The biting wind carried a string of vile curses to Jenkins's ears, and he let out a sharp scoff.
"Shut up!"
He lunged forward, grabbing the man's right arm. A torrent of fire instantly engulfed the limb, but even as the man shrieked in agony, the flas didn't spread a single inch beyond his shoulder.
The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, clearly agitating both Magic Miss and Chocolate. Even Jenkins gagged on the fus.
"I ask, you answer," Jenkins growled. "Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your left arm."
The man's right arm was not completely incinerated; it hung limply, resembling a charred branch. A faint green mist flowed from Jenkins's palm, just enough to keep the man from passing out.
Even so, the man was drenched in sweat, his face ashen.
"Listen carefully. What exactly are you and that 'Mr. Alexander' after? Are you morons? Why would you drag the Orthodox Church into the matter of the Kren treasure?"
He was posing as a third party, one who had not shown his hand back in Bel Diran, and was now berating them for involving the Orthodox Church.
"Mr. Alexander..."
The bound man repeated the na weakly. His head, beaded with cold sweat, snapped up as he stared at Jenkins in disbelief.
"How do you know?"
"Keep asking questions if you want to lose your other arm."
Jenkins scoffed again, leaning down until his face was inches from the man's. Flas flickered from every pore of his skin, making him look as terrifying as a legendary fire spirit, yet the heat radiating from him caused no harm.
Beside them, Magic Miss clicked her tongue but said nothing.
"Alright, alright! Mr. Alexander is looking for sothing—an Unshadowed Lamp! Yes, that's it, he wants the Unshadowed Lamp! He promised that if I helped him, he'd introduce to his organization."
"What organization?"
"No, I can't say!"
His voice rose to a strangled shriek, like a panicked rooster.
Without a mont's hesitation, Jenkins's hand shot out again, only to be stopped by Magic Miss.
"Don't," she said. "I can tell you're not used to this kind of work... His death does neither of us any good."
Even though the ferocity he displayed was startling, her own vast experience told her he was forcing himself to act this way. True brutality was more than just a willingness to be cruel; it was an aura one could not simply fake.
"I have a special ability that can compel the truth," she offered. "But if I use it, you'll owe a favor."
"Fine," Jenkins stipulated.
"But I won't help you with anything illegal."
A mocking smile flashed across the woman's face, but it was gone in an instant.
She reached out and passed her hand over the bound man's face. Mr. Dagger looked confused for a mont, but then an overwhelming wave of fatigue washed over him. Before he could spit out another curse, his head slumped forward, and he fell into a deep slumber.
"My ability is effective on Enchanters of a lower level than myself," she explained. "Against those of an equal or higher level, there's a chance it could fail."
Having clarified this for Jenkins, she pulled two smooth, pale-yellow wooden tablets from her pocket. Slipping them between the fingers of her right hand, she began to tap them together gently while chanting a complex incantation in a low voice.
Judging by the principle that more syllables ant a more complex spell, the ability she was invoking was by far the most powerful Jenkins had ever witnessed.
There was no flash of light or swirl of shadow. The slumbering Mr. Dagger simply lifted his head and opened his eyes. They were vacant, staring straight ahead at nothing more than the dilapidated wooden fence of the abandoned cetery.
"You may begin your questions."
Her voice was noticeably weaker, and Jenkins gave a slight nod.
"What organization was Mr. Alexander going to introduce you to?"
"Treehouse."
The voice was unchanged, but the answer was one Jenkins could hardly believe. He had now heard that na twice in less than half an hour.
"This can't be a coincidence," he thought. "Did Mr. Dagger co here for that letter?"
He frowned, then asked another question.
"What does he want the lamp for?"
"I don't know."
"Why did you return to Nolan City?"
"Mr. Alexander disappeared, but I know he has an associate in Nolan City."
"His na."
"I don't know his na."
"Why are you here?"
"The gentleman asked to retrieve a letter. It was a test."
His guess had been correct.
"Where is this 'gentleman'?"
"Right here."
The voice ca from behind them. Jenkins and Magic Miss spun around. Standing outside the broken cetery fence was an elegant, middle-aged man dressed in a formal black suit, a neatly trimd mustache gracing his upper lip.
He wore a pair of sophisticated glasses, and a silver watch glead on his right wrist.
"Level eight... a demigod."
Jenkins's heart sank. "Stay calm..."
His winter coat was thick enough to conceal the palm-sized tal block he carried. The recent chaos in the city had forced him back into the habit of carrying all his most valuable assets with him.
He glanced at Magic Miss. "Get out of here. This has nothing to do with you."
If he was forced to use his divinity, he would have to eliminate any witnesses for his own safety, and he was not yet willing to turn on the woman he considered, at least loosely, a friend.
