Chapter 2166: Chapter 2166

The remainder of the duel passed without further incident. Wielding his powerful sword, Jenkins relentlessly layered necromantic curses upon the black dragon, whose innate resistance proved almost useless against the blade’s maledictions.

And so, when Jenkins landed from the air one last time, his strike nearly cleaving the dragon’s blood-soaked claw in two, the beast’s reared torso finally crashed to the ground with a thunderous boom.

The dragon had proven to be exceptionally cunning, so Jenkins was wary of it feigning death and did not approach rashly. Only when the creature’s corpse dissolved into bright red lines of fire, coalescing into the shape of a doorframe, did he, weary and exhausted, drag his sword from the muddy ground.

Returning to the dry expanse before the forge, he collapsed to the ground. This was no act; he was genuinely spent, and it took several deep, ragged breaths before he felt his strength return.

As he used his sword to push himself to his feet, he found himself thinking that the dragon had been right. Outside of a Mysterious Realm, he had a multitude of tactics at his disposal, but within one, he relied far too heavily on the power of the White Bone Holy Sword.

If he were to lose the sword, his combat prowess wouldn't be cut in half, but facing formidable opponents like the black dragon would certainly be nowhere near as straightforward.

Flames now poured ceaselessly from the new doorframe behind him, lending the forge a brighter, fiercer glow. Even from a distance, Jenkins could feel a wave of dry, hot air wash over him. As the fire blazed, pushing back more of the surrounding darkness, the man in the hunting leathers leaned forward to inspect the interior of the new gateway.

"Excellent," he remarked. "I didn't expect you to defeat another opponent so easily. Care to hear about a new function of this forge?"

"What other function could there be?"

"The flames are now abundant enough," the man explained. "Sufficient to forge special items or weapons."

In other words, he could now consume the firelight to directly create numbered items.

"Are there options? Or can you create something to my specifications?"

Though he had no intention of spending his hard-won fire, his curiosity was piqued.

"There are no custom orders, but three items are available: the Fire Demon Serpent, the Tempered Blade, and the Flame of Battle. The first is a quasi-elemental creature that can cling to your body as a tattoo and aid you in combat. The second is a longsword; due to its unique forging technique and materials, it will ignite any target it strikes and can be considered a permanent heat source. The third is simply a wisp of fire that can reside within your body, continuously improving your constitution and granting you combat experience in your dreams."

They all sounded like rather exceptional items. In any ordinary Mysterious Realm, Jenkins might have even declared, "I'll take them all." But this particular adventure was different, and he could only regretfully decline every option.

Now, all that remained was to defeat one more enemy of the second difficulty and one of the highest difficulty, and he would successfully navigate this Mysterious Realm. Despite the back-to-back battles, he had to admit that the danger level here was not particularly high. After all, he only needed to vanquish the enemies he encountered without having to worry about the realm’s own insidious traps—a blessing he had rarely enjoyed before.

"But the Beast of Calamity..."

He was certain it lay within the highest-difficulty doorframe, but he still couldn't guess which one it would be.

"Whatever. I'll defeat the next enemy first."

Hefting his sword, he calibrated his position with the compass, selected his next opponent, and strode through the doorframe.

He didn't see it, but as he stepped through the portal, the fingers on the stone-like hand of the man leaning against the forge twitched unnaturally.

The moment his feet touched the ground, a blast of fiery air washed over him. He found himself on the precipice of a subterranean abyss, standing on a stone bridge that jutted out from the chasm wall. Looking back, he could see the dark silhouettes of ancient ruins fading into the gloom. Ahead, the narrow bridge was strewn with corpses, and its far end was consumed by a sea of crimson.

The light of the inferno cast a stark glow on Jenkins’s face, and the searing heat threatened to set his hair ablaze. It was even more intense than the forge at its peak.

In the far distance, the bridge was broken, failing to connect to the other side of the abyss. At the fracture stood a colossal, humanoid figure. It was cloaked in shifting shadows, its core of raging flame sketching the silhouette of a ferocious demon. Its brownish-yellow eyes burned, and its mane steamed and sizzled in the scorching flames.

Its arms were long and powerful, and a pair of short wings sprouted from its back. The arms were mostly obscured by the flames surrounding it, sometimes appearing as two, other times as a thousand.

Jenkins could only make out its weapons: a searing, brilliant whip of fire in its left hand and a longsword of indistinct shape in its right.

Both weapons were scaled to their wielder's massive form, their length utterly staggering. To Jenkins, it looked as if the creature were wielding a full-grown tree.

He took a deep breath, and the sharp pain of scorching air searing his throat confirmed that this was no dream. This was a demon of flame and shadow, a monster from ancient legends, a creature spoken of by the very hero who had bestowed upon him the power of The Hero. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ N0veI.Fiɾe.net

"Oh... an ancient Balrog!"

