Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 622

As the corpse vanished completely, tendrils of black smoke seeped from the sand. They shot toward Jenkins, coiling around his wrist to form a dark, unbroken ring against his skin.

A wave of nausea so intense it made him want to retch forced him to bend over, bracing his hands against the ground. At the same time, the Spirit that usually flowed so freely through his body grew sluggish and coarse—a sensation he had never before experienced.

A low, buzzing whisper echoed in his ears, like a crowd of people murmuring just out of sight. An overwhelming urge to kill surged through him, and he instinctively summoned his black spear. Fortunately, this desolate place offered no target for his sudden bloodlust.

"This isn't some permanent curse, is it?"

Anxiety gnawed at him as he frantically scrubbed at the mark on his wrist with his left hand.

A thought struck him, and he stumbled back into the pit to retrieve the bone fragment. As he picked it up, a faint, cool current flowed from its surface into his body, jolting his mind with a moment of clarity. The bone instantly crumbled into dust, and the black brand on his wrist faded slightly. But just as quickly, the sickening urge to vomit returned with full force.

"Gains and losses," he muttered. "I agreed to bear his sin, and in return, I received a special item that could positively affect my mind—even if it couldn't remove the curse entirely. This means if I'd given even one wrong answer, I would have had to fight that thing while suffering the full brunt of this affliction."

He was fairly certain of his conclusion; after traversing so many Mysterious Realms, he had started to recognize their general patterns. A sharp pang of regret hit him. If this black ring was indeed permanent, he would have been far better off starting a fight from the very beginning.

Given the nature of these realms, the likelihood of the effect being permanent and irreversible was alarmingly high.

Still, at least there was a solution.

"You aided the kinslayer, a man guilty of the sin of slaughter."

"You helped him bear his sin."

"He is free." Follow current novels on novel{f}ire.net

The old woman's voice drifted down from the top of the dune, distant and indistinct, without any supernatural amplification.

Clutching his head, Jenkins had no energy to spare for her. He feared that even a single glance in her direction would be the final straw that shattered his sanity.

"Next time," he ground out, "I will never agree to such terms so carelessly."

He could feel himself at his absolute limit; even rational thought was becoming a struggle. He tried desperately to focus on his next steps, but his baser instincts screamed at him to kill anything that stood in his way, return to the material world, and use the power of his Godhood to empower the Purification Candle and end this torment.

His wretched state slowed his progress considerably as he began to unearth the second corpse. This time, he moved further up the dune, wary of digging up an identical body.

The first thing that hit him was the stench. This corpse wasn't a skeleton but a body in an advanced state of decay. Strangely, there were no maggots, but the sight and smell alone were enough to make Jenkins gag and dry heave.

The only reason he didn't vomit was that he hadn't eaten dinner; his stomach was completely empty.

Another spirit with an unsettling smile materialized and merged with the body, transforming it into a grotesque hybrid—one half rotted, the other perfectly preserved.

It was clearly a woman, and judging from the intact side of her face, she couldn't have been more than forty.

"Do you want to be trapped in this desert forever? Don't you long for freedom? Don't you wish to see your family one last time?"

This time, Jenkins seized the initiative, attributing his last 'failure' to letting the spirit lead the conversation.

"Leave?" the spirit murmured. "Perhaps."

She sounded uncertain.

"If you wish it, I can help you leave,"

he promised. The dizziness and discomfort still plagued him, but at least the murderous impulse had been brought under control.

"No, I cannot leave," the woman declared. "I am guilty."

he groaned inwardly. He planted his black spear in the sand and leaned on it for support, bracing himself for a sudden attack.

He deliberately avoided the word 'sin'.

"I was so hungry," the woman replied, "so I ate many things."

Her answer sent a prickle of foreboding through Jenkins.

"Following the usual pattern... she ate people?"

The thought made the nausea churn more violently in his stomach.

"Everything," she said. "I ate everything in sight, but I was still hungry. When there was nothing left for me to eat... I died."

Jenkins fell silent for a moment. That wasn't quite what he'd expected.

"So what will it take for you to leave this place?"

"I am still so hungry," she moaned. "It makes me miserable. Are you willing to bear..."

"No," he cut her off. "I am not."

The words had barely left his mouth when the corpse, previously sitting quietly, lurched to its feet. The heavily decayed side of its body gurgled as blood-filled blisters popped on its skin. Its mouth opened, stretching wider and wider until it reached a grotesque, impossible size.

From within that black, cavernous maw, the face of a beautiful woman slowly emerged.

she cooed in the common tongue, smiling sweetly at Jenkins.

A blush crept up Jenkins's face. "Hello,"

he replied, his mind hazy. In his normal state, such a simple mental enchantment would have had no effect, but his current condition was precarious.

"Would you like to kiss me?"

the woman asked, a coy look in her eyes.

Jenkins stared at her red lips, swallowed hard, and gave a bashful smile.

"No," he stammered. "We've only just met. It wouldn't be appropriate."

His awkward, conservative nature had just saved his life.

"Are you sure you don't want to kiss me?"

the woman asked again, her voice soft and persuasive.

Jenkins shook his head firmly, but a sliver of doubt finally pierced the fog in his mind.

"This can't be right," he thought. "Would a normal woman invite a complete stranger to kiss her?"

At that thought, he finally realized something was terribly wrong.

"If you won't come to me," she purred, "then I'll have to come to you!"

The face in the mouth suddenly twisted into a hideous, snake-like visage. It slithered out from the massive jaw, revealing that its head was attached to a long, serpentine body.

The creature slithered across the sand toward Jenkins, coiling gently around his neck. Its snake-like face then began to retract, pulling him inexorably toward the gaping, pitch-black mouth.

The side of his face scraped against the coarse sand, drawing blood. The sharp sting of pain was like a shot of adrenaline to his clouded mind—a crude stimulant, but an effective one.