The two madn on the dueling stage were still locked in a frenzy of screams and curses, while below, the gathered Enchanters found themselves trapped. They could no longer leave the Central Plaza; a divine power was at work, containing the dangerous aura leaking from the duel and sealing them all inside.
His vision blurred as ghostly flas erupted from the ground, their source unseen. A thick, gurgling sound exploded in his ears as the earth split open into countless fissures. Beneath them, blood-red magma churned, and from its depths, wailing souls stretched out desperate hands.
Jenkins lay collapsed on the ground, his body twitching, but his mind remained sharp. He knew waiting would only invite greater disaster. The ground began to tremble again as the very soil beneath him transford, hardening into a substance like black obsidian.
Everyone scattered to avoid the ever-widening cracks in the ground.
Jenkins gritted his teeth. Seeing that no one was watching, he rolled a few tis across the obsidian ground. He summoned his black robe, transforming his appearance into that of a black-haired young man, and then sprang to his feet with a single, fluid motion.
At that exact mont, the third challenger was sent flying from the stage by the maniacally laughing Beryl. The creature had completely shed its human guise. A pair of bat-like wings had sprouted from its back, and from the sides of its face, now slick with a murky black liquid, a pair of ram's horns was slowly erging.
Jenkins strode forward to et the challenge, and just as he expected, he was sucked onto the dueling stage.
Instantly, a wave of madness and distortion washed over him, emanating from the demon. Yet, his spirit was more powerfully drawn to the pieces of armor scattered across the stage.
Far from corrupting his mind, they were desperately calling out to him.
He had planned to launch a sneak attack with his [Blasphemous Creation], but now, a new option presented itself.
Jenkins stood his ground, watching as the demon slowly flapped its wings and ascended into the air. Then, he began to walk forward, letting his own spirit answer the armor's call.
As he walked, the nine silver components scattered on the ground spun into the air, assembling into a complete, yet empty, suit of armor behind him.
He took a step. The armor exploded, its components shattering into countless fragnts as if an imnse, unseen form were bursting out from within.
He took a second step. The tal shards, still holding the shape of the armor, swirled around his body, hovering just shy of his skin.
He took a third step. The fragnts snapped inward, closing around him. A knight in gleaming silver armor, shield in his left hand and sword in his right, now stood upon the stage.
"Hahahaha! Today is the day you die!"
Jenkins shouted the words at the demon in the sky, cringing internally at how awkward they sounded. It wasn't his style at all. But a sense of overflowing power surged through his body, followed by an imnse feeling of satisfaction and a bizarre, unshakeable confidence.
He glanced down at himself through the thick helm, noticing auras of both white and black light clinging to the armor. It was just like that ti before the Gate of All Things—his Bestowals were responding, and this ti, the armor was too.
But the armor was not without its flaws; Jenkins could feel his bravery twisting, slipping into arrogance.
There was no ti to waste. Jenkins shut his mouth and leaped toward the sky with all his might. Soaring just above the still-cackling demon, he leaned back, whipped his right leg forward, and slamd a kick into its body at a steep angle.
At least fifty people around the stage witnessed the attack. The knight's physical prowess was clearly beyond human limits, yet from start to finish, the demon—corrupted by its own power and consud by madness—offered no resistance.
A sun-like power, clinging to the armor, was completely discharged in that single kick. When Jenkins landed, the magma, the wailing souls, and the swirling black smoke had all vanished. It was, once again, the central plaza of Nolan City.
"Must not laugh. Must not laugh."
He suppressed the urge to laugh maniacally, first glancing at the dumbfounded onlookers around the plaza. Then, in a trembling voice, he declared, "I an no harm. I was rely out for a stroll and happened to be passing by."
Muttering words he himself didn't believe, he walked step by step toward the fallen demon.
"What are you doing?"
Soone shouted, but Jenkins paid them no mind.
"Blasphemous Creation!"
He couldn't pass up such a golden opportunity.
The creature wasn't dead, but a deep indentation marred its chest where the kick had landed. Black blood oozed from the crater, gurgling as if it were boiling.
He slipped a few coins through a gap in his armor and into a pocket. Next, he searched the demon's body, pulled out a contract, and held it to his chest. Shielding it from view, he summoned a candle's fla and burned the parchnt to ash. Taking a few steps back, a jet-black shadow materialized behind the silver knight, then lunged fiercely at the grotesque, barely breathing demon.
An explosion rocked the stage, spattering flecks of black fire everywhere. Jenkins summoned another shadow to act as a shield. The flas were the demon's final, desperate burst of power; instead of dying out, they only burned hotter.
As Jenkins burned the contract, the phantom arm in the sky above let out a final, mournful sigh.
Amidst the sigh, a great golden net erged from the void and pulled taut in six directions at once, brutally tearing the demonic arm into six pieces.
A golden radiance burst forth from the sundered limb, and a stream of twisted runes followed the largest cluster of light as it shot away.
The net vanished, the phantom arm faded, and a small streak of golden light drifted down to land before Jenkins.
Flas and the silver mask obscured his face as the man fought the urge to laugh and scream. He quickly took out several small tal plates.
He sliced his finger with his sword, saring a streak of blood across one face of the hexahedron.
"My blood!"
The tal block, which had been on the verge of falling apart, fused back together.
He turned the hexahedron and pressed the coin he had just acquired onto the second face.
"Blasphemy!"
The seams where the different tals t began to lt and fuse.
He turned it again, searing the third face with the black flas.
"Sin!"
Through his Eye of Reality, he saw a faint golden light erge from within.
He turned it a fourth ti, striking it against his armored chest.
"Courage!"
All six faces contracted inward simultaneously, becoming perfectly smooth.
He turned it a fifth ti, touching it to the fla of a purifying candle.
"Purity!"
The tal block in his hand began to vibrate violently.
He turned it one last ti. Above the final face, he traced the holy symbol of the Sage with his finger.
"My God!"
All the strange phenona vanished. A black, palm-sized, perfect hexahedron now rested in Jenkins's left hand.
"Don't laugh! Stay calm, stay calm!"
Gazing at the tal block in his hand, he could no longer contain his joy and burst into wild laughter.
The Enchanters surrounding the plaza turned toward the sound. There, in the center of the stage, amidst a sea of black fire, stood two figures back-to-back: one silver, one black. The silver figure raised its hands to the night sky, while the black one's head was bowed, its expression hidden from view.
The flas leaped higher, fueled by the wild laughter. Suddenly, the clock tower bell tolled, and in a deafening explosion, both figures vanished.
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