It was like laying the complex network of pipes beneath Nolan City. The initial section might be the easiest to build, but you still had to plan for the future.
Jenkins hesitated for only a mont before deciding to choose an ability focused on self-preservation. After all, he had plenty of ability slots to spare, so it wasn't a difficult choice.
Soon, the faint sound of clashing gears rose from beneath their feet. Following Papa Oliver's instructions, Jenkins stood to one side of the narrow prayer room. He then watched as a tile in the center of the floor slowly descended, revealing a complex chanical apparatus below.
Intricate brass gears interlocked, turning with a slow, thodical rhythm.
In monts, a rolled-up piece of parchnt rose from the chanism.
"This chanism has a completely different style," Jenkins thought.
As he mused, Jenkins bent down and picked up the parchnt. Unrolling it, he found it covered in tiny, dense script. These were the abilities he was permitted to learn—the ones the Church could offer in the Nolan diocese.
Although he had earned so rit by reporting the A-01-2-0198 incident, the small scroll only listed two non-white abilities. One was a [Yellow Spell]: Lullaby, which put people to sleep quickly. The other was a low-level [Golden Divine Art] of the Church: Psychography. As the na suggested, it allowed one to transcribe their thoughts directly onto paper.
If Jenkins were still the struggling author from his past life, he would have definitely chosen this divine art. But now, all he wanted was to survive in this bizarre world.
"Survival cos first."
The incident from this evening was a perfect illustration of the saying "disaster strikes when you least expect it." Jenkins's sense of crisis was now razor-sharp.
The parchnt only provided the nas of the abilities and a brief description, so without prior knowledge, making a choice involved a bit of a gamble.
Jenkins hesitated, weighing his options, torn between "running fast" and "taking a hit." Then he realized that no matter how tough he beca, the enemies he'd encountered recently could kill him with a single finger.
"I'll take this one."
As he spoke, he bit his finger and sared a drop of blood over [Flexible Legs (White Basic)]. After two or three seconds, the parchnt began to glow faintly. All the other text vanished, replaced by the thod for acquiring the new ability.
Following Papa Oliver's earlier instructions, Jenkins quickly morized the text, then pushed the scroll back into the recess in the floor. Monts later, the floor beca seamless again, and a brown paper bag appeared in its place.
These were the materials Jenkins needed to acquire the ability, provided free of charge by the Church.
Papa Oliver remained silent the entire ti, only nodding when Jenkins picked up the bag. Then, they left the small room together.
"Be sure to follow the instructions for the ritual exactly. If anything feels wrong, stop imdiately and report to the Church."
The old man didn't ask any questions, but simply offered a quiet word of caution.
His business at the church was concluded. Night had fallen outside. Papa Oliver hurried back to his shop, while Jenkins headed in the opposite direction. 𝙧αƝỘꞖÊS̩
For so reason, he couldn't find a single empty carriage on the street tonight. The main streets were quiet, the shops all shuttered. Nolan's city governnt didn't have the funds to install kerosene streetlamps everywhere, which made Jenkins worry about running into a gang fight or sothing similar.
His luck held out, at least. Before he got ho, there were no gangs, no assassins, and no octopuses. Aside from a few people scurrying into side alleys, he hardly encountered anyone else.
As expected, his family complained about his late return. But when Jenkins explained that he had gone to the church to personally thank the Bishop, his father relaxed a little.
"The Bishop will forgive ,"
he told himself.
After dinner, he returned to his room. Making sure no one was watching, he carefully locked the door from the inside. Only then did he pull out the paper bag hidden under his coat.
"This is so inconvenient. I really need to move out."
He thought, taking several small vials out of the paper bag.
Because it was just a white, basic ability, the acquisition thod wasn't too demanding.
Jenkins followed the morized instructions. He drew the curtains tightly, ensuring the room was in a "no light or low light" environnt, then picked up the pale blue piece of chalk.
This was no ordinary chalk. According to the instructions, it was made with small amounts of blue silver flowers and animal bone powder. After being blessed by the Church, it, along with a pure silver ritual dagger, ford the two most fundantal tools for performing rituals.
"First, draw a circle."
Jenkins muttered to himself. He took a pencil from his desk, tied it to the chalk with thread from a sewing kit, held the pencil in place with a heavy object, and gently drew a circle on the floor.
Drawing a perfect circle freehand was a basic skill for an Enchanter, but Jenkins couldn't manage it yet, so he had to use a tool.
"Next, the prayer."
Following his mory, he used the chalk to densely inscribe the text on both sides of the circle.
These were the preparations. Next, Jenkins took out items like "ten-year-old tumbleweed shavings," "wind-swallowing beast's claw clippings," and "weathered granite powder." He ate so of them directly and, as instructed, rubbed the rest on the joints of his lower limbs.
"God, I hope I never have to perform a ritual that involves eating dung."
With that thought, he put away the small glass vials. He took out the silver dagger Papa Oliver had given him. Its blade shone like moonlight. He made a shallow cut on the side of his leg, letting the blood drip from the wound into a nearby glass. Dipping his fingers into the blood, he flicked small droplets onto specific points within the circle on the floor.
He opened the pocket watch his brother had given him, holding it close to his eyes to see the ti.
"Good. The ritual can begin anyti after 7:34 PM."
He stripped off all his clothes and knelt, naked, in the center of the circle on the floor. Closing his eyes, he faced a specific northwesterly direction and remained perfectly still. He began to slowly chant maxims praising the Legacy Sage.
This step wasn't strictly necessary, but Papa Oliver claid it would make the ritual more successful.
A few monts later, his lower limbs began to feel numb. He could feel a cold current rushing through his legs, a sensation distinct from the ingredients still working their way through his stomach.
"892, 891..."
He counted down silently in his head as instructed. The mont he reached zero, he opened his eyes. A new point of light had appeared before him.
The naked young man crouched in the dim room, a look of childlike joy spreading across his face.
He imdiately realized that if his family saw him like this, he'd probably have to take a trip to that haunted hospital.
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