Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 841

The air in the alley seemed to congeal in an instant. Jenkins’s eyes widened as he stared upward.

"Damn it! It's him! He's come straight for us!"

The professor was bewildered.

At Jenkins’s shout, the professor reacted instantly, throwing up a barrier with an outstretched hand. The old man had read more books in his lifetime than most people Jenkins had ever met, and a sheet of golden light coalesced before them, so tangible it almost seemed solid.

When Jenkins added his own power, channeling it into the spectral book, the barrier solidified completely, enveloping the two men and the cat in its protective embrace.

The instant the barrier formed, a vicious black beam of light shot down from the sky, slamming into the golden shield. The collision of energies sent vibrations through the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and smoke. Nearby crowds, thinking a steam bomb had detonated, scattered in panic.

The shockwave likely reached the distant circus, and Jenkins hoped it wouldn't disrupt their show.

"It's the owner of the sword, isn't it?"

He asked, his voice tense.

"Yes. He's right above us now. Stay sharp!"

Jenkins suspected his identity had been compromised; there was no other reason the enemy would have tracked him down so quickly. He was now facing the sword head-on. Escaping would be possible, but victory... that would be a different story.

Jenkins warned again, and the professor instantly threw up the sacred barrier. A second clash between black and gold light utterly demolished the adjacent building. As bricks and stone rained down, the package Jenkins had set aside slid across the trembling ground.

The professor suddenly exclaimed.

As he raised his "Blessing of the Book" for a second time, several black threads shot from between the professor’s fingers. Unaffected by the torrent of energy and spirit, they traced the path of the black beam upward, linking the attacker in the sky to the men below.

The professor planted his feet, his muscles bulging so powerfully they nearly tore through his formal suit. With a roar, he yanked, and a man and a sword were ripped from the sky.

The moment the eerie sword hit the ground, the earth turned a lifeless black. A sinister wind gusted through the alley, and every living thing nearby felt a palpable, deathly malice.

Wilkawang tumbled awkwardly to the ground, his arm completely ensnared by the professor's threads.

He struggled for a moment, only to find the old man's strength was far beyond his own. With a grim expression, he waved his free hand. He rolled again to dodge falling debris from the collapsed house as the skull sword, embedded in the ground, shot toward him.

Jenkins sprang forward like a cat, plunging his hands, wreathed in Inexhaustible Fire, into the vortex of souls swirling around the blade. A sharp, stinging pain shot through his palms as an immense force threw him backward.

But his lunge wasn't useless. As he was sent flying back like a sandbag, the sword was knocked off its trajectory, embedding itself in a nearby wall with a loud clang.

The professor roared again, and Wilkawang was dragged helplessly toward him.

The old man's right fist—coarse, covered in age spots, and as large as a sandbag—showed no glowing aura or special effect. But the moment he swung it, even Jenkins, standing yards away, could feel the sheer, unadulterated power behind it.

A sonic boom cracked through the air. Amidst the deafening impact, Wilkawang was sent flying backward at a speed the naked eye could barely follow. He crashed into the ruins of the collapsed building, carving a long trench through the debris-strewn ground.

His bone armor had protected him, but the breastplate was completely caved in. As he struggled to his feet, he coughed up a spray of black blood and organ fragments, which splattered onto the ground along with shards of his armor. He stared at Professor Burns in utter disbelief as a trickle of blood ran down from his forehead, over the bridge of his high, blackhead-ridden nose, and dripped to the dirt.

"Are you really human?"

He waved his hand, and the skull sword flew toward him once more. Jenkins lunged again, just as before. Man and sword met in mid-air, and, unsurprisingly, Jenkins was again no match for the soul storm composed of a million shrieking spirits.

But Wilkawang hadn't summoned the sword to his hand. As Jenkins's lunge failed, the skull sword shot straight for the long wooden box on the ground. Its sharp blade pierced the crate, plunging into the longsword within. The B-class Extraordinary item, which the young writer had bought with borrowed money, visibly corroded into a piece of rusted scrap. In the cold wind, the skull sword trembled as if celebrating its newfound power.

"So that was the goal!"

It dawned on Jenkins. "It's devouring its own kind! He's trying to strengthen the sword!"

He didn't dare use his Knowledge Bestowal ability on Wilkawang; the consequences were too unpredictable. Instead, as he leaped forward, he pointed a finger at the man's head. From the empty air, two slender vines shot forth.

Looking like a knight in full plate, Wilkawang, clad in his white bone armor, met the professor’s fist once more. As expected, the exchange ended with his right arm shattering as half his body was slammed into the adjacent wall.

He struggled to pull himself free, then looked up and saw the two vines. His eyes widened as if he were seeing something impossible. At that same moment, the sword, moving on its own, shot through the air and collided with the vines.

The snake-like vines weren't severed. On the contrary, they seemed to take an even greater interest in their prey. They hesitated for less than a second before a dense thicket of green, tentacle-like vines erupted from the air, so numerous that space itself began to warp around them.

"What in the world...!"

The professor recoiled in shock. With Jenkins having been so far away, he hadn't realized this was one of his abilities.

The green plants showed no interest in the robust old man, swarming instead toward Wilkawang and his sword. In the next instant, a beam of black light pierced the clouds, enveloping the man and his weapon. An instant before they teleported, they completely evaded the assault of the tentacle-like vines.

The black light vanished in a flash. Having lost their target, the vines slowly receded from the material world. Jenkins and the professor stared at each other, the recent encounter feeling more like a dream than reality.

"Two conclusions: that sword is indeed invincible, and that man is truly weak."

(Chocolate, running...)

"So, let me get this straight. Your physical body is currently lying in the Sage Church?"

Alexia Miller toyed with a jade ring as she stood before the grand, floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor of the ballroom. Outside, the night was a vast, dark expanse; inside, the ball was ablaze with light. Her own face, lightly made up, was reflected in the glass, making her appear both real and ethereal. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on ⓝovelFire.net

"That's right. I haven't left the church since Professor Burns and I returned."

Jenkins, clad in a black evening suit, stood beside her—in his disguised form, of course. He was making a show of holding a stemmed glass, but Alexia knew without even looking that it was filled with grape juice.

"Frightening. To be able to locate an item it can absorb with such precision. That sword... it's truly terrifying."

"Which means the only way to win is to kill Wilkawang while he's separated from the sword."

"But that sounds far from easy..."

They were at a large manor on the outskirts of Ruen. Dolores Stuart was attending a ball she couldn't refuse, and Jenkins, finding himself at a loose end, had tagged along to unwind. For now, however, only Alexia could keep him company; Her Highness was currently entangled in tedious social obligations.

"How have things been with Miss Stuart lately? I imagine access to the tower is no longer an issue."

"Yes. I brought it up, and Dolores said she could apply for a half-day access permit on my behalf."