Chapter 2089: Chapter 2089

"The last Mysterious Realm corresponded to Twin Demons. It seems the Difference Engine wanted me to personally sacrifice a soul with the 'twin' trait to achieve a reversal effect. Since this is a graveyard, I'm guessing this one is probably about Undying Man."

Jenkins summoned his ability nodes for a quick look. As expected, Twin Demons, Ice Solidification, and Astral Perception, all having been used once, were now unavailable. Just as he had analyzed before, the nine Mysterious Realms formed a single, larger one. Until he left this tower for good, each ability could only be used once.

He picked up the metal cocoons and his backpack, starting toward the bonfire, but then he paused. He reached into his pocket and, to his surprise, felt a new object.

Every time Jenkins survived a Mysterious Realm, he would invariably emerge with a new Bestowal. He didn't know the reason for this pattern, but it seemed to hold true even here.

He pulled a round, red gem coin from his pocket. In thickness and size, it was identical to a Sin Coin. What Jenkins considered the front of the coin was emblazoned with the emblem of Twin Demons, while the reverse side revealed a miniature sea of stars across its small, gem-like surface.

He infused the Bestowal with his spirit but received no response. Now wasn't the time to study it, so Jenkins could only temporarily absorb it back into his spirit before picking up his things and walking toward the eerie blue bonfire.

It wasn't just the color of the flames that was unusual; the fuel wasn't wood, but human bones. Jenkins was certain they were human bones—he had learned a thing or two over the past year.

The bonfire was situated in one of the few clearings in the graveyard. Looking around, he could see a dense forest of tombstones of varying sizes and styles standing at the edge of the ghostly blue light. No one could have planned this cemetery; otherwise, it would never have ended up in such a chaotic state.

Even with the dark vision granted by the King Soul, Jenkins couldn't make out what was wrong with those bushes. They looked as if horrifying corpses had been sculpted into shape and staked to the ground. Yet, the perception from his World Tree Seedling ability couldn't be mistaken—they were, in fact, genuine plants, just tainted with the spirit of death.

The master of this Mysterious Realm sat beside the bonfire of burning bones. It was a humanoid creature draped in a robe, maintaining a seated posture. Its legs were pressed together, its head bowed, and its arms wrapped around its shins.

The brown burlap robe was riddled with tiny holes, as if it had been snagged by thorns. The threads at the cuffs and hem trailed off in an exaggerated fashion. Clearly, whoever had made this garment was no competent weaver.

Hearing Jenkins's footsteps, the robed figure lifted its head. Jenkins was met with the sight of a skeleton, but its face was a strange hybrid: one half was withered, yellowed bone, while the other was a complex mechanism of brass-colored gears.

The two materials weren't cleanly divided; rather, they were intertwined, one within the other. The robe concealed the rest of its body, but Jenkins could guess that its torso was likely in a similar state.

Perhaps the original master of this realm had been entirely undead, only transformed into this state after being invaded by the power of the Difference Engine.

It looked at Jenkins, its twin eye sockets filled with an eerie blue soul-fire. But the color of this fire was far less pure than the bonfire of burning bones before it. The flames in its eyes contained hints of orange-red, likely a result of the Difference Engine's influence.

Besides this seated metal skeleton, there was an obsidian table next to the fire, about waist-high to Jenkins. The table and the skeleton flanked the bonfire. Compared to the grotesque metal skeleton, the four-legged obsidian table seemed almost normal.

Jenkins found a relatively clean spot to sit, placing one metal cocoon under him as a seat, using another to hold down his backpack, and taking the last one in his hands, intending to cut it open. These cocoons were incredibly light and remarkably sturdy; Jenkins was already considering fashioning them into some sort of body armor.

The fire sizzled as it consumed the bones, letting out a familiar crackling sound. But beneath that, he could hear the distinct sound of human wails. Jenkins blinked and looked closer at the burning bones. Within the blue flames, he could clearly see a cluster of grimacing souls, howling in agony.

The robed figure didn't speak. Instead, it raised its right hand, extending a long finger bone that was a mottled mix of brass and jaundiced yellow. As its finger moved, a line of letters formed in the air, composed of blue flames:

"The fire is fading."

