Chapter 1602: Chapter 1602

According to their schedule, the group would arrive at the Nolan train station the following afternoon. The papers reported that the city had already made ample preparations for their welcome. At the same time, the delegation from Cheslan, traveling to Nolan by sea, was also nearing its destination. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they were also expected to arrive within the week.

Jenkins went to bed, his heart thrumming with excitement at the thought of returning to a Nolan he felt he hadn't seen in ages. But he had barely closed his eyes when he sensed another presence in the room.

Opening his eyes, he sat up in bed. Mr. Augustus, cloaked in a black robe, stood before the closed door, watching him. Behind the spectral messenger, the door itself was shifting, transforming from a shimmering Gate to the Realm of Death back into ordinary wood.

Jenkins blinked, a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, Mr. Augustus. It's been a long time," Jenkins greeted him warmly. "Please, have a seat. Are you here to check on the execution of your will? Everything is proceeding smoothly, I assure you. I've been personally overseeing it, and the Sage Church is providing assistance. If you'd like the documents, I could... well, I suppose burning them for you isn't quite the custom here. My apologies. If you'd like to review the files, you can find me once I'm back in Nolan."

Mr. Augustus had been a friend to Jenkins. As a descendant of a sovereign bloodline, upon his death, he was summoned by the Ancient God of Death to serve as a figure akin to a reaper of souls. The two had met once since Augustus's passing, about four months ago, when Jenkins had intentionally come into contact with the Shard of Death's Cloak.

In any case, Jenkins considered him a friend—and not just because Augustus had left him a considerable inheritance. Their bond had been strong even when he was among the living.

"It has been a while, Viscount Williamette."

His knowledge was clearly up-to-date; he even knew of Jenkins's promotion to viscount.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, though I do thank you for your diligence in executing my will. My decision to trust you was the right one. This time, I've come on behalf of another to extend an invitation."

He pulled back his hood, revealing his face completely. In his spectral form, his skin was unnaturally pale, but otherwise, he looked no different than he had in life.

"An invitation for me? From whom? To where?"

Jenkins asked, slipping his feet into his slippers and getting out of bed. The cat, which had been dozing by his pillow, stretched languidly, front paws extending and back legs pushing straight. It let out a massive yawn before hopping down to follow him.

"The one who invites you is a being of great eminence."

Augustus said, giving a slight wink, as if to suggest Jenkins could guess who he meant.

"He wishes to invite you into a Mysterious Realm. A very specific one."

Jenkins ventured, already suspecting the invitation came from the Ancient God of Death himself.

"That, I do not know," Augustus admitted. "But I can assure you, this journey into the Mysterious Realm will be free of danger. I will remain by your side for the duration, and I will see you returned here safely when it is over."

Jenkins trailed off, hesitating.

He gave a firm nod, trusting Augustus's promise of "no danger." If the great being truly wished him harm, he surely wouldn't have sent an envoy with such fanfare. Read complete versıon only at novel(ꜰ)ire.net

"May I bring my cat?"

He asked, stroking the drowsy feline that was now perched on his shoulder.

Augustus nodded. He stepped aside, turning toward the door and gesturing graciously. Before Jenkins's very eyes, the simple wooden door dissolved into a portal of blinding white light—an entrance to the Mysterious Realm.

*I knew that Mysterious Realms were fragments splintered from the worlds of great beings, but this was the first time I'd ever witnessed one being formed.*

His gaze dropped to his pajamas, and he promptly asked for a moment to change before they departed.

The sensation was of falling from a great height. He landed steadily on his feet, but a wave of vertigo still washed over him, forcing him to clutch his head for a moment until it passed. When he looked up, Augustus was right beside him.

The ground beneath his feet was rough and uneven, and he appeared to be standing amid the wreckage of a battlefield. In the distance, dark clouds hung so low they seemed to touch the earth. The air was thick with the damp, heavy scent of an approaching storm, but beneath it lingered the coppery tang of blood.

Tendrils of black smoke coiled into the air around them. Gazing into the distance, Jenkins could make out bodies and shattered weapons littering the landscape. At the very edge of his vision, a tattered banner flew from a hilltop, whipping in the fierce wind, but he was too far away to discern its sigil.

Before them lay the ruins of a church. The site looked as though it had been savaged by steam bombs and cannons, one after another. The main structure was gone, and the ground was a mess of debris that barely concealed the shattered flagstones beneath. The bases of several stone pillars still jutted from the earth, their ornate carvings hinting at the splendor the church must have once possessed.

A short distance away, a leaning, half-shattered statue marked what had once been the main hall. It was the most intact part of the ruin; at least a portion of the wall still stood behind it. The pulpit lay toppled in the rubble before the statue, tangled in a heap with a few broken pews.

Ringed by the broken pews, directly in front of the statue, a collection of gathered branches crackled in a campfire—the sole source of light and warmth in this desolate Mysterious Realm.

Three figures lay on the ground around the campfire. Each wore a military uniform, though their factions were impossible to identify; it was clear, however, that they all belonged to different sides. Judging by the fabric and cut of their clothing, the civilization of this realm's setting was slightly less advanced than the late 18th Epoch, though clearly post-industrial revolution.

"The rules for this Mysterious Realm are quite simple."

Augustus explained as they walked from the darkness at the edge of the battlefield toward the campfire. He had taken on the role of guide and arbiter for this trial.

"We have three wounded men here. Each is gravely injured, and each comes from a different nation, brought to this place for his own reasons, with his own tale to tell.

"I can tell you that by any common standard, all three of these men would be considered villains. Your task is to listen to their stories, determine which of them is the most evil, and kill him with your own hand. The rules have been... adjusted. As long as your choice is justifiable, it will be accepted. Therefore, failure is not a possibility in this realm. Of course, there is also a reward. One that I think you will find quite satisfactory, Jenkins."

With their relationship, using his first name felt only natural.