Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1168

"The coffins aren't important. The seal is."

Jenkins was lost in thought when Miss Glasses' voice drifted from somewhere outside the room. He glanced down at Mr. Stone lying beside his feet, then reached out and opened the nearest coffin.

As flames engulfed the yellow-wrapped corpse inside, a chorus of sharp shrieks erupted from all the other coffins.

One after another, the remaining five coffins burst open with a series of loud cracks. A silvery gleam sliced through the air, and the corpses that had just emerged were neatly dismembered, their limbs severed.

Thick, black blood oozed from the severed parts, flowing with unnerving speed to pool beneath the round table. The trails of blood formed a dense network of lines on the floor, which resonated with the seal. The table shuddered, and then a long, drawn-out sigh nearly drowned the room in sound.

It was the sound of someone waking from a long slumber, or perhaps of one finally returning home after a period of exhausting labor.

With that sigh, everything in the room except for Jenkins and the cat began to turn black and white, the color draining toward the round table at the center. The entire world seemed to freeze—but only for a moment.

Sword in hand, Jenkins dragged the limp Mr. Stone toward the wall. He then realized that the objects weren't fading; the round table was actively absorbing their color.

Jenkins swung his sword through the air again, but the blow was absorbed by a vibrant barrier of color surrounding the table.

He reached into his coat. With a soft pop, he pried the cork from a vial of bone powder with his thumb and, with a flick of his wrist, scattered its contents into the air.

The fine white dust billowed out, momentarily obscuring their vision. Seizing the opportunity, Jenkins lunged toward the table and brought his sword down on the head. Latest content publıshed on novel·fıre·net

With a grating clang that set his teeth on edge, the head took the blow head-on, not even attempting to dodge.

But when Jenkins swung a second time, it made a clear move to evade.

It was too late. The bone powder in the air had coalesced into a full skeleton, which wrapped its arms around the head from behind. In that instant, Jenkins's sword erupted in a brilliant white light, cleaving both the table and the head in two.

A deafening rumble echoed as the sword light fell. The dust settled, and they found themselves back in the silent studio. Miss Glasses lay collapsed in front of her painting. In the artwork, all the coffin lids were open, half the canvas had turned black and white, and the menacing head on the table was faintly visible.

"This painting is rather interesting. The technique is sound, but it lacks a certain spark," the young painter remarked with a sigh. Jenkins ignored him, not even sparing a glance for Mr. Stone, and hurried to drag Miss Glasses over to the window. She had also passed out, but she stirred and came to after he called her name a few times.

She looked around in a daze, but thankfully spared him the headache of a "who are you?" moment. Instead, she quickly grasped the situation.

"The artist doesn't have to face the monster from their own memory, but they do have to face..."

With a sharp crack, the painter slammed his brush onto the floor. It was clearly deliberate; the brush snapped cleanly in two, a result no accidental drop could produce.

He paid Jenkins and the others no mind, calmly taking another brush from a box on the side and resuming his work. Miss Glasses covered her mouth, shaking her head frantically at Jenkins.

She was terrified, too scared to give him any more information.

"That's enough. You did well," Jenkins said. "It's my turn now. But I have to warn you, I've faced a great many... supernatural creatures. So, for now, your only job is to keep yourself safe. Just wait for me to take care of that... thing you can't speak of, and then we'll all leave this painting together. Do you understand?"

Jenkins was the highest-level Enchanter among them, and he had consistently demonstrated confidence and decisiveness. Miss Glasses didn't doubt his words, but she couldn't help but cast a worried glance at Mr. Stone.

To be honest, some of the enemies Jenkins had faced in the past were creatures he himself had no desire to ever encounter again. As he walked toward the blank canvas, his concern wasn't for himself. He prayed silently for his companions, hoping they wouldn't lose their lives in this Mysterious Realm.

He reached out and touched the canvas with his finger, just as the other two had done. A cold current seemed to flow from his body, through his finger, and into the fabric. An image of an angel with outstretched wings began to take shape.

"I suppose this counts as good luck," he thought. "At least it's just an angel."

But as the thought crossed his mind, he realized he hadn't left the studio. He turned back toward the window to find that Miss Glasses and Mr. Stone had vanished. At that exact moment, the painter set down his brush.

"So, this means I'm facing you? And not a memory, like the others?"

"Yes," the painter replied. "But don't worry, I won't harm you. I'm just going to take some of your memories. Even so, you'll all be able to leave this Mysterious Realm without issue. After all, my only goal is to collect the fears of mortals. As for whether the Mysterious Realm..."

"...can allow you to enter the material world, you're not actually interested."

Jenkins finished his sentence.

"Oh? It seems you know quite a lot about this place. That makes me all the more eager to see your memories."

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I never share my memories with anyone."

"That won't be up to you."

The painter spoke casually, his back still to Jenkins as he continued to paint. The canvas on his easel had somehow been replaced with a fresh white one. As his brush touched it, the familiar studio began to take shape.

Color rapidly filled the canvas, depicting both Jenkins and the painter within the room. But there was a new addition: vein-like protrusions had been added to the walls.

Jenkins glanced at the walls around him and, sure enough, saw the very same things beginning to form.

"I'd rather not fight you; it would ruin my studio. Why don't you just stop resisting? I'll only extract your memories, just as I did with the man and woman earlier. It won't be painful. Besides, I'll be taking your most terrifying memories. In a way, I'm doing you a favor."