Jenkins's head snapped up, but the words that followed were not what he expected:

"Go and find some firewood."

"If I find firewood, can I leave?" he asked.

The skeleton nodded. As its finger bone swayed, more letters materialized in a string:

"The door is in the darkness around us, but it only appears when illuminated by this flame. Do not try to move the fire. You can only make it burn more intensely, letting its light cover a larger area."

Currently, the bone bonfire only illuminated the clearing; the surrounding cluster of tombstones was untouched by the light.

"Alright, where do I find firewood?"

"I have to dig up bones?"

"Yes. Dig up corpses, dismantle them for enough bones on this table, and burn them to make the fire fiercer. Of course, you can also choose to burn your own bones. This fire is not a picky eater."

Jenkins thought for a moment, but didn't use Psychography or his World Tree Seedling to create bones. It was obvious that the bones were just a facade; the true fuel was the souls clinging to them. His eyes could see the truth of the fire, and even if they couldn't, he doubted that simple bones could ignite such a strange flame.

He waited a while longer. Seeing that the robed skeleton had no further instructions, Jenkins put down the metal cocoon in his hands for the time being, picked up his backpack, and prepared to step into the darkness. But after a few steps, he stopped again and turned back.

"What happens if I don't find enough firewood in time?"

The finger bone lifted and wagged a few times:

"The flame will die, and all will return to darkness."

The soil here was damp enough that he could probably dig with his bare hands. But Jenkins didn't start right away. He decided to inspect the tombstones first.

The tombstones stood in a crooked cluster, with no discernible pattern. No two were alike in style; most were made of gray stone, with a few wooden crosses mixed in. Each bore an inscription, but since most of the surfaces were severely weathered—some were even broken in half—they were extremely difficult to decipher.

Jenkins could at least confirm that all the writing on the tombstones was in modern, common script. He could judge the age of a tombstone by its lettering and grammar, and the oldest one he could find was only a little over a century old. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel★fire.net

He didn't dare venture too far from the bonfire, so he only examined the circle of graves at the edge of the clearing. Finding no further clues, he casually pulled up the nearest wooden tombstone, planning to use it as a makeshift shovel.

But to his surprise, as the crooked, cross-shaped tombstone was "uprooted" from the soil, a rotting human hand shot out from the hole it left behind.

Jenkins immediately backed away, then watched as a second hand clawed its way out of the dirt. The two hands pressed down on the earth, and with a heave, a rotting head finally pushed through the soil.

It didn't pull the rest of its body from the ground. Instead, it remained there, with only its hands and head exposed, staring intently at the tombstone in Jenkins's hand.

The wooden tombstone was in even worse shape than the stone ones, offering almost no useful information. He could barely make out that the owner had died in 1853—thirteen years ago, if the date was accurate to the material world's current year of 1866.

"If you want this, I can give it back to you," Jenkins offered, shaking the large cross he held in one hand.

"Not this one. This isn't mine either. I want meat."

"There's a lot of meat down here. Help me find corpses, take the meat from them on that stone table. Get enough, and I'll tell you where the door is."

He immediately raised an eyebrow and, standing on his toes, glanced back at the robed figure still seated by the bonfire.

"There's another one over there who wants bones, and he can also help me find the exit. So, can you tell me your relationship?"

As he spoke, he moved closer to the head, blinking his eyes again to look beneath it. He could indeed see the outline of a body under the dirt, proving it wasn't just a head and hands. However, the black spiritual aura he perceived seemed to have no connection to metal. This meant the rotting head was probably not under the influence of the Difference Engine.

It was possible for a Mysterious Realm to have two different ways to leave. Then again, it might not be two different ways out—perhaps choosing whom to help was part of the rules of this realm.

"We're competing. If there's meat, there are no bones. If there are bones, there's no meat. A person can only have one. Neither of us can do it ourselves. That's the rule."

The head explained with great difficulty, its voice a gravelly rasp, its Common Tongue thick and clumsy, like someone with a swollen tongue trying to recite a tongue twister.

"So, you both actually want souls?" Jenkins surmised.

"You could say that."

So, he had understood correctly.