The few audience mbers who remained stared in confusion, thinking the show wasn't over yet.
A soft lody drifted from further back, and a young man dressed as a magician stumbled out, frantically playing a wooden flute. It was a lullaby Jenkins knew well, so he "coincidentally" tripped and fell right onto the man in front of him.
Since the circus hadn't had ti to clear the stage after the performance, ropes were still strewn across the circular ring. Several glimrs of light shot out from the hole the lion had torn in the tent wall. The hemp ropes twitched and transford into hissing cobras, their tongues flicking as they separated the lion from the magician.
"Gods, help !"
The young man cried out, flinging his black top hat into the air. It spun and hovered for a mont before the cobras launched themselves into its depths.
The clown maintaining order at the entrance had already blocked the exit. The rest of the audience hadn't noticed that a few people were still inside. He clearly didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he had to help his companion.
A fist-sized orb of green light shot from his palm, striking the lion squarely. It let out a low roar, regained a sliver of its strength, and staggered back to its feet.
"The magician is a level two, but the other circus mbers are level six. There's also a level seven, who I think was that old man from earlier..."
Jenkins summarized the situation in his mind. Seeing that no one was paying attention to his corner, he began to inch quietly toward the exit.
He had no reason to fight to the death with these strangers. Once the Church got wind of this, these people were finished, even if they were demigods.
"What's happening in there?"
The clown shouted from the entrance.
"So madman broke in, he's inside now..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence before he had to scramble aside, as the wooden crates in the ring suddenly sprouted stubby legs and sharp, protruding teeth. The lion intercepted two of them, while the clown joined the fray, brandishing a whip from his belt.
But he didn't linger to deal with the animated objects. Seizing an opening, he scrambled through the lion-shaped hole in the tent wall.
The magician was starting to falter. His top hat could only hold so much, forcing him to edge closer to the lion. He glanced up absentmindedly and felt that the positions of the unconscious bystanders had shifted sohow, but a blast of fla from a burning hoop forced him to snap his attention back to the present.
"Don't notice , please don't notice ..."
Jenkins prayed under his breath. He had already scooted past five people from his spot at the very back. A quick look behind him revealed that Chocolate was still lying where he'd left her. Unseen, he reached out and pulled the cat over to him.
All of this had transpired in less than three minutes, but confrontations between Enchanters were rarely drawn-out affairs.
Jenkins's strategic retreat was cut short as the old woman with the beaded flowers in her hair erged from the ragged hole.
She leaped nimbly to the side just as a spark of fire erupted where she had been standing. Jenkins didn't dare to look at them directly, so he couldn't tell what the attack was.
"Don't you dare leave!"
A red-haired clown rushed out, wielding the longsword from the performance. With a flick of his wrist, the blade miraculously extended to a length of ten ters.
"Hah!"
He roared, swinging the massive sword at the woman. Green patterns writhed across its surface, leaving a vivid erald trail in the air.
"How did you lot ever manage to reach level six?"
The old woman caught the blade between two fingers, then snapped it with a sharp, forceful tug.
A mocking sneer twisted her features, and her voice was unnaturally hoarse.
"For people like us, leveling up brings more spirit, more abilities, and more power, yes. But what's truly important is to master what you have, not just blindly chase more strength. You lucky fools. How you've managed to survive this long without understanding that is beyond . Frankly, it's an insult to the mory of every person I've killed."
"Fire!"
The red-haired clown dropped the hilt and threw his arms wide, shouting. A ring of red fire engulfed the old woman, but she erged completely unscathed.
"Hee hee... that's not how you use fire."
The old woman let out a bizarre laugh, and the red-haired clown imdiately shrieked and leaped into the air. Orange flas erupted from every orifice on his face. If the blue-haired clown hadn't arrived just in ti, he would have died on the spot.
"That's enough. Take the object and go."
The clown shook his head, signaling for the injured troupe mbers erging from behind him to stand down.
"It would take you so effort to kill us all, and we have no chance of getting that thing back. It's yours. Just go!"
"Hee hee..."
The old woman chuckled, waving the mask in her hand at them. Then she turned and walked toward the exit.
Her back was completely exposed to her enemies, but not a single mber of the circus dared to make a move.
She paid no mind to the people lying on the ground, even deliberately choosing the softest-looking belly as a stepping stone. Then she spotted the calico cat. An excited glint appeared in her eye as she brought her foot down toward its tail.
Bang!
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air, and the old woman stumbled backward. As she fell, her body dissolved into dozens of fluttering bats, but a mysterious fire erupted from among the prone crowd.
The flas, much like the clown's spell from before, enveloped the bats. A mont later, a cane swept through them with brutal force.
Vines erupted from the void, eagerly swarming the still-burning mammals in the air. But instead of piercing their temples as they usually did, this ti they wrapped around them completely. After a sickening, scalp-tingling slurp, a few bat skins fluttered lightly to the ground.
"The bullet actually worked?"
Jenkins muttered as he climbed to his feet, picking up a phantom coin and the mask from the ground.
"She was already injured when she fought us," the clown answered from a distance. "And once her spirit shield is broken, she can't raise it again for ten minutes."
"Is this yours?"
Jenkins waved the mask at the assembled circus troupe, who all took a coordinated step back. He had no intention of keeping the object just yet, even though it was identical to the one he had acquired from the museum a few days prior.
"No, sir. It's yours."
A smile spread across Jenkins's face. Now he wanted it. It was, after all, an ownerless artifact.
"Gentlen—oh, and lady—I am genuinely delighted by this fact."
He reached into his pocket and fumbled for a mont before pulling out two ten-pound notes. He waved them at the perforrs, bent down to place them on the ground, and then left with his cat.
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