Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1140

The candle had been extinguished by an unseen hand, plunging the room into darkness. Amidst the black, the old elf's roars grew in intensity. When light flooded the room once more, the furious elf was perched atop a bookshelf—the best vantage point in the house—bow in hand, poised like a panther ready to strike.

"Jenkins Williams, are you truly 'The Stranger'? Why did fate grant its favor only to you? Have you ever known the misery of being afraid to make friends, of shunning society? To live a seemingly normal life, yet feel utterly cut off from the entire era?"

Old Rynsarm's voice was thick with despair and resentment, but with every syllable he uttered, the hunting elf pinpointed his position with deadly accuracy.

Siannod must have been a master archer in his youth, and now, armed with that extraordinary bow, there was no chance he would allow Rynsarm to harm Jenkins in the confines of the living room.

"Why? Jenkins Williams, why were you the chosen one? Can it truly be just because your middle name is Redemptor?"

A rush of air whispered behind him. Jenkins tilted his head slightly, then whipped around with a powerful spinning kick. The old man shot across the room like a cannonball, crashing into a wooden cabinet against the far wall and splintering what looked like cedar planks.

"I wasn't chosen because my middle name is Redemptor. My middle name is Redemptor because I am the one who can save this world."

Jenkins declared, standing in the center of the living room as he watched the old man struggle to his feet. Despite taking the full force of the kick, Rynsarm appeared largely unchanged.

A god's curse is both a curse and a gift. The price of longevity is solitude, and the price of solitude is longevity.

His voice was a low growl as he closed the distance to the old man in a few quick strides, slamming a heavy fist into him and pinning him against the wall.

"Have I known the pain of being unable to make a promise to someone I love? Yes, I have. More than once. You son of a bitch, how dare you ask me that."

It was rare for Jenkins to use such coarse language. The other questions hadn't provoked him, but this one struck a nerve.

The old elf remained crouched on the bookshelf, his longbow drawn and aimed at his old friend's throat. Jenkins’s hand shot out and clamped around Rynsarm's neck. The old man was already wheezing from the blow to his chest, and now, with nothing but the strength of one arm, Jenkins hoisted him into the air.

"Have I known loneliness?"

He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his emotions, but his mind was flooded with memories of everything he had endured in the half-year since arriving in this world. His cat, his family, the beautiful women he had met, Papa Oliver...

"You think you're the loneliest person in this world? Damn it, do you really think you have it so bad? At least you're still in your own..."

He bit back the word "world." Instead, he tightened his grip and hoisted the old man higher. A choking gurgle escaped Rynsarm's throat as his face turned from pale to a ghastly shade of blue.

It wasn't that he didn't fight back. He clawed desperately at the hand crushing his windpipe, but he couldn't break Jenkins's iron grip.

Jenkins considered himself a master of his own emotions, but those three questions had genuinely infuriated him. He had lost his entire past for no reason at all, cast into this strange and primitive world. He was forced to deal with people whose values and morals were completely alien to his own, forced to live in a city with an appallingly primitive sewer system. Yet he had never once complained. He had accepted his fate and carried on living under the name Jenkins Williams.

Even now, with a cat, a home, a mentor, a career, and love, his memories refused to fade. They were a constant reminder that this was not his home, and his deeply ingrained way of thinking made him feel perpetually out of place.

He did his best to embody the role of Jenkins Williams, but he never forgot who he truly was. He couldn't just cast aside twenty years of memories and pretend it had all been a dream.

And now, this man before him had the audacity to ask him those questions.

"You think you're innocent in all this? In this world, who is?"

Compared to the old man before him, Jenkins felt he was the truly innocent one. Rynsarm had become 'The Stranger' because of his family, at least there was a reason for it. But as for Jenkins? There was no reason to be found. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel~fire~net

As he spoke, he loosened his grip slightly, allowing the old man a chance to gasp for breath and speak.

"You don't understand anything at all!"

Seizing the opportunity to speak, Rynsarm Carmel roared, his voice raspy. Jenkins could feel the vibrations in the man's throat. His eyes were shot with blood, and the ferocious expression on his face made it seem as if he wanted to eat Jenkins alive.

"You understand nothing! Someone like you, hand-picked by fate, could never comprehend what it's like for people like us—those who strive for something but can never attain it. Don't you see? The things that fall so easily into your lap are the very things I've spent my entire life chasing. They are my only salvation."

Rynsarm's throat was vibrating with a strange, rhythmic frequency. It was only then that Jenkins noticed his own right hand was beginning to turn a silvery-white. His control over it was slipping, as if someone were forcing chunks of solid silver into his very flesh and bone.

With a cold snort, a surge of life essence flooded into his right arm.

"We all chase different things, and I have no desire to waste my breath arguing with you. If 'The Stranger' didn't choose you, then there was a reason. I have no intention of changing your mind, but I believe I have a way to end your curse.

The Carmel family attempted to awaken the power in their bloodline through sacrifice, but instead, they brought divine punishment upon themselves. Therefore, if you wish to end this long curse, to let the souls of your ancestors rest, and to finally embrace the eternal sleep of death yourself... then you too must end it with a sacrifice."

"Sacrifice what? I have nothing left. Except for the ever-vigilant Siannod, I sacrificed every other friend I had thirty years ago."

Rynsarm asked as he struggled. An ordinary man, held aloft by the throat as he was, would have suffocated long ago.