"As long as that sword doesn't show up again," Jenkins said, forcing a smile. He tilted his head to look at his cat, hiding his expression from the woman.
"So, this 'Saint's Blessing' state... how do I trigger it?"
If he could learn to actively control this power, Jenkins could handle many difficult situations far more easily.
"It is a power bestowed by a god. Mortals can only wait for the opportunity to use it. You may have noticed that the power from a deity is imnsely potent—you even briefly gained the upper hand. But it is not your own wellspring of power, it doesn't belong to you..."
The woman was trying to warn Jenkins not to beco too reliant on a power that wasn't his. Of course, Jenkins understood this. In fact, the thought of borrowing the Sage's power filled him with trepidation.
He was now certain that the Sage likely knew about most of his activities. After all, if even a pseudo-god like the "Wondrous Musical Score" was aware he could wield divinity, it was impossible for a Righteous God like the Legacy Sage to be ignorant of it.
Perhaps it was because Jenkins had remained disciplined and principled, praying regularly and performing good deeds, that the Sage tolerated a follower like him.
It was this very thought that made Jenkins so deeply reluctant to have any direct contact with the deity. During the Evil God Scion incident, when he heard the Sage might manifest in the mortal world, he had even felt the urge to flee the city.
"...So, you don't need to do anything. Now that it's confird you can wield that imnse power in your current state, I expect the Church authorities will summon you soon to discuss the matter in detail. Speaking of which, I believe the letter regarding your ennoblent has arrived. Did the Bishop inform you?"
"Yes, we spoke for a while this morning, and he ntioned it. It looks like I'll have to make a trip to Bel Diran this month. I hope everything goes smoothly."
"ow~"
Even the cat seed to know things wouldn't be that simple.
The scene of Friday's battle in the flas had been witnessed by nurous followers of other faiths. Whether it was the fact that Jenkins was the Saint or the power of his final sword strike, news of it had likely spread to all the major churches in the city by now.
It wasn't enough to compromise his public identity as a writer, but it certainly had an effect. For example, while he was walking with Miss Bevanna, everyone they passed would give a slight bow.
"Not used to it?"
"Definitely not."
"You'll have to get used to it. The title of Saint is a representation of the divine, the highest honor in the mortal world. I believe the Church ntioned this to you on your first trip to Bel Diran."
"Yes, Elder Wood Broshier ntioned it to ."
Jenkins replied vaguely. He had been preoccupied with his cat, who had refused to enter the temple complex, so his mory of so details was hazy.
They had lunch together in the Evergreen Forest, and Bevanna offered him so valuable advice. Since he had "just" reached the fourth level, he could now learn more powerful abilities. However, it also ant he could no longer accumulate Spirit by simply transcribing the tadpole-like script from the photographs.
These were all crucial matters that would shape Jenkins's future path. Normally, Papa Oliver should have been the one to explain this to him—he was Jenkins's ntor, after all—but for so reason, Bevanna had brought it up over lunch.
Unfortunately, even if he could learn an ability like "Blessing of the Book," the "Stage" maze-lock already occupied five of his ability slots, leaving him with no room for new ones. He would have to put off learning any new divine arts until he reached the fifth level.
"I believe you'll be on the verge of becoming a demigod by the end of the year."
"That's... a bit fast, isn't it? It's already March."
Their lunch in the forest was foraged locally. For various reasons, the Church forbade hunting the local wildlife, so their al was entirely vegetarian. Jenkins enjoyed the sliced fruit, but the cat, having barely eaten breakfast, was clearly displeased by the lack of at.
While it didn't mind plants, it was by no ans a vegetarian.
"Based on your current rate of progress, you could go from the fourth to the seventh level by November. You should take so ti to think about your future. You're young, and you have many paths open to you."
"Oh..."
Jenkins didn't really know what he wanted to do. It wasn't quite right to say he wanted to while away his life at Pops Antique Shop; his only long-term goal was to achieve godhood.
"I want to beco more powerful."
It was a vague answer, but Bevanna accepted it. She remained lost in thought after that and asked no more nerve-wracking questions.
Bevanna had other business to attend to that afternoon, so she left after lunch. Jenkins announced that he wanted to speak with the dragon living in the forest, so he remained behind. At one o'clock, he found the creature in a clearing in the northern woods.
The northern edge of the forest abutted a canyon cliff, where the dragon, with the Church's assistance, had carved out a rather impressive lair. However, it showed no intention of inviting the man and his cat inside, regarding them with deep suspicion.
Jenkins had once encountered a black dragon in a Mysterious Realm, but only from a great distance. It wasn't until he t the red dragon, Níðhöggr, that he truly understood the crushing pressure of facing a creature hundreds of tis his own size.
Even though the dragon before him was neither a threat nor an enemy, its sheer presence and the gaze of its enormous eyes were enough to make an oppressive feeling well up inside him.
Fortunately, the dragons of this world lacked the "draconic aura" so common in stories. As long as he could overco his instinctual fear of such a massive creature, communication would be possible.
"Hello, Saint Williatte."
The dragon greeted him politely as Jenkins erged from the trees. The battle with the skeletal giant had left it gravely wounded. Even after being partially healed by the nature spirits, it still appeared weak. Its left wing hung at an unnatural angle, and though Jenkins knew nothing of draconic anatomy, it looked like a clear sign of a fracture.
"Hello, Mr. Níðhöggr."
Jenkins greeted the creature before him, employing so etiquette he'd picked up from a book. His clumsy attempt at formality almost made the cat laugh, but Chocolate managed to hold it in.
The dragon's grasp of the common tongue was clearly lacking. It spoke slowly, and its pronunciation of complex inflections was all wrong. Still, considering it had been in the mortal world for less than six months, the fact that it could converse with Jenkins at all was quite remarkable.
It was quite interested in Jenkins and kept trying to learn about his life before he beca the Saint. But Jenkins's past was thoroughly unremarkable; the body's original owner had been just an ordinary young man with no particular goals in life.
Reviews
All reviews (0)