Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1102

An idle cargo ship wouldn't just open its gangway to a furtive stranger like Jenkins, and he certainly wasn't about to brandish his sword or use [Twin Demons] in front of a thousand onlookers.

He posed as an ordinary sailor on the dock, standing before a large crate and gazing out at the sea, but in reality, he was observing the auras through his Eye of Reality.

As luck would have it, there was only one person on the ship. This meant that if the dream sprite's information was correct, his target was right there, completely unguarded.

Jenkins was curious what could have possessed Diwo to sneak into Nolan without any of his crew, but it wasn't something he needed to know.

After soothing the white cat on his shoulder and confirming that no one was paying him any mind, he blended into the crowd and made his way toward the pier.

A merchant vessel was unloading nearby, and in the dense, clamoring throng, no one noticed the unremarkable Jenkins. He palmed a talisman as he neared the ship's entrance and flashed it before a man who was smoking lazily by the gangway. The man's eyes immediately went vacant.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as a "hypnosis talisman" in this world; controlling a person's thoughts and soul couldn't be achieved with a mere talisman. Jenkins had used one that emitted an electrical charge to paralyze the body, rendering the victim unable to control their limbs—a very useful tool in a duel.

Catching the enchanted man before he could fall, Jenkins mustered a look of alarm and shouted:

"Oh, sir, what's wrong?"

After lending a hand, Jenkins made no effort to linger on board. He accepted the gruff boatswain's thanks, disembarked, and, under the watchful eyes of the crew, walked off toward the distant fish market registration office.

"Stay here and wait for me," he murmured. "I'll be back soon."

He gave the cat a gentle pat, then used a phantom he had left in an inconspicuous corner of the ship to return to the cargo vessel.

The ship, awaiting repairs, was already short-handed, and its crew consisted entirely of ordinary men. Once aboard, Jenkins's skills allowed him to easily subdue everyone without alerting anyone on the shore.

The process went so smoothly it left him feeling a little suspicious.

Diwo hadn't bribed the crew; he was simply hiding here. He'd chosen the lower deck cabin that housed a small steam boiler. Although the ship itself wasn't steam-powered, in this era, a small boiler could be used to run all sorts of sophisticated machinery, even on a vessel .

Jenkins now stood on the wooden ladder leading down to the lower deck. Below him, a dim, short corridor faintly divided the lower cabins. Diwo was behind the door on the left.

"How could it be this easy?"

Jenkins still couldn't believe his luck, but he had no other choice now. Holding a candle in one hand and his cane in the other, he pushed open the cabin door.

The temperature inside was noticeably higher than outside; a wave of steam washed over his face the moment the door opened. The faint glow of a fire signified the steam boiler was active. Its furnace door was shut tight, but he could hear the turn of gears and the clash of bearings. It seemed that even with a skeleton crew, the boiler here was still running.

He stood in the doorway and glanced to his left. Lying on a simple folding cot was a scruffy, gaunt man. The bed and the other furnishings rightfully belonged to the worker who managed this cabin, but the man lying there now was undoubtedly Diwo.

"You're not quite what I pictured," Jenkins remarked. "I was expecting some hulking brute who could snap a mast in two. Has a common cold really reduced you to this?"

"Ahem... And I suppose, in your mind, I should also be wearing an eyepatch? Ahem... a common cold? Hah, this damned common cold... ahem... I'm curious myself. I expected someone would find me even here, but what damned method did you use to track me down so quickly? I thought I did a fair job of hiding this time... ahem..."

The speaker was, of course, Diwo, whose life seemed as fragile as a candle in the wind. His voice was hoarse and thick with congestion—the classic symptoms of influenza. Beyond that, Jenkins caught the scent of blood and faint herbs, likely from a poultice for treating external wounds.

"I could find you if you fled to the ends of the earth, as long as you remained in the material world," Jenkins said. "So, my arrival doesn't surprise you?"

Jenkins tapped his cane on the wooden floorboards and took a step into the cabin. After a startling fit of coughs, Diwo let out a chilling laugh that sounded like it belonged to one of the old forest witches from the Stranger's Story Collection. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novᴇlfire.net

"I only knew someone would find me, but not which faction... You don't have the smell of a sailor on you... wheeze, ahem... so probably not one of my 'old friends'... An Enchanter from an Orthodox Church? No, they wouldn't have sent just one of you... ahem... Fine, I don't know who you are."

"And yet you don't seem concerned by my presence. That's interesting. What ace do you have up your sleeve? That gear you're carrying? The rudder-shaped pendant? The ship-in-a-bottle tucked under your blanket? Or..."

A monocle had already appeared over his eye. At this close range, Jenkins could clearly distinguish the shape of every aura.

Normally, the cautious Mr. Williams wasn't in the habit of making small talk with an enemy before killing them. This time, however, he couldn't help but wonder what was so important about the middle-aged pirate before him that he would be mentioned in a glimpse of the future.

After a brief exchange, Jenkins felt a pang of disappointment. The man was clearly gravely ill and suffering from serious injuries, and he showed no connection whatsoever to "Jenkins Williams."

"It seems you've done your homework on all my tricks. Was I sold out? Ahem, but I don't recall telling anyone my whereabouts."

The sick man on the bed began to cough again as he spoke, a wracking sound that made Jenkins wonder if he was about to cough up a lung. He would occasionally gasp for air, sounding as if his chest were being crushed. It seemed Jenkins's [Disease Curse] had been a great success this time. With his increased level and deeper understanding of the curse, the ability now inflicted something far worse than a simple illness.