As the undead lunged, two members of the advancing party split off to engage them before Jenkins could even act. The rest hurried into the alley, where they were met by the sight of a body sprawled across the middle of the path. The corpse was clad in the black robes of a Gravedigger, its face belonging to a man who had nodded a greeting to Jenkins just a few minutes before.
A black miasma rose from the corpse as red and white blisters, like severe burns, broke out across its skin.
“Watch out! It’s the spell—Corpse Explosion!” The source of this content ɪs n0velfire.net
Captain Ern Swift yelled from beside Jenkins, he and his companions raising their hands in unison. Golden pages materialized from thin air, linking together to form a solid sheet in front of Jenkins. At that very moment, the Gravedigger’s body detonated from within. Flesh and bone flew in every direction like shrapnel and iron pellets from a steam bomb, slamming against the barrier with an undead power full of malice for the living.
Had any one of them faced that horrific explosion alone, they would not have survived. But thankfully, dozens of Scribes had combined their strength to cast the Book’s Blessing. Even so, if Jenkins hadn’t, on a sudden impulse, raised his own hands and channeled his power into the golden pages, the divine barrier would have likely been breached before the aftershock of the blast faded.
When the explosion subsided, a meter-deep crater scarred the center of the alley, and the walls on either side were severely damaged. A man’s figure suddenly burst out of the abandoned building. He glanced back at the group at the alley's entrance, and at that exact moment, Jenkins saw his face.
“It really is him. Provence Lucal! The morgue keeper from Nolan Public Hospital No. 3!”
During the A-12-02-3320 reanimated corpse incident not long ago, Jenkins, Captain Bincy, and the late Mr. Bentz had gone to inspect the morgue. There, they had run into Lucal, a level-two Enchanter who was concealing his identity. But at the time, Jenkins had been overwhelmed by the reanimated corpse and hadn't had the mind to pay him much attention, simply dismissing him as another unregistered Enchanter who wanted to stay off the books.
He never would have imagined that their next meeting would be under circumstances like these.
As he spoke, Jenkins raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The activated bullet, engraved with complex divine ritual patterns, seemed to emit a faint golden glow as it cut through the air.
The bullet flew through what felt like frozen time, piercing the swirling dust and debris, but just before it reached its target, a skeletal hand shot out of nowhere and intercepted it.
“Oh, it seems my cover is blown.”
The young Lucal politely tipped his hat to the group. He spoke as he backed away, a casual smile on his face, while more and more corpses and skeletons shambled out from the half-collapsed building.
These were clearly the reanimated bodies of Gravediggers, something that should have been nearly impossible. The Gravediggers receive a special blessing, making them more than a hundred times harder to resurrect as undead than an ordinary person.
“Sorry, but I can't waste any more time with you. To be honest, I never expected to be exposed to the Orthodox Church so quickly. How... how on earth did you find this place?”
No one would answer his question, because no one knew how to explain it. The air flashed with the light of talismans, bullets, and abilities of every color. The low-level undead were torn to shreds in an instant, but the group still couldn't advance. The shattered bone fragments mixed with the dirt and, impossibly, began to regenerate.
“Being exposed so soon was a surprise, but only a minor one. Farewell, gentlemen. I hope you don't mind these little gifts.”
Lucal chuckled as he strolled toward the other end of the alley, boldly turning his back on the enemies held at bay behind him. The undying minions served their purpose faithfully. They were weak but highly resilient. While the Unquenchable Fire could destroy them completely and prevent regeneration, it burned with agonizing slowness.
If Papa Oliver hadn't finally figured out the secret to these strange undead and instructed everyone to use their divine power to disrupt the ritual nodes between the bones, the battle might have dragged on indefinitely. But it wasn't over. A steady stream of new undead creatures continued to emerge from the direction Lucal had fled.
The vexing creatures had no special abilities, but their variety was staggering: ghouls, skeletons, wraiths, banshees, and other types Jenkins didn't even recognize. Dispelling them all took a great deal of time. By the time the small squad of a dozen or so Scribes had finally vanquished the undead tide, Lucal had vanished without a trace.
Papa Oliver stared at the remains of the undead that now littered the entire alley, a grim expression on his face. The others either rested and stood guard or fanned out to search for survivors, a near-impossible task. This was a true massacre. What the vampires had done was nothing in comparison.
Jenkins had never seen such a dreadful look on Papa Oliver's face. He couldn't imagine what his mentor, who had been standing back and observing silently, had discovered.
“Jenkins, you know him?”
Papa Oliver cut him off.
Jenkins nodded, rubbing his forehead. He recounted his brief encounter with Provence Lucal during the reanimated corpse incident, though he omitted the fact that he'd sensed something was off about the young man even back then.
The last rays of sunset finally vanished from the horizon. Darkness and fog enveloped the steam-powered city. In the ruined alley, Jenkins and Papa Oliver stood face to face. Chocolate perched on the young man's shoulder, gazing into the distance.
Suddenly, an oddly shaped lamp appeared in Jenkins's hand. Papa Oliver didn't ask, merely listening in silence. His clouded eyes watched Jenkins hold the lamp high, its light illuminating the two of them.
In the silver-blue light, Papa Oliver felt the vast power of the cosmos. He recalled the story of Jenkins encountering a Star Spirit while learning Astral Perception and understood this was a gift from those ancient beings.
It was nothing to be alarmed about. For someone as pure and good-hearted as Jenkins to be blessed by a Star Spirit was perfectly normal.
The silver-blue glow was faint in the dead of night, too small to banish the vast darkness or the seemingly eternal fog. After hearing Jenkins's story, Papa Oliver let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to his temple.
“This is terrible, Jenkins. I don't know what methods that man used to reanimate so many undead in such a short time. But I believe this city is facing a disaster on par with any of the incidents from last year.”