Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1138

The tale Jenkins told was one of profound unfairness. A young Rynsarm had not been the aggressor; he was just an innocent child who knew nothing of the world. But the gods cared little for such distinctions. They punished him all the same.

"When the Epoch ended, the tempests of the past faded into memory. The tale of the Carmel family, along with the Carmel Empire itself, vanished into the annals of history lost to the great cataclysm. But in that hidden tomb, the cursed Rynsarm Carmel reawakened with the dawn of a new age. As he clawed his way out of the grave, he had no inkling of the divine malice that had been laid upon him..."

There was one detail, however, that Jenkins had omitted. The deity who held the domain of love—the very one who had cursed the Carmel family—had since ascended to become a supreme ruler. With his mere sliver of divinity, Jenkins couldn't yet discern this ruler's name or the world under their control. Still, he could imagine that without intervention, the curse entwined around the man, the woman, and the old man would persist for a far, far longer time.

The old elf was at a loss for words. He didn't doubt the story Jenkins told; rather, he was astounded that a friend he had known for so many years possessed such an extraordinary history. Now, he finally understood how Rynsarm, a mere human, could live for so long. It was, he surmised, another facet of the gods' punishment.

"But what curse did the gods lay upon him?"

It was certainly impolite to discuss a friend's curse to his face, but the old elf's curiosity was overwhelming, and the question tumbled out before he could stop it.

Jenkins lied, then turned his gaze to the old Rynsarm.

"I found your ring," he said, "and I saw the words you carved into the tree bark."

"Thirty years ago, when you were searching for [The Stranger]... I doubt it was simply out of a greedy desire to claim the title of Savior at the end of the Epoch, was it?"

"That's right... I... I wanted to break the curse. The curse of The Stranger that I bear."

The old man had no intention of speaking about this. Even with Jenkins laying the truth bare, he was reluctant to reveal his deepest secret.

But as his gaze met Jenkins's, a peculiar power seemed to emanate from the young man's striking eyes, altering the old man's resolve. He hesitated, wavered, and finally, he conceded.

The old elf's face immediately twisted into an expression of shock, a look that clearly said, "I never thought you were that kind of person."

By coalescing his own divine domain, Jenkins had taken another great stride on the path to true godhood. His spiritual power had reached a height unimaginable to mortals. While he couldn't yet change a person's mind with a mere glance, against the divinely punished Rynsarm, Jenkins's spiritual strength held the absolute upper hand.

"Siannod... alright, yes. It's just as he says. I deceived you... Thirty years ago, when we all went searching for the prophesied Savior's Emblem, I wasn't just tagging along out of curiosity. The truth is... I organized and planned the entire expedition. Not even the diviner knew what I was truly after..."

The old man spoke, his voice laced with despair. At that moment, a bolt of black lightning tore across the sky, a tangible display of the evil god's angelic power. Jenkins felt a surge of concern for Louise. He had armed her with the holy sword, but she was, after all, still just an ordinary girl who had become an angel.

Though she had been cleansed by divine power, gaining basic combat instincts and access to divine arts, Jenkins knew the power he had granted her was not formidable.

The gas was out in the old elf's apartment as well. With each flash of lightning, a draft slipped through the cracks of the tightly shut windows, making the candle flames dance and sway.

The old elf's face was a mask of astonishment. Rynsarm, meanwhile, looked utterly dejected and helpless, too ashamed to meet his friend's eyes. Official source ıs novel⦿fire.net

"Yes, thirty years ago, I used my friends. In my desperation to break the curse, I never told them the truth... The curse's primary effect grants me a near-endless life, but the price is eternal solitude. Anyone who grows close to me will meet with misfortune. Anyone who loves me, or whom I love, is doomed to suffer a terrible fate—even if that love is never spoken aloud..."

He let out a long, heavy sigh, as if trying to exhale the weight of a long and tragic tale. Jenkins and the old elf could scarcely imagine the heart-stopping and sorrowful stories he must have lived through over the millennia. It was, perhaps, the cruelest punishment a mortal could ever endure.

"I am a stranger to every generation. I don't belong to this progressing age. I belong to no city, no organization, no group, no family... I am destined to walk forward alone, burdened by solitude, until I finally die two Epochs from now. Only then will the divine curse upon my family truly end. I know my cursed uncle and aunt wander this world as I do. I pray they are well. For a time, early in this Epoch, I even knew their whereabouts, but I never dared to seek them out."

The old man lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the floor, so neither Jenkins nor the old elf could see the complex emotions playing across his face.

"So, did you succeed? Thirty years ago, you told me you failed to find the [The Stranger] ability. You said that all of your friends, save for you, met with misfortune during the expedition. Even the diviner who gave you the information suffered a backlash from fate and had to leave Nolan to recover... You aren't about to tell me that was all a lie, are you?"

The old elf asked abruptly.

"Only part of it was a lie..."

the elf breathed, and continued to listen with Jenkins.

"Everyone did die," Rynsarm confessed, his voice hollow. "But it wasn't an accident. It was because we actually found what we were looking for. Greed consumed us, stripped us of our humanity. We turned on one another, and our slaughter stained every inch of that underground tomb red. For over thirty years, I have dreamt of them constantly. I dream of the killing that lasted the entire night... I dream of the friends I hacked to pieces..."

The corner of Jenkins's mouth twitched. He glanced at the old elf, who was struggling to contain the fury on his face.

Though Rynsarm Carmel was a victim of his family's ambition, a pitiable soul bearing a terrible curse, he had become twisted. What happened thirty years ago was no mere expedition. To obtain a clue to [The Stranger], Rynsarm had murdered everyone and gravely wounded an unsuspecting Miss Broniaons.

He was far from innocent.