"Will Jenkins be alright?"
Mary looked deeply worried. It was well past midnight, but she was still sitting on the sofa on the ground floor, knitting a sweater, likely just to keep her hands busy.
Her youngest son, John Williams, was already asleep. The Silver Daze hadn't affected the schools, and he had classes to attend on Monday morning.
Robert was still keeping Mary company, but he was yawning nonstop, clearly exhausted.
"Jenkins is just helping out at the church, my dear. It's like that great snowstorm five years ago, rember? John and I went to help then, too. Please, get so sleep. If you're still worried, we can go and see him at the church in the morning."
"I'm afraid he'll catch the illness, too."
Mary's brow furrowed as she looked down at the sweater in her lap. In her distraction, she had accidentally made one sleeve half a length too long.
"Perhaps Jenkins's cat will need this,"
she thought to herself.
"Didn't the evening paper say only the elderly are getting sick?"
"But what about the Brende brothers from the next street over? Weren't they taken to the hospital by carriage?"
"Hah," Robert scoffed. "Those two ran their bodies into the ground long ago. They'd probably have collapsed even without a plague."
His tone was dismissive, but seeing Mary still frowning with worry, he softened his voice to comfort her.
"He'll be fine. The Sage will protect Jenkins. Besides, everyone in the Williams family is healthy—very healthy. Since the day we t, have you ever seen truly sick? Oh, my dear, that one ti two years ago doesn't count. Anyone would get sick after falling into a river at that ti of year."
"But..."
Mary was still worried.
"He'll be fine."
He stood up and turned off the gas lamp in the living room. It was an exquisitely designed piece, its brass body covered in intricate text and symbols, a recent gift from Jenkins.
Robert took Mary's hand and gently but firmly set her knitting basket aside.
"Co on, let's get to bed. We'll go to the church together tomorrow morning. You'll feel better once you see him."
"To the church tomorrow morning."
"Yes, yes, tomorrow morning. Which is why we need to go to sleep now. Otherwise, we won't wake up in ti to see Jenkins."
Jenkins had barely slept all night. Though he had rarely participated in healing activities since becoming a Saint, this incident left him no choice but to act.
Aside from him, only the Church of Death and End in the city had the ans to revive the unconscious, and their thods were far more cumberso than his, taking nearly two hours for a single person.
The rescue efforts began with the Enchanters within their own church. There were quite a few elderly researchers like Professor Burns, and that age group was the hardest hit by the affliction.
The green orb had been temporarily nad the 'Life Pearl,' though its registration number was still undecided. Miss Bevanna announced to the public that Jenkins had fortuitously acquired it from a Mysterious Realm...
Which, it seed, was the truth.
Afterward, he had explained the orb's origin to Papa Oliver and Miss Bevanna, though he omitted the fact that the Mysterious Realm had appeared in Ruen.
Neither of them seed to mind. Papa Oliver even told him that his current status in the church was second only to the foremost Saints, so it was perfectly acceptable for him to keep so things private.
"You should have so secrets of your own; it's quite necessary for a Saint," he had said. "As the mortal chosen by the Sage, your destiny is bound to take unpredictable turns. Guarding your secrets carefully is of the utmost importance."
All his previous worries had turned out to be unnecessary trouble of his own making.
The Life Pearl provided an all-purpose boost to Jenkins's healing abilities. Whenever he used his power, the orb would automatically appear above his head and infuse his body with life spirit.
This greatly facilitated the process of reviving the unconscious, with the only limitation being the capacity of Jenkins's own Spirit.
Jenkins couldn't use his abilities in front of ordinary people, so after treating the Enchanters in his own church, he was ferried by carriage to the other churches to offer his assistance.
He had wanted to bring Chocolate with him, but the little rascal, likely sensing it would get no rest all night, stubbornly planted itself on the bishop's desk and refused to leave. Its front paws clung to an inkwell while its hind paws stamped little prints all over a clean sheet of paper.
Jenkins could only leave it behind.
As the sun rose on Monday, a carriage cut through the dense fog, bringing an exhausted Jenkins back to the church.
He was utterly exhausted, but Papa Oliver, looking as energetic as ever, was waiting for him in a side hall off the main corridor.
"Good morning, Papa. I heard... haah~"
He couldn't suppress a yawn as they walked side by side down the corridor. "I heard the number of cases has increased, and that younger people are starting to fall ill as well."
"Yes. But we've confird that the followers of the Lord of Immortality are behind this. We raided one of their safe houses—a small apartnt in the slums—and found so fragnted docunts. They're harvesting life force on a massive scale to perform a ritual to acquire the [Undying Man] ability."
"Have they collected all the ashes?"
He nearly blurted out the question but managed to bite his tongue. The cultists had originally possessed nine portions, and Jenkins had accidentally taken two. If the incident at the Oil Ink Mister Club a few days ago was also connected to them, then they should have only eight portions.
Could they have gotten another two portions?
"You should go get so rest. The combat units can handle what cos next... Oh, isn't that Mr. and Mrs. Williams? Jenkins, your parents are here to see you."
The morning air was thick with a frosty mist. Stephen Bincy, wrapped in an overcoat and wearing a skullcap, staggered toward them out of the fog.
"Haha~"
He was clearly drunk, swaying as he walked, his face unnaturally flushed.
"Damn drunkard."
At the gate of the Kikoti chanical Foundry and Inspection plant, two exhausted young n cursed under their breath.
It wasn't that they were disgusted by the strange drunkard who had collapsed at their factory gate, but rather that they were jealous. He could drink all night while they were stuck on duty.
The Kikoti chanical Foundry and Inspection plant was a typical small, steam-powered factory in Nolan City. Like thousands of other factories of the era, it exploited its workers, spewed thick smoke and pollutants, and earned its owner a fortune in gold pounds.
Even in the early morning, the factory's chimneys were still belching black smoke into the sky.
The two n assud the drunkard would eventually pick himself up, but to their surprise, he didn't move an inch. Instead, he started snoring.
"You go."
"No, you go."
Having been on duty all night without a wink of sleep, neither man wanted to deal with the hassle. Still, they couldn't just leave him lying there. After all...
"Fine, I'll go," one of them finally relented. "You owe two corpses for this."
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