Finally slipping away from the tedious eting, Jenkins made his way outside. It was already eleven in the morning, yet the sky remained as dark as the dead of night. The city had issued a lenient curfew, leaving the gray, fog-shrouded streets nearly deserted.
But the city was far from dead. The mining district to the east was still ablaze, and in the distance, the colossal silhouette of the Child of the Mist waged a grueling war against combat squads on the ground. Dark spiritual auras flared everywhere, as if every particle of the dense fog was gestating those terrifying Crawlers in the Fog.
Warm ash drifted down from the sky, blanketing the ground in a fine white layer. He left footprints as he walked, but looking back, it lacked the tranquil charm of making tracks in fresh snow. Instead, there was only the suffocating certainty that the end of the world was drawing nearer with every step.
Everything seed to have changed over the weekend; the only constant was the sll. From the day Jenkins had arrived in this world to the dawn of this catastrophe, the air had always reeked of combustion. It hadn't changed for the stranger's arrival, nor for the onset of disaster. It seed only the stench was eternal.
After leaving the church, his first stop was the old elf's rented apartnt. It was conveniently located in the city center, not far from the Sage Church.
Jenkins knocked, but for a long while, no one answered. Finally, the old elf himself ca downstairs to open the door.
"The whole city is under curfew, and with the world outside looking like this... well, the landlord was reluctant to open up,"
he explained.
He followed the elf upstairs into a living room overflowing with books. They were piled like small mountains, leaving barely any space to walk. The gas lamp burned at its highest setting, and a rust-flecked candelabra on the table held three lit candles. More white candles were interspersed among the stacks, keeping the curtained room reasonably bright, though the monstrous shadows the books cast upon the walls were unsettling.
"What are you doing?"
Jenkins finally managed to find a spot on the sofa, settling down with the cat in his arms before he spoke.
"I've encountered a few... troubleso questions. But it's nothing serious, not really. Jenkins, have you co to say farewell?"
the old elf asked. Jenkins raised a surprised eyebrow.
"How did you know?"
"I may have never lived through the end of an epoch in the material world, but I've read about plenty of them. It's clear we've reached the final stage, isn't it?"
The elf sat across from Jenkins, leaning forward slightly with his arms folded as he spoke.
"Yes, we have. The machine beneath the city has declared it will raise the ninth level of its tower at midnight. It will then ascend to the very top and, by fusing the Bestowal, the [chanical Heart], with the first-ever steam engine, it will sublimate into a Disaster Beast."
"So it's forcing you into the tower?"
"It is. The tower contains nine interconnected Mysterious Realms, designed to weaken my powers. To be honest, I'm not certain I'll succeed... which is why I ca to bid you farewell."
The old elf didn't offer words of encouragent or assurances of victory. He simply heaved a long, heavy sigh.
"I always knew this day would co, I just never imagined it would be so soon. Jenkins... you have to promise you'll co back and see ."
"I will, you have my word. There's sothing else. I wanted to invite you to stay at the church. You know how things are... nowhere is safe right now."
"I appreciate the offer, but it makes no difference where I stay. Jenkins, eting you has been a great pleasure. It is my good fortune, and my honor, to have crossed paths with you in the final chapter of my life."
He stood as he spoke, not to show Jenkins to the door, but to walk into the bedroom alone. He returned monts later and placed an exquisite, thumb-thick crystal vial on the stack of books in front of Jenkins.
"I don't have much to offer you, but... take this."
"A potion?"
"It is. When I first arrived in the material world by accident, I wasn't carrying much. This ca from the Prosperous Forest. It's the most valuable thing I've ever owned."
Considering he had once possessed two B-01-1-8381 [Elven Arrows of Ruin], the value of this potion had to be truly staggering.
"A friend of my great-grandfather gave it to him. Don't worry, it probably hasn't expired."
Judging by its spiritual aura, it certainly possessed extraordinary properties. The intensely brilliant green glow was unlike anything Jenkins had ever seen, though it was impossible to know if this was the potion's original power.
"'Probably' hasn't expired?"
"Relax, it's not for drinking. It's a poison. To put it simply, if this vial were shattered right now, a toxic miasma would blanket a three-hundred-mile diater around us for the next three centuries. Not a single blade of grass would grow. And for the effects of that miasma to fully dissipate... that would take at least a millennium.
And don't underestimate this toxic fog. It affects any living creature—unless they have a unique bloodline like yours. Even constructs of tal would, in theory, be corroded by it. And once the vial is shattered, the consequences are utterly irreversible, short of divine intervention."
Jenkins stared in amazent at the small vial glittering in the light. He pulled the curious Chocolate back into his lap, stopping the cat from batting at it.
"Just how many dangerous things do you have stashed away... Never mind. What would elves even use sothing this hazardous for?"
"The original formula was for a very effective herbicide. Then a certain potion master decided to... enhance its effects."
"And he succeeded?"
"What do you think?"
The elf arched an eyebrow.
"Well, that's... quite an achievent. What happened to this master alchemist afterward?"
"After a thief made off with a few samples and used them... accidentally, the potion master was escorted away by the Elven Guard. He was never seen again."
That sounded perfectly plausible. The old elf and his ancestors had likely kept the vial as a re curiosity, an antique. Now he was entrusting it to Jenkins, warning him repeatedly that while it was safe to use within a Mysterious Realm, he must never unleash it in the real world. If he did, Nolan—and the entire west coast—would be wiped from existence.
With the brief visit concluded, Jenkins realized there was little else to say and rose to his feet. The old elf said nothing more, but as a final gift, he recited a short poem in Elvish—a farewell to a hero embarking on a great quest.
The old elf offered to see him to the door, and the two descended the stairs, making small talk. Just as they reached the bottom, a sharp knock echoed from the other side of the front door.
Reviews
All reviews (0)