Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 919

"It's confirmed. The plague has appeared."

The professor immediately broke the major news to Jenkins. "Though we defeated the Skull Sword, it seems Pomphey had already arranged to release the plague before he died. The first case was discovered last night. The symptoms are strikingly similar to the outbreak thirty years ago, only the onset is much slower. We don't know the mortality rate yet."

Jenkins was stunned. He had thought that killing Pomphey would be the end of it.

"But don't panic. At least we've dealt with the source. This plague won't spread across the entire continent. As long as the Nolan diocese reinforces its preventative measures, it won't become a full-blown disaster."

The professor said reassuringly, then gathered his books, ready to head out. Despite the terrifying events of the past few days, the university was still holding classes.

"I heard about what happened in the Evergreen Forest. You did exceptionally well!"

He turned back to Jenkins and gave him a nod. If his hands hadn't been full, he would have likely patted him on the shoulder.

"You're the pride of the Sage's Church. I wasn't there myself, but from what I've heard, I can only imagine the miracle you accomplished."

He hitched his right knee up under the stack of books, balancing precariously on his left leg. Bracing them with his left hand to keep them from tilting, he managed to free his right hand and give Jenkins a light pat on the shoulder.

Miss Bevanna finally had time to meet with Jenkins, but their rendezvous was set for the Evergreen Forest. After receiving the message, Jenkins paused his discussion with Bishop Parrold about that evening's opera, summoned a carriage, and headed out of the city with his cat.

When he found Miss Bevanna, she was standing alone at the site of the final battle. Though the great fire that day had nearly incinerated the area, a subsequent burst of life energy had caused the vegetation to reclaim the scorched earth.

The Church, however, felt the battle was worth commemorating. They had decided to erect a memorial stone nearby to honor all the victims and those who had fought against the undead. The monument wasn't ready yet, but a clearing and a small path leading to the site had already been prepared.

There was even talk of commissioning an oil painting of Jenkins, though they had yet to decide which devout believer would be tasked with its creation.

As Jenkins emerged from the forest along the path, he saw Miss Bevanna with her hand resting on a tree, as if inspecting the health of its bark.

Hearing his footsteps, she drew her hand back and turned to walk toward him.

"Jenkins, you did splendidly on Friday. The Church is proud of you. The other churches in Nolan are discussing what kind of medal to award you. I imagine you'll like it."

Jenkins was no dragon, but he shared their appreciation for unique and finely crafted objects.

"It was something..." Jenkins demurred. "I still don't fully understand what happened that day. Pops told me the Life Pearl turned into a sword because the forest was helping me, but I have a feeling it's not that simple."

"I've examined the broken sword. It's completely powerless now, and there's no way to know how the Life Pearl transformed into that shape. But since you've advanced to the fourth level and your soul ability has evolved again, we can surmise that your power resonated with the forest."

Miss Bevanna was quite skilled at using partial truths to obscure the full reality.

"Yes. You have a natural affinity for life. That much is clear from your soul ability."

She had her story ready and wasn't worried about Jenkins finding any holes in it.

"On top of that, the power of death clashed with the forest's rich life energy, provoking a defensive reaction. That's what caused that miraculous transformation."

Coincidentally, the Star Spirit had offered a similar explanation. That, combined with Jenkins's trust in Miss Bevanna, made his lingering doubts gradually fade away.

"Then what about that blessed state? I've never heard of a Saint being able to do that."

Jenkins's change of subject pleased Bevanna, as this was something she could explain clearly.

"A Saint is chosen by the gods," she began. "They are the agents of the divine in the mortal realm, overseeing the material world on their behalf. It's more than just a title, Jenkins."

"It also represents power and duty."

Jenkins echoed the words Pops had told him.

"Correct. A god's blessing grants a Saint power, but very few can actively wield it. Do you know why that is?"

"Because... their bodies can't fully handle a god's gift?"

"That's only part of the reason."

Miss Bevanna nodded with a faint smile, leading Jenkins away from the site toward the Enchanters' cabin at the forest's edge. The number of Enchanters stationed there had only grown. The Skull Sword had last vanished in this area, and while it had likely escaped via spatial travel or some similar method, the possibility remained that it was hiding somewhere deep within the woods.

Jenkins even spotted Captain Bincy. His squad had been posted here for some time and had miraculously suffered no casualties during Friday's great battle.

"The power you wielded that day was a gift from a god—a force utterly different from mortal strength. To use it, one must consider not only the body's endurance but also the strength of the soul. If the soul isn't powerful enough, it risks being instantly assimilated by divine energy. Normally, a Saint can only begin to tentatively wield such power after reaching the level of a demigod. It is the greatest strength a mortal can command while still in human form..."

At this point, she turned to look at Jenkins.

"I knew it, Jenkins. I knew you were extraordinary."

Jenkins could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

"Whenever the end of an Epoch draws near, exceptionally gifted young people always emerge. It's not unusual." Follow current novᴇls on novel{f}ire.net

Jenkins mumbled in agreement. The cat on his shoulder seemed to disdain his excessive nervousness.

"You have an extremely close connection to the Sage. That is your gift."

Jenkins nodded rapidly. Theoretically, a believer with an exceptionally strong connection to their deity could indeed borrow divine power, even while still relatively weak. Some of these individuals were cultivated as vessels for a god's incarnation, while others became figures of myth and legend. Both were considered great honors.

"You seem a little nervous."

She noted his strange expression.

"Right... I mean, yes, a little nervous. I keep worrying the Skull Sword will leap out from the nearby thicket."

"You needn't worry about that. It no longer has a wielder, and you wounded it severely. It will only hide; it won't show itself willingly. We likely won't see it again until the next Epoch."