Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 554

Nothing else disturbed the night. But perhaps because he’d told a horror story before bed, a massive cat appeared in his dream. Man and beast stared at each other for a long, silent moment before Jenkins jolted awake.

He opened his eyes to find the side of his face resting on Chocolate's black-and-white tail. The cat's breathing was even; it was still asleep.

The hazy dream replayed in his mind, chasing away any lingering sleepiness. He fumbled for his pocket watch on the nightstand. Not wanting to wake Chocolate, he forwent a light and instead summoned his monocle.

The room was sweltering, and the cool metal of the watch case in his palm was a refreshing, almost thrilling sensation.

He sighed, letting his arm fall limply over the side of the bed, the watch still clutched in his hand.

"A new day. Saturday. No plans. Be careful of the Evil God's Scion. Pay attention to people's shadows. Keep an eye on the starlight sphere's reactions..."

Running through his mental reminders, he carefully rolled over to face the window, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He had drawn the heavy curtains before bed, but a thin sliver of the outside world remained visible.

"Everything will be alright."

It was another foggy day. As the date for the Air Protection Act to take effect drew nearer, the factories on the city's outskirts seemed to spew their emissions with even greater abandon.

Mr. Clark, from the mysterious organization known as the Tree House, had vanished after the "Undying Man" incident, but Jenkins couldn't shake the suspicion that the "Children of the Mist" plan wasn't truly over.

He knew little about the plan, only that it had nothing to do with the position of Savior. But even if no one was actively plotting to use the choking fog, the foul environment, the seething resentment of citizens and workers, and the accident-prone nature of Nolan City were a volatile mix. There was no telling what might ignite.

Later that morning, he heard the latest news from Papa Oliver. A message had arrived from Bel Diran: they had finally identified the corpse-serpent Jenkins had fought off during his travels—Luxor the Gray-White Death Serpent.

The Church had contacted the cult of the pseudo-god known as the "Mother of Spirit Serpents," who were active on the southern continent. It was this very deity, they learned, who had originally sealed the creature. The cult had provided details of Luxor's origins.

"Another one... I mean, it's a descendant of Selfdieselwo the Ouroboros? My apologies, Papa Oliver, I only know the name because the ouroboros symbol is so significant in mysticism."

He'd almost let it slip. The last time he'd escaped that strange realm with the elf and Mr. Black Cat, a different descendant of the Ouroboros—Herfis the Two-headed Serpent—had "generously" covered their travel expenses.

"That is an exceptionally dangerous creature. You were incredibly fortunate to have repelled it head-on."

Papa Oliver was never one to stint on his praise for Jenkins.

"If I may ask, what are the origins of the Ouroboros? I haven't been able to find anything about it in any books."

He was hoping Papa Oliver might explain the term 'Beast of Calamity,' but his mentor claimed he didn't know either.

Jenkins couldn't tell if that was the truth, but he knew that once Papa Oliver said something like that, there was no prying any more information out of him.

"Perhaps I can ask the professor, or Miss Miller."

The talk of the Ouroboros inevitably brought his own golden ring to mind. It was fashioned in the shape of a small snake biting its own tail. The Ouroboros symbol also carried connotations of greed and was often linked to wealth, which seemed to confirm, at least indirectly, that the ring's purpose was to accumulate riches.

"But what exactly is a Beast of Calamity?"

It was another slow day for business. In fact, by the time Jenkins finished his work for the evening, the antique shop hadn't made a single sale.

After bidding Papa Oliver farewell, Jenkins headed for the black market to purchase some materials. On his way, he stopped by the Pig's Head Bar to pick up a batch of letters addressed to a "Miss Fabry" from the bartender.

But not all the letters were from investors eager to strike it rich. One, postmarked from Dullin, the capital of the Cheslan Kingdom, was from Mr. Black Cat. It seemed his trip abroad had led him to a new home.

The letter was written on stationery rarely seen in Nolan, carrying the faint scent of earth and dew—it must have been incredibly expensive. Jenkins had long known Mr. Black Cat was a wealthy man; after all, to ensure his safety when leaving Nolan, he had bought up every available travel ticket for the near future. The source of his income, however, remained a mystery.

He soothed his cat, who was getting restless from the tavern's foul air, ordered a drink, and settled at a round wooden table in the corner before unfolding the letter.

In the letter, Mr. Black Cat informed Jenkins that he was doing well and provided a mailing address. He also had a request: he hoped Jenkins could help him take care of a few loose ends he'd left behind in his hurried departure from Nolan.

Of course, being a friend, Mr. Black Cat wasn't asking for a favor for free; his offer of compensation in the letter was quite generous. Jenkins saw that the tasks weren't difficult and decided to take care of them soon.

"Still, the Cheslan Kingdom... Dullin."

He mused for a moment. He still remembered how the Corpse Gentleman, in exchange for promising to help a certain lady, had accepted a manor on the outskirts of Dullin as payment. At the time, Jenkins had considered investigating the manor to learn more about the Corpse Gentleman's background, but he'd been stymied by his lack of contacts in the city.

"No, that's too dangerous."

He quickly dismissed the idea of asking Mr. Black Cat for help. His impression of the enigmatic Corpse Gentleman was deeply unsettling. There was absolutely no reason to endanger a rare friend simply to satisfy his own curiosity.

Just as he'd expected, prices in the black market were still climbing, reaching heights that gave even Jenkins a headache.

His savings were substantial, and the liquidation of Viscount Augustus's inheritance was nearing completion. Even so, paying three times the usual price for materials was a painful prospect. Fresh chapters posted on novelꞁire.net

Back when he was in Ruen, he had discussed the local black market with Miss Miller and Miss Stuart. While prices there had also been affected by rumors of the epoch's end, the inflation hadn't been nearly so drastic.

For a moment, he seriously considered the idea of smuggling materials between the two cities, but a prick of shame caused the thought to wither once more.

As he was about to leave the black market, he brushed past Mr. Hood, who was wrapped in a black robe. Jenkins kept walking, idly wondering what would happen if he suddenly called out. For the sake of Mr. Hood's heart, however, he kept the thought to himself.