The waves grew calm and the evening wind died away, as if a great stage had just seen its final curtain fall. Only then did Jenkins intentionally scuff his feet, letting Magic Miss know he had arrived.
"'Construct Stage.' An interesting ability, isn't it?" Follow current novels on nοvelfire.net
She asked, turning to him abruptly.
"I've never heard of it."
Jenkins shook his head as he approached her, briefcase in hand.
"It's a spell ability. Its purpose is to make the user as dazzling as if they were standing center stage. Quite interesting, don't you think? I only discovered it last week on a stone tablet. I must admit, the ancient Enchanter who could comprehend the world and create such a power must have been an absolute genius."
She remarked with a sigh, pulling back her hood. Jenkins had already seen her face during their last meeting in the abandoned cemetery, so there was no longer any need to conceal it.
"But are you sure it's wise to waste an ability slot on something like that?"
"It's not a problem. I bought a batch of B-12-4-4432, River Styx Water, three years ago. It hasn't been stored properly and has started to spoil recently, so this is a perfect opportunity to use it up. But enough about that. It looks like you and Silver Flute had quite a haul."
"That friend of yours is quite lucky."
Jenkins shook his head, unwilling to share the details of what had just transpired. He took a deep breath, savoring the moist sea breeze. Waves crashed against the pilings of the pier beneath them, sending a fine spray up to mist their faces.
"You hinted that I should meet you here, and you've waited all this time. What is it you wanted to tell me? It's getting late, and I have an early start tomorrow."
"Off to carry out some mad plan with your associates?"
The woman's tone was laced with sarcasm. In reality, Jenkins just had to be at work on time.
"It's nothing major, but since it concerns you, I thought I should let you know. You may recall the first time we worked together—when we took the tattoo from that pirate, the one that could locate A-12-1-0044, the Skull Sword of the Departed Soul."
"Of course, I remember... Wait. You found it?"
This was perhaps the most startling news of the evening. He scanned the woman from head to toe with his Eye of Reality but detected no sword-shaped objects.
"Of course not. If I had found it, why would I tell you? I simply discovered that the tattoo isn't static; it's gradually losing its supernatural properties. This means the sword has very likely been claimed by someone, rendering the tattoo meaningless."
"When did this happen?"
"If you're asking when the sword was claimed, I'm afraid I don't know. The tattoo was already failing when I acquired it, which means that sword of the departed found its new master sometime before last autumn at the latest."
That was all she had to say. As Jenkins silently mulled over the implications, she turned and departed.
That dangerous sword finding a new master would undoubtedly have a massive impact on the material world. But for now, no one knew the weapon's location, nor the condition of its wielder.
In the best-case scenario, the new wielder could resist the sword's influence and remain sane, using it as nothing more than a dangerous weapon. In the worst-case scenario, the wielder had already fallen under its complete control, just like that man thirty years ago. This would mean the Scourge of the Undead could be unleashed upon the world once more.
But no matter how much Jenkins worried, there was nothing he could do. All that was left was futile speculation.
Right there on the pier, he opened the briefcase. Inside were bundles of one, two, five, and ten-pound notes. The total came to eight thousand pounds. The serial numbers weren't sequential, and there were no special markings on the bills.
The sum was a bit larger than Jenkins had expected, as Miss Silver Flute had valued the arms shipment at around twelve thousand pounds.
But since Miss Windsor was willing to pay so much, Jenkins certainly wasn't going to give any of it back. He used Psychography to sketch a new briefcase into existence for the money, then filled the original one with stones and hurled it far out into the sea.
As he watched the briefcase sink beneath the waves, a thought rose in his mind:
"Nothing's more profitable than ripping off other criminals."
Still, once was enough. He'd only done it because the opportunity had fallen into his lap. He could only imagine the fury of the shipment's true owner when they discovered the theft tomorrow. He hoped it wouldn't lead to any serious repercussions.
No matter how late he went to bed, Chocolate was always there the next morning to wake him at the usual time. Jenkins groggily prepared breakfast for man and cat, then stumbled out the door with a yawn, not even noticing he was wearing mismatched socks.
It wasn't until he passed a bookstore that he remembered it was Monday, the day "The Winter Enchantment" was set to be released.
It wasn't yet eight o'clock, so the bookstore was still closed. Jenkins lingered by the display window for a long while, imagining that in just a few hours, people might be picking up his book, happily carrying it to the counter to pay.
He told himself, confident that even if only on the strength of his reputation, the book couldn't possibly fail.
Chocolate's cry reminded him he was going to be late.
He started walking again, heading off to face a Monday whose future was yet unwritten.
Papa Oliver had read the first draft of the book more than once, even offering a wealth of insightful suggestions. So when Jenkins handed him a finished copy, he was surprised that the old man's attention went not to the text, but to the cover.
"Is this... Mount Ruskol?"
"Yes. It's a well-known peak near Ruen. During my last trip to Bel Diran, I saw many artistic depictions of it in the Northern Kingdoms exhibit at the art gallery. I have to admit, it's absolutely beautiful."
Jenkins had his explanation ready. A man as cautious as him left no detail to chance.
Even though he wasn't involved in any of the book's promotional events, he spent the day wondering whether his second novel would be a success. Chocolate, noticing his anxiety, deliberately knocked an inkwell off the desk, forcing him to clean it up—a welcome distraction from his worries.
In reality, however, the anxiety was merely replaced by irritation at his cat.
His friends had received their copies yesterday, so it would be at least three days before they finished reading and could offer their opinions. Jenkins suspected Briny, in particular, would enjoy it, since she had been the inspiration for the story's theme.
The shop was quiet that morning. After his usual sweeping, Jenkins pretended to be engrossed in his transcription work. In truth, transcribing had become completely useless for him. And while it wasn't his only way of accumulating Spirit, the loss of this method still filled him with anxiety.
The Bestowal he had acquired after the Blizzard Mountain Villa incident was a convenient explanation for his sudden leap in power. Even so, he couldn't just announce that he had already reached the fourth level.