Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1103

Under Jenkins's wary gaze, Diwo struggled to sit up in bed. His eyes darted to the strange man in the doorway, then to the dark shadow looming behind him.

"Twin Demons? That must be you," he rasped. "I remember the reports. That's your signature ability. Spare me, and I can... cough, cough... give you treasures that could rival a kingdom's wealth. I can even offer you Bestowals the Orthodox Churches have never even heard of."

"If you'd be so kind as to offer me your neck," Jenkins countered, "I'll guarantee you a proper burial."

Jenkins volleyed back with his own impossible proposition, all the while wondering what aces this terminally ill man could possibly have up his sleeve.

On the far side of the room, a steam furnace was chugging away, its copper-colored pipes of varying thickness sprouting out in every direction. They crisscrossed the floor, snaked through the air, and clung to the ceiling, leaving almost no place to set one's foot.

A sharp crackling sound echoed from within the furnace—an unusual occurrence. The coal used for these machines was typically free of impurities, making such sudden flare-ups almost unheard of.

The room was stiflingly hot. Even with the door ajar, Jenkins could feel a sweltering heat building within him after just a few minutes. He glanced at Diwo's face, pale as death from his illness, and his suspicion deepened. What else was this man capable of?

"It's true I came to Nolan without any of my crew," Diwo admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'm without allies here."

"But there's no one lying in ambush nearby," Jenkins stated. "I've already made sure of that."

They stared at each other across the room. As Diwo's final word faded, the furnace's fuel door sprang open with a deafening clang. Instantly, roaring flames flooded the cabin with light, casting the tangled mess of pipes as a sprawling, spiderweb-like silhouette against the walls.

The high-pitched clang of his cane striking a metal pipe was enough to set one's teeth on edge. No matter how strong Jenkins was, his slender cane was no match for a steam pipe as thick as his own waist.

The tremendous force sent him flying back into the corridor, his body slamming hard against the opposite wall. Jenkins looked up, his gaze fixing on the cabin. Diwo, hunched over and twirling a small gear between his fingers, watched him with a faint smile. The grin split his face, revealing gums where a tooth was missing.

Beside him, the steam furnace began to stir, accompanied by a grating screech of twisting metal. A delicate pattern of interlocking gears materialized on its surface, and then the entire furnace seemed to dissolve into a swarm of tiny cogs.

Yet it didn't fall apart. Instead, this new structure allowed it to contort and reshape itself amid a cacophony of grinding noise. Simultaneously, the pipes connected to the furnace began to exhibit the same transformation. It was one of these newly animated pipes that had thrown Jenkins from the room.

As the gear in Diwo's hand began to glow, the furnace and its connecting pipes accelerated their transformation, the rhythmic clatter intensifying as they became fully animate. The process bore a striking resemblance to Jenkins's own Mechanical Light ability, with one crucial difference: his power shattered targets into inert gears, while this... this brought them to life.

For some reason, Jenkins recalled a conversation with Captain Bincy. The captain had mentioned the emergence of a new kind of exotic species, the "String-Pulling Marionette," born from human creation. He had even made a bold prediction: with the rapid advance of the steam industry, it was only a matter of time before creatures like "gear-men" appeared.

But this was undoubtedly not the work of the Orthodox Church of Creation and Machinery. It almost certainly belonged to the Gear Artisans' Association, who had been suspiciously quiet lately.

The Mechanical Heart, owned by the Artisans' Association, was the target of the pirate king Femishue the Destroyer. It stood to reason, then, that Femishue's Ocean Heart might be the Association's target in return—the two artifacts were rumored to be capable of absorbing one another. If that was the case, it wasn't a stretch to think that Diwo, who also coveted the Ocean Heart, might have struck a deal with the Association.

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The dense clatter of transforming gears filled the cabin. As the machinery shifted, jets of scorching white steam hissed from cracks in the pipes. With the furnace as its heart, the network of connected pipes was rapidly coming to life. More terrifying still was the realization that this network extended to every corner of the ship. The mechanical behemoth Jenkins had to face was far larger than just the animated metal before him.

He rubbed his aching wrist as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no point in holding back now. Tossing his cane aside, he summoned the White Bone Holy Sword.

A metallic fist, formed from three thick pipes twisted together, smashed through the cabin wall, creating a massive hole. The shimmering metal, glowing with intense heat, was upon him in an instant. With no time to dodge, Jenkins swung his sword. To his surprise, the blade met almost no resistance, slicing clean through the flying metal fist and splitting it in two.

It seemed that while the metal had been animated, its physical properties hadn't changed.

A shower of tiny gears and bearings rained down, clattering across the floor. But he had only severed the very front of the makeshift fist; the rest of the metallic mass continued its relentless charge, hurtling toward him like a battering ram.

He took a sharp breath, turning the flat of his blade to meet the massive construct. The impact was jarring. His body shot backward uncontrollably, slamming into the wall. A coppery tang filled his throat, and he nearly choked on a mouthful of blood.

The immense force pinned him against the wall, threatening to crush him into paste. The construct, made of searing-hot gears, suddenly shifted. An opening appeared in its surface, and a blast of white steam erupted outward.

The scalding gas shot straight for his face. With a pained effort, Jenkins flicked the blade of his sword. His [Frost Punch] ability didn't fully activate, but it was enough to keep the superheated steam from scarring his face.

But it gave him an idea. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back against the crushing weight of the metal, then opened his mouth wide and unleashed a torrent of brilliant, orange flame.

The fire engulfed the metallic arm pinning him, and with an angry hiss, the metal began to melt and warp.

As the pressure lessened, Jenkins braced his right foot against the wall and, with a final, desperate shove, managed to push the half-molten construct away.

But as the mangled block of metal clattered to the floor, his view was filled with an even more horrifying sight. More metallic pipes, jagged and bristling with sharp edges, were bursting through the cabin walls. Even the gears that had been scattered across the floor were now being absorbed back into the surging, mechanical tendrils.