Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1077

"The Great Sovereign's bestowal?"

Jenkins repeated the words, his voice stuttering. He didn't even realize he'd spoken the word "Sovereign" aloud.

He had to admit, he hesitated for a split second, but images of Hathaway, Briny, Alexia, Papa Oliver, Mary, and Robert instantly flooded his mind. And his cat... his cat couldn't live without him. Jenkins could vividly picture it: if he disappeared, Chocolate would grow despondent, eventually wasting away from sorrow.

The sojourner had found his bonds in this strange new world; he had no desire to become a stranger in yet another.

"I'm sorry. It's an honor to receive the Great Sovereign's invitation, but I don't wish to leave the material world."

He tensed his muscles as he spoke, worried the black-robed figure inside the dilapidated shack would fly into a humiliated rage. Fortunately, the worst didn't happen; Jenkins sensed no anger from the being.

"Are you certain you wish to refuse my Lord's invitation?"

All Jenkins could sense in that question was sheer disbelief.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I fully understand the offer, but I'm not ready to leave the material world."

The silence here was absolute—no chirping insects, no birdsong. The only sound was a strange rustling from the shadows of the tombstones, and it seemed something was stirring within the graves themselves.

"I see. What a terrible shame."

After a long silence, the black-robed figure within the house finally spoke, and Jenkins could genuinely hear the regret in its voice.

"So, may I leave now?"

"Of course, of course. Since you wish to forfeit the chance yourself, then by all means, leave. So long as you have no regrets..."

The black-robed figure inside mumbled, seemingly taken aback that someone would actually refuse. Jenkins nodded quickly, glanced around, and waited a moment, but nothing happened.

"Er... excuse me, but where is the door?"

Jenkins was desperate to get out of this place. He made a firm decision: from now on, unless absolutely necessary, he would never again trifle with any suspicious Mysterious Object.

"A door? You mean a door to leave?"

the black-robed figure in the house inquired. Before Jenkins could repeat himself, it continued speaking as if to itself:

"My apologies. When my Lord sent me to the material world, he gave me no instructions for creating an exit from this place."

The being's head was turned toward Jenkins, but its hood was pulled so low he couldn't imagine what sort of creature he was speaking to. His heart sank. He should have known these deadly Mysterious Objects were never that simple.

This likely wasn't the Sovereign's doing; after all, that "Ancient Death God" had no connection to him. It was probably this Mysterious Object, scheming on its own. But no matter what, Jenkins refused to abandon his life in the material world.

"Just say it. How many Sin Coins to open the door?"

He asked bluntly, then recalled that after buying information from that peculiar insurance merchant, he only had three Sin Coins left. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveI★Fire.net

"Ninety-nine Coins of Perpetual Sin!"

"Oh. So you have no intention of letting me leave."

Jenkins said with a sneer, but the figure gave no reaction, remaining motionless beside the rotten table.

"Are you that confident I can't defeat you? Or that I can't find an exit on my own?"

Jenkins was reluctant to resort to violence unless absolutely necessary. Since he'd been visiting the church today, he didn't have the Godhead Metal Block on him. He wasn't certain he was a match for the bizarre creature before him.

"This place is a spatial fragment formed by my Lord's power, nearly identical to what you mortals call a 'Mysterious Realm.' If you believe you can slay the arbiter of the rules within a Mysterious Realm and shatter its space with your own strength, then by all means, give it a try."

"This is a Mysterious Realm? Then what are the rules?"

"No. This is a spatial remnant, the condensed dregs of a Mysterious Realm that entered the material world. While its nature is equivalent to a Mysterious Realm, it has no rules. Here, my word is law."

Jenkins fell silent at that. He could feel the spirits of the dead, an almost omnipresent force in this world. Finally, he asked a new question:

"I'm not exactly an ordinary mortal back in the material world, you know. Aren't you worried there will be consequences for trapping me here?"

"I can sense your unusual soul. But this place is shielded by my Lord's power. You cannot directly contact any of your great gods."

So, it wasn't fearless of the gods after all, Jenkins mused. It just knew this place was cut off from their power.

He tried to reach for the immense power of his status as a Saint, but as he'd suspected, there was nothing. After a moment's hesitation, Jenkins tried a different approach:

"Then what about beings on par with the Great Sovereign, the Ancient Death God? Are you not concerned about them?"

As he asked the question, his mind flashed back to the train. That phantom realm had been his first encounter with the word 'Sovereign,' the first time the world's deepest secrets had been unveiled before him.

But that was half a year ago. Now, even without relying on that divine might, Jenkins was fairly confident he could fight his way out of here on his own.

"Beings of equal stature... hmm?"

For the first time, Jenkins detected a note of confusion and fear in its voice.

"Don't tell me you..."

"Blasphemous Creation!"

The vines appeared a second later than Jenkins had anticipated, but the thick, twisted plants still tore through the spatial barrier with unstoppable force, violently squeezing their way into this world.

The moment they burst through, the dense aura of death in the air made the vines tremble. A split second later, as if their savage nature had been awakened, they shot forward with even greater ferocity, lunging like massive serpents toward the open doorway of the ruined shack.

The surging vines quickly obscured Jenkins's view. He could only watch as the rift in space widened and a green flood of vines, covered in short white tendrils, poured into the dilapidated shack.

The shack seemed ready to burst at the seams. Jenkins heard sounds of gulping, the swish of sharp blades, and muffled explosions. The ground began to tremble with the intermittent, strange noises, but he quickly realized the shaking wasn't from the battle within the shack. It was because the things in the graves were crawling out.

The terrible undead, dormant for who knew how many years, awakened with startling speed. Before Jenkins could even react, they were clawing their way out of the earth. Thousands upon thousands of them charged from the far horizon toward the crumbling shack, their rotting flesh, warped bones, and twisted faces a direct assault on Jenkins's senses.