Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1012

It was worth noting that the items Jenkins had laid out on the floor, before being brought into the basement, had all been Extraordinary items with only a faint spiritual glow. He was certain of that. But now, their auras were significantly brighter, some even rivaling the intensity of numbered items.

Barnard had once said that every Mysterious Realm had a path to survival, which meant this particular adventure had become so perilous that survival was impossible without using the features of the environment itself.

"What is going on? Why is this Mysterious Realm so bizarre?"

Mulling this over, he pulled the bottle from the pocket of his robe. The black umbilical cord floated silently in the turbid, yellowish-gray liquid.

Jenkins narrowed his eyes, noticing that both the top and bottom ends of the cord were unevenly severed...

"This couldn't be just a piece of a whole umbilical cord, could it? It seems the trouble I'm in is even bigger than I thought."

He quickly stashed the bottle and turned his gaze to the wardrobe standing in the corner. It was the only thing in the basement that could be called furniture. Other than that, there was some straw scattered on the floor and a few broken-legged chairs stacked in another corner. The space was stark and empty.

[As a shelter, this basement isn't entirely safe, of course. Hee hee~. And before you face the external threats, you'd best deal with the internal ones—the wardrobe could contain anything. You'll never know what it is until you open it. Hee hee~]

It wouldn't actually do anything, of course, but the familiar motion at least helped Jenkins focus his mind.

"It could be anything?"

Through his eyes, the inside of the wardrobe was a darkness as thick and rich as ink. From any perspective, rashly opening the door was an act of sheer folly.

But leaving it be was clearly not an option either. The knocking from within grew more frantic, and soon the entire wardrobe began to shake.

Gritting his teeth, Jenkins glanced at the unconscious professor, then walked forward and used the fire poker the professor was holding to pry open the wardrobe door.

A man's corpse hung from a noose inside. It was horrifying, but compared to what Jenkins had been imagining, it was practically mundane.

"I want... a woman..."

The corpse groaned, its voice thick and wet, as if a glob of phlegm was lodged in its throat. It was the kind of sound that made you want to march up and punch it.

The corpse's desire was brutally direct, but unfortunately for it, there were no women in the basement.

At a loss, Jenkins reached out to shut the wardrobe door again. He never expected the corpse's body to suddenly erupt in pustules. In the space of a single breath, the sores swelled into grotesque bubbles and burst, spraying a viscous fluid out of the wardrobe.

Jenkins instinctively took a large step back, losing his chance to close the door. The fluid splattered onto the floor, immediately corroding everything it touched.

It was a terrifyingly potent corrosive. The floor was pockmarked with holes in an instant. The good news was that the wardrobe itself seemed immune to the fluid; otherwise, a nasty fight would have been unavoidable.

Just as he was debating whether to finish it with a single strike from the White Bone Holy Sword, the professor, who had been lying on the ground, suddenly shot up. He sprang from the floor as if launched by a spring and slammed directly into the wardrobe.

It wasn't a suicide attack; he was simply using his body to force the half-open door shut. A hand covered in liver spots reached out from inside the wardrobe to stop him, but the professor's strength was greater than the corpse's. Even as the corrosive pus ate away at his left arm, he slowly forced the door closed in their contest of strength.

Jenkins glanced at the alarm clock by the door. It was giggling as it watched the scene unfold, showing no intention of speaking. It seemed he had to resolve a problem to get a chance to reduce the time; simply discovering one wasn't enough.

Once the door was shut, for some unknown reason, the corpse inside made no further attempt to push its way out. Jenkins rushed over to check on the professor. His left arm, having been exposed to a large amount of the pus, had been corroded so badly that the bone was nearly visible.

A foul stench, accompanied by a sizzling sound, rose from the arm beneath his robe. Jenkins weighed his options and decided not to hold back his precious healing. But he didn't heal him directly. First, he used his blessed silver knife to cut away the still-corroding flesh, then seared the wound with the flame of his Purification Candle before finally activating [Life Source] to restore the professor's arm to its original state.

The professor looked to be in a very poor mental state. According to his account, he had been searching for useful items on the first floor when he was terrified by the sheer number of Mysterious Objects. He managed to grab only the fire poker before collapsing in the living room, his mind overwhelmed by the trauma.

He had only regained consciousness as Jenkins was opening the wardrobe door. In his hazy state, the professor realized the gravity of the situation and, without a second thought, sacrificed his arm to close the door.

"You really didn't have to do that. I could have dealt with that dreadful corpse."

Jenkins thought to himself but didn't say the words aloud. After all, the professor's intentions had been sincere.

Although he had been saved, the professor was in no condition to fight. He was still in a bad way, hovering on the edge of consciousness and looking as if he might pass out again at any moment.

Jenkins quietly explained his theories about the Mysterious Realm to the professor, who only nodded continuously, offering no opinion of his own.

Trouble, it seemed, would never give Jenkins a moment's rest. Just as he was pondering how to handle their current predicament, a new sound emerged: knocking. But this time, it wasn't the corpse rattling the wardrobe door. It was the basement door itself. The alarm clock once again spoke, its words dripping with malice:

[In this dreadful apocalypse, you're not the only survivors. And beyond the survivors, strange and twisted things are also spying on the flesh and souls of mortals. Something is knocking at the basement door. It could be benevolent, or it could be malicious. You can, of course, choose to ignore it.]

Choosing to ignore it was the safest option, but Jenkins was desperate to find events that could shorten the time. Encountering these events would certainly be dangerous, and balancing that danger against the opportunity had now become absolutely critical.