"The Observer is a relatively common ability of the Destiny persuasion," she explained, "but it cannot be learned through rituals. One can only receive it as a gift from the world or for so inexplicable reason. This power doesn't require activation; it functions passively, all the ti. The wielder is immune to all forms of prophecy and divination, and cannot be influenced by rare abilities or artifacts that manipulate fate. Think of it this way: an Observer is a spectator watching from outside the world's stage, and the play's destiny can never affect the audience."
That function overlapped sowhat with The Unknown Path, but The Unknown Path didn't seem to resist fate; it twisted it.
"Then, can the Millstone of Fate still affect ?"
He asked, but instantly regretted it—Jenkins Williams was not supposed to know about the Millstone of Fate.
But Audrey didn't comnt on his slip-up. Instead, she explained patiently:
"That particular item cannot be judged by conventional standards. It is tied to the very origins of this world, and its scope encompasses both fate and that which lies beyond it. But this ability is not the point right now, Jenkins. You still haven't realized what you've experienced... How much do you know about demigods?"
She suddenly posed a question completely unrelated to their current topic.
"Very strong."
It took him a mont to co up with that single word. Though he had encountered a few demigods, he still lacked a precise understanding of what they were.
"The first thing we must be clear about is that 'demigod' is rely a human term. It signifies a power far exceeding that of ordinary mortals, but in fact, in terms of their essential nature, they are still mortals. Do you understand?"
the woman asked.
"Yes, I understand."
All are mortal beneath the gods. Jenkins knew this all too well.
"But even so, for an Enchanter, the leap from level 7 to level 8 is an exceptionally difficult process. Besides accumulating enough Spirit, we also need to achieve a deeper comprehension of the world, so that the world itself will respond. To put it another way, the key to advancing from level 7 to 8 is not the amount of Spirit one has, but whether one can resonate with the world."
Jenkins was stunned for a mont, recalling Alexia's excitent after seeing his application of Mathematical Principles.
"Oh, I think I understand a little."
"For a diviner like myself, becoming intimate with destiny is our thod for drawing closer to the world. And according to ancient knowledge, the mont one truly knows destiny... is the mont one 'sees' it."
At this, she fell silent, her gaze turning lancholic as she looked at Jenkins.
"The one I saw?"
he asked in a low voice.
"Yes."
She nodded, and Jenkins fell silent as well.
"So, you're saying if I were to align my future with the path of a diviner, advancing to level 7 would be almost effortless?"
He asked himself this, yet he couldn't understand what had caused that sudden mont of epiphany.
Mortals could not beco gods; Jenkins was very clear on this. In all his ti in this world, he had never t an ambitious soul who even attempted deification. Therefore, for those who stepped into the world of the supernatural, the ultimate aspiration was to beco a demigod.
Perhaps Alexia Miller was an exception. Jenkins could sense that her gaze was fixed on sothing far less superficial.
Audrey decided to accelerate the pace of Jenkins's divination lessons. She also instructed him to focus on soothing his spirit and relaxing his mind during this ti, as it would help heal the spiritual damage caused by peering into destiny.
Papa Oliver appeared again after Audrey left. He had sohow learned of Jenkins's "diagnosis" and decided to ease up on his work and study requirents for the foreseeable future.
More precisely, he could now start work at nine in the morning and leave at three in the afternoon.
He believed Jenkins had been under too much ntal stress lately and needed more rest. Of course, that rest had to be taken within safe confines, to prevent him from running into any more trouble.
"I should find soone reliable to keep an eye on you."
He was already making arrangents, standing by the window and glancing sideways at Jenkins, who was still in bed.
"I recall that the script you're collaborating on with Hathaway Hersha isn't finished yet."
"Yes, you don't an to say..."
"I'll write to her shortly. I'm sure you won't mind using your free ti each day to discuss topics of mutual interest with your friends in a cozy club. Of course, you can go for a walk if you like. I don't think anyone would object to such a perfectly normal arrangent."
The matter was clearly not up for discussion. After dawn, Jenkins watched Papa Oliver drop the letter into a mailbox on Fifth Queen's Avenue himself. By that evening, an affirmative reply had arrived from Hathaway.
"I look forward to your opera script, Jenkins. Your talent should be showcased more thoroughly, not cooped up in an antique shop all day dealing with tedious accounts."
Papa Oliver said, patting his shoulder.
The blizzard continued to rage, lasting until Sunday afternoon. When Jenkins t the two young won at the club again, the atmosphere was sowhat awkward.
