Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1076

Only after seeing Chocolate settled obediently beside Miss Bevanna did Jenkins turn his attention back to the cloth. Upon simple observation, it revealed no peculiar characteristics; its filthy appearance was enough to deter anyone's interest.

However, when he observed it with his Eye of Reality, he could see a wisp of golden light mingled within a dense, black aura. Jenkins’s initial thought was that he had finally found a power related to the Sovereign, but he quickly realized it was the lingering energy of the Evil God’s Scion.

On the night of the Scion’s “premature birth,” the cloth had been used as a swaddling blanket, so it was only natural for it to be saturated with the Scion's aura.

“If I brought the umbilical cord here, would it react with the power lingering on this cloth?”

Jenkins wondered. After a moment of hesitation, he closed his eyes and cautiously extended his soul to sense the cloth before him.

He knew, of course, that this was incredibly dangerous. He proceeded with extreme caution, ready to leap back and flee at the first sign of trouble.

The black cloth emanated a chilling sensation that numbed his soul—a clear manifestation of the power of death. Jenkins didn’t dare lower his guard to investigate further. He only allowed himself a brief moment of contact, planning to turn to the others and announce that he had found a way to combat the plague.

But he had been too naive. Now, face to face with the cloth, a heart-pounding fear robbed him of the courage to probe any deeper.

He probed the soul-paralyzing chill one last time. When Jenkins opened his eyes, ready to turn and speak, he found he was no longer in the spacious room but in a graveyard filled with towering tombstones. A desolate landscape stretched out beneath a black sky. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't the church.

He knew he had stumbled into trouble once more. He closed his eyes and opened them again, but he was still in the strange place. Under his Eye of Reality, everything appeared perfectly normal, devoid of even the faintest black aura.

With a thought, he summoned the [All-Seeing Card - Angel], but it remained inert, suggesting it had nothing to do with his current situation. A feeling prompted him to turn around, and he saw a dilapidated gravedigger’s hut standing among the tombstones.

The door was shut tight, a lone shovel propped against the wall. Bizarre objects hung from the wall—a yellowed skull, a dripping severed arm—as if an old farmer were air-drying his harvest.

As Jenkins watched the door, it swung open soundlessly. The interior wasn't particularly spacious, matching its external appearance. Beside a rotting wooden table sat a figure completely concealed beneath a black robe.

Whether it was a trick of the mind or not, Jenkins felt the robe looked remarkably similar to his own.

“No, not just similar... it’s the exact same design!”

The robed figure kept its entire body hidden. It wasn't an inanimate skeleton, at least, because as the door opened, it shifted from lying slumped over the table to sitting upright.

A violent mental assault nearly knocked Jenkins unconscious. The moment the robed figure moved, it was as if every dead thing in the desolate graveyard had been awakened.

Jenkins stumbled backward, his hand flying to his forehead. But it did little to help; the soul-numbing sensation returned with a vengeance.

“One of noble soul has touched my Lord's robe!”

This was the first utterance from the robed figure in the hut. Simultaneously, the [Shard of Death's Cloak] materialized in Jenkins’s hand, only to instantly crumble into ash.

“The favored one, shielded by fortune, has touched my Lord's robe!”

This was the robed figure’s second proclamation. At its words, Jenkins's own Black Robe materialized around him. He instantly felt the discomfort abate, the numbness in his soul fading.

“A powerful one who commands the dead has touched my Lord's robe!”

This was the figure’s third declaration. In that instant, a flash of white spiritual light appeared at Jenkins’s side. The White Bone Holy Sword emerged from the void and plunged into the soft, black earth.

“Mighty one, you are worthy to enter my Lord's sanctuary. Make your choice!”

The voice sounded almost celebratory. Jenkins stared in disbelief at the scene before him, then lowered his gaze to the black robe he now wore.

Instead of altering his appearance as it usually did, the robe had manifested in its true form. He was now dressed identically to the figure in the ruined hut. The Black Robe had only taken this shape once before, after his battle with the malevolent spirits in the hospital, a strange transformation that occurred when it was touched by the divinity he had gained. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

“So this black robe... it’s the garment of a death’s emissary...”

Jenkins murmured to himself, then asked aloud in a low voice:

“I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're saying.”

“No, you do understand, mighty one. My Lord, the ancient god of death, has shown you favor. Are you willing to enter His sacred domain and partake of His endless glory?”

This was as direct an invitation as could be. It told Jenkins that he had fulfilled a trifecta of conditions: he had witnessed the robe of the ancient god of death, he was sheltered by death itself (his Black Robe), and he wielded the power of death (through his Contact with Death ability and the White Bone Holy Sword). He therefore possessed the qualifications to enter the realm ruled by the ancient god of death.

He even suspected that upon entering, he would likely receive a direct bestowal from the Sovereign himself and set foot upon that long but straightforward second path...

“So, acquiring this robe wasn't an accident?”

He didn't answer directly, instead asking another question. The robed figure inside the desolate hut was unusually cooperative and answered immediately:

“Mighty one, you returned from death. Your soul is filled with the purest essence of death. The power of death guided you into a fragment of my Lord's sanctuary, but earning death's protection—that was through your own efforts.”

Jenkins was transported back in a daze to that dark, absurd summer night—the night he first met Mr. Barnard. His physical body had indeed just died, his very soul shattered. His new soul, too, had just experienced death, though not a death of this world...

“The protection of death... so that's what it meant...”

Everything in this world happened for a reason. The Mysterious Realm that night may have been a coincidence, but judging by his current circumstances, its ultimate purpose was anything but.

“Yes, mighty one. Your soul possesses an exceedingly high affinity for death. You are a natural agent of death. Where you walk, death follows. What you do will inevitably bring about death. Mighty one, I ask you again: are you willing to seize this precious opportunity, enter my Lord's sanctuary, and accept His bestowal?”