"No one is leaving," the man said. "I truly didn't expect Alexander to make such a grave error before his death. Let guess who you are... a New God Cultist?"
He revealed his guess with a condescending smile. "You're weaker than I imagined. I assud the New God's followers would at least be powerful individuals on the path to becoming demigods."
Jenkins breathed slowly, suppressing the turmoil within. He warned Magic Miss in a low voice, "He's a level eight demigod. Don't get close. He has eight martial arts abilities. In close combat, we're no match for him."
Magic Miss gave a slight nod. The man, whom Jenkins now recognized as Clark, had eyes that sharpened with interest.
"Divination? Prophecy? A Mystic Eye? How very interesting..."
His body dissolved into the air like a soap bubble. An instant later, an imnse force slamd into Jenkins from the left, a fist punching clean through his abdon. The arm retracted. Before Jenkins could even fall, Clark vanished again, reappearing beside Magic Miss. His fist hamred against a transparent, runic shield that had materialized around her, producing a grating shriek that set their teeth on edge.
"Gods protect !"
As she cried out, a pillar of energy blasted from the pendant on her chest. The man was forced to vanish once more, only to be caught in an explosion along with a black shadow that had materialized right behind him.
The pillar of energy carved a blackened furrow in the earth. A slightly disheveled Mr. Clark stomped his foot, and a spell caused the ground beneath Magic Miss to erupt into a stone pillar, launching her violently into the air.
"Hah!"
He leaped, aiming a flying kick at the airborne woman, but his foot collided in mid-air with that of another man who had intercepted him with a kick of his own.
Jenkins crashed to the ground, his right leg clearly broken. He rolled several tis before his head struck the sharp corner of a tombstone, bringing him to a stop. Magic Miss rushed over to help him up. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jenkins pressed a hand wreathed in green vapor to his shattered leg.
"Where is your accomplice?" Clark demanded.
Though his kick had been blocked, Mr. Clark was uninjured. He had mistaken the shadow that exploded behind him for a person, believing that the one they called "Twin Demons" was sowhere nearby.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Hold my hand, quickly."
Her sweaty palm gripped his. With a sharp crack, their bodies dissolved into a bizarre mosaic of colors. The pattern spun rapidly, collapsing inward as it began to pull them through space.
Seeing this, Mr. Clark bent his knees slightly. A black lion tattoo seed to spread across his face.
"Hah!"
He lunged forward, a blur of motion trailing a shockwave, and slamd their bodies right out of the swirling vortex of color.
Jenkins once again threw himself in front of her. He found his balance instantly and, still holding her, leaped agilely to the side. He moved like a cat, his toes digging into the brittle trunk of a dead tree as he scrambled upward. Reaching the top, he perford a backflip, kicking off a branch with his good leg to launch them a staggering seventy feet away.
Magic Miss, her spell violently interrupted, coughed up a mouthful of dark blood and had to cling to Jenkins's arm just to stay on her feet.
"I didn't expect to see soone in this day and age who appreciates martial abilities as much as I do," Clark remarked.
As he spoke, he removed his glasses, pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, carefully wrapped them, and tucked them away.
He seed quite impressed by the "Cat's Grace" ability.
"I suppose your 'Twin Demons' accomplice isn't here after all," he mused. "Was that a single-use item, then? Storing a fraction of his power? No, don't answer. I find I'm not the least bit interested."
"Are you alright?" Jenkins whispered, He activated his Breath of Healing, channeling life energy into her. She managed a faint "Mmm," but he could still feel her body trembling.
"When I was twenty-one," Clark began, "I watched a Salude Giant Eagle hunt from the highest peak of the Luobida Mountains. The sight inspired , and I gained the 'Eagle's Claw' ability. It's not an uncommon power, but to date, thirty-two Enchanters have died by my hands."
He flexed his fingers, the sound of his knuckles cracking unnaturally loud. Jenkins saw an azure glow flicker between them.
The situation was dire. Jenkins and Magic Miss were clearly no match for Mr. Clark. They had already exhausted nearly every trick they had, while Clark had been rely toying with them, defending without launching a true offensive. He had not yet revealed the true terror of a demigod.
The man could crush them both with his physical prowess alone. The most significant damage he had sustained so far was from the Twin Demons' blast; no matter how tough the body, it was hard to completely negate the effects of demonic fire.
Clark's speed was extraordinary, and Jenkins's own deadliest abilities were not instantaneous. This ant that any attempt to counterattack would likely be interrupted mid-cast, just as Magic Miss's had been.
He glanced over at Chocolate. The cat was sitting placidly beside the still-bound Mr. Dagger, completely oblivious to the desperate look in Jenkins's eyes that pleaded for it to go find help.
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