The world transford before his eyes. Ti and space dissolved into aninglessness, leaving only a web of vibrant, colorful lines that seed to connect all things.
Everything was caught within a single, vast web. Yet, if one wished to resist, new lines offered the possibility of defiance. Destiny was not a script written in its entirety at the dawn of creation, but its silhouette was certainly sketched in that very mont.
He saw destiny. Compared to six months ago, his understanding of the lines before him was far more profound. In truth, destiny wasn't sothing to be understood, but to be felt. And in that fleeting mont, by relying on that feeling, he knew exactly what he had to do.
A prismatic light flared to life as the chained ability before him activated. The motes of light he had thought dormant and useless burst into brilliance once more.
[Destiny's Stage] was a passive ability. In theory, it would remain active as long as Jenkins lived. For this reason, he rarely paid it any mind; it required no conscious effort. With every breath he took, the ability was at work.
But now, having gazed upon the threads of destiny once more, he discovered an entirely new way to wield [Destiny's Stage]. Or rather, he had imbued it with a new power.
"Right now—I am the protagonist!"
The passive ability transford into an active one. In the instant of its activation, it felt as though the world itself had been created just for him. Though he remained completely immobile, he understood with absolute certainty that he was in control of everything. It was a sensation akin to godhood. He even believed that, for this transient mont, divinity or not, he was a god.
A sword plunged into the cage. The spiritual power focused in Jenkins's eyes coalesced into pure ntal force, slamming into the blade. The resulting blast of power sent the wooden crate, which wasn't secured to the floor, hurtling through the air.
Guided by the trajectory of fate, the crate carried Jenkins toward the edge of the Mysterious Realm at the back of the theater. It shot straight for the only breach in the barrier—the single opening that would allow him a temporary escape.
With a loud crash, the falling wooden crate disintegrated, and Jenkins tumbled to the ground.
The stage fell silent. The magician girl puppet froze in place. Down in the audience, the tal automaton sitting beside Jenkins's empty chair rose to its feet. It walked to the back of the theater and gazed at the soulless body.
"Fascinating," it remarked. "This is enough to compose a new myth."
It spoke, its voice more like that of a string-pulled marionette than ever before. It dragged Jenkins's body back to its original seat. Then, with a snap of its fingers directed at the stage, the blood-red curtains on either side slowly drew shut, restoring the theater to the state it was in when Jenkins had first arrived.
"The puppet show, 'The Magician Girl,' is concluded."
(Chocolate is on the move...)
A cat perched atop her head as Hathaway stood at the window, gazing out. To her surprise, not a single rumor about Jenkins had spread. She hadn't overheard even the slightest whisper of discussion about the incident.
While she had to admire the Church's tight grip on the flow of information, her heart ached with worry over Jenkins's current state.
Beyond the window lay the church courtyard, illuminated by a few scattered paraffin lamps. Hathaway watched as a squad of Enchanters assembled, a clear sign that new trouble was brewing in the city.
Ever since Jenkins had entered that tower, it wasn't just Nolan; bad news, both large and small, had poured in from all over the world. Cursed Items were running rampant, monsters erged from the fog, and there were even bizarre, inexplicable natural phenona. The Church hadn't had a mont's rest since he'd left. It was only in the brief lulls between battles and frantic activity that people could spare a thought to wonder what the Savior was doing.
She was standing there, waiting for Alexia to return. As much as she hated to admit it, Hathaway now accepted that with Jenkins temporarily gone, she and Alexia were the pillars of their makeshift family. But her power was no match for Alexia's, so there were situations where Alexia's presence was indispensable.
"It's no use just standing there waiting. You might as well sit down."
Miss Bernreuter remarked from behind her.
Since the Church had already exposed her identity as Miss Skylark, Hathaway no longer had to be so guarded. With her now were Miss Bernreuter and Miss Briley Harms, the "Composer of the Score." As for Briny, she had been so on edge that Jessica had summoned her to a eting, and was likely poring over docunts with her at this very mont.
"And who do you think I'm waiting for?"
Hathaway asked.
"His Majesty the King, of course."
Miss Harms teased. Hathaway turned around.
"Of course not," she retorted. "I'm waiting for Alexia."
"The demigod?"
Miss Bernreuter asked, cracking open a sunflower seed.
"Speaking of which, you'll be living with that demigod in the future. Are you nervous about it?"
"Why would I be nervous?"
Hathaway scoffed.
