Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1216

Jenkins stood alone on a gentle slope of the vast, snowy mountain, the night sky stretching above him. A biting cold seeped into his bones, and he was tempted to summon his enchanted fire for warmth. Yet, some instinct warned him against it, telling him the penetrating chill would vanish if he did—and that this was something to be endured. Besides, he reasoned, the master of the palace before him might not appreciate the flames. After a moment's thought, he abandoned the idea.

The plaza before him was initially bare. But the moment his feet touched its surface, it was as if he had activated something. A brilliant azure line shot out from where he stood, extending toward the center of the square.

Upon reaching the plaza's heart, the line converged into a point of light that pulsed three times before shooting out a web of new lines, spreading in every direction at perfectly spaced angles.

Together, these lines formed a massive ritual array across the ice. Spiraling threads of light sketched out intricate runes and incantations. Once the pattern was complete, the ice began to vibrate, and a sculpture of a swordsman, carved entirely from ice, rose from the ground.

He was clad in a suit of light half-armor, the faulds etched with a fine, fish-scale pattern.

As his booted feet cleared the icy surface, the sculpture drew a longsword with its right hand and pointed it directly at Jenkins.

"If you wish to enter the palace, guest, you must prove your valor."

The ice sculpture spoke in the common tongue, yet its voice had a strange, rhythmic cadence.

"And how am I to prove my valor?"

The sculpture's reply was firm and resonant. The sword pointing at Jenkins swung downward, its tip plunging into the ice before its boots.

The ice sculpture nodded, then raised its sword to point at Jenkins once more. It possessed no flesh; even its eyes were made of ice. The shards in its sockets, however, were exceptionally reflective. Thɪs chapter is updated by NovelHub(.)net

A brilliant white sword light reflected in those icy eyes—a light that seemed capable of cleaving anything in its path as it closed the distance in an instant.

Jenkins executed a final, elegant flourish before returning his sword to its sheath, slowly letting out a long breath. Across from him, the ice swordsman was now split neatly in two. Its "corpse" sank slowly back beneath the surface of the ice, leaving only its longsword behind.

The ice continued to vibrate. A fountain rose from the center of the plaza and began to spray water into the air. Ice-carved benches appeared at uneven intervals along the edge of the square, and lampposts materialized here and there. Beneath them, unattended vendor carts stood silently.

An array of other ice sculptures rose in succession, transforming the once-empty plaza into a bustling, frozen scene. An ice flag appeared atop a flagpole; though it couldn't flutter in the night wind, it was fixed in a way that allowed Jenkins to clearly see the symbol emblazoned upon it.

It was a snowflake. As far as Jenkins knew, no family or faction used such a symbol to represent itself.

"What does this mean?"

he wondered, bending down to pick up the longsword. But the moment his hand made contact, the blade dissolved into a flash of blue light that contracted into a single, glowing point.

The point of light was, in fact, a chess piece—a Swordsman. Its carving style was identical to the ice chess piece Jenkins already possessed.

He stood stunned for a long moment before absorbing the Swordsman piece into his spirit. Then, he crossed the "lively" plaza and ascended the steps leading to the grand entrance.

The moment both of his feet were on the icy steps, the sound of footfalls echoed from behind the palace doors. The steps were steady and powerful. By the time Jenkins reached the top of the staircase and stood before the entrance, an ice sculpture of a Knight was waiting for him.

"Welcome, guest. I am the gatekeeper here. If you wish to enter the palace, you must first prove your worth to me."

the sculpture said. Its voice was female, and though nearly devoid of inflection, it surprisingly carried the emotional undertones of an intelligent being.

"How must I prove it? Do I have to fight you as well?"

Jenkins asked, readying himself to draw his sword again.

"No. A noble spirit need not be proven with brutish force. Simply answer my question, guest: what is your understanding of the code of chivalry?"

The ice steed beneath the knight snorted impatiently, its shod forehooves stamping twice on the ground before the gate.

"To be kind to the weak;

To bravely stand against tyranny;

To fight against all injustice;

To battle for the unarmed;

To help any who ask for my aid;

To aid my brother knights;

To be true to my friends;

And to be faithful to the one I love, until death."

Jenkins rattled off the words quickly, as the cold was becoming unbearable and he was desperate to get indoors. The question posed no difficulty for him; he had said something very similar the first time he met Miss Windsor in Bel Diran.

Besides, he wasn't a knight, so spouting such pretty words cost him nothing.

"I acknowledge your spirit. Welcome, guest."

The knight nodded at Jenkins before she and her steed dissolved into countless blue motes of light that flew into the air. The lights drifted toward the castle's exterior, clinging to the walls, colonnades, windows, and stairs, leaving behind a network of intricate patterns and ornate decorations.

A final point of light hovered before Jenkins. He reached out and closed his hand around it, only to find it was the Knight chess piece.

He silently absorbed this piece into his spirit as well before stepping into the palace. The temperature inside was still low, but at least he was out of the biting wind.

The grand entrance opened into a vast hall with two staircases spiraling inward toward the second floor. In front of the stairs, corridors stretched to the left and right, and in the center of the open space, an ice sculpture holding a crystal ball was waiting for him.

"A mage this time... Are there lancers, assassins, and berserkers waiting for me up ahead?"

Jenkins muttered to himself as he strode toward the center of the hall.

"No, I don't quite understand what you are talking about."

the ice sculpture replied. It had the form of an old man.

"First, I am no mage, I am an astrologer. Second, have you never played Prankster's Chessboard? It was the most enjoyable board game of all, popular from the 7th Epoch right up until the era in which I lived."

"My apologies. It's the 18th Epoch now, and I've never heard of Prankster's Chessboard... Does it have anything to do with Mr. Prankster?"

Jenkins asked hesitantly.

His question seemed to delight the old man who called himself an astrologer. He must have been very fond of the game.

"Indeed! Prankster's Chessboard was an invention of that great Lord, created before he came into his power. It is also one of his few creations that contains no prank... or so they say. I have heard rumors of losers having the animated pieces crawl up their nostrils. The game has twenty-nine types of pieces, but only five main classes: Swordsman, Archer, Knight, Astrologer, and Priest. Seeing as you already hold an Archer, I assumed you were aware of this."