Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 42: The Unknown Path Ahead
With that, he extended a trembling hand and pointed to his chest.
"There's a ring in my pocket. Put it on and go straight to their church."
Jenkins knew this was no time for nonsense. Gritting his teeth, he rose. "Papa Oliver, you can't die on me! I haven't even gotten my salary for the week!"
But Papa Oliver, his eyes now closed, offered no reply.
Fighting back tears, Jenkins threw open the shop door and plunged into the downpour. He instantly activated his [Flexible Legs] ability and broke into a desperate sprint.
Every raindrop that touched his right hand instantly turned to ice, shattering on the ground. The rain wasn't just stealing his body heat; deep within his numb right hand, an intensely cold presence began to stir.
Gritting his teeth, he tore through the curtain of rain. In that moment, the deserted street seemed to stretch out before him, vast and endless.
He lost his footing and fell, scrambling back up with the help of a nearby wall. As his uncontrollable right hand scraped against the brick, it left a perfect, frosty handprint in its wake.
"Faster!"
He screamed inwardly, forcing his stumbling legs to carry him forward. The rain grew heavier. The few pedestrians on the street stared at the madman sprinting through the downpour, but he was past them in a flash.
Jenkins could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but thankfully, the Church of Ocean and Exploration—worshippers of the Storm Lord—was located right in the Docklands.
He ignored the astonished looks of the early-morning worshippers and burst through the church doors.
"This is an emergency!"
he yelled at the first clergyman he encountered. The young man froze for a second, but then his eyes fell on the ring resting in the palm of Jenkins's raised left hand. He immediately ushered him toward the back.
The commotion had drawn the attention of a familiar face. Jenkins recognized him from his time healing people at Nolan Public Hospital No. 5; Captain Bincy had called him Grande, the Deep Sea Prelate.
"The Ice Messenger from the Club of Light Chasers is going to steal the sacred statue!"
Jenkins blurted out, his words tumbling over one another.
Grande's brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes shot wide.
"You mean the incident from last week..."
"Yes!"
He paid no mind to being cut off, grabbing Jenkins's right hand and starting to pull him toward the courtyard.
"Ah!"
He snatched his hand back, staring in shock as a layer of frost crept over his own skin. Fortunately, the candle's flame seemed to suppress the icy power, and Grande was only affected by the numbing cold.
"So it really is the Ice Messenger's power," Grande muttered.
With this proof, Jenkins no longer needed to go to the other three churches for help himself.
Grande had Jenkins rest in a side room before gathering a team of black-robed clergy and rushing out into the rain. They needed to alert the combat units scattered across the city; the Church of Ocean and Exploration's own forces were stretched too thin.
"Please rest here for now, sir!"
A young nun in a black robe advised him in a quiet voice. Jenkins knew his condition was poor, so he sat down on a sofa and stared out the window at the heavy rain.
"I hope Papa Oliver is alright," he thought. "And I hope that damned cultist fails."
He glanced down at his right hand. The skin was unnaturally pale, a stark contrast to the rest of his arm.
"I need a basin of hot water!"
he yelled at the bewildered nun. The young woman nodded and scurried from the room. She returned a moment later, accompanied by an old man in a white linen robe. A blue lightning bolt and trident—the symbols of the church—were embroidered on his chest.
Jenkins immediately plunged his right hand into the basin of steaming water the old man held. Before their eyes, the scalding water began to freeze.
"Damn it!"
Jenkins cursed. The nun stood by, unsure of how to comfort him.
"Young man," the old priest said calmly, "the fiercer the storm, the firmer you must hold the rudder of your soul."
The old man handed the basin and a towel to the nun and gestured for Jenkins to sit down.
"Things will be alright. Though we cannot join the battle, we must not lose our composure."
"You're right," Jenkins conceded.
He gritted his teeth and nodded. The shock of the hot water had agitated the icy presence in his palm, and it began to stir again. Jenkins slumped in the chair, his eyelids growing impossibly heavy.
He tried to say something, but his last conscious sight was of the old man and the nun crying out as they rushed toward him.
When he next awoke, he was naked, submerged in a warm pool of water. Giant whale motifs seemed to swim across the steam-shrouded walls. It was a common design for the Church of Ocean and Exploration, so he knew he was still in the church, though he had no idea who had brought him here.
"What time is it?"
he called out groggily. His head throbbed, and while the water around him remained warm, his right hand was still completely numb.
No one answered.
Jenkins climbed out of the pool and found his clothes folded neatly in a cabinet against the wall.
Outside, the sky was pitch-black. He ran into the courtyard to find the church utterly deserted.
"How long was I asleep?"
The rain was still falling, but it had softened to a drizzle that no longer obscured his vision. Dark clouds veiled the red and blue twin moons, and a grim wind made the air bitingly cold.
"Damn it!"
Jenkins shoved the church doors open and ran into the street. He stared out into the rain, his gaze sweeping over the dead-silent city. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned and sprinted in the direction of Pops Antique Shop.
"Oh, Goddess," he groaned, "could my luck get any worse?"
He'd barely taken a few steps before his prayer was answered—in the worst way possible. Fused with the shadows of the night, a pitch-black octopus at least ten meters tall loomed less than ten meters in front of him.
He stood frozen at a five-way intersection. It was a main thoroughfare, paved with uneven cobblestones. In the daytime, this wide street would be bustling with the clatter of horse-drawn carriages and crowds of pedestrians hurrying to and fro. Gentlemen would lean against the white marble pillars of the second-story balconies, smoking and chatting on sunny afternoons. But now, all of that paled in comparison to the octopus.
Countless tentacles writhed slowly across the cobblestones. Jenkins let out a bitter laugh, spun around, and fled back the way he came.
The octopus didn't follow. Jenkins ran for two full blocks before daring to look back. The colossal creature hadn't moved.
He braced himself against the stone wall of a shop, gasping for breath as the rain soaked his clothes.
"Where am I supposed to go now?"
he asked himself.
The church, where a battle might be raging? The deserted Church of Ocean and Exploration? Pops Antique Shop? Home? Or should he just flee the city altogether?
Jenkins gave another bitter smile, gazing up at the starless, moonless sky. The intense cold in his right hand was stirring again, a chilling reminder that he could drop dead at any moment.
"Truly an unknown path ahead."
he muttered, pinching his arm. The sharp pain helped clear his throbbing head, just a little.
Chapter 42: The Unknown Path Ahead
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