Hathaway didn’t believe for a second Miss Bevanna’s claim that word of what happened with Jenkins wouldn’t spread. Alexia had already told her just how many people had witnessed that scene.
Perhaps the phrase “The God of Lies is by my side” wouldn’t be repeated verbatim, but the rumors would undoubtedly fly.
“So, we need to know who else besides the Church knows about this.”
Miss Bevanna stated her purpose plainly.
“I know, and so does Alexia. Sigrid, Jessica, and Briny most certainly do not. As for Dolores and Julia... I’m not entirely sure. You can ask Alexia about that.”
“Speaking of which, where is Miss Miller?”
Miss Bevanna asked.
“She’ll be back soon.”
Hathaway shrugged, raising her hand to pet Chocolate again, only for the cat’s little paw to bat it away once more.
“Is there anything else?”
she asked again. Right now, Hathaway wanted nothing more than to find a quiet place to wait for Jenkins to appear.
“Since the Church isn’t concerned about Jenkins’s loyalty, wouldn’t it be better to ask him your other questions in person when he returns? Or are you trying to avoid speaking with him directly?”
Miss Bevanna declined to answer that question, changing the subject instead.
“There is one last thing. If Jenkins truly is... then is he guaranteed to win?”
At this question, Hathaway’s expression changed instantly. She fought back a wave of panic and worry that had been temporarily forgotten but now surged back to the forefront of her mind.
“It’s true that Jenkins will definitely win. But he isn’t always a god.”
Miss Bevanna had tried to be tactful with her wording, but Hathaway felt no such need. True enough, when she bluntly called Jenkins a god, the other four people in the room began to avoid her gaze.
“He is a great being walking upon the earth. He is a god, but he is also a mortal. What he must do now is face the final terror of this epoch as a mortal, to keep the fla of our civilization burning as a human. He is not here to save us mortals from on high in the guise of a deity.”
Hathaway spoke with grave seriousness, leaving Miss Bevanna with nothing more to say.
“Then, Jenkins will definitely co back, right?”
“Yes. I have never doubted that for a mont. If you have any other questions, I will have him speak with the Church alone after his victory. Miss Bevanna, I have always believed that Jenkins would return safely. I have never doubted it.”
“ow~”
(Fini is praying...)
“Oh, my heavens!”
As he scrambled to his feet for the third ti, a wave of dizziness washed over Jenkins, and he promptly bumped his head into sothing. Fortunately, the object was rather soft, so he wasn’t injured.
Lying on the floor in the darkness, he sniffed the air but couldn’t detect any scent that might help him get his bearings. After a mont, he clutched his head and tentatively tried to get up again. This ti he didn’t hit his head, but he discovered he had been lying in the narrow space between two rows of theater-style seats.
It was pitch black all around. Jenkins felt for a seat, pulled down the soft, cushioned surface that had been folded up, and finally sat down. He then placed his backpack and the tal cocoon on the adjacent seat.
Before taking in his surroundings, he imdiately reached into his pocket and, just as he expected, felt a second coin that hadn’t been there before.
This one was made of a white, gem-like material, identical in size and thickness to a Sin Coin. What Jenkins considered the front was engraved with the sa emblem as his [Undying Man] ability, while the back depicted two crossed bones with a skull carved at their intersection.
“Again.”
He temporarily stored the new coin in his spirit and then reviewed his own abilities. After the second Mysterious Realm, he had used nearly all his abilities related to the “death” system. Only [Aura of Fear] remained, with a single use left.
And he was only two-ninths of the way through. Jenkins couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pessimism about what lay ahead.
Besides his death-related abilities, the effect of Undying Man had been triggered once in the last realm, aning it could no longer resurrect him until he had cleared all nine realms. Even so, the previous realm hadn’t technically defied the fate of an “Undying Man.” Although Jenkins had sacrificed himself to light the fla, he hadn’t truly died in the end. So, no matter how you looked at it, the undying man remained undying.
As for the undying ability being used up, it didn’t really matter. If the Difference Engine managed to beat him to the point where he needed to be resurrected, he would likely just be killed again. Therefore, it was fine if [Undying Man] wasn’t saved for the final showdown.
