"So, it seems the sword is out of the question."
Having sumd up the situation, Jenkins put his sword away and took out his cane.
"This should work."
He nodded and pressed on.
The passage wasn't long. After walking for less than five minutes, Jenkins erged from the tunnel piled high with desiccated corpses and stepped into a vast, enclosed hall that resembled a grand square.
At the end of the passage, he could see eight exquisite stone statues standing at the eight corners of the grand hall, its walls adorned with colorful murals of every style. A colossal statue, clearly an object of worship, dominated the center of the space. The arched do was studded with chandeliers, and together with countless candles dotting the floor, they bathed the hall in a brilliant light, lending the environnt a truly resplendent air.
But the mont Jenkins stepped inside, his surroundings seed to age a thousand years in an instant. The once-smooth floor beca pitted and uneven, the statues shattered, the murals faded into blurs, and the air itself felt thick with mold. Everything had fallen into decay. Glancing back, he saw that the passage he had co through had collapsed and was now blocked, with only the hand of an unknown desiccated corpse dangling from a crevice in the rock.
The colossal statue that had once stood in the center of the hall had toppled, and the burning candles were now nothing more than stubs. A single beam of light pierced the gloom, slanting down from an unseen point high in the do. Motes of dust drifted lazily within the light, as if ti itself had frozen.
The beam of light illuminated the colossal, severed head of the statue, which lay beside its stone pedestal. A slender woman in leather armor stood within that light, one foot planted on the stone head. Against the backdrop of the surrounding darkness, she seed to radiate a faint glow.
The woman looked down at Jenkins, who stood at the mouth of the passage. He could now see a scar that ran from beneath her left eye, across the bridge of her nose, to the corner of her mouth. Her shoulder-length hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, giving her a sharp, competent look.
"Half-elf?"
Though the woman was human, her Elvish was surprisingly fluent.
"That's right. I'm here to..."
"No need. I know why you're here."
"You know? That simplifies things... But before we begin, I'd like to ask a question."
Jenkins held up a single finger, a gesture indicating he had no intention of attacking—for now.
"Ask."
The woman was surprisingly agreeable.
"Where exactly are we? Ancient ruins? A tomb? Or is it just the style in your era to build new places to look deliberately old?"
"No. This is a shelter."
The woman reached into thin air and produced a short dagger. A brilliant spiritual light confird it was undoubtedly a Numbered Item. She held it in a bandaged hand, giving it a few practiced swings that stirred the air. Even from a distance, Jenkins felt his scalp prickle.
"At the End of the Era, the Savior failed. The Church and the Kingdom jointly built this final shelter, hoping humanity could ride out the apocalypse here... But it's never that easy, is it? As you can see, I am the last survivor."
The woman shook her head.
"No. I died, too. So, are there any other questions?"
"What form did the apocalypse take in your epoch?"
Jenkins asked, and the woman didn't seem annoyed by the continued questions.
"It manifested like a petrification curse. All matter began turning to stone—in so regions, even the air itself. I'm not a spellcaster, so I can't tell you the deeper cause or the nature of the calamity. The stone would form into colossal statues, and these statues would destroy civilization. That is all I saw."
"I see. I have no more questions."
Jenkins didn't ask about the origins of the desiccated corpses in the collapsed tunnel behind him; he wasn't curious about everything.
"Very well. Let's begin."
The woman closed her eyes. An instant later, she vanished completely from Jenkins's sight. Even his Eye of Reality could not perceive her spiritual aura. His intuition failed to find any trace of her, as if she had simply ceased to exist in this world.
But Jenkins made no effort to find her. Instead, holding the cane in his left hand, he scattered a handful of seeds with his right, letting them fall into the cracks between the flagstones.
Despite the petrification curse, this shelter must have been specially treated, for beneath the flagstones lay rich, fertile soil—more than enough for the seeds to take root and sprout.
Just as he finished scattering the seeds, his left hand shot up. Clang! His cane intercepted the thrust of a short dagger. The woman didn't press her advantage; she knew from the brief contact that she was completely outmatched in strength. She disengaged and leaped back, lting into the shadows untouched by the celestial light.
"You can see ?" the woman asked, her tone calm, as if she were rely stating a fact.
"No, at least not at the mont."
"Then how did you know exactly where I would strike from?"
She seed genuinely curious, not just looking for a way to defeat him, so Jenkins decided to answer.
"You're fast, silent, and you don't even project any killing intent," he explained. "But your scent is too strong."
He wasn't referring to a lack of hygiene, nor so mad decision to douse herself in perfu. She slled of the desiccated corpses. Though it seed a millennium had passed the mont Jenkins entered the hall, for the woman, no ti had passed at all. She had just fought her way out of the tunnel and died alongside those very corpses, so it was only natural their scent still clung to her.
"I see. I never thought I'd make such a mistake."
With that, the woman took another step back, closed her eyes, and vanished once more.
This wasn't simple invisibility, nor did it feel like she had entered so shadow plane. Given that she had closed her eyes both tis before disappearing, Jenkins suspected it was a power related to a magic eye, or perhaps so kind of perception-altering, rule-based ability.
He remained where he was, seemingly admiring the magnificent sight of the light on the colossal stone head, or perhaps studying the trajectories of the dust motes dancing in the beam. But then his left hand snapped up again. This ti, he didn't block her weapon but cleanly struck the flat of the dagger's blade with the shaft of his cane.
The imnse force of the blow bent the woman's wrist back, but she managed to keep her grip on the dagger. She was forced to retreat once more, moving out of the reach of Jenkins's cane.
"My scent should have vanished," she pressed. "How did you find this ti?"
"You should have attacked the mont you got close," Jenkins replied. "Instead, you circled , even waved a hand in front of my face to see if I really couldn't see you. I don't know how you hide your form so perfectly, but at close range, I can just barely make you out. So, once you're near, don't leave any room for observation. If you do, I'll spot you every ti."
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