Chapter 2180: Chapter 2180

Jenkins breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn't have to worry about the black mist swallowing the deck.

By now, he had a general grasp of the rules governing this Mysterious Realm. He needed to search for clues about the world's backstory while simultaneously making good use of his time to find a source of light. Both tasks were essential—one held the key to his escape, and the other was a matter of immediate survival.

The time within the Mysterious Realm was limited, making the proper allocation of his efforts between these two goals a critical challenge.

"But if that's all there is to it, this Mysterious Realm doesn't seem too difficult," he mused. "This is the eighth level. The Difference Engine wouldn't place such a simple trial here. Is there some other scheme at play that I'm missing?"

He absently stroked Chocolate, who responded by tilting its head and rubbing against his hand, putting on an air of perfect obedience.

"Come to think of it, I wonder what this realm's Beast of Calamity will be," he pondered. "Last time was so inventive, having the Sin Nightmare take on my appearance. This time should be just as creative, if not more so, right?"

He carefully set the lantern down beside his backpack, then fashioned a makeshift windbreak from some debris scattered across the deck. Only then did he return to the man with the fish lodged in his throat.

"Alright," Jenkins prompted. "What information can you offer me? About this world." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ noᴠelfire.net

"I can offer you three pieces of intelligence," the man rasped, "but I only asked for two fish, so you'll have to choose two of the three."

"No," the man replied. "I'm full. Quite full."

The man stated, then proceeded to list the options without waiting:

"Three pieces of intelligence. One, the reason for my presence here. Two, a vague description of this world's catastrophe. And three, a word of advice for getting around on this ship."

"Let's start with the catastrophe."

That one was non-negotiable.

"Very well. I've forgotten precisely when it happened. All I recall is that it was sudden—as if in an instant, a black mist shrouded the sky, and a colossal, chaotic, indescribable thing invaded our world from above. After that, everything changed. There was no more peace, no more stability. That nameless thing, descending from the heavens with chaos and curses, plagues and demons in its wake, corroded our world and brought unending calamity. It is the enemy of all life, the destroyer of civilization."

The man thumped his chest, as if to quiet the struggling fish in his throat.

"That's all," he managed. "I don't think I can say any more."

That was enough. Though his account was filled with vague adjectives, reminiscent of old science fiction and fantasy novels, at least one point was crystal clear:

"The disaster wasn't self-inflicted. It wasn't caused by destroying nature, unearthing ancient ruins, or creating some uncontrollable technology. It was simply an enemy invasion."

The man nodded, a difficult gesture with a fish lodged in his throat.

"Interesting," Jenkins thought. "Something infinitely more powerful than mortals, capable of warping the very world, brought an end to civilization..."

Jenkins suspected the setting of this Mysterious Realm was fictional, not a fragment of history. In the real world, apocalypses were always the result of intelligent life's own actions. The gods would have ensured no external entity could end a civilization and disrupt the stable, cyclical system for processing sin.

"Makes sense," he reasoned. "If this were a historical fragment, even a small amount of information might be enough for me to pinpoint the time period and understand the context."

As Jenkins mulled this over, the man with the fish stuck in his throat spoke again:

"So, what will it be for your last piece of information? Why I'm here, or a few tips for surviving on this ship?"

Jenkins stroked his cat, reflecting on how much calmer he felt with Chocolate by his side. In that moment of clarity, he made his decision.

"I'll take the tips for surviving on the ship."

"You see," the man began, "there are many refugees here. Quite a few of them know things, and some even have ways to keep the black mist from closing in so quickly. After all, only the most capable people managed to escape this far."

"Is there something special about this ship?"

Jenkins asked, his voice laced with suspicion, but the man didn't answer.

"If you need help from the others, you must know who is dangerous but useful, who is dangerous and useless, who is safe and useful, and who is safe but useless. Take me, for example. I'm clearly useful. Oh, sir, you were truly blessed by the god of destiny to have approached me first," he boasted.

"So, you're going to tell me how to distinguish between who is safe and who is useful?"

"No," he croaked. "I can only tell you who is safe."

He suddenly lowered his voice. Jenkins, on alert, leaned in closer to hear what he had to say.

"The safe ones are usually very clean," he whispered. "Even if their clothes are shabby, they'll never be filthy."

"Is that rule absolute?"

As he spoke, the filthy man's mouth stretched into a grotesque grin. Jenkins had leaned in close to hear him, and as the man's jaw unhinged, his cavernous maw threatened to swallow Jenkins's head whole.