The terrible fla that had consud his body and caused his montary death had remained within him after his resurrection. It rged with the Inexhaustible Fire that was already fused with the Purification Candle, causing the candle’s fla to burn even brighter. Its warm yellow glow now held a hint of blue.
The original fla could burn almost anything, but its effect on souls had been sowhat lacking, relying mostly on the Purification Candle’s cleansing properties to harm evil spirits. The new fla, however, could ignite souls of any nature, which certainly added another dinsion to Jenkins’s offensive capabilities.
If this were an ordinary Mysterious Realm and not the setting for the final battle, what had just transpired would have been an incredibly valuable gain.
“So, in the second realm, I also had to rely on a power other than my own to counter the power of a Calamity Beast... There are seven realms left, with the powers of seven unknown Calamity Beasts. Am I really supposed to find seven more powers that don’t belong to but can appear in these realms and are strong enough to deal with them?”
With these thoughts sorted, he finally took the ti to look around from his soft seat.
Behind him, rows upon rows of seats slanted upward, seeming to stretch into the heavens. Even with his dark vision, he couldn’t see the rear boundary, which probably ant the Mysterious Realm wasn’t particularly large.
Looking up, he saw what resembled a star-dusted canopy, but the stars were dim, and it was clearly a crude, artificial ceiling. The sky, which looked like a hand-drawn painting, was filled not only with silver stars but also with vast patches of shadow, as if representing sothing ominous. The ceiling emitted a faint, subtle glow; if not for his dark vision, the light wouldn't have been enough for him to even make out the pattern on the seat cushion beneath him.
Unlike the rear, which extended into a terrifying darkness, the left and right sides were visible. The walls, typical of an opera house or concert hall, were designed to be uneven to prevent echoes. This place was no exception, except that the indentations weren’t simple man-made circles or cones. They were shaped like the heads of colossal beasts, as if they were permanently sealed within the gray-green, mold-covered walls.
Directly in front of him, of course, was the stage. It was obscured by a blood-red curtain, the two halves eting in the center but leaving a narrow gap. A warm yellow light, not dazzling but comforting, shone through this slit. The light extended just to the edge of the stage, leaving Jenkins shrouded in shadow.
Jenkins and his backpack occupied the center of the third row. This theater, aside from its invisible back wall and exaggerated height, was otherwise proportioned much like one built by humans.
“Am I supposed to watch a play this ti? Or am I ant to take part in it? Or is this just a simple matter of escaping before a ti limit runs out?”
With that thought, he moved to stand up, intending to see what lay behind the blood-red curtain. But the mont he began to rise, an unreasonably powerful force slamd him back down into his seat.
Normally, such imnse force would have shattered the chair beneath him, yet the seat didn’t even emit a splintering crack.
“Guest, please do not attempt to rise.”
The voice ca from his left, extrely close, from the seat right next to him. Soti, without him noticing, the previously empty seat had beco occupied by the figure of a small child...
“No, that’s not a child. It’s a puppet. No, not a puppet either. It’s a tal automaton.”
In the seat adjacent to Jenkins, an exquisitely crafted, brass-colored tal automaton had appeared. It was about the size of a seven- or eight-year-old child and was dressed in a ridiculous yellow-plaid shirt. Because the sleeves were short, however, Jenkins could still see the intricate tal frawork of its arms and head. Evidently, whoever designed this automaton had thought to give it clothes but had forgotten to cover it with skin, allowing Jenkins a clear view of its detailed chanics.
The tal automaton sat with its legs spread, holding a stack of what looked like playing cards. Its hands obscured them, making it impossible to see what they were. Lacking skin, its face was far more terrifying than that of an ordinary puppet. In place of eyes were two white candles inserted into the sockets, the tips protruding just slightly. The wicks were currently burning.
The flas were tiny, little more than pinpoints of light, and they burned a pure, solid red.
“You didn’t appear on my right because my backpack and the two cocoons are on those seats. So, I’m curious, if I had occupied the seat to my left as well, where would you have appeared?”
Jenkins asked without ceremony.
“In front of you, or behind you. If those seats had also been occupied beforehand, I would have appeared in the seat with the closest straight-line distance to you.”
The tal automaton spoke in the standard common tongue of the 18th Epoch. It sounded like a human voice, except...
“It has the exact speaking style of a circus ventriloquist.”
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