This was no mere manifestation of a Beast of Calamity's power; it was a genuine, ancient Balrog. In an age before the Eleventh Epoch, the material world had suffered a catastrophic demonic invasion. The various races had united to fight against the demon armies, and even among those legions, the Balrog had stood as a battle commander near the apex of both rank and power.

While it was debatable whether a Balrog or a pure-blooded dragon was stronger, if forced to choose an opponent between the two, most would rather face the dragon.

Dragons were intelligent beings capable of reason, but Balrogs were monsters of pure chaos, slaughter, and destruction.

Jenkins could never have imagined that he would find himself facing an ancient Balrog. And unlike the black dragon from before, this one appeared completely unscathed.

"Was the black dragon really on the same difficulty level as this Balrog? Did I walk through the wrong door?"

Jenkins took a step forward, trying to get a better look at his opponent, but that single step caused the world around him to shift. The stone bridge remained as it was, but the corpses strewn across it crumbled into stark white bones, a testament to the awesome power of time's passage.

A wall of fire rushed toward him as a piercing roar echoed through the abyss, a sound so visceral it made Jenkins’s heart clench. The Balrog wasted no time on words. It brought its greatsword down on Jenkins, who could do nothing but raise his own sword to meet the blow.

A deafening crash boomed through the abyss, like a thunderclap in the deep.

As the two swords collided, the stone bridge beneath Jenkins’s feet trembled violently. The White Bone Holy Sword instantly shattered into two pieces. The upper half spun through the air, flying past Jenkins before plunging into the bridge’s surface behind him, where it stood quivering with a low hum.

Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the broken hilt in his hand. He then saw that the Balrog was not pressing its advantage but was instead withdrawing its weapon. The flames enveloping its greatsword slowly receded, revealing the weapon’s true form.

"B-01-1-0006, the Sin's Eternal Flame Greatsword!"

Before entering the nine-story tower, after visiting the old elf, Jenkins had encountered the last surviving member of the Gear Artisans' Association. The man had not only told him how the Difference Engine and the Treehouse had joined forces to destroy the Artisans' final ritual, but had also warned him of the methods the Difference Engine would use against him.

The most crucial piece of information concerned B-01-1-0006, the Sin's Eternal Flame Greatsword, which the Treehouse had recovered from an active undersea volcano. Judging the blade on its own merits, without its additional powers, it was the highest-rated sword the Orthodox Churches had ever evaluated, possessing the unique property of being able to sever any other sword.

The old artisan from the association had warned Jenkins to be extremely careful of the spiral sword, which looked like two strands of metal forcibly twisted together. Jenkins had never forgotten his warning.

But remembering had done nothing to prevent this. The White Bone Holy Sword—his companion for so long, the ultimate weapon that had helped him vanquish countless foes—was now truly and irrevocably broken.

The Balrog’s colossal spiral sword was wreathed in fire. The blade itself was a burning red, though traces of white ash clung to its surface. Sparks flew from it, and the simple act of retracting the weapon seemed as if it could cleave the very abyss in two.

In the hands of the Balrog, the power of this greatsword was far greater than the sum of its parts.

The only good news now was that the fractured stone bridge beneath him was incredibly sturdy, having only trembled slightly under the Balrog's full-force blow.

Jenkins didn't have to worry about the fight turning into a desperate free-fall into the abyss, but that small comfort could not remedy the catastrophe. Just as he had feared before entering this doorway, without the White Bone Holy Sword, his combat ability had plummeted.

The Balrog’s shriek nearly tore his eardrums. After drawing back the spiral greatsword, the massive demon raised its left hand, brandishing the whip of fire. The whip cracked and spun through the air, leaving a dazzling trail of light that lingered long after it passed. Then, the whip lashed down violently toward the bridge, striking at Jenkins.

It was as if a sea of fire were being dragged through the air. The sheer wind pressure from the whip's descent was enough to pulverize the few remaining skeletons around Jenkins into fine dust.

Weaponless, Jenkins had no desire to gamble his staff's durability against such a blow. Instead, he raised his arms to shield his head, planted his right leg forward and his left back, and lowered his stance, meeting the Balrog’s flaming whip head-on with his forearms.

Amidst an explosion that seemed to shake the entire abyss, Jenkins stood firm on the bridge, unmoving, as the stone around him burst into flames. As the whip recoiled and danced in the air, he held his defensive posture, steady as a rock. Though his clothes were unharmed, the arms beneath were red and swollen, looking as if they would burst through his sleeves.

Not only that, but half the bones in his body had fractured under the immense pressure of that single strike.

When the force of the whip finally receded, he remained frozen in place, not daring to move. A few seconds later, he stumbled back a step, his bones already mostly healed.

Looking up, he saw the spiral greatsword descending on him once again. At the same time, the Balrog opened its great maw, and a terrifying torrent of purple-red fire rained down upon him.