He'd been delayed at the black market, so Jenkins almost missed dinner by the ti he returned to the church. Fortunately, Bishop Parrold had instructed the kitchen to save a portion for him and Chocolate, otherwise the man and his cat would have gone to bed hungry.
Leaving the Life Pearl and the tal block for Chocolate to play with in his room, Jenkins went to request permission to use the Secret Trace Library.
Surprisingly, he couldn't find any detailed information on B-03-2-8383, the Goblet of Hidden Fear, on the library's second floor. After nearly an hour of searching, it occurred to him that the records might be on the first floor instead.
And sure enough, there it was. Despite the object's rather high danger classification, its practical function ant the information was kept on the first floor, accessible to most Scribes.
B-03-2-8383, the Goblet of Hidden Fear. Its origins are unknown, but according to the records of the Twelve Orthodox Churches, faint traces of its existence appear even in the most ancient histories.
One theory suggests that the wooden goblet, whose materials are unidentifiable, was crafted during the Fifth Epoch by a powerful species capable of manipulating emotions. In truth, however, there is no evidence to support this claim.
The goblet's primary function is to convert the fear of living creatures into an easily absorbable form of spirit—the very sa half-full asure of liquid Jenkins had seen inside it.
The conversion process is incredibly inefficient, but since the effect is passive, it is constantly at work. This effectively grants the holder an additional, effortless ans of acquiring spirit.
Among the nurous records of its users, so reportedly gained abilities like "Fear Aura" or "Terrifying Gaze" by consuming this impure spirit. However, one must not absorb too much of the fear-converted spirit at once. Doing so carries a significant risk of being influenced by the residual, unpurified "Fear" within, which could permanently alter one's personality.
The second function of B-03-2-8383 involved weaponizing the fear it contains. By inverting the goblet and consuming so of the stored spirit, the user can plunge multiple nearby targets into a state of extre terror. This ability does not consu the liquid quickly, but the spirit it contains is so precious that losing even a single drop is a painful waste.
As for why its danger level was set to 2, prolonged skin contact with the item carries a small but terrifying risk: the chance of encountering a dreaded Abyssal One in one's dreams.
This entity not only absorbs and manufactures fear but also possesses the ability to travel through dreams. In other words, prolonged contact with the goblet could have the dire consequence of allowing an Abyssal One to return to the material world.
But Jenkins wasn't worried in the slightest. After all, he would only touch the object when he needed to use it. Besides, he also possessed the ability to control dreams. Even in the worst-case scenario, he wasn't so sure he would be the one to lose.
It was nearly eight o'clock by the ti he left the library. Just as he erged from the stone steps leading up from the lower level, he saw Old Jack walking toward him.
The last ti they had t, sumr hadn't quite ended. Though several months had passed, he looked just as Jenkins rembered: a brown waistcoat over his shirt, a gold watch on his wrist, and a pair of gleaming, round-toed black leather shoes on his feet.
"Mr. Jack!"
Jenkins himself felt the title was strange, but since he didn't know the man's last na, it was the best he could do.
"Oh, Jenkins, perfect timing. I was just wondering where I might run into you."
With that, he grabbed Jenkins's arm and pulled him around the nearest corner without waiting for a response. After a quick glance in both directions to make sure they were alone, he lowered his voice and asked conspiratorially:
"When are you free? We need to brew that potion as soon as possible. The plant I transplanted to the pot is about to wither."
"I have to work at Papa Oliver's during the day, so evenings should work. Just please, try to avoid Mondays and Wednesdays."
"But it has to be done during the day..."
He pondered for a mont, then patted Jenkins's shoulder. "I'll talk to Oliver about it. We still have to continue brewing the Hemolytic Toxin next week—may the goddess have rcy on my nose! So, the plan is to start on our potion the week after that. You don't need to prepare anything, but please refrain from drinking any alcohol between now and then."
"That's no problem at all. I don't drink anyway."
Though they had only t in person once before, they had corresponded frequently, so their conversation felt easy and familiar.
Old Jack still harbored the hope of taking Jenkins on as his apprentice, a notion that grew even stronger after Jenkins recounted the process he'd used to brew the "Witch's Kiss."
"You have a real talent for this, Jenkins. I'm not downplaying Oliver's line of work, but brewing potions suits you far better than appraising antiques."
Jenkins politely declined once again, though he did agree to bring a bottle of his own creation the next ti they t so Jack could examine its effects. While he had no intention of leaving Papa Oliver or Nolan City, he didn't mind adding another skill to his repertoire.
Perhaps sensing Jenkins's thoughts, Old Jack pressed a slip of paper into his hand before they parted ways. It listed the ingredients and brewing process for the Hemolytic Toxin. While not exactly classified information, it was knowledge Jenkins had yet to find in the library.
"This... can't be right."
The ingredients on the note seed correct. Though ti had passed and the plant nas differed from those provided by the Star Spirit Rakul, he was sure they were the sa materials. The difference was in the procedure. According to Rakul's knowledge, the penultimate step required the mixture to sit under the moonlight for three hours before being stirred counter-clockwise three tis. Jack's process omitted this step entirely.
Recalling that the church's experints had proven the potion's effectiveness, he grew intrigued by the discrepancy.
"Could it be," he wondered, "that the horrendous stench is produced because the materials aren't exposed to moonlight?"
Life in the church was much easier than living alone, not to ntion cheaper. Aside from being occasionally summoned for a talk with Bishop Parrold, he often saw the young girl, Fini Faithford.
It was now confird that she would be joining the church choir; the girl had a lovely voice. This ant that Miss Faithford could live in the church until she ca of age and would even receive a shilling a week for pocket money.
Once she reached adulthood, if she so desired, she could easily beco a nun of the Sage's Church, which ant she would never have to worry about her livelihood for the rest of her life.
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