Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1139

"An unnaturally long life has twisted Rynsarm Carmel's very soul," Jenkins mused. "The souls of mortals, of short-lived humans, simply aren't meant to withstand the erosion of ages. The only legitimate path to a long life is to improve the quality of one's soul—by raising one's Enchanter level, for instance, or receiving a divine Bestowal..."

Jenkins mulled this over, the old man's story bringing to mind his conversation with Augustus about the nature of mortal death. Rynsarm's tale, however, was far from over.

"I used certain... methods to ensure I was the last one standing," he confessed. "To break my curse, I'd sworn I would do anything. Even knowing our chances of finding our prize were slim, I planted trip-wired explosives along our path. I collapsed the tomb, burying those behind me alive. After I escaped, I grew concerned that the diviner who had guided us would talk, so I went to silence her. But she was too powerful, too cautious. Even with my immortality and the collection of Cursed Items I've amassed over millennia, she managed to escape... Still, she was at least forced to forget my face. Otherwise, I never could have remained in Nolan."

The man's depravity was even greater than Jenkins had imagined. But it did explain the origin of that ring Silver Flute Miss had found in the abandoned tomb.

"So, what did you find in the end? Did you truly discover how to acquire the Savior's Emblem, 'The Stranger'?"

The old man nodded gravely. Jenkins had already foreseen this through his powers, but his heart still hammered against his ribs.

"We found a book. A children's book. Written in a simplistic, almost juvenile tone, it chronicled the story of every previous 'Stranger'. There was no mistaking it—that book held the secret we sought."

"Rynsarm, be honest with me. Does that mean you now..."

With those words, he reached into his coat and, with a grunt of effort, pulled out a tattered book, its pages yellowed and creased with age.

The cover featured a hand-drawn illustration: a lone figure standing in a world of falling snow. Being a simple children's drawing, it lacked any real sense of desolation.

The old man stared at Jenkins, his eyes glinting with an emotion Jenkins couldn't decipher.

"You take a look. Tell me what's hidden inside."

"No, Jenkins, don't touch it!"

The old elf immediately intervened, his voice a sharp reprimand.

"Rynsarm, enough with your tricks! Did you think I wouldn't see it? That book is laden with one of your vile curses. Anyone who reads it and gains knowledge from its pages will be compelled to speak what they've learned, and then die a violent death! Have you forgotten? You acquired that very curse from me fifty years ago! It's one of the fundamental security measures of the Elven Grand Library. How dare you..."

The old elf's face was flushed with fury. He reached for Rynsarm's shoulder, but the old man dissolved into a cascade of bubbles and vanished.

"Watch out! That's his unique ability. As long as there's a current of air, he can reappear anywhere within thirty seconds!"

Siannod warned, muttering a curse as he snatched a short wooden staff that was leaning against the coffee table. With a flick of his wrist, the staff elongated, transforming into an ancient longbow wrapped in living green leaves.

The moment the bow appeared, the chill, dim room was filled with an illusion of warmth, as if spring had suddenly arrived.

"Rynsarm, I know what you're planning!" Siannod yelled. "Even if Jenkins can understand that book, the curse will prevent him from telling you anything! You won't be able to escape your own curse, even if you do obtain 'The Stranger'! Have you truly gone mad? Snap out of it!"

He drew the string of the un-nocked bow. A sound like rushing water vibrated through the air, and a green arrow of pure energy materialized. It looped once before shooting toward the southwest corner of the ceiling.

A sharp twang echoed as the arrow struck. For a split second, the old man's silhouette was visible, clinging to the ceiling like a spider, before he flickered and vanished once more.

"Williams, if fate has indeed chosen you, then you must meet the criteria for 'The Stranger'. I know the rules of the Savior's Emblems all too well. But I've spent the last six months learning everything I can about you, and I have to ask—what part of you could possibly fit the description of 'The Stranger'?"

Rynsarm's disembodied voice echoed from every corner of the room. Not even Siannod's magically tracking arrows could find him.

"Am I 'The Stranger'?"

Jenkins lowered his gaze. His cat let out a worried meow, then lifted a tiny paw and pointed toward the doorway. The green arrow, which had been zipping aimlessly about the room, instantly shot toward the new target.

Billows of black smoke erupted from the doorway, and within the churning darkness, a bizarre, twisted figure materialized.

"Damn it, this is my home! What are you trying to summon?"

Siannod roared, pulling an enamel vial from his pocket and hurling it at the doorway. A pale cyan liquid spilled out, turning the floor into a reflective, mirror-like surface. A delicate, fair-skinned hand wearing a vine-like bracelet emerged from the mirror. As Siannod began to sing in Elvish, both the black smoke and the hand vanished.

While elves may not grow stronger with age like dragons, their long lives grant the eldest among them knowledge and power far beyond the mortal coil. Compared to Siannod, who had grown up beyond the material world, Rynsarm—cursed by a god to wander it for an eternity—was clearly outmatched.

"Jenkins Williams, are you truly 'The Stranger'?" Rynsarm's voice echoed again. "Why did fate choose you, of all people? Have you ever known the loneliness of standing in a crowded street and feeling utterly, completely alone, as if you were invisible?"

This time, the old man's voice came from directly behind Jenkins. But before Jenkins could react, Siannod's wooden coffee table sprouted branches, instantly growing into a small tree that intercepted the attack.

"Jenkins Williams, are you really 'The Stranger'? Why must fate favor you so? Have you ever known the agony of having the one you love right before your eyes, yet being unable to promise her your future, unable to dare spend a lifetime by her side?"

Rynsarm's voice assailed him from all sides. Jenkins's expression was dark and unreadable; even his cat couldn't guess what was passing through his mind. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novęlfire.net