Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1146

The wind howled through the air. As the falling Jenkins finished his incantation, the warmth on his forehead intensified to its peak. Recalling the sensation from his time in the Evergreen Forest last month, he guided the power from his brow, letting it flow through his entire body.

Directly below him, the complete array of a golden divine ritual materialized. As Jenkins plummeted through the shimmering, circular pattern—invisible to the eyes of ordinary people—the mortal Jenkins was once again granted the power of the Sage.

His casual clothes transformed into white ceremonial robes. A heavy tome of scripture appeared in his right hand, while his left drew a golden scepter from the void. With the emergence of the Saint's power, his descent came to an abrupt halt.

"Why does this feel so much like a magical girl transformation?"

he thought, glancing down at his body, which seemed to be wreathed in golden flames. He then transformed into a streak of light, shooting straight toward the colossal, blooming water lily in the sky.

Someone finally noticed the golden light streaking up from behind. Miss Bevanna cried out in astonishment, watching as the golden figure pierced through the aerial petals like a spear, flying directly toward the angel at the center.

The other Saint present had just tried to break through the same defense, but his power had been insufficient. Now, seeing this heretic Saint effortlessly charge straight at the angel, he felt a pang of doubt, wondering if he had truly received his god's favor.

Jenkins had no time to worry about what others were thinking. Too much had happened on this long day. The night had dragged on for far too long; it was time to end it all.

The angel should have been able to perceive Jenkins's true nature, but the Sage's power concealed his soul. Facing the young writer in white ceremonial robes, the grievously wounded Angel of Slaughter did not immediately recognize what he was.

"Angel, the mortal realm is not your place. You should return from whence you came."

The Saint raised his scepter. As the Sage's power surged through it, a golden light rippled across the heavens. Wherever the light touched, the dark clouds dissolved, revealing a clear night sky and the bright twin moons.

"You are ignorant, mortal, blind to the great catastrophe that approaches. My Lord is merciful and uses slaughter to help mortals avoid disaster."

The angel, too, raised its silvery-white spear, its voice devoid of emotion. So grave were its injuries that it had completely shed its human form, now standing in the air as an indescribable, divine presence. It was the closest thing Jenkins could comprehend to a formless shape—the true state of the Angel of Slaughter.

"Then tell me, what is this disaster at the end of the Epoch?"

the Saint demanded, focusing all his power into a single point.

"Ignorant mortal, coveting knowledge that is not yours to possess!"

the angel rebuked, aiming its long spear at Jenkins.

"This truly is the most perfect stage."

Under the watchful eyes of demigods and angels, beneath the vast, starry expanse, Jenkins marveled to himself. He looked down at the countless lights of Nolan, toward his home, toward the cat and the unicorn in the distance.

"I am not alone. Even if I don't belong here, I will find my own meaning for existing in this world."

Spear and scepter clashed, erupting in a shower of silver and gold sparks. The water lily fully retracted beneath the angel's feet, while at Jenkins's feet, the tiny sapling reappeared, nourished by the infusion of the Sage's power.

Only the angel, so close to the source, could feel it—an essence identical to the arrow that had struck it before.

It finally understood.

The scepter swung; the spear parried. The Saint loudly recited the teachings of the Sage, while the angel whispered secrets not meant for mortal ears.

Angel and Saint became two orbs of light, clashing and weaving through the air as the mortals stood by, watching in silence.

"Is that really the power of a Saint? Isn't it a bit too strong?"

More than one person was thinking the same thing, but considering the angel had already been wounded by the stranger's arrow, no one voiced their doubts.

The light faded, leaving Jenkins and the angel facing one another. Neither spoke. Instead, they summoned every last ounce of their power, transforming into two beams of light for one final clash.

The golden streaks representing them shot from the south and the north, converging on the city's center like opposing arrows. At the very instant they met, the first ray of dawn pierced the darkness of the eastern sky, gracing the mortal world.

The blinding sunlight made everyone instinctively shut their eyes. When they looked again, only Jenkins was left standing alone beneath the fading stars. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs n0velfire.net

He turned and offered the onlookers a smile as the Sage's power dissipated, his divine Saintly form reverting to that of a mortal. The pristine white robes returned to his normal black coat, and the scripture and scepter in his hands dissolved into motes of light that scattered in the air.

He whispered, gazing at the distant sunrise with his arms outstretched as if to embrace it. His eyes slowly closed, and his body tilted backward, plummeting toward the ground.

It was only then that the onlookers remembered Jenkins couldn't fly. A series of arcing figures descended through the morning light, chasing after the falling young man.

In the distance, the cat shot him an exasperated look, then opened its mouth wide and gave a great yawn at the sun. After a sleepless night, it had finally seen the conclusion. Now, it wanted to go home.

Perched on the unicorn's back, the cat patted the small beast. The unicorn responded with an impatient snort but nevertheless carried the cat off toward its desired destination.

Chocolate was on his way.

Even if one's soul isn't mortal, the body still requires rest. Jenkins couldn't remember who caught him in the end, but at least he hadn't actually hit the ground.

A long, deep sleep was what his body needed. His soul might still be able to think, but his physical form demanded rest. So, as he became aware that he was sleeping and about to wake, he couldn't help but feel fortunate for how the events of Monday had turned out.

"Jenkins, you really are a lucky fellow."

he thought, but didn't open his eyes just yet. He wondered if Old Daddy was nearby, and if he might say something like, "A strange ceiling, isn't it?"

His eyes darted back and forth a couple of times beneath his lids. His fingers twitched, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

he murmured, and then opened his eyes. He didn't hear Old Daddy's voice, however. He only saw Miss Bevanna sitting by his bedside, holding a book.

It made him a little disappointed.

Seeing that Jenkins was awake, the woman offered a gentle smile. She set aside the book she was reading, "Exploring the 13th Epoch: Of Gods and History," and handed him a slip of paper.

"Old Daddy went with the Keeper of Secrets to discuss something. He asked me to give this to you."

The note read: [A strange ceiling].

"Ah, now that's what I call a complete life."