The terrifying spectral blade was gripped in both hands and raised high overhead as whispers, murmurs, and wails that seemed to claw their way up from the abyss rose in a deafening chorus.
Black radiance gathered on the blade as gray snow swirled around him. The dark clouds overhead coalesced into the shape of a colossal skull, and the ground below was quietly taking on the hue of graveyard soil.
The scene was beyond description; the snowy sky looked as if the end of the world was at hand. Fortunately, Vircawon wasn't flying very high, and the wind and grit in the air forced everyone nearby to squeeze their eyes shut. Otherwise, the people outside the alley would have witnessed this spectacle.
Jenkins was pinned by the immense pressure from above, unable to move. He tried to raise his hands, but the fearsome weapon seemed to have already locked onto him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Even without the ability to divine the future, he knew that a direct hit would mean being taken out of the fight, severely wounded.
But this time, at least, his luck held. Just as the Skull Sword was gathering its power, a flash of blue light streaked across the snowy sky, shooting forth from the distant Church of Ocean and Exploration to strike the body of the blade with a clang.
Vircawon instinctively swung his sword toward the source of the light beam. A crescent-shaped shockwave of black energy and a phantom trident of blue light collided and annihilated each other in mid-air. A shower of black powder and faint blue specks of light rained down upon the ground.
"Ah, it seems my time is up."
Jenkins had already foreseen what was about to happen. He quickly tossed the cat from his shoulder out of the alley, while his own figure gradually faded, disappearing completely just before others arrived in the sky.
But Vircawon wasn't getting away now. An old man wielding a golden trident, Bevanna clutching a book, Davies with a small coffin on his back, and Audrey's friend, Brolignans, appeared in the air simultaneously. This update ıs available on novel·fıre·net
"Hmm, Brolignans is already a demigod?"
Jenkins had long since noticed the city's guardians approaching, so he had used Real Illusion to escape well before they appeared overhead. He had already changed his appearance and was now watching the excitement from a distance with his little orange cat, Chocolate.
The Orthodox Churches were actually quite interested in the followers of the Lying God, but right now, that conspicuous sword was the real priority.
"We can't guarantee you'll live, but if you drop your weapon, we can promise you less suffering."
The demigod from the Church of Death and End was the first to speak. The moment he saw the blade, he had recognized what it was.
Vircawon retorted, then suddenly threw the Skull Sword into the sky. A beam of black light broke through the clouds and enveloped him, while a sinister wind rose from the ground to meet the pillar of light.
A piercing whistle was heard by all, and in the blink of an eye, three tornadoes connecting heaven and earth appeared in the city.
"Dammit! Using A-05-1-4906, the Hurricane Maker, in a densely populated area!"
The old man from the Church of Ocean and Exploration cursed loudly, then reached out with the other demigods to dissipate the forming catastrophe.
Vircawon seized the opportunity and had already vanished without a trace. The beam of black light had practically teleported him and the sword to an alley several streets away.
The young man stood by a pile of trash, with a view of Fifth Queen's Avenue just beyond the alley's mouth. People on the street were screaming and fleeing into the distance.
He chuckled, then staggered out of the alley. At that same moment, a woman in a red hat passed the alley's entrance, running with the crowd away from the tornadoes.
The fierce wind whipped snowflakes and all sorts of debris into the sky. Street-side signs rattled in the gale, looking as if they might fall at any moment. People ran for safety, clutching their hats and skirts, or ducked into the nearest buildings. But the woman who brushed past Vircawon suddenly thrust out a hand engulfed in flames, piercing right through his heart.
Jenkins exclaimed in surprise. His hand hadn't grasped a heart, but a cold, hard stone. He tried to strike at the head next, but the human form in his grasp instantly crumbled into a skeleton skewered on his arm.
It was one of the most powerful escape techniques in necromancy. At the very moment of death, the user could swap their true self with a substitute. However, the ritual core required for such a decoy was often a powerful concentration of undead spirits.
"Damn it! He still got away in the end!"
The woman cursed under her breath, looking at the black jade stone clutched in her hand. He... she... no, still he. Jenkins thought for a moment, saw a blinding black light in the distance, and turned to hurl the jade stone, shattering the display window of Pops Antique Shop across the street.
Before the astonished eyes of the onlookers, the woman disappeared like a shadow, muttering curses as she went.
(Chocolate is heading home...)
He saw Hathaway again that afternoon. Jenkins, carrying a briefcase, had just turned onto St. George Street when he saw the young woman's carriage parked in front of his house.
The tornadoes had vanished hours ago, but the coastal city was still being battered by falling snow and fierce winds.
Jenkins used the hand carrying the briefcase to hold down his hat against the wind, squinting as he raised his free left hand in greeting. He then struggled toward the carriage, seeking shelter from the gale. With some difficulty, he fished out his key, and together, he and Hathaway crossed the yard and entered the house.
"Oh, looks like the wind knocked my mailbox crooked. What rotten luck."
The man grumbled under his breath. He took Hathaway's overcoat first and hung it on the rack in the foyer, then removed his hat, revealing the cat perched on top of his head.
The wind outside had been ferocious, and Chocolate had refused to get into his pocket, so he had temporarily placed the cat on his head. His earlier gesture of holding down his hat wasn't to keep it from flying away, but to keep his feline companion from being blown off.
"Have you had lunch? This damn weather... sorry, I shouldn't have cursed."
He quickly apologized and started toward the living room, but Hathaway, who hadn't moved, took his left hand.
"Jenkins, please don't tell me you know nothing about what happened at noon. But first, you have to tell me: what is this about a unicorn?"
Sand, carried by the gale, pelted the living room windows. Even with the curtains drawn, Jenkins could imagine the assault the glass was enduring. The crackling sound was constant but not particularly loud; Jenkins felt his own heartbeat was probably more distinct.
He nodded, casually placing the cat on the shoe cabinet. He then stowed the briefcase under the coat rack, hiding it beneath the long hem of the overcoat.
He glanced down at his hand, held firmly by the young woman, but didn't pull away. Lies weren't the only way to mend a lie; sometimes, he had to tell a little truth.
He turned to face his living room, raised his right hand high, and then slowly pressed it down. Strange colors immediately lit up the dark space. Reality itself seemed to fracture slightly, and a small beast, glowing with pure white light, stepped into the room with a soft cry.