Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 964

Jenkins was mentally plotting how to take down the coachman when he felt the carriage begin to slow. Their destination must be close.

"I'll wait a bit longer, then," he thought. "If he has accomplices, I can deal with them all at once. My own small contribution to the city of Nolan."

At the thought, Jenkins couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for his own kindness and sense of responsibility. He slowly returned to his seat and settled back into his feigned sleeping position.

Sure enough, about thirty seconds later, the carriage came to a halt. A peripheral glance revealed nothing but barren, unplanted fields outside—not a single building in sight.

The coachman opened the door, his hand covering his mouth. He glanced inside at his passengers and, seeing both man and cat sleeping soundly, decided not to disturb them.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jenkins and Chocolate ducked down to peer through a gap in the curtains. The coachman was standing beside the carriage, gazing into the vast, empty plains. For a long moment, nothing moved but the wind-tossed blades of grass.

But then, gradually, a shadow with a faint blue spiritual aura appeared on the distant horizon. As the figure drew nearer, the blue light intensified, and soon Jenkins could clearly make out a tall, humanoid form.

"An aberration?" Jenkins wondered. "What species is it?"

The man approaching them was unusually tall and powerfully built—at least eight feet, by Jenkins's estimation, or about 2.4 meters. He wore a black leather jacket that was clearly too small for his frame, its surface marred by scorch marks. Jenkins couldn't tell if it was some new fashion statement or simply the result of an accident.

"Master, I have the item."

The coachman shakily prostrated himself on the ground in a posture of complete submission.

"I tracked the man who had the nut, Master. He sold it to an antique shop. I was planning to steal it tonight, but the tracker you gave me indicated that the shop's young apprentice took it with him..."

"So you killed the apprentice and brought the item here?"

The tall man's voice was unusually deep, as if he were deliberately forcing it lower. His grasp of the common tongue was poor, and he spoke with a thick accent that muddled his 's' and 'z' sounds.

"No, Master. I was going to kill him, but he fell asleep the moment he boarded the carriage. I sprinkled in the sleeping powder you gave me, just to be safe, and brought him straight here."

As he spoke, he lifted his head slightly, gesturing toward the carriage behind him. The tall man's gaze fell on the curtained window, and Jenkins and Chocolate quickly scrambled away, now relying only on their hearing to follow the conversation.

It wasn't really eavesdropping, though. They were on a remote country lane outside of Nolan, where the only sound was the whistling wind. The carriage was ordinary, with no soundproofing whatsoever, so Jenkins couldn't have helped but overhear.

"Very good. I don't mind dealing with the body myself. Go drag him out."

With that, the coachman scrambled to his feet, not even bothering to brush the dirt from his clothes. He opened the carriage door and slipped inside. He glanced at the sleeping man and cat, decided the cat was in the way, and reached out to toss it outside.

The instant his hand moved, the writer lashed out with a sudden kick. Before the coachman could even react, he was launched from the carriage like a cannonball. He landed hard in the field, tumbled several times, and then lay motionless.

The powerfully built man didn't move to help his subordinate. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on the carriage. A pale hand gripped the doorframe, and a moment later, the young writer emerged, ducking his head to clear the entrance.

He leaped lightly from the carriage, then turned back to lift out his cat. A pistol was already clutched in his left hand.

"You... I feel like I've seen your face somewhere before."

The aberration didn't make the first move, instead scrutinizing Jenkins's face. He had probably seen Jenkins's picture in the papers but hadn't committed the face to memory.

"So this is a trap. Who do you work for?" Updates are released by novel~fire~net

the hulking man demanded, clearly mistaking Jenkins for someone else. Jenkins, meanwhile, recalled someone mentioning that during the war against the undead, the Church had discovered numerous aberrations hiding within Nolan. The figure before him was very likely one of them.

"I was the one who found that nut first," the aberration said. "If you want it, we can negotiate. There's no need for us to be at each other's throats. It's pointless."

He continued speaking, but Jenkins remained silent.

A finger squeezed the trigger, and a bullet shot from the muzzle. The two stood so close that there was no possibility of missing, and the aberration opposite him clearly lacked the ability to dodge or catch a bullet.

The shot struck his right shoulder, and green blood immediately seeped through the black leather. But the bleeding lasted only a few seconds before stopping, and the man showed no sign of pain.

"A tough physique and green blood... that narrows it down," Jenkins mused.

As the thought crossed his mind, Jenkins tossed his pistol aside. Flames erupted from his right hand.

"And if you're wondering why I shot," he said coolly, "it's because a moment ago, you said you were going to kill me."

"You frail human," the aberration snarled. "You'll regret this."

A black light coiled around the hulking man's hands. With a flick of his wrist, he sent threads of dark energy whipping toward Jenkins.

With a deafening roar, the flames in Jenkins's hand surged forward, creating a fiery wall that intercepted the dark threads. Jenkins then lunged through the blaze, his fist clenched and aimed squarely at his opponent's chest.

But his opponent caught the punch. Frost immediately began to creep from Jenkins's fist up the aberration's arm. The creature hesitated for a second, then violently threw Jenkins off before spinning into a vicious kick aimed at his stomach.

Jenkins twisted his body at an impossible angle to dodge. Knowing he would have to report this to the Church, he held back from using any of his more suspicious abilities or weapons. Instead, his hand dove into his pocket, fumbled for a moment, and then flung out the heaviest metal plate he had.

A golden light erupted from the plate's surface. It reshaped itself in mid-air, transforming into a web of fine metallic threads that wrapped tightly around his opponent's hands.

But with a low grunt, the man shattered the metal threads with sheer brute force. He turned a suspicious gaze on Jenkins.

"You're not with them," he grunted. "That's a talisman from the Church of Knowledge and Books... Are you a Scribe?"

Looks like I really need to practice the ritual for making these talismans, Jenkins thought to himself. Papa Oliver was right—an Enchanter can't rely on their abilities alone.