Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1090

"Are they finding this amusing?"

With both hands captured, Jenkins was completely immobilized. He grumbled inwardly, a small part of him silently cursing his own wretchedness, but in reality, he simply sat up straighter, his gaze fixed on the stage, making no attempt to free himself.

As it turned out, opera truly wasn't his thing. Before the first measure was even over, the dramatic, soaring voice of the lavishly costumed young noblewoman on stage had lulled him into a deep sleep.

He rarely dreamed these days, and when he did, they were seldom ordinary. Aside from the inexplicable visions of a giant black cat, most of his other dreams were of the troubling sort.

This time, however, the moment he saw the familiar art gallery corridor, he knew instantly what was happening. He was dreaming of the "future," for this was the very same hallway from his visions.

No shadowy figure lurked at the end of the hall, awaiting his arrival. This dream seemed to be born from his waking thoughts, rather than a premonition. Everything was sharp and distinct, so clear it felt real. Yet Jenkins, with his [Soul Departure from Dream] ability, understood the true nature of dreams; he could sense the fine line between the real and the illusory in his surroundings.

Everything appeared normal on the surface, but Jenkins sensed an unusual force at play, influencing the dreamscape. It was his dream, of that he was certain, yet he could feel the dreams of others—a growing number—linking to his own. This was anything but normal.

His eyes scanned the surroundings. A faint spiritual aura clung to every corner of the dream.

He arrived at the answer instantly, though he couldn't fathom the reason behind it. The force seemed to be doing nothing more than linking the dreams together, with no apparent intent to harm anyone.

"Could it be a numbered item? Is it B-09-2-7210, the [Dream of All Beings]? Or A-01-3-6882, the [Identity Dissolution]? Or perhaps B-11-05-3829, the [Dream Weaver]?"

He mulled over the possibilities as he rose and walked to the window at the end of the hall. Beyond the glass lay the bustling, futuristic streets of Nolan City. The scene was just like his visions of the future—no, it was identical. A shame it was merely a dream and not a true premonition. Otherwise, he might have eagerly awaited the reappearance of the young girl who called him "Uncle Jenkins."

Jenkins’s fist shot out, shattering the glass. When he drew his hand back, he was holding a tiny figure with translucent wings like a cicada’s.

She was exquisitely beautiful, though scantily clad. In her right hand, she wielded a toothpick-sized wand, which she used to repeatedly poke at Jenkins’s hand. Her left fist waved in the air as she protested:

"Let me go! Let me go!"

She yelled in the clear, standard tongue of the Fidektri Kingdom, but she was utterly powerless to escape his grip.

Jenkins muttered, raising his clenched fist to eye level for a better look at the creature.

"Ah! Don't eat me! I taste awful!"

Apparently misinterpreting his movement, the tiny sprite in his hand let out an even more pathetic shriek.

"You're lucky it was me you ran into, and not my cat. She might have actually eaten you."

As Jenkins spoke, he noticed the "toothpick" was actually a short staff, and the sprite was even more scantily clad than he'd first thought. The distinctive, cicada-like wings, however, jogged his memory of something he’d read. He asked, uncertainly:

"Are you B-3-05-8122, the [Dream Sprite]?"

"Yes, yes! Now let me go!"

She thrashed about, struggling relentlessly. Ordinarily, a creature like her would be invincible within a dream, but for some reason, being held in Jenkins’s hand seemed to suppress her dream-manipulating abilities, as if she were being overpowered by a far more terrifying force.

Dream Sprites, much like Festival Sprites, were not a naturally existing species. Instead, they were manifestations—"curses," or perhaps "blessings"—that drew power from legends and myths to gain physical form.

The Dream Sprite before him had a danger level of "5," the lowest possible rating. The creature’s sole ability was to lull people within a certain radius into a deep slumber and then link their dreams. The resulting massive, interconnected dreamscape would generate even more complex dreams, from which the sprite could draw its power.

Inheriting the mischievous nature common to all sprites, the Dream Sprite often made a complete mess of people’s dreams—its only truly unpleasant trait. They particularly enjoyed playing elaborate pranks on dreamers after linking together the minds of a large group.

For the dreamers, this experience would rapidly drain their mental energy, but the only real consequence was a mild headache upon waking, something a few extra days of rest could easily cure.

Dream Sprites weren't exactly rare—certainly more common than Treasure Sprites or Festival Sprites. However, because they lacked a physical form in the real world and could only be glimpsed in dreams, their exact appearance was far less known than that of their counterparts.

Once he confirmed its identity, Jenkins realized this wasn’t an attack and relaxed. He deliberately adopted a harsh tone as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong, I shouldn't have done that."

The tiny creature in his grasp immediately replied, head bowed, mumbling with her small lips like a child who had done wrong. She then looked up pitifully, her exquisitely beautiful and otherworldly face—that of a young teenager—meeting his gaze as she once again begged for her freedom.

"Have you just arrived in Nolan?"

"Yes, I only arrived yesterday, following the dreams of a merchant caravan. I was just looking for some fun... I'm sorry, I know I was wrong."

The little sprite lowered her head, and her wings drooped limply.

Ignoring her diminutive size and the wings on her back, she could have passed for an exceptionally adorable human girl.

But Jenkins knew that these sprites were unruly little creatures. Her pitiful apology was only because she’d been caught. Had he failed to capture her, he would likely be navigating an incredibly perverse and tasteless dream maze right now.

"Release everyone you've pulled into this dream." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel_fіre.net

"Yes, sir. Should I release them now?"

The little sprite asked cautiously.

"Actually... hold on a second."

He suddenly felt a flicker of curiosity about what Briny and Hathaway were dreaming. Time flowed differently in a dreamscape; even if a great deal of time passed here, those who awoke would merely think they’d had a short nap.