The kitten, Chocolate, scampered down from the tree, shot the female corpse a disdainful look, then let out a tiny ow and darted into the shadows, tail twitching.
Jenkins didn't retract the Black Robe until he was safely inside his house; using the Bestowal for so long had taken a heavy toll on his Spirit. He tiptoed up the stairs to find Chocolate still awake, waiting obediently for him on the bed.
"I'm ho."
He whispered to Chocolate, and then imdiately felt like a fool.
After washing up, Jenkins sat on the edge of his bed in the glow of the red and blue moonlight. He gently stroked Chocolate's soft fur while sifting through the fragnted knowledge that swirled in his mind.
In the quiet of the night, blood trickled silently from his nostrils. Jenkins pressed his temples hard, then wiped away the stain with a damp cloth. When he opened his eyes, the image of the colossal, sky-reaching tree he had last seen was still seared into his vision.
"The original owner of the divinity was a pseudo-god that took the form of a plant."
Jenkins concluded. Tempered by the Month's End Whisper, the Sage's Gaze, and the phantom of the evil god, he could now recover quickly from the montary dizziness.
He picked up a fountain pen from his desk, gave it a few gentle flicks, and began to jot down the three pieces of knowledge he had just acquired.
First was a white, basic ability called [Animal Affinity], and its effect was exactly what it sounded like. While the materials required for the learning ritual were cheap and common, the ceremony could only be perford on October 21st of each year.
Second was a special ritual: Breath of Life. Through a specific thod, one could extract the life force from plants or animals, absorb it after a portion was lost in the process, and thereby extend one's own lifespan. Theoretically, if one had the financial ans to perform the ritual repeatedly, they could live to be 999 years old. That age seed to be a threshold; any attempt to live longer would be t with restrictions.
"A violation of nature."
Jenkins mused for a mont, deciding he would never speak of this ritual to another soul. As for whether he would ever use it himself, it was too soon to think about such things. He was still young.
The third piece of knowledge was a simple but profound bit of information. Neither Righteous Gods nor Pseudo-Gods existed in this world, nor did they reside in the adjacent realms, like the Astral Plane or the Shadow Realm. They could only project themselves temporarily into the world in the form of a saintly avatar, but doing so required not only divinity but also a suitable vessel.
Jenkins scratched his head. He wasn't the original owner of this body, nor was he from this world. Did that make him a saintly avatar without divinity? Could he himself be a Mysterious Object?
Knowledge concerning gods was always obscure and difficult to grasp. Tonight, the transmigrator had briefly shed his mortal coil, all thanks to the foolishness of an evil spirit. By burning a divinity that was not his own, he had elevated his very state of being.
But the event was still shrouded in mystery. If he wanted to repeat the process, he would not only need another out-of-body experience, but he also had no idea where to find the divinity required to construct a new form.
"I was a god."
He turned off the gas lamp, lay on the bed cuddling Chocolate, and chuckled foolishly. The cat, annoyed, pawed at his face.
"Alright then, from this mont on, I'll set a small goal: find a drop of divinity, obtain new knowledge, and look forward to the day I can truly beco a god."
He could not forget the feeling of his soul ascending to that higher plane. Yes, he was addicted.
The [Soul Nest] was a Mysterious Object; it couldn't be destroyed through normal ans. The thing was a hot potato. He had no idea what consequences just tossing it aside would bring, but if he turned it in, he'd have no way to explain where it ca from.
After mulling it over, Jenkins buried the object in his yard. He hoped he might find so clues about it in the underground library the next ti he visited the church.
When dawn broke, Jenkins "I Was Once a God" Williams went to work at Papa Oliver's shop as usual.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
Papa Oliver, uncharacteristically, wasn't in his fake antique rocking chair reading the paper. Instead, he was staring at the ceiling with a lancholic air. 𝖗ÁＮỔВÊ𝘚
"Well enough, I suppose. Chocolate was just a bit restless and kept up for a while."
The cat hopped down from Jenkins's shoulder with a disgruntled air, flicked its tail at him, then found a comfortable spot to curl up on the counter.
"Sothing big happened last night," Papa Oliver said. "A new star appeared."
The old man lowered his head, rubbed his nose, and then slapped his stiff neck. "The books I had you read contained so knowledge of the heavens, so you should know what it ans when a new, bright star appears in the sky."
"Yes."
Jenkins replied, then froze. "A new great being has appeared?"
Only after the words left his mouth did he realize they were probably talking about him.
Papa Oliver nodded, his sparse eyebrows drooping with a hint of lancholy. "Twelve Righteous Gods, three hundred and sixty-five Pseudo-Gods. That number hasn't changed since my great-grandfather was a boy. I never thought I'd live to see a new god appear. Oh, great Sage..."
"Three hundred and sixty-five? How was that number determined? The number of days in a year is..."
Jenkins forgot all about playing dumb; this ti, his surprise was genuine.
"Indeed."
Papa Oliver raised his head slightly, his cloudy eyes peering over his wide, round-frad glasses at his young apprentice. "What do you think is recorded on the stone tablets you transcribe every day? There are many unknowns in this world, young man."
He sighed again. "And another thing—purple is the color of fate. A purple star in the sky has never been a good on. Now that you've moved out on your own, you have more ti to yourself. You should frequent the Oil Ink Mister Club and diligently practice the rituals I've taught you. This change in the heavens is a very bad sign..."
"Fate?"
"Fate."
Papa Oliver nodded in agreent. "The Church of Knowledge and Books possesses the most complete historical records. The doctrine of the Sage is clear on this. The appearance of fate is often a precursor to great chaos, or it heralds the sudden ergence of an impossibly powerful being."
Shaking his head, he casually tossed a silver sliver onto the counter. "Do you rember asking about demons?"
"Of course I rember."
Jenkins nodded imdiately.
"Good. Let's put it this way: when I was young, I ca across a record about purple fate in an archive at the Holy See.
It was part of a well-known story about a demon. A long, long ti ago—so long that not even the Church is certain of the date. During a great famine, a brave boy, desperate to secure a happy life for his younger siblings, traveled alone to a hidden realm and made a deal with a demon."
"I've heard that story!"
he exclaid, adding that he'd even heard two different versions.
"Don't interrupt when I'm speaking! The story recorded by the Church is most certainly not the one you've heard."
"My apologies. Please, go on."
Jenkins sat down obediently. The cat, its interest piqued, lay down beside him to listen.
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