Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 839

"Let's not talk about the mouse incident... Why don't we discuss the earthquake last night? I haven't heard the latest news."

Jenkins had no desire to relive the experience of being batted around by a cat's paws. It wasn't just humiliating; being tormented by the little kitten, Chocolate, felt like a deep wound to his pride.

"The damage is severe. Nolan City hasn't experienced an earthquake this powerful in years."

The professor shook his head as he spoke, oblivious to Jenkins's subtle shift in mood:

"But it was clearly no natural earthquake. The intensity felt in the western part of the city and at the mines near the epicenter was vastly different. It's a shame our city doesn't have a church dedicated to the Mother of the Earth, otherwise we could easily determine what's happening underground... I recall you brought back a lead on the Gear Artisans' Association last year. It could be them working down there..."

Jenkins suspected as much. According to that sealed entity underground, a group of people was clearly digging for something. And given the location, the only ones who could be tunneling any deeper would be the Enchanters from the Gear Artisans' Association, making trouble.

The sealed, man-like face had even kindly warned him of the danger. It had been right, too—that transformation had saved Jenkins's life. If the tunnel hadn't collapsed, Jenkins would have genuinely wanted to go back and speak with it again. That face certainly knew more things that would interest him.

"Speaking of which, I seem to be encountering far too many people adept at prophecy lately. Take Mr. Pisco—he didn't leave me any money for the return journey, apparently because he knew I would be taking a 'cat carriage' home."

He mused silently before asking,

"I don't know. There's nothing about it in the histories of this Epoch, and the history from before our era is ambiguous."

The professor shrugged, his eyes fixed on Jenkins as he methodically stirred his spoon in his bowl.

"But if there is something down there, it must be from thousands, even tens of thousands of years ago. The thought alone is terrifying. Who knows what that thing could be?"

Magic Miss had mentioned the underground seal before. She believed the mine tunnels were merely the shallowest part of it, and that its deeper layers had yet to be discovered.

This wasn't the first time the Gear Artisans' Association had caused an earthquake over that sealed object deep underground. Jenkins was confident the Church would begin an investigation as soon as they dealt with the pressing threat of the undead.

"I also heard you ran into some trouble last week? A shooting in one of the outlying towns? You need to take that seriously."

"Oh, it was nothing. I just heard the gunshots from a distance."

Jenkins answered absently, "I was just a bit unlucky."

"Fate is impartial to all, so it's perfectly normal to run into a bit of bad luck now and then. But to always have good luck... well, that means one of two things."

"And what are those two possibilities?"

He knew that if he didn't ask, the professor would be left in a very awkward position.

"First, that Fate has a deadly trap waiting for them up ahead. Second, that they are the protagonist on a stage, not a person in reality." New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel[f]ire.net

"The protagonist on a stage?"

"Yes. Good fortune always follows the protagonist on stage. No matter how recklessly they squander fate's goodwill, they always manage to reach a happy conclusion."

As he said this, the professor couldn't help but shake his head again.

"Miracles always grace the stage's protagonist, but they don't happen so frequently in real life. That is the difference between the theater and our world. Young people today read a few knightly romances and immediately believe they can be heroes, just like in the stories. They never stop to consider that an age teeming with heroes is an age where the entire continent has descended into chaos."

On that topic, the professor couldn't resist launching into a complaint about his students. Knightly and courtly romances were flying off the shelves, largely because rising material prosperity had created a greater demand for entertainment—a trend from which Jenkins himself was benefiting.

Teachers, however, saw these time-wasting books as their greatest foe. After all, there's a difference between having an interest and being utterly engrossed, and a student's first duty is to their studies.

"I'm absolutely not complaining about your new book."

The professor made sure to clarify.

"But young people shouldn't get obsessed with that sort of thing. They have more important work to do. I have read your book, by the way. It's quite fascinating, and I agree with your discourse on the relationship between the extraordinary and the mundane."

"Professor, do a lot of your students read my book?"

"Of course. And on that subject... I'm not complaining, but anyone who dares read a novel in my classroom gets ten points docked from their final paper!"

That was a severe penalty. Jenkins still remembered the miserable fate of several of the professor's students who had failed to pass during last year's exam season.

They chatted a little longer, until Professor Burns suddenly asked Jenkins if he had any plans for the afternoon. He explained that he was heading to an interesting auction; the archaeology department had its eye on one of the items. Attending such events alone was always a bore, his colleagues were all teaching, and bringing along any of his restless students would only give him a headache. That's when he'd thought of inviting Jenkins.

"Of course, I'm free."

Although he had planned to go home and read, an invitation from the professor was worth delaying his plans for a couple of hours.

As it happened, the auction was organized by the Golden Bunting Auction House—the very same place he had been that morning. What's more, Professor Burns leaned in conspiratorially and told Jenkins that this particular auction had a connection to them both.

"What kind of connection?"

As they sat at the table looking over their bills, Jenkins wasn't worried about the cost, but about the sheer amount of food Chocolate had managed to put away.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

"I do. It was at the old castle in the countryside."

"And do you remember the victims from that time?"

"Hmm, let me think..."

His main memories of the incident were Papa Oliver's miraculous "return from the dead" and the terrifying creature that had forced them all into the Mysterious Realm—a creature Jenkins still couldn't identify.

Chocolate, for her part, knew nothing.

"Oh, I remember now. It was Mr. Sanders from the Golden Bunting Auction House, and that portly antiques dealer, Chewill, a colleague of Papa Oliver's!"

The professor nodded, handing a tip to the waiter. He then rose and took his tan cashmere jacket from the back of his chair, continuing the conversation with Jenkins as they headed for the exit.

"That Mr. Sanders was an Enchanter, but he died in the Mysterious Realm. After we made it out, Papa Oliver reported the incident to the Church, and they confiscated most of his collection... The small part that was left is what's being auctioned off today."