Chapter 239 - 239 Fighting Fire

239 Fighting Fire

Before she could finish, Jenna snapped out of her daze. Adorned in a rose-colored dress that hugged her slender frame, she hurried towards the staircase and descended.

Witnessing this, Lumian motioned for Louis and Sarkota to maintain order in Salle de Bal Brise before giving chase.

Anxiety and fear filled Jenna’s face, her expression teetering on the edge of collapse.

She made no attempt to conceal her Beyonder identity. She exerted every ounce of her strength, as if she intended to soar through Avenue du Marché and into the streets leading south of the market district.

Only the darkness of the sky and the unlit gas street lamps, combined with the chaos caused by the panicked pedestrians after the explosion, prevented anyone from noticing the extraordinary speed at which the woman ran.

Lumian swiftly caught up to her, his pace surpassing hers. He urgently tapped her shoulder and said, “Take to the shadows!”

Determined to reach Goodville Chemical Factory as swiftly as possible, Jenna ran a distance before comprehending Lumian’s meaning. She altered her course slightly and darted towards the dimly lit area cast by the unilluminated street lamps, blending in seamlessly.

Assassins possessed the ability to conceal themselves within shadows.

Jenna’s emotions surged, making it difficult for her to maintain control. Additionally, sprinting at full speed weakened the effectiveness of this ability. At times, she would become visible, and at others, she would vanish. Nevertheless, compared to before, she managed to avoid drawing much attention from passersby.

Lumian ran alongside the shadows, paying no heed to the perplexed gazes directed his way, his nostrils filled with the lingering scent of Jenna’s perfume.

Pushing his Hunter’s speed to its limits, he left observers dumbfounded.

Certainly, such behavior would arouse suspicion, but he paid it no mind.

As the two Beyonders endowed with enhanced physiques raced at full tilt, they arrived at Rue Saint-Gerre near Trier’s city walls within a mere ten minutes.

The area was teeming with factories, and the sky was shrouded in dusky smoke tinged with a yellowish hue, obscuring the fading glow of the sunset.

Emerging from the shadows, Jenna caught sight of the blazing metal container—Goodville Chemical Factory was engulfed in flames, with firefighters battling desperately to extinguish the inferno and rescue those trapped inside.

Some of the rescuers wore peculiar masks adorned with elongated, pointed beaks, while others sported mechanical octopuses on their faces. Several donned black helmets that appeared to consist of multiple layers. The commonality among them was the presence of apparatuses resembling steam backpacks, albeit with significant differences. Thick rubber hoses extended from the contraptions, connecting to the “masks.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jenna rushed for Goodville Chemical Factory, where sporadic explosions continued to erupt.

The pungent odor in the air threatened to overwhelm Lumian’s sense of smell. He seized Jenna’s shoulder and spoke in a deep voice, “Do you know which factory your mother is in?”

Jenna was taken aback. “I don’t know.”

“Have you come equipped to shield yourself from chemical contamination?” Lumian switched questions.

“No,” Jenna replied, her confusion evident.

“Then are you attempting to commit suicide?” Lumian scolded. “Perhaps your mother has already been rescued. Let us first search the area where the injured are being attended to. Are you venturing inside to create further chaos for the rescue team?”

Jenna’s heart churned with conflicting emotions. She yearned to rush to the chemical plant to find her mother, yet she couldn’t deny the logic in Lumian’s words.

After Lumian pulled her back, she followed him with a vacant mind for a few paces. Then, her senses returned, and she sprinted toward église du Sifflet, not far from Rue Saint-Hilaire.

It stood as the grand cathedral of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

Jenna had witnessed the rescued victims being carried there.

In a matter of seconds, she and Lumian arrived at the square outside the cathedral.

It was teeming with workers from Goodville Chemical Factory, groaning in agony. However, a significant number of them lay unconscious, and some no longer drew breath.

Doctors and nurses, clad in white coats, maneuvered through the crowd, feverishly providing first aid. They guided those deemed salvageable to a two-story carriage stationed at the square’s periphery, adorned with various coats of arms or Sacred Emblems. From there, they transported them to several major hospitals in Quartier de No?l.

Jenna’s body involuntarily quivered as her gaze swept over the lifeless bodies and injured individuals, fearing what she might witness.

Lumian seized her arm and guided her across the square, in search of Elodie.

The gas lamps lining the square cast a rudimentary glow, granting them a modicum of illumination.

After a few minutes, Lumian’s keen Hunter eyesight detected a wounded figure whom he suspected to be Elodie.

Upon receiving the news, Jenna dashed over, crouched down, and studied the unconscious person’s face.

The injured individual’s golden wig had mostly been singed away, exposing her flaxen hair, now blackened by the flames.

Her eyes, adorned with smudged eye shadow, remained tightly shut, her countenance marred by soot. Burns covered her body, and her lips bore an unnatural blue tinge. It was none other than Elodie, the cleaner at Auberge du Coq Doré—Jenna’s mother.

“Mom! Mom!” Jenna’s strength evaporated, and she crumpled beside Elodie.

Realizing her mother’s unconscious state, occasionally punctuated by twitches, Jenna abruptly rose to her feet and muttered to herself, “We need a doctor. We must get her to a hospital without delay!”

