Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1167

The art studio vanished, replaced by the damp confines of a cave. Before the encroaching darkness could swallow them whole, Jenkins produced his candle, casting a pool of light around them.

"Watch out for spiders!"

Mr. Stone's voice seemed to drift from a great distance. Before Jenkins could reply, a chorus of skittering sounds echoed from the cracks in the cavern wall.

Miss Glasses let out a sharp cry before clamping a hand over her mouth. Jenkins wasn't particularly afraid of spiders, but the sight of the wall crawling with long-haired arachnids made him shudder involuntarily.

But these were not the real threat. The candlelight drew something else from the depths—something far larger. Mr. Stone was gone, and a low vibration thrummed from deeper within the cavern.

With a piercing whistle, a viscous white glob of silk—the size of two human heads—shot from the darkness, slamming into a wall of fire Jenkins had conjured. The flames seared the webbing instantly. Even the swarming black venomous spiders on the walls recoiled like a frantic tide, scrambling away from him.

"This is his memory," Miss Glasses explained. "I heard him speak of this adventure before. It happened seven years ago."

She stood alert, vigilantly watching their backs for any enemies that might emerge from the darkness.

Jenkins nodded, starting to get a feel for how this Mysterious Realm operated. The web had been incinerated completely. After a brief hesitation, he led Miss Glasses deeper into the cave, toward the direction from which the attack had come.

Even with the candlelight, it was difficult to pierce the inky blackness of the cavern. The passage ahead was straight, with no forks. Yet, after less than five minutes of walking, Jenkins noticed a patch of darkness up ahead that his light simply could not penetrate.

As he advanced, the light refused to enter that space, as if it were being consumed by an invisible barrier that absorbed all light.

He froze. Something was moving on the surface of the darkness. The longer he stared, the more a primal panic urged him to turn and run. Suppressing the instinct, he realized it wasn't a light-absorbing barrier at all. It was an eye—a colossal eye, filling the entire tunnel.

The pupil, so vast it nearly merged with the black iris, finally focused on Jenkins and Miss Glasses. The woman let out a muffled grunt and spat a mouthful of blood onto the cavern floor.

The eye finally pulled back from the tunnel's entrance, revealing a vast abyss that lay beyond. The path ended here. This retreat also gave Jenkins a clear view of the other side of the chasm, where a gigantic spider—as large as a small mountain—clung to a wall of what looked like pure obsidian.

So that was it. The creature had moved to the tunnel entrance, peering inside with just a single eye.

The colossal spider seemed like a monster torn from ancient myth, its very presence fused with the aura of the dark abyss. It was a silent, apex predator—a truly powerful being at the pinnacle of the food chain.

A single glance was enough to trigger a primal, uncontrollable trembling. Even the terror of facing the abyss paled in comparison to the fear this creature inspired.

Another thick wad of white silk shot from the spider's maw, its sheer volume enough to completely block the cave's entrance.

Before Jenkins could react, Miss Glasses raised her right hand. Out in the abyss, a massive, intricate, and magnificent arcane sigil materialized from nothing. From within it, several flaming meteors shot forth, crashing into the spider with tremendous kinetic energy.

"Hmm? That move seems... familiar," he muttered.

Amidst an earth-shattering explosion, the cavern's darkness dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors and vanished. The art studio reappeared around them. Outside the window, the sky was still a bloody red, under a jaundiced yellow moon.

The studio was deathly silent, as if nothing had changed. But the thud of Mr. Stone's body hitting the floor was jarringly loud. While Miss Glasses rushed to support him, Jenkins caught sight of the image left on the canvas.

It was a perfect depiction of what they had just seen: the bottomless abyss, and on its far side, the giant spider clinging to the black rock. Its eight pairs of compound eyes seemed to glow against the satin-black backdrop, staring out from the canvas as if ready to pounce on its next meal.

"An excellent choice of subject," the painter mused. "A shame the technique is so poor. Barely a passing grade, I'd say."

The painter sighed, his back still turned to them. He hadn't once looked around, yet he knew exactly what was on the canvas.

Jenkins ignored the painter. He and Miss Glasses dragged the unconscious Mr. Stone over to the large window. In the light of the strange, unreal moon, they examined the man but found no visible signs of injury.

He must have suffered severe psychic trauma to be in this state. While not uncommon among Enchanters, it was a terrible disadvantage for the three of them now.

"We've finished the first painting," Jenkins said grimly. "So we know that those who don't paint have to face the painter's memories. But we still have no idea what the painter themself has to endure."

Jenkins spoke with unease, though he knew he personally had little to fear—after all, Miss Glasses would be the next to paint. The woman understood his implication. After confirming that her companion was unresponsive, she turned to Jenkins and said calmly:

"I'll make the second attempt. I expect we'll be separated again. I need you to look after my friend, but only if you can guarantee your own safety... Once we're out of this Mysterious Realm, I'll be sure to reward you."

"I will if I can," he replied. "Are you... a follower of the God of Mystery and Rituals?"

He asked suddenly, having recognized the meteor-summoning ability as one that Magic Miss had used before. Miss Glasses didn't answer. She simply turned, found a blank canvas near the spider painting, took a deep breath, and reached out her own finger toward it.

The air filled with the color of oil paints, which quickly coalesced into the form of a small, quiet chamber. A massive round table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by six coffins standing upright against the walls. The surface of the table was etched with a complex sealing ritual. Read complete versıon only at noveⅼfire.net

Even without any knowledge of such rites, Jenkins could tell from the intricate patterns that whatever was being sealed had to be something truly terrible.