Jenkins couldn't fathom the source of this awkwardness, but he knew he had to find an interesting topic to break the tension.
The snowflakes falling outside the window were as thick as goose down. Goose... That reminded him of last night’s roast goose. It had been delicious. The kitchen staff had prepared it specifically to help him recover, and the mory of its succulent, savory taste was still vivid.
"No, that's not a very good topic."
A faint, pleasant scent of perfu hung in the club's air. Both Hathaway and Briny Mikhail were wearing light makeup. The earring he had entrusted to Hathaway for safekeeping was on her ear.
Even though the club was heated, a fire still crackled rrily in the hearth. It seed more for decoration than for warmth—a perfect complent to the snowy scene outside the window.
Worried that Chocolate's fur might get singed by the flas, Jenkins scooped the cat up and placed it beside him. But he didn't sit down to resu the conversation just yet. Instead, he bent over and poked at the embers in the fireplace with a poker.
He didn't do this sort of thing often; after all, the fire he used at ho was no ordinary fla.
"Jenkins, I heard you were seriously ill a few days ago?"
Briny Mikhail asked. She and Hathaway had happened to visit the antique shop on the Thursday Jenkins was unconscious, asking Papa Oliver to appraise an item, and had learned of his condition then.
"Oh, I just caught a bit of a chill, but I'm almost fully recovered now. Otherwise, Bishop Parrold wouldn't have allowed to go out."
This was the official story.
"It's certainly the season for it. A nasty flu has broken out in the city as well. Hathaway and I were planning to visit you over the weekend. Goddess be praised you're better. Let's hope this epidemic doesn't spread any further."
Jenkins now had plenty of free ti, as the Church was doing its best not to assign him any missions. A Miss Bevanna had likely heard from Audrey about his glimpse into destiny, and she had made a point to speak with him last night about his future.
As he recalled Miss Bevanna's expression from the previous night, he found himself comparing her attire to that of the two young noblewon before him.
"Miss Bevanna is more mature. Co to think of it, I don't even know her exact age."
As an Enchanter, Hathaway was more perceptive. She sensed sothing different in Jenkins's distracted movents.
Jenkins was still lost in thought. Miss Bevanna had wanted him to seriously consider his future path as an Enchanter. If he decided, right then and there, to devote all his energy to the study of divination, she had said, then as long as he stayed alive, he was guaranteed to beco a demigod.
"Too bad I refused."
"Sorry, Jenkins, what did you say?"
The other two occupants of the room had not understood him.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about Chocolate demanding a snack in the middle of the night. That cat is such a handful."
he said, shaking his head.
While this answer effectively resolved the imdiate problem, he knew Chocolate would not be pleased when he got ho.
A demigod was nothing. Jenkins sought true godhood, and he was convinced the path he was on was the correct one. Whether it was collecting the Savior's Emblems or absorbing divinity to gain godly knowledge, these were the most direct routes to apotheosis.
As for the state of a mortal demigod, it was hardly worth ntioning.
"Don't get arrogant. Stay humble, stay low-key."
He reminded himself internally, nonchalantly pulling a neatly folded handkerchief from his shirt pocket to wipe his hands. Only then did he move away from the fireplace and return to his chair.
After successively experiencing the birth of the Evil God's Scion, the vampires' blood moon, the rampage of Cursed Items, and the death of a friend, he had decided to give himself a short break. It was ti to temporarily step back from the supernatural world and tend to more mundane matters.
"I heard 'A Tale of Ice and Snow' will be published soon?"
"Yes, I received a letter from a Mr. Brol yesterday. It's nearly finished. He should be able to send the first edition next week."
"Might I have the honor of being its first official reader?"
Miss Mikhail asked.
"Of course. I promise."
he said, glancing at Hathaway, who wore a faint smile. Jenkins had a feeling he would go his entire life without mastering the art of reading a woman's expression.
Now that he had plenty of ti, Jenkins could also focus on finishing the new script for the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe. Although Mr. Nelly's "little trouble" had been resolved, the man remained incredibly enthusiastic, which motivated Jenkins to complete his work quickly.
Like Hathaway, Briny Mikhail had received a thorough and formal education. While the other two collaborated, she would help Jenkins by watching his cat or proofreading his work for spelling errors, which made the writing process a little easier.
"Perhaps a peaceful life like this isn't so bad."
The thought popped into his head.
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