Running into an acquaintance on the street was a surprise. Jenkins exchanged a few pleasantries with the old painter before climbing into Hathaway's carriage.
She was alone inside. As the carriage slowly set off again, her expression was still sowhat dazed.
"What's wrong?"
Jenkins asked, holding the rose in his hand out to his cat. Chocolate sniffed it, then swatted his hand away with an annoyed paw. Only then did Jenkins offer the flower to Hathaway.
"No, it's nothing... When you turned around just now, I had the strangest feeling. Oh, thank you for the flower. It's beautiful."
The red-haired girl leaned against the soft cushions, looking Jenkins up and down.
"Illusion?"
"Yes, it's hard to describe. The sunlight was on you, and you looked very... handso. But at the sa ti, I felt like I saw vast shadows overlapping on your form, making you seem sohow unreal, yet exceptionally real."
Her last sentence was a complete contradiction, and Jenkins had no idea what Hathaway was trying to express. He chalked it up to a trick of light and shadow and didn't give it another thought.
Hathaway had sought Jenkins out to inform him of their departure ti for the next day and the things that needed to be done beforehand. After she left, Jenkins went ho to finish packing his luggage. The Church, likely not wanting to disturb him, hadn't contacted him again about the cursed painting.
That evening, Jenkins perford the ritual to learn [Real Illusion]. Compared to his previous Savior abilities, the requirents for this divine art were still demanding, but not complex. The mirror had been correct: the most critical requirent was the assistance of a deity with a specific divine domain. The form of this assistance was to use the deity's domain as the core of the ritual.
This ant that, barring a unique situation like Jenkins's, performing the ritual would inevitably require calling upon a god to descend in the form of a Saint.
It was hard to say which was more difficult compared to learning [Undying Man], but the two weren't really comparable. The only certainty was that fate had clearly played an extrely important role in it all.
"I have no idea what preparations the twin demons made to obtain [Twin Demons]," Jenkins mused. "Perhaps acquiring any Savior ability is this demanding. After all, these qualifications were originally ant to be innate, not earned."
The ritual didn't require expensive or rare materials; Jenkins managed to gather everything he needed in a single day. He waited patiently for that fleeting mont at the junction of day and night. Shadows enveloped the man, and when they receded, his fifth ability capable of manifesting a soul emblem had erged.
He had perford the ritual not at ho, but in the district destroyed during the battle between the God of Lies and the vampire aberrations. Jenkins didn't fully understand the rules governing the appearance of the Doomsday Slates, but they might be connected to the ergence of new abilities. Safety first. If a third slate appeared and was also linked to him, everyone would beco suspicious.
He cast one last glance at the fading sun as it disappeared completely behind the rubble and ruined walls, then turned, scooped up his cat, and left.
Back ho, the streetlights on St. George Avenue were already lit, though they couldn't compare to the brightness of the gas lamps inside his house. He carefully savored the new power coursing through him, then rose from the sofa and walked to the fireplace. When he looked back, "Jenkins" was still sitting on the sofa.
"ow~"
Chocolate looked between the two Jenkinses. The one by the fireplace was clearly the real one, for he could move. The one on the sofa, though identical in appearance, was incapable of action.
The cat tentatively pawed at the false Jenkins, only to find its paw passing right through the "body."
"ow~"
As if startled, it leaped into the arms of the Jenkins standing by the fireplace. Clearly, the purpose of [Real Illusion] was to create a realistic illusion.
But this was no re illusionary art. Befitting its demanding learning conditions were its powerful effects.
After calming the startled cat, Jenkins set it down on the rug. He then turned to face the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. His form gradually faded, eventually vanishing into thin air. At the sa mont, the "illusion" on the sofa stood up, smiled, and rolled its neck.
It was a spatial-type ability. By leaving an illusion behind as a coordinate, his body could instantly transfer to that illusion's position, making it real.
Although he could only leave one illusion-coordinate at a ti, this spatial movent had no distance limitations.
"Heh... so it really is a real illusion."
Because he was embarking on a long journey the next day, Jenkins postponed the Ruen gathering scheduled for that night to ensure he was well-rested. Miss Stuart was quite disappointed to hear the news, but she understood his reasoning.
In truth, she had been incredibly busy herself. As a princess of the kingdom, she was obligated to attend nurous balls and banquets at the beginning and end of each year that she simply couldn't refuse. She was sick of it all and wished she could go on a trip with friends, just like Jenkins, but no one would ever permit her to do so.
According to their itinerary, the young people taking the winter trip were scheduled to depart by train on Wednesday afternoon for a small town at the foot of the mountains. Before that, however, Jenkins had one more thing to do.
On Wednesday morning, a carriage took him, Miss Mikhail, Hathaway, and Miss Lawrence to a cetery on the outskirts of the city. The young girl, Fini, accompanied them.
It was now the third day after the second blood moon. On the officially published list of deaths from the teor shower, George Liverpool's na lay in a small, black script in a corner of the page. Though he had died without a trace, the city hall had still provided a small, free plot for him in the public cetery.
At Fini's request, Jenkins had used his connections with the Church to arrange for Liverpool's grave to be placed adjacent to the Stress family's plot.
He had originally planned only to confirm the location of the grave with Fini that morning, but they had unexpectedly encountered the three young ladies along the way. Although Miss Lawrence had always been annoyed by Liverpool's relentless pursuit, upon learning of his unfortunate death and that he had no remaining family, she had decided to co to the cetery and offer a flower in his mory.
The city outskirts were shrouded in a hazy fog that morning. Yesterday's brilliant sunshine seed like a distant illusion; the weather today was poor, and it looked as if it might snow again. The temperature remained frigid. Fini was bundled up as thick as a penguin but still felt the cold. She hid behind Jenkins to shield herself from the biting wind, oblivious to the strange looks the other two young won were giving her.
A cetery is a desolate place by nature, and its unique purpose tended to instill a sense of loneliness and cold in every visitor. The group of five fell silent upon entering the grounds, following Jenkins as he led them deeper into the cetery.
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