Chapter 1356: Chapter 1356
As the demonic old man spoke, he upended the hourglass. Jenkins spun around to flee, only to find the others were already on their way.
At first glance, there seemed to be no path leading away from the ritual site, but a set of high steps was hidden in the patch of grass at the edge of the clearing, directly opposite the demoness. Once they scrambled up, a faint trail became visible through the overgrown weeds, and now, all five of them were racing along it toward a distant, dark red glow.
The landscape was not just a monotonous expanse of overgrown weeds. Less a simple grassland, it resembled a dilapidated village torn from the pages of a horror story. Beside the narrow path, one could faintly make out collapsed houses and even a windmill, not to mention the fire pits and prowling shadows.
They had been running for less than thirty seconds when a fork appeared in the road ahead.
A signpost stood at the junction, its inscription long since faded and illegible.
"Just pick a path! There'll be plenty more forks ahead, so don't waste time thinking!"
Mr. White Cat, running at the very front, yelled. The warning was clearly intended for Jenkins. He then veered onto the path leading diagonally forward—a downward slope where the arch of a bridge could be faintly seen a few hundred feet in the distance.
The others quickly made their own choices. Jenkins, bringing up the rear, hesitated for only a moment before taking the path to his right.
This path was an uphill slope, making the run strenuous. The ground was uneven, too, and he occasionally stumbled over loose stones.
Jenkins lost count of the forks in the road he had taken. In any case, he was alone now, with no idea where he had ended up.
The environment now resembled his every conception of hell—a desolate countryside choked with weeds and bathed in a pervasive red glow. Not even the most gifted writer could capture the sheer horror of it.
Fighting through the growing unease, he kept sprinting, empowered by his [Cat's Grace] and [Titan's Power] abilities. A brick bridge loomed ahead. He raced onto it, only to find a wide gap in the middle. Using his momentum, he launched himself across the chasm. But as he soared through the air, a black, knobby tentacle shot out from the pit below.
"What is that thing?"
Startled, Jenkins instinctively threw a punch. With no way to brace himself in mid-air, the impact sent him flying like a baseball struck by a bat. Content orıginally comes from novᴇlfire.net
Fortunately, the pit was confined to the area directly beneath the bridge. He landed on the stony bank at the edge of the chasm, and a short scramble up a steep rock face brought him back to the other side of the broken span.
Mr. White Cat hadn't mentioned anything about having to watch out for enemies, but perhaps he considered that so obvious it went without saying.
In any case, after the encounter with the tentacle, Jenkins ran with far more caution, terrified of another surprise attack from below.
He pressed onward, and soon a small manor loomed in the hazy distance. The red light seemed to be emanating from behind a building on the estate. A flicker of hope ignited in Jenkins's chest and he picked up his pace, but then he suddenly heard someone calling his name from a path off to the side.
It was a woman's voice, startlingly similar to Hathaway's. He couldn't resist glancing over. There, shrouded in the swirling red mist, a black demon with curved horns and a scythe was dragging Hathaway toward a cemetery in a nearby hollow.
It's all a lie, he snarled inwardly. The spiritual aura is wrong. You can't fool me!
He forced himself to turn away and keep running, but Hathaway's voice followed him, hauntingly real, as if she were whispering right in his ear. The cries only faded completely when he reached the next fork in the road.
"Damn it, is this some kind of demon's game?"
In truth, he didn't need to worry too much about his personal safety, as he possessed an item that could whisk him away at any moment. But abandoning the Mysterious Realm would do nothing to resolve the crisis plaguing the city. To put an end to this, he had to complete the trial properly. Only when the realm collapsed would the gate close, preventing any more otherworldly creatures from slipping through.
The manor on the hillside was drawing nearer, and the surrounding red glow intensified with every step. Compared to the oppressive darkness at the start, Jenkins could now make out distant shapes even without his special monocle.
But this ominous light was not entirely harmless. Even Jenkins could feel his limbs growing heavier, his pace becoming more labored. It wasn't because he was out of shape; while it had been a long time since he'd run so hard for so long, he shouldn't have felt this drained.
The manor stood atop a small hill, with several paths converging at its base. As Jenkins searched for the one that led upward, someone else came running from another direction. It was the Gravedigger he had just met. This time, it wasn't an illusion—Jenkins could tell from the man's spiritual aura.
"You're... Mr. Candle, right? I'm surprised you made it here too."
He clearly remembered Jenkins. Seeing him searching around, he realized Jenkins was also looking for the way up to the manor. They joined forces, and after circling a quarter of the way around the hill, they finally discovered a ladder half-buried in the weeds.
The manor's courtyard was just as terrifying as the landscape outside, a truly hellish scene. Countless black specters drifted through the grounds, and they began to stir restlessly at the sight of Jenkins and the Gravedigger.
"Don't tell me we have to fight our way through these things," Jenkins said, his voice strained. "Forget about the time limit for a second... there are so many of them, and there are only two of us..."
Jenkins voiced his concern, especially since in this Mysterious Realm, everyone was restricted to using each of their abilities only once. That would make a fight exceptionally difficult.
"The layout of this place is incredibly complex," the Gravedigger explained. "It's not just a flat plane; countless spaces are interwoven vertically, and the entire landscape shifts with each cycle. This is my first time ever finding this manor. To be honest, I doubt I'd ever be lucky enough to find it again. This has to be the most intact structure anywhere around here. Mr. Candle, this is our only chance. We have to try!"
With that, the black-robed Gravedigger charged toward the building that stood at the edge of the courtyard, and Jenkins, drawing his Spirit Striking Cane, followed right behind him.
Just as they had anticipated, the moment they started running, the specters swarmed them from all directions like flies drawn to filth. The Gravedigger raised a hand, conjuring a coffin that materialized above them as a shield. As the specters slammed into it, the ethereal casket, instead of breaking, seemed to grow more solid.
"This is one of our divine arts," the Gravedigger grunted. "Attacks from the undead only make the barrier stronger."
But the price for this ever-strengthening defense was a heavy one; the strain of maintaining it was immense. Before they were even halfway to the building, the Gravedigger's face was slick with sweat, and he was stumbling so badly he had to lean on Jenkins just to stay on his feet.