Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 876

At the mention of Skryu Pompey and his Skull Sword, Captain Bincy couldn't help but cover his face, rubbing it vigorously.

"We still haven't found his hiding place. Our only lead concerns the Reanimated Jade. Based on your and Miss Audrey's discovery, we revisited the clues surrounding that Cursed Item and found that Wilkawang... well, we now know his real name is Skryu Pompey. He came to Nolan three years ago and bought that jade from the junk shop we investigated last year."

"What was he doing in Nolan three years ago? Was it just for that piece of jade?"

"That's the main focus of our investigation now. Do you know Miss Brolignans? She's a demigod from the Church of Destiny and Equilibrium. Thanks to her, we've been able to make some progress on the Skull Sword case."

The two of them spent the entire journey discussing recent events in Nolan. It wasn't until they turned onto the street where the church was located that Jenkins learned the local demigods hadn't been very active lately.

"The demigods are currently dealing with the Mirror Realm. Oh, now I remember, I think you were the one who reported the matter of the Mirror Realm to the Church."

The whole thing started with that circus Jenkins encountered during his trip to Bel Diran. Most of its members were high-level Benefactors. The only low-level magician coincidentally ran into Jenkins during the "Spirit Incident Support Group" affair, which is how the Mirror Realm came into the picture.

"The situation now is similar to last year's Gear Disease outbreak, maybe even busier."

At this, the middle-aged man couldn't help but sigh. The carriage came to a smooth stop in front of the church, and they both looked at the stream of people coming and going from the entrance.

"Oh, by the Sage, it looks like something's happened again! Jenkins, you go find the Keeper of Secrets directly. I think I need to get to work."

With that, Captain Bincy jumped out of the carriage and ran toward his team members. Jenkins, cat in tow, watched the squad assemble and depart before he finally stepped into the eternally sacred and solemn church.

Despite the chaos at the entrance, the interior of the church remained quiet. When Jenkins reached the Hall of All Things via the spiral staircase, he was surprised to find three Keepers of Secrets there at once.

"It's been a while, Jenkins. Was your trip successful?"

Mr. Smith greeted him. Seeing the young man's puzzled expression, he explained:

"These are special times. We have to be extra cautious guarding the Hall of All Things. I heard you were in Shire City..."

He didn't see Papa Oliver or Miss Bevanna at the church, and Bishop Parrold had already retired for the night. Jenkins discussed his findings in Shire City with the Keepers of Secrets, then took a carriage back to St. George Avenue.

He passed the night in a daze. Waking up in front of the fireplace on Thursday morning, Jenkins found himself wondering what on earth he had even accomplished over the past month. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novᴇlfire.net

He was nudged awake by Chocolate's little paws. The cat wasn't clawing directly at Jenkins's face, but rather scratching furiously at the blanket to make noise. This way, even if Jenkins woke up angry, Chocolate would have plenty of time to escape.

The entire morning passed in a fog until he saw the letter from Maidenhaven Road in the mailbox. Only then did he suddenly feel wide awake.

"Today's the last day of the month..."

Jenkins once again felt life's malice. Reading Robert's words in the letter, he mentally reviewed the young women he could invite and ultimately settled on Hathaway. The reason, of course, was that dream.

"It's just a simple family dinner. It doesn't mean anything."

He muttered the words, not believing them himself, and after breakfast, he grabbed his overcoat from the door and set out with Chocolate to pick up the jewelry from the gem artisan.

He murmured, retreating to the foyer. He reached out, hung the black overcoat back on the rack, and grabbed a lighter jacket to wear instead.

He had only been away from Nolan for a week, but spring had already arrived.

A thick fog shrouded the early spring city. It was supposed to be a bright and sunny Thursday morning, but walking down the street, he couldn't see a trace of sunlight.

There were few pedestrians, and most were hurrying along. A carriage broke through the mist, emerging from the dense fog behind him only to quickly disappear into the fog ahead.

Jenkins raised a hand to adjust his hat and followed the sauntering Chocolate at a slow pace. The cat was unusually willing to move on its own today, which pleased Jenkins. So, even though it was a bit of a walk from St. George Avenue to the old artisan's shop, he decided against taking a carriage.

"The dinner is tonight. Is it too late to tell Hathaway now?"

He grumbled to himself, a sudden sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

The feeling was so abrupt that Jenkins was certain it wasn't just his imagination, but a hint from his inspiration.

"Please, don't let anything go wrong. I'll be in big trouble if something happens."

As the thought crossed his mind, he reached out and grabbed at the air. Of course, he caught nothing; fog was neither solid nor liquid.

But in such low visibility, suddenly extending a hand to the side was a rather dangerous move. Jenkins didn't notice someone rushing past from behind, and his hand struck the person's shoulder.

The passerby paid him no mind, not even waiting for Jenkins's apology before hurrying off into the distance.

He muttered and continued walking, the cat leading the way with its tail swishing. Jenkins was confident the cat knew the way perfectly; its sense of direction was far better than any human's.

"After we visit Hathaway, let's stop by the church. We might run into Papa Oliver. He probably doesn't know I'm back yet."

Chocolate indicated that it didn't care.

Man and cat, one behind the other, walked onward step by step. By the time they reached the district near the riverbank, the streets were almost deserted.

He skirted a steam valve hissing against a wall when he suddenly heard shouting up ahead. As he got closer, he saw two men shoving each other on the street corner. Judging by his clothes, one of them was the man Jenkins had accidentally bumped into earlier. The other, a slightly older, middle-aged man, was angrily spouting words like "late," "performance," and "fired."

"Looks like he was late after all."

Jenkins mumbled to himself, then walked around the pair and continued on his way through the dense fog.