Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1162

As Jenkins’s body lay down, everything around him dissolved into a chaotic swirl of color. The blocks of color then rearranged themselves, coalescing back into the tangible reality of the basement.

The bonfire burned quietly before him, the book in his hands now turned to its final page. As he stared into the flames, the image of his silent, lifeless body still seemed to linger in his mind’s eye.

Jenkins looked down at the crumpled book, an expression of profound relief washing over his face. Ever since becoming Jenkins, he had carried a constant, unsettling psychological burden. He knew, after all, that he wasn't Jenkins—or at least, not entirely. But now, at last, it didn't matter. He accepted all of his identities. He was Jenkins, but Jenkins was not him.

The meow of a cat snapped Jenkins from his deep contemplation. As if waking from a dream, he tossed the book, now just an ordinary object, into the fire before him.

The old book, once impervious to all harm, finally caught fire. The pages curled and blackened, turning slowly to ash.

Jenkins watched it burn away, as if bidding farewell to the Jenkins Williams who was now gone.

When the book had been reduced completely to ash, wisps of smoke drifted from the flames and brushed against his forehead, touching his very soul. A new ability materialized before him. He felt no joy, nor any sorrow, only an indescribable lightness in his heart. Even the spirit within him had swelled by a considerable amount.

[The Stranger (Blue Heteromorphic)]

The origins of Heteromorphic abilities were a matter of much debate, but one thing was certain: every such ability corresponded to a unique race. It was clear that the Stranger was a lonely one; he was a race unto himself. No companions, no family, just a life of solitude, forever guarding his secrets. This was the sole message Jenkins had gleaned from the stories.

The cat, tail swaying, padded over to Jenkins and ducked its head, rubbing against his arm. Jenkins looked at his cat, and it immediately offered its head to be petted.

The man stroked his cat a few times, and Chocolate let out a contented purr.

"I'm not lonely," Jenkins mused. "At least, the me I am now isn't lonely. I have family, a lover, friends, and mentors. I may be a Stranger, but I am not alone."

The cat meowed softly, as if in agreement with his words.

The ability of [The Stranger] had no flashy effects. It was a passive power: any attack he made, regardless of its form, would inflict additional damage on creatures of a different race.

The criteria for a "different race," it seemed, was based not on the body but on the soul. After all, [The Stranger] could only be possessed by a race with a single living member. In other words, no matter who Jenkins fought, his opponent would be judged as a "different race," deepening the damage they received.

The strange experience during the ritual had left Jenkins drained. After leaving home and returning to the church, he had no energy for anything else. He didn't even go looking for the Doomsday Slate near his house, instead heading straight back to the church to rest.

He rarely slept so soundly. When he woke the next day, his mind was exceptionally clear, but his first instinct was to try and recall everything that had happened the night before.

A light, steady rain fell outside his window. He turned his head and saw his cat eating. It seemed someone had already brought Chocolate's breakfast, so the cat hadn't disturbed his sleep.

"How long has it been since I've slept until I woke up naturally?"

He posed the question to his cat, but it pretended not to understand.

A glance at his pocket watch, however, revealed that he had overslept. He had arranged to go with Fini to the cemetery today to visit the families of Louise and her neighbors, but it was now ten in the morning, long past their agreed-upon time. Read complete versıon only at novel·fiɾe·net

He changed his clothes, scooped up the cat who was still enjoying its meal, and rushed out of the room, but he couldn't find Fini anywhere in the church. After asking around, he learned that she had noticed he was still asleep this morning and had gone to the cemetery on her own.

"Fini said you needn't worry," someone told him. "She knows you've been very busy lately. She said she'd deliver your flowers for you."

"Damn it, I actually overslept."

Jenkins smacked his forehead in frustration, worried that this would tarnish the towering image he held in Fini's mind.

The cat seemed rather smug, as if to say that now Jenkins could finally appreciate how fortunate he was to have a feline that could wake him in the morning.

Without even stopping for breakfast, he left the church with Chocolate. A Scribe was with Fini, so he didn't need to worry about her safety. But he had made a promise to go with her to the cemetery today, and he didn't want to break his word.

Besides, Jenkins had planned to tell Fini what had become of Louise at her grave today, to finally bring that matter to a close. Now he could only hope the church's carriage would hurry, or else they might miss each other on the road.

Louise's family, like most of the residents in that alley, had no relatives. After they died, Jenkins and Fini had paid for their funerals.

Because their deaths were caused by the pirate king Diwo, the autopsies had taken a considerable amount of time. The church had to confirm that the bodies weren't hiding anything, nor were they carrying any curses or plagues, before allowing them to be cremated and buried.

Their final resting place was the public cemetery on the edge of the city. It wasn't that Jenkins was unwilling to spend more for a better plot. Buying those several hundred graves had cost a great deal, but for Jenkins, who now owned shares in a mining company, it wasn't an exorbitant sum. It was Fini who had stopped him, insisting that this was enough.

The carriage carried Jenkins through the city. In just half a week, the city had already emerged from the shadow of the fallen angel. At least, Jenkins thought the pedestrians and shops outside the carriage window looked no different than usual. The common people were oblivious to the danger they had faced, which was why they could recover so quickly.

Leaving the city center behind, they entered the fog-shrouded periphery. The persistent drizzle did nothing to dispel the mist, instead making visibility even worse. The driver had no choice but to slow down, which only heightened Jenkins's anxiety.

As they drew closer, he saw the dark silhouette of the vast cemetery at the foot of a distant mountain. The driver let Jenkins out at the entrance and told him not to rush.

Jenkins glanced to the side and saw the carriage that had brought Fini and her temporary "bodyguard" parked nearby. The two drivers seemed to know each other and were sitting together, smoking and chatting about the weather.

Placing the cat on his shoulder, Jenkins raised his umbrella and stepped onto the cemetery's walkway, paved with horizontal stone blocks. Due to the miserable weather, the cemetery was deserted on a Friday morning. Jenkins didn't even see the groundskeeper, but since the gate was open, he figured the man couldn't be far.