One could never tell the survivors from the spirits by their stories alone. Miss Stuart had made that perfectly clear—every person and entity within A-11-02-3046 was a soul trapped by the phenonon. Their tales were all true, every last one a mory from when they were still alive.
So, if Jenkins wanted to survive, the crucial task was to identify which one was the spirit.
"I have sothing in my luggage that can identify spirits—a spirit board, complete with a small statuette."
Jenkins whispered, "I assu you're a higher level than I am. You must have so ability like telekinesis, right?"
"Sorry."
Alexander's lips twitched, and he pulled his hat down to cover his eyes. "Telekinesis isn't exactly a common power. Please don't mistake for a demigod."
"Then are we supposed to rely on luck?"
Jenkins watched as the man and woman continued to wail out their tragic stories, pleading for rescue. "We both live, or we both die. One of us lives while the other dies. That’s a one-in-four chance."
"Your math is excellent," Alexander remarked, "but I think we should explore our options. Oh, hold on."
He held up a finger, signaling for Jenkins to be quiet, then tapped his right ear. For a few seconds, as his ability activated, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Then, as if a great mystery had been solved, his face lit up with understanding.
A spray of blood erupted from his mouth, staining the white ground crimson as he collapsed into the snow.
"Don't die! What did you figure out?"
Jenkins cried out in alarm, too panicked to notice the curious expression on the cat perched on his shoulder as it surveyed their surroundings.
"Not dead yet..."
His voice was muffled, his face buried in the snow.
"I understand now. The files I read were wrong. This isn't just so phenonon that traps spirits on a massive scale. It's... it's ford from the very essence of death in this world... I heard... other voices. If I can survive this..."
He struggled to his feet and brushed the blood from his clothes. The bleeding from his ear looked even worse.
"Sorry, I don't think I'll be able to hear anything for a while. Do you have a plan?"
"I can try sothing."
Jenkins replied, accompanying his words with a set of impromptu hand signals. He lifted Chocolate from his shoulder, ignoring the cat's protests, and set him down on the ground. Despite the deep snow and the cat's small size, it stood perfectly on the surface without sinking an inch.
He carefully noted the positions of the man and woman, then stepped forward, moving into the space between them. He had placed the oil lamp near Chocolate, and he didn't dare to step beyond the circle of its light.
But even as he strained his eyes, he couldn't perceive any telltale spiritual aura from a safe distance.
"Sir, please, help !"
The man reached out to Jenkins with both hands. Jenkins licked his lips. "Alright..."
He lunged suddenly toward the woman, and in that instant, countless withered hands shot out from the darkness. He opened his mouth, and a torrent of fla erupted forth as he imdiately recoiled.
It was as if nothing had happened. The man and woman continued their desperate wails, and the hands in the darkness slowly receded. A violent shiver ran down Jenkins's spine.
"Did you see anything?"
Mr. Alexander asked weakly.
"Nothing."
He said, shaking his head as he slowly backed away to stand beside Chocolate.
He hadn't been entirely truthful. The mont he'd lunged forward, the scene before him had shifted dramatically. The vast, snowy landscape and swirling flakes vanished, replaced by an ice plain bristling with towering, jagged spires.
In the distance, an impossibly tall mountain of ice lood, but a sharp sense of danger had forced him to pull back before he could get a better look.
The vision was most likely connected to the origin of A-11-02-3046, but it wouldn't help them solve their current problem. There was no point wasting precious ti trying to explain such a complicated scene to a man who was temporarily deaf.
"I'll try sothing else."
The two had fallen into an unspoken rhythm, taking turns to devise a solution. Given their mutual distrust, it was the best they could do.
Mr. Alexander spoke, pulling sothing from his pocket. It was less than a third the size of a Life Pearl, and though the swirling snow made it difficult to identify, he could clearly make out the red aura shimring on its surface.
"If this doesn't work, then I'm truly out of ideas."
He dug a pinky into his ear and muttered, "I think I'm starting to hear sothing again."
With all his strength, he hurled the object into the darkness behind the two victims. After a tense second, it was thrown back, striking the male victim squarely on the forehead.
Alexander scrambled forward and scooped the object from the snow. Without bothering to wipe it clean, he shoved it into his mouth. Judging by his expression, it must have tasted vile.
An expression of profound relaxation imdiately washed over his face, as if he were no longer on a frozen plain but on a warm sumr beach. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and his wide eyes held a look of pure bliss.
"Oh, so that's the truth? Excellent, excellent..."
Before Jenkins could react, he took a step and walked into the boundless darkness behind them.
...
Jenkins could only watch as the point of light representing Alexander's position slowly faded, until it vanished completely.
"What in the world did he see? Did he just... walk to his death?"
His companion's sudden demise left Jenkins at a loss. He had been fully prepared for the scheming and potential backstabbing that would follow their escape, but he'd never expected Alexander to ruin his plans by simply dying.
"Who was this man, really? And what had he wanted with the oil lamp?"
With Mr. Alexander's death, those questions would likely remain unanswered forever.
But for now, he had to deal with the imdiate problem.
"Chocolate, guard my... ahem, guard my body!"
He plopped down into the snow, the biting cold of the ground nearly making him leap back to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the twice-folded page of B-07-4-7711, "The Forest Gathering," from his pocket. With his right hand, he pressed the spiritual lodestone keyed to Miss Miller against his forehead, activating the ritual array inscribed upon it.
After a faint glimr of light, his upright body went limp and slumped to the ground. Chocolate ambled over and stepped onto Jenkins's chest. The cat stood there for a long mont, staring down at his master's face, before turning with a flick of its tail to watch the man and woman, who were still crying out for help.
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