Things were far from simple. That evening, after finishing work, Jenkins’s mind was on the upcoming gathering in Ruen, so he hurried home.
For once, Chocolate wasn't perched on Jenkins's shoulder or nestled inside his coat. The cat seemed to want a stroll of its own, so it trotted along at his heels.
There was more than one route from Pops Antique Shop back to St. George Street. Organizing inventory had delayed him, and it was nearly half-past six when he left work, so Jenkins chose a narrow alley as a shortcut.
He had taken this alley countless times before without incident. But this time, he'd barely taken two steps into the passage when he saw someone approaching, a figure bundled tightly in a trench coat.
Startled, he moved to step aside, but a sudden vibration from the pocket watch chain in his pocket gave him pause. He ducked instinctively. A deafening CRACK split the air, and a bullet grazed his scalp as it whizzed past.
He was sure he had no enemies left—they were all dead. Without seeing the face beneath the attacker's hat, he had no idea who he could have possibly angered, but he knew one thing for certain: he had to fight back.
"Ordinary person. The pistol is a Mysterious Object."
The insight came from his Eye of Reality, but even though a "pistol-shaped Mysterious Object" was an incredibly sensitive classification, he failed to grasp the full implications.
He yelled, diving for cover behind a stack of wooden crates and drawing his own pistol. Then he saw Chocolate, still frozen in the middle of the alley, too stunned to hide. He risked a dash out from his cover, but this time his luck ran out—a second bullet tore into his leg.
He thought it was just a graze. Once back behind the crates, he reached down to heal the wound, but an excruciating wave of pain shot up from his leg, nearly causing him to black out.
Sitting on the ground, he pulled up his trouser leg. A horrifying sight met his eyes: a web of yellowish-brown welts radiated out from the wound, spreading rapidly across his entire leg.
He immediately pressed his hand to the wound, but his Breath of Healing only mended the bullet hole itself; it was powerless against the strange, spreading welts. Fortunately, the light of his Purification Candle was always watching over him. A source-less flame suddenly seeped from his pores, and with a sharp sizzle, it burned the sickly yellow markings away completely.
"That's one hell of a gun."
Still, he didn't stop to properly consider the gun's true nature.
"Stay still, Chocolate."
He warned his cat, then hoisted a crate and charged out. As another shot rang out, he used his [Real Illusion] to swap places with the phantom he’d left behind. Safe behind the crates again, Jenkins’s eyes widened as the bullet tore through the very crate he had just been holding. While his enhanced vision couldn’t track the bullet’s trajectory, his Eye of Reality had captured every detail of the attacker.
This wasn't a busy district, but the gunshots must have attracted attention from outside the alley. The gunman was running out of time. Once the police arrived, escape would become nearly impossible.
"Just hold on a little longer. He only has one pistol!"
Jenkins told himself, but he wasn't about to use his [Twin Demons] ability here—it would cause far too much commotion. Suddenly, another shot rang out. At the same moment, a strange noise emanated from the stack of crates before him.
For a moment, he couldn't figure out what had just happened. All he knew was that the pocket watch chain was now vibrating with an alarming frequency, and Chocolate, at his feet, displayed a level of alertness he'd never before witnessed in the cat.
A skittering sound grew louder from directly in front of him, but that path was blocked by a dense stack of cardboard boxes. Jenkins stared at the spot, on high alert. Suddenly, the chilling premonition of imminent death washed over him. Before he could react, a white bullet, bizarrely embedded with a human face, bored its way through a gap between the boxes.
Chocolate suddenly leaped, intercepting the bullet head-on. The impact struck the little cat in mid-air, sending it flying backward into Jenkins's waiting arms.
In his arms, Chocolate lifted its head. Red blood trickled from a wound on its belly.
It looked up at Jenkins, let out one final cry, and then its eyes closed.
"Chocolate... is dead?"
An overwhelming sense of absurdity stole Jenkins's breath. He had always considered himself a strong person, but in that instant, tears blurred his vision. The cat in his arms was still warm, but he could no longer feel its life force. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novęlfire.net
He raised a trembling hand and saw that it was covered in blood.
Memories flooded his mind—everything since his arrival in this world, every single moment with Chocolate. He remembered that one mundane evening, the simple joy he’d felt when he first saw the tiny creature at the corner of Maidenhaven Road.
The kitten had been so adorable then, curled up in a cardboard box—so innocent, so small, so fragile...
Using Psychography, he conjured a small blanket and gently laid Chocolate's body upon it. He sniffled, a sharp memory piercing his grief: his cat weaving around his legs, its tail swishing contentedly.
He whispered the name again, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, half-expecting the dead cat to miraculously spring back to life and nuzzle against his leg.
Tossing his pistol aside and wiping away the tears, Jenkins stepped out from behind the crates. A bullet whistled through the air and struck his body, but he merely grunted, refusing to take a single step back.
Suppressing his grief, he took another step forward. Flames erupted beneath his feet, searing deep gouges into the ground. Unseen even by Jenkins, strange phenomena materialized around him. Space itself seemed to warp from the sheer force of his emotional turmoil. A howling wind and dark clouds gathered from nowhere, as if the world's only remaining light now converged upon him alone.
The attacker kept pulling the trigger, and Jenkins let the bullets slam into his body, even his head, without flinching. To kill him with an ability like [Mechanical Light] would be far too merciful. Jenkins was going to catch him with his bare hands, break his arms and legs, and then carve the flesh from his bones, piece by bloody piece.
To counteract the strange curse carried by the bullets, by his third step, he had transformed into a being of pure flame. For the very first time, the Bestowal born from the fusion of his [Inexhaustible Fire] and [Purification Candle] unleashed its full power. The elemental fire replaced his flesh, turning Jenkins into a being akin to a flame spirit from ancient legend.
He roared in grief, lunging for the attacker. The residual heat from the flames incinerated the man's hat, revealing the terrified face of the midnight murderer, Link. In the reflection of his panicked eyes, Jenkins saw his own monstrous form. And beneath it, he saw a grief-stricken man who had just lost his beloved cat.