Having confirmed the victim’s identity, Lumian focused on assessing Elodie’s luck and deduced that it was dire. Even if she were swiftly transported to the hospital, her chances of survival seemed slim.

Swiftly, he seized Jenna and spoke in a solemn tone, “Help me shield her from prying eyes.”

Jenna regarded him with astonishment. Infused with his composed demeanor, she turned her body to block the area on Elodie’s left side.

“I possess a healing agent from mysticism. Let us first test its efficacy,” Lumian explained in a hushed tone as he circled around to Elodie’s right side, his back serving as a barrier for her other flank.

A healing agent from mysticism… Jenna’s eyes sparkled, a glimmer of hope illuminating her face.

Intently, Jenna watched as Lumian produced an iron-colored metal canister, unscrewed the cap, and poured its contents into her mother’s mouth.

After more than ten seconds, Elodie appeared to regain some consciousness and swallowed the curative liquid.

Observing this, Jenna felt a slight wave of relief wash over her. She instinctively sensed that her mother’s condition had improved marginally.

Time seemed to stretch unbearably, suffocating her. A minute felt like an eternity.

Finally, she witnessed the burns on Elodie’s body start to heal at an astonishing pace, and the bluish tint on her lips gradually faded.

Jenna looked up at Lumian, her astonishment palpable.

Countless words clamored to escape her lips, but they remained lodged there, unable to form coherent utterances.

Lumian met her gaze and nodded. He whispered, “This agent works wonders in treating external injuries and alleviating ailments caused by chemical fumes. It can transform near-fatal wounds into severe injuries, severe injuries into minor ones, and minor injuries into complete recovery.

“Your mother suffered severe injuries earlier. For now, her life is no longer in immediate danger. However, she will require extensive treatment in the days to come. Otherwise, her condition may deteriorate.”

Upon hearing the words “no longer in immediate danger,” Jenna’s vision blurred.

She had suppressed her tears, determined not to let them hinder her search and her mother’s treatment.

But now, tears streamed down her face. She raised her hands, clumsily wiping them away, and muttered incoherently, “Thank you… Thank you…”

Amidst her words, distant cries reached their ears.

Relatives of the deceased had arrived.

Just as Lumian was about to offer a jest to lighten the mood, a muffled thunder resounded in the air.

Rumble!

Instinctively, Lumian looked up and beheld a thick dark cloud looming over Rue Saint-Hilaire, where flames still flickered and explosions echoed.

The cloud wasn’t expansive, enshrouding only a few streets.

Silver-white lightning streaked across the sky, accompanied by muted thunderclaps that reverberated through everyone’s hearts.

Torrential rain poured down, concentrated over Rue Saint-Hilaire and Goodville Chemical Factory.

The grayish-black smoke tinged with yellow swiftly dissipated, settling to the ground. The flames were swiftly extinguished, and no further explosions occurred.

As swiftly as it had arrived, the storm dissipated. The dark clouds dispersed, and the setting sun on the horizon cast a fiery glow.

Within the golden-red light, a behemoth soared above Rue Saint-Hilaire.

It was a dark gray airship, its elongated and circular balloon emitting a loud buzzing sound.

At the rear of the hull, paddlewheels spun frenziedly, while numerous cannon muzzles and bomb ports adorned its surface. At that moment, a translucent turquoise liquid rained down upon Goodville Chemical Factory below.

The acrid stench in the air began to subside.

Are the authorities resolving the catastrophe? The dark clouds, the lightning, and the rain didn’t seem natural. Could they be the work of a Beyonder or Sealed Artifact? It almost resembled the handiwork of a deity… Lumian withdrew his gaze, a tinge of astonishment in his eyes.

Jenna had also witnessed what had just happened, but her focus remained fixed on her mother’s injuries, not dwelling too deeply on what had transpired.

Elodie’s burns had mostly healed, leaving behind only a few charred remnants. Her breathing had stabilized, and although her lips remained pale, it didn’t seem to cause much concern to those around.

The curative agent had taken full effect, bringing stability to her condition.

Jenna closed her eyes and absentmindedly wiped her face.

At that moment, a voice nearby called out, “Celia!”

Jenna glanced to the side and waved her hand. “Julien, over here!”

A young man, standing nearly 1.75 meters tall, swiftly made his way to Elodie’s side. Clad in a grayish-blue worker’s uniform, he had flaxen-colored hair and eyes that mirrored Jenna’s blue hues. His features were rather pleasing to the eye.

He looked at Elodie with concern and asked hurriedly, “How’s Mom?”

Jenna pursed her lips and replied, “She sustained serious injuries, but she’ll pull through.”

Relief washed over Julien, who then cast a curious glance at Jenna.

“Why are you dressed like that… And who is he?”

Only then did Jenna realize she was wearing a rose-colored gown. Hastily, she explained, “I came straight from the theater. This is my friend, Ciel. He has been a great help.”

“Thank you,” Julien sincerely expressed his gratitude to Lumian.

Lumian nodded and advised, “Fetch a doctor and arrange for a carriage to take her to the hospital immediately. Otherwise, her condition may worsen.”

“Alright.” Julien dashed off to find the nearest doctor and nurse.

Lumian turned to Jenna and said, “If you can’t secure a carriage promptly, hire one yourself.”

Jenna nodded, her gaze filled with gentle concern as she looked at her unconscious mother. She whispered, “I owe you my gratitude this time…”