Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 974

"Wait, Peter, don't go! Why have you become ?"

Jenkins felt a faint breeze against his skin as the layer of darkness overlaid upon the material world began to recede. His mind was sharp; he knew this was a rare opportunity to uncover secrets about the other side. Ordinary Cursed Items would never converse with him .

"Gods... this is the Sovereign's gift, my devotion, a chance for mortals..."

"I don't understand what that means! Don't leave so quickly!"

The doorknob solidified in Jenkins's hand once more as the material world reasserted itself.

"The Sovereign rules the Shadow Kingdom. Devotion grants the soul eternal life. This is the second path for mortals, a chance the great Sovereign has given us..."

"Damn it! Can you repeat that in plain language I can actually understand?"

The first glimmer of light pierced the pitch-black world, and the floorboards materialized beneath his feet. Reality was returning in full—or perhaps, Jenkins was returning to it.

"Gods, you saved me, but the Sovereign is the true master of the shadow lands. When the kingdom's seventh eternal day descends, the Sovereign will, from a sacred church, grant favor to the devotees of shadow and the pious of the unlit. The great Sovereign has offered me a chance to face a trial, it is..."

"The Sovereign's favor? A second path? What does that mean?"

As the thoughts raced through his mind, a powerful force shoved him backward, and the front door slammed shut on its own. Jenkins stared at the door, frowning. It took him a few moments before he turned to look behind him. Just as he'd feared, the women were unconscious on the foyer floor.

"Shadow Kingdom... the Sovereign's trial... Cursed Items..."

Jenkins repeated the words, trying to piece together the connection. The boy, Peter, was clearly no longer human. Terrifying as he appeared, it was obvious he had become a special form of existence, something superior to mankind.

If time flowed at the same rate in the Shadow Kingdom as it did in the material world, then Peter must have encountered this so-called "Sovereign's favor" within the last six months. That had to be what transformed him and allowed him to cross over.

"Is the Sovereign creating Cursed Items?"

Jenkins asked himself. Currently, the vast majority of Cursed Items originated from Mysterious Realms, and those realms were clearly connected to the worlds of these Sovereigns.

And yet, there was clear evidence that some Cursed Items were born right here in the material world, with detailed accounts describing their creation.

"So, the Mysterious Realms really are created by the Sovereigns... and the terrifying things inside them are the original inhabitants of those other worlds?"

Jenkins arrived at this conclusion, but the purpose behind it all became even more incomprehensible.

The Sovereigns couldn't be trying to invade the material world; with their terrifying power, they could interfere directly at any moment. That made the purpose of creating Mysterious Realms all the more puzzling. As for those items with permanent spiritual auras, perhaps some were born of nature or coincidence, but anything deliberately created had to have a reason, a goal.

"A second path? Then what's the first? I know a shortcut, of course, but that can't be related, can it?"

Unfortunately, Jenkins had no time to dwell on these questions. As he tried to rouse Miss Audrey and Miss Brolignans, he had already sent the fifth knocker away.

The two women showed no signs of waking anytime soon, despite having no visible injuries. Jenkins knew he had to end this ordeal as quickly as possible and then get to the church for help.

"Perhaps I should try a divination myself," he thought, "even if I'm still completely clueless."

The previous two divinations had been performed by different people using different methods. Jenkins knew little about scrying with dice or cards, so he cleared the tabletop, shooed away the sixth knocker, and took out a piece of ritual chalk. He drew a perfect circle on the table, then a pentagram within it. In the empty spaces of the star, he inscribed ancient runes using a prepared, glowing powder.

He struggled to empty his mind, but it wasn't easy. The chill in the room and the sound of pebbles tapping against the glass kept pulling his attention, tempting him to focus on his surroundings.

Recalling Miss Audrey's lessons, he recited a prophetic verse in the ancient Kirlan tongue—a blessing from a diviner of old. Then, he carefully pinched a bit of powder made from burnt elderwood.

He held his hand over the pentagram. As he chanted, his spirit flowed with the words, causing the small ritual circle to glow.

He fought to keep his mind blank, reaching out to feel the currents of the future. Then, he gently rubbed his fingers together, letting the powder drift down toward the circle on the table.

Seeing Jenkins's eyes were still closed, the cat, which had been watching from its perch on the sofa, suddenly opened its tiny mouth and let out a small puff of air. The trajectory of the falling powder shifted ever so slightly, but all of it still landed within the vicinity of the pentagram.

Once all the powder had settled, Jenkins opened his eyes to read the result. He pieced together the runes left uncovered by the dust, trying to interpret their meaning. In the end, he decided the outcome symbolized good luck. Shivering, he scooped up the cat, which had burrowed back into its blanket, and held it close. Then he left the light of the fireplace and stepped into the darkness of the foyer.

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The knocking grew impatient again. The five-minute deadline for the seventh visitor was nearly up. Jenkins placed his hand on the knob and turned it gently. As a crack appeared, a cool spring night breeze, tinged with the smell of something scorched, rushed into the room. Even though the last vestiges of winter lingered, the night air was warmer than the chill inside his house.

He let out a long sigh. It seemed the third time was the charm.

"Hey, friend. Could I have some water?"

Standing at his door was a knight in heavy armor, mounted on a horse. He held his helmet in his left hand, revealing a face covered in scars. His brown hair was long and unkempt, and he held his right hand out to Jenkins, asking for a drink.

Judging by its design, the old set of armor looked like a style common in the 17th Epoch, according to church records. The knight's face was similar to that of a modern southerner from Andru, though his nose was more high-bridged.

The horse he rode was unusually large, more powerfully built than any breed Jenkins knew of. When its hooves struck the ground, faint arcs of electricity sparked between them and the earth, leaving a scorched, black hoofprint on Jenkins's manicured lawn.