Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 942

His two companions were attacked one after the other, but Jenkins had no time to rescue them. He instinctively raised a hand to catch a dinner knife that flew from the mist, then lifted his right leg to kick away the clown’s powerful whip kick. A rope slithering like a living snake crawled up his leg from the ground, but it was instantly incinerated by his flames.

Jenkins threw a charm into the mist, but it had no effect. A moment later, he was struck hard on the back of the head.

He spun around, but still saw nothing. Then he felt a hand land on his shoulder again.

That sound belonged neither to Jenkins nor the clown. It was the voice of Miss Knight, who had suddenly risen to her feet.

Because of her position, the sound erupted right next to Jenkins’s ear. In the next second, he felt the world spin, and a buzzing rang in his ears.

It was a dragon’s roar. Jenkins had only heard it once before, but there was no mistaking it. Behind the standing Miss Knight, the phantom of a great dragon flickered in and out of sight within the fog. The sonic blast dispersed the mist along half the street and sent blood streaming from the red-haired clown’s eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as it tried to launch another sneak attack.

But the clown only froze for a moment before disappearing again. Before Jenkins could react, an uncontrollable force slammed into him from the left, and he was sent flying like a cannonball.

He straightened himself, opened his arms to catch the airborne Miss Knight, and tossed her to the side of the road just in time to see the red-haired clown charging at him with a short sword, a grotesque grin on its face.

After a quick glance to confirm Miss Knight was unconscious again, Jenkins’s expression turned grim. None of his companions could see him now. The evening wind rustled his clothes. The dragon’s roar had temporarily cleared the fog, allowing the twin moons of the mirror world to shine down on him.

The man stood in the middle of the dim, stone-paved street, the buildings on either side shrouded in shadow. The clown, laughing maniacally, rushed toward him with its short sword, but in the next second, it saw a white sword appear in the man’s hand.

It was a sword that glowed faintly in the dark, its entire blade a stark white, with the luster of polished bone. The curve of its hilt vaguely resembled a skull, but on closer inspection, it looked more like vines twisted into the shape of roots.

The red-haired clown instinctively sensed that something was wrong. It halted its charge and turned to flee. But it only saw Jenkins swing the sword at the empty air before him. As spirit and sword resonated, a brilliant white light instantly engulfed the entire street.

When the light faded, a perfectly straight gash was etched down the center of the street. The clown, standing on that central line, had been sliced cleanly in two.

No blood flowed from the bisected body; instead, shards of mirror scattered to the ground with a clatter. Green vines descended from above, shattering the fragments before they hit the ground, and just before the clown could reform through the mirrors, a vine pierced its temple.

A sickening slurping sound followed, along with a faint scream. As the thin mist began to fill the street once more, a small, green, hard coin rolled to a stop beside Jenkins’s boot.

He scooped up Chocolate with one hand as the cat ran to him, and with the other, he picked up the coin and slipped it into his pocket. His ear twitched, listening carefully to the final words of the red-haired clown’s reflection.

The whispers continued for a full five minutes, during which Jenkins gathered his unconscious companions and treated them one by one. Miss Knight and the huntress had suffered external injuries, while Miss Capet seemed to have taken a blow to her spirit.

Luckily, she had a potion in her pocket. After a moment of examination, Jenkins uncorked the blue vial, sniffed it, and had the huntress administer it to Miss Capet.

Everyone heard the latter half of the red-haired clown's final confession, but only Jenkins and Chocolate heard the entire thing. It was mostly inconsequential rambling—complaints about a miserable childhood, an alcoholic father, a promiscuous mother, and a best friend with an "unconventional" orientation.

These twisted memories had formed the darkest corner of the clown’s heart, granting its reflection such immense power. At the very end of its whisper, the voice finally mentioned the so-called numbered mirrors. The clown seemed to believe it had died unjustly, and its final, bitter resentment inadvertently strengthened its own reflection.

“So, the mirror world is a series of overlapping worlds. The circus has explored thirty-five mirror planes so far. The way to travel between them is to actively shatter a mirror, which will form a passage connecting two different planes. But while crossing over, each person’s soul resonates with the mirror world, causing reflections of people they know to appear as enemies.”

Jenkins relayed the information he had heard to his companions. The group had temporarily relocated to a nearby café to rest. Although time existed in the mirror world, it didn’t seem to affect physical matter, so they were able to find plenty of food.

Miss Knight, surprisingly, was quite skilled at making coffee. She prepared a drink for everyone to help them stay alert, but not for Chocolate, since coffee is bad for most cats.

Chocolate didn't mind. It wasn't fond of bitter drinks anyway.

“But we don’t have enough information. The circus clearly has a way to travel to specific, numbered mirror planes, but the clown’s last words didn’t mention it. If we try recklessly, we could easily get lost in another plane...”

Jenkins had discovered that the gas pipes were still functional; they just hadn’t been turned on. So, upon entering the café, he had lit the gas lamps inside. The warm yellow light dispelled the darkness, bringing the group a sense of warmth and security.

The four of them sat together in a booth, the table laden with food and drinks. Jenkins turned his head to look at the street outside the café, still shrouded in darkness and fog.

In the depths of the mist lay a silent, dead city. He could feel that it was completely devoid of life. While Jenkins appreciated peaceful cities, he did not like them to be lifeless.

He reached out and stroked his cat, who purred softly and narrowed its eyes. In this lonely city, only his cat could offer him some comfort, even if it could be incredibly disobedient at times.

“But we have no other choice now,” Miss Capet said. Her face was pale, and she still looked weak despite the potion.

During the fight, the clown had used an illusionary spell that directly attacked her soul. Although the attack hadn’t been fully effective, it had still injured her badly. She hadn’t lost her ability to fight, but she would likely need a month of rest to fully recover.

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