the powers of life and machinery. This was certainly an eye-opener. Seeing his opponent about to fire a second shot, another arc of light flew from the book. The chanical bird spread its crackling, electric wings and landed on the young robber's pistol. No matter how many tis he pulled the trigger after that, the gun fired no more bullets.
"May your soul be with the gods."
Jenkins threw a punch, first shattering the man's raised arm, then striking him precisely in the throat. He generally avoided crude actions like smashing a head, especially when the face was so similar to his own, so simply snapping the neck would suffice.
"It's clean outside. There were only two of them. I tossed the bodies in a nearby alley."
Magic Miss returned. Jenkins nodded and knelt down to search the body, hoping to find so information related to the Difference Engine. It would be a waste not to take the opportunity.
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