"You think I'm afraid of her?"
Seeing that the other two intended to press on about her dostic affairs, an irritated Hathaway decided to change the subject. She was in no mood to satisfy her friends' curiosity.
"The Orthodox Church knows I'm Miss Skylark, and they know I'm a mber of the Music Cult. I'm certain Jenkins didn't leak that information. Which ans... I'm afraid there's a problem within our cult."
"Couldn't the Church have simply stumbled upon it while investigating Jenkins's associates?"
Miss Bernreuter continued, placing the shelled kernel on a small saucer. After a mont's thought, she picked out three and held them out. Miss Harms blushed as she accepted the offering, letting Miss Bernreuter feed her.
Hathaway pretended not to notice.
"I am confident I wouldn't be exposed so easily."
"But if it really is soone from inside our cult, who could it be?"
Miss Bernreuter asked with an air of boredom, seemingly unconcerned with the answer.
"I've noticed that only one person isn't here right now."
Miss Harms pointed out. All three of them knew exactly who "she" was.
"Oh. So it's her."
Miss Bernreuter said in a deliberately dramatic tone.
"You knew all along, didn't you?"
Hathaway imdiately challenged her. Miss Bernreuter simply blinked, putting on an innocent expression.
"Hathaway, all I can say is... so things are for those in the know. If you don't know, then I can't tell you, because there are significant interests involved... Fine, go ask Williatte. I'd bet my life he knows. And it would be far more appropriate for him to be the one to tell you those secrets."
"Secrets?"
Hathaway pressed.
"Yes. A secret known to only one person in the cult per generation. It is our final recourse, a failsafe to ensure that the cult can never be destroyed, no matter the circumstances. If you wish to know, I can cede my position to you and tell you the secret this very mont."
Hathaway imdiately shook her head. She had never considered leading the entire cult.
"I might have considered it in the past, but I'm to be married next year. I simply won't have the ti."
Hearing this, both Miss Bernreuter and Miss Harms broke into smiles.
"Yes, our little Hathaway is going to be a queen. I never thought you'd end up marrying a man, but it seems to be the best possible outco for you. And, of course, a very good outco for the cult as well.
"Since you're marrying Williatte, why not build a grand concert hall in Bel Diran just for us? Or perhaps, in your new royal capacity, you could sponsor our concerts? I've been wanting to hold a truly grand one for ages."
Miss Bernreuter was already lost in dreams of a magnificent future.
"And in return, we will perform at your wedding..."
"I've told you, I still prefer a traditional wedding march."
Hathaway grumbled good-naturedly, then suddenly felt the cat on her head get to its feet.
"ow~"
it cried.
"Can either of you tell what Chocolate is doing on my head?"
she asked, pointing to the top of her head.
"You an this adorable little thing? It's standing on your head, looking out the window."
Miss Bernreuter replied.
"It's looking toward the tower."
Miss Harms added.
Chocolate leaped from Hathaway's head to the windowsill. Just as it was about to ram the glass, Hathaway scooped it up. The cat could have easily evaded her grasp, but it knew there was no need to leave now. He was here.
A golden light flashed past the window, and an instant later, another person stood in the room. Hathaway, who had been looking outside, spun around to see Jenkins standing there. Chocolate had already squird free of her grasp and was darting toward him.
He bent down to scoop up his cat, then looked up at Hathaway. Miss Bernreuter and Miss Harms rose to their feet, intending to give them so privacy, but Jenkins stopped them. He couldn't stay for long.
"Did you succeed?"
Hathaway rushed forward and embraced him, only to realize she was holding nothing but a soul.
"Not yet. I'm on the third level. There were... complications. I've left the tower for a mont to find so help."
Only his soul had left the tower, and this thod of escape could only be used once. Worse, because his physical body remained behind, his restricted abilities would still be limited upon his return; their uses wouldn't reset. The benefits of this temporary departure were slim.
"What kind of help do you need?"
Hathaway asked at once, releasing her hold on his soul. Jenkins's spiritual form was unusual—it had a certain substance to it, allowing her to touch him.
"I don't know what kind of help I need."
He suspected that the Mysterious Realm contained a complete Beast of Calamity—and an ancient one, at that. It was an opponent he could never face alone.
"Then go to the Evergreen Forest!"
As Jenkins pondered, Hathaway was struck by a sudden inspiration. She looked up at him.
"The help you need... it's in the Evergreen Forest."
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