In truth, Jenkins didn't need Chocolate's warning; he already knew the man harbored ill intent. Instead of dodging, he thrust his sword forward into the gaping mouth.

The cavernous mouth instantly swallowed the Star-Forged Magic Sword and Jenkins's entire right hand, a powerful suction pulling at him as if to drag his whole body inside. Yet, unpanicked, he planted his free hand firmly on the man's face.

"Blasphemous Creation!"

At such close range, with both of them in direct contact, there was no chance the ability would fail. Blasphemous Creation was one of Jenkins's most lethal attacks. It was a shame the Difference Engine lacked a complete soul—even shattering its fragmented one wouldn't stop it—so there was no need to save this move. Using it here was perfect.

Verdant vines, unseen for what felt like ages, easily tore through the fabric of space and appeared above them. Perhaps as a result of Jenkins's own growth, it wasn't just one or two this time. A whole curtain of vines descended, swaying like tentacles.

As Jenkins's hand held the creature's face in place, the vines enveloped the man's entire head.

A few seconds later, the suction from the mouth weakened. Jenkins withdrew his hand and sword and watched as the vines hoisted the man into the air. A wet, slurping sound emanated from the tendrils wrapped around the man's head, but no one dared to speak—not the metal skull on the chair, nor any of the other refugees huddled nearby.

After a full three minutes, the man—still alive, but with his soul shattered—was unceremoniously dropped. The vines danced in the air, and three slender, emerald tendrils gently extended, offering three perfectly formed Sin Coins to Jenkins.

Jenkins opened his palm, and only after the vines had placed the Sin Coins within it did they silently retract through the tear in space.

"Why are the vines so courteous this time?" Jenkins muttered. "They actually knew to hand over the Sin Coins. And why so many? Was this guy really worth three? Doesn't look like it."

He mumbled to himself, but decided not to dwell on it. Tossing the coins in his hand, he slipped two into his pocket and held the third out to Chocolate.

"Without me around, you probably didn't eat well for lunch, did you?" he said softly. "Hathaway knows what you like, but I imagine you didn't have much of an appetite."

He cooed to his cat, wiggling the coin in his fingers.

Chocolate stared at the coin, looking incredibly guilty and a little worried, feeling as though it were about to break into a cold sweat—if cats could even do that. The feline rarely had cause to understand the meaning of the word "uncanny," but this situation was most definitely uncanny.

It seemed Jenkins knew everything about the cat's origins, yet he refused to speak of it, to even broach the subject. This silence was precisely what worried Chocolate the most.

It let out a deliberately sweet, placating meow, then cautiously stretched its neck forward. It gave Jenkins's fingers a tentative lick before gently taking the Sin Coin from between them.

"Take your time," Jenkins said. "Don't choke on it."

Jenkins patted Chocolate's fluffy little head as he spoke, and the cat obediently ducked a little.

Of course, throughout the entire exchange—from offering the coin to patting its head—Jenkins never once turned to actually look at Chocolate. And that, more than anything, was what made the cat so uneasy.

Its tail swept back and forth against the nape of Jenkins's neck as it savored the treat, all the while trying to fathom his thoughts. Jenkins, for his part, had already started scanning the deck for his next source of information.

The man with the fish in his throat wasn't dead, but he might as well have been. Jenkins propped his body up against the deck's railing, then drew a blanket into existence to cover the man's head. Only then did he begin searching for his next target.

Now that he knew how to distinguish between safe and unsafe targets, his search pool had been reduced by a quarter. While it didn't eliminate a huge number of people, it was still a significant advantage for his next move.

Before long, his eyes settled on a frail-looking girl. He had a strong feeling about her—that in the not-too-distant past, she had been a flower seller. His divine domain, the Protector of Flower Girls, would not lead him astray on such a matter.

This divine authority granted him a natural rapport with flower sellers, and it worked nearly as well on those who had formerly sold flowers.

The girl was huddled under a single blanket with two adult women. To avoid addressing the wrong person, Jenkins crouched down and rapped his knuckles on the deck planking in front of her.

The girl flinched, then cautiously peeked out from under the blanket to look at him. This gave Jenkins a clear view of her features. She had the typical appearance of someone from the continent's central desert regions, with coarse, curly hair and dark skin.

Her eyes were black, which, for some reason, made Jenkins feel a sense of kinship.