The bounty on the man in the black robe had now risen to two thousand pounds from the Church, with another two thousand from the police. In addition to a string of charges including robbery and murder on a rainy night, desecrating a corpse, and turning on his own, he was now also wanted for destroying public city facilities.
Indeed, the Central Plaza had been caught in the crossfire of the battle. The official story given to the public was that the man in the black robe had sabotaged the underground steam pipes, triggering an explosion.
The earthquake, too, was explained away as a consequence of the explosion—the blast causing the ground to tremble.
Although there was no evidence linking the man in black to the stranger known as Twin Demons, soone had to take the fall. Furthermore, the Orthodox Church still had no idea what divine domain the new god presided over. So, while they increased the bounty, the notice in the newspapers was relegated to an obscure corner of the back pages.
This, in its own way, was a gesture of goodwill.
Beryl's demonized corpse had exploded into fragnts under Jenkins's kick, but the heart—a black, stone-like object—had remained intact.
According to the records, the gate that had delivered the heart was known in folklore as the "Gate of Hell." To Enchanters, of course, it was known by its designation: A-03-1-7705, the Devil's Gate. Like the "Gate to the Land of the Dead," A-12-1-0089, which the professor had ntioned, it would randomly replace a real-world door. If left unopened, nothing would happen. But once soone unwittingly opened it, whatever lay beyond would spill into this world.
No one yet knew how Beryl had been able to summon this gate, but it was likely connected to the strange knowledge and power passed down by the Ashiash family, who lurked in the shadows. On the day Jenkins lay unconscious, the Orthodox Church had already arrested everyone suspected of associating with Beryl. A ritual that could blanket the entire city was not sothing one person could accomplish alone. The young nobles Hathaway had ntioned at the ball, those acquainted with Beryl, were undoubtedly involved.
For now, the black stone heart was being temporarily stored at the Church of Knowledge and Books. It would soon be transported to the Church's headquarters in Bel Diran; leaving sothing so dangerous in the powder keg of the Nolan diocese was far too risky.
Though just a scribe, Jenkins seed to have been involved in the entire affair from start to finish. He was the first to make contact with the demonized young Wellington and the first to discover the summoner.
This incident only served to further convince the Church's mbers that Jenkins was indeed a scribe favored and trusted by the Sage.
Even more fortunately, despite the severity of the incident—with a terrifying entity from an unknown dinsion nearly descending upon the city—the number of deaths was lower than the number of innocents killed during the octopus incident.
The Orthodox Church firmly believed this was due to the protection of the great ones.
The rest of the affair, it seed, had little to do with Jenkins. The further investigation into the Ashiash family would take a great deal of ti, and his participation in the interrogations was not required.
He breathed an inward sigh of relief, feeling as if he had shed another great burden. After a mont's thought, Jenkins turned to Papa Oliver and asked:
"Papa, why were there followers of the Eternal Sun there last night? Shouldn't they have left the city imdiately after getting the shield?"
"They seed to be looking for sothing, I think? I'm not entirely sure either."
Papa Oliver gazed out the window. "They claid to have received orders from their superiors to search the city for an item lost fifty years ago. They don't even know what it is, specifically. All they know is that it's made of tal and bears the holy emblem of the Eternal Sun. Hah! What could possibly be more important than that suit of armor? They must have lost their minds."
A cold sweat trickled down Jenkins's forehead.
His gaze shifted to the black tal block resting on the nearby table. On one of its six faces was the holy emblem of the Legacy Sage. Aside from this object, which couldn't be kept in his pocket, most of his other items, including the Sin Coins, were stashed away in the pockets and hidden seams of his clothes.
Thankfully, given his status, no one would search his person. Besides, he wasn't currently carrying any of those dangerous Cursed Items.
"Praise the Sage."
He prayed subconsciously, then cautiously glanced up at the ceiling. It was adorned with a colorful, deeply religious mural depicting fables passed down from the previous epoch.
The schism between epochs had caused much knowledge to be lost, but at least most of the history of the 17th Epoch could be vaguely pieced together. With gods reigning from beyond the world and strange entities lurking in the shadows, this world had never known true peace.
The Righteous Gods and Pseudo-Gods surely had their own thods of accumulating divinity; that much was obvious. But Jenkins, as a pseudo-god himself—a rather absentee one at that—had yet to discover any ans of gathering his own.
"Faith?"
It was the most obvious guess, but the gods and churches of this world didn't seem to engage in frenzied proselytizing to win converts. So he set that theory aside for now.
"A divine domain?"
A divine domain wasn't sothing you could simply claim to have. The followers of different gods possessed corresponding divine arts, which were manifestations of that domain. Jenkins clearly had nothing so sophisticated. He recalled the rune that had flown out from the demon's severed arm last night, but he hadn't felt anything particular at the ti.
The divinity was right there, within reach. Absorbing it would certainly grant him so knowledge related to the gods. But he couldn't waste it like that. Jenkins couldn't bring himself to absorb it purely for the sake of knowledge.
His current divine state was incomplete. He'd never heard of any great being falling to mortality just from a lack of divinity. Thus, he was an incomplete pseudo-god. The proof was in his power's rarity—like an extra day appearing only once every four years. It was the world's feedback to the ergence of a new god.
It was already evening. Papa Oliver chatted with Jenkins for a while longer before heading ho. But Jenkins wouldn't be lonely; he was to stay the night at the church and could leave the next day if he remained in good health. For the rest of the day, a steady stream of visitors ca to see him. So were fellow Enchanters from his church, while others were captains or higher-ranking Enchanters from the other Orthodox Churches.
With the greatest hero of the incident—the stranger codenad Twin Demons—nowhere to be found, Jenkins was lauded as the main contributor in the official report. People needed to hear the full account of what happened from his lips, so the visits were, in reality, for official business.
But when it ca down to it, no matter what standard one used, the person they would ultimately find at the center of it all was, without a doubt, Jenkins.
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