Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1125

"My power can amplify that of most Cursed Items. They might not need divine power; with my amplification, even special Cursed Items that were previously inadequate can serve as a bridge for the ritual. But the angels summoned this way won't be very powerful..."

"That's why one of the four angels descending upon the world is the strongest... the one representing the element of fire!"

A torrential rain, powerful enough to drown everything, had been pouring for half a day, already straining the city's drainage system. Deep pools of water were now common sights along Fifth Queen's Avenue. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel·fire.net

The city's inhabitants worried about how the rain would affect their lives, completely oblivious to the far greater danger silently creeping upon them.

The Dead Man's Whip had gone to painstaking lengths for this plan, even commissioning a Cursed Item to stall the city's most powerful individual before the ritual began. Jenkins had never seen an angel, nor did he know how powerful one was, but it was abundantly clear that a mortal demigod was no match for one.

The summoning ritual was still in progress. Even here on Fifth Queen's Avenue, far from the city center, Jenkins could hear a twisted, sacred song carried on the wind and rain.

Whispers and prayers were woven into the song, and only as the downpour intensified was the sound finally, barely, suppressed.

Jenkins was soaked through, even after retreating under the shelter of the eaves. He could call upon his divinity at any moment, but a single drop would hardly be enough for four separate battles. The best option, if it were possible, would be to gather the angels in one place for a decisive confrontation, but that was clearly out of the question.

He glanced again toward York Town, mentally calculating the date, and a faint smile played on his lips. Still, it wasn't enough. They were still missing one powerful individual capable of facing an angel alone. While he could seek out Alexia at any time, Jenkins doubted that she, having only just stepped through the gates of demigodhood, would be a match for an angel.

"I can deal with the strongest angel, the one summoned by the God's Child Umbilical Cord. But what then? Mortals, in the end, are only mortals."

He sighed to himself and stretched out a hand, catching the drops falling from the eaves. The motion startled the rain-man. It recoiled violently, half its body dissolving into water, but it quickly saw that Jenkins's gesture was mundane and halted its retreat.

If the creature had a face, Jenkins suspected it would be etched with embarrassment.

"You are powerful," the rain-man said. "I can sense that your station is even higher than my own. Why concern yourself with these mortals? My task is only to contain you, not to kill you. Why not wait for this to be over? The city will be gravely wounded, it's true, but the followers of that evil god will not succeed in their plan to ascend the world through slaughter."

the rain-man declared, but Jenkins kept his hand outstretched in the rain, ignoring it.

On the distant horizon, a black spiritual aura had formed a rampart that seemed to reach the very heavens. As the torrential rain poured down, the aura surged up from the ground to meet it. Where they joined, the world dissolved into a blur.

An ethereal song rode the storm, blanketing the entire city. Apart from Enchanters, even some mortals with heightened sensitivity could perceive the extraordinary sound. The dark silhouette on the horizon loomed ever larger, the colossal figure now having split into four heads. Jenkins had a feeling that the moment those shadows separated completely, the Slaughter Angels would truly descend.

"I never expected this. Those cultists are moving too fast. The Church isn't ready at all."

Jenkins groaned inwardly. Then, cutting through the drumming of the rain, he heard a familiar meow from somewhere overhead. A flicker of joy crossed his face.

"Looks like I've won."

He pulled back his hand from the rain and stepped out from under the eaves.

he called out to the rain-man, then turned and began walking south along St. George Avenue, head bowed against the downpour. On the roof, the faceless creature seemed to frown, then dissolved into a splash of water and vanished.

It reappeared thirty feet away from Jenkins, just outside the range of his Blasphemous Creation. The rain-man, it seemed, was well acquainted with that ability.

"Sorry, you can't leave just yet."

Jenkins stretched out his right hand again, mimicking the gesture of catching raindrops. "And what are you going to do?" he asked. "Force me back by controlling the rain, like you did before?"

"If there's no other way, then that's what I'll have to do."

the rain-man answered.

A black shadow materialized behind Jenkins. With a cackle of mad laughter and a strange ticking sound, his Twin Demons shot forward like a black streak through the rain and blew the rain-man's body to pieces.

But it was no use. As long as it was raining, the creature was immortal.

The explosion sent a plume of standing water into the air, and amidst the downpour, the rain-man reformed in the exact same spot. As it looked toward Jenkins, it saw the young man's outstretched hand catch a small glass bottle, knocked from a nearby rooftop by a cat.

Jenkins caught the little glass bottle and immediately threw it. With a strange burst of confidence, the rain-man didn't dodge, standing its ground just as it had against the Twin Demons.

The bottle had already shattered in his grip before he even threw it, and it disintegrated completely as it flew through the air. In the end, all that reached the rain-man was a spray of glass shards carried by momentum... and one poor, lost butterfly.

"Goodbye... No, farewell."

Jenkins sighed, addressing the empty space where the creature had been. Before him was only the rain-lashed street, and a single, beautiful butterfly fluttering helplessly, searching for shelter from the downpour.

Jenkins shook his head, turned, and opened the door to a nearby shop. He let the butterfly flutter inside before locking the door securely behind it.

He stepped from beneath the eaves and out into the deluge. The cat landed deftly on his shoulder. As Jenkins took a step with his left foot, an orange flame flared to life, enveloping him and his cat. He raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist. Simple black lines spread from his palm, weaving themselves into an umbrella forged from the empty air.

Just as the umbrella took its final shape, his other foot stepped into the downpour. The flames vanished in that same instant, having perfectly dried them both. Holding the umbrella aloft, the man walked out into the rain.

One hand in his pocket, the other holding the umbrella, he walked down the street against the backdrop of the driving rain, eventually disappearing into the shrouded darkness.