Lord of The Mysterious Realms-Chapter 97: The Head
But Jenkins silently vowed that if they didn't explain everything clearly today, he would cast aside his identity as Jenkins Williams and turn this world upside down.
A transmigrator with knowledge, ability, and no scruples could easily achieve eternal infamy, provided he wasn't cursed by some master of fate.
"You're likely aware of this."
Miss Bevanna chose her words carefully, then opened the untitled book in her hand. Instantly, five cups of hot tea materialized on the table before them.
"Sometime ago, the diocese's main force, myself included, traveled to the Shattered Isles to secure a Cursed Item. Thanks to the incidents involving A-01-2-0198 and A-10-2-9116, the Grand See in Bel Diran had justification to send us reinforcements. As a result, we successfully acquired the item."
Jenkins nodded, but she still hadn't reached the heart of the matter.
"This Cursed Item had no record of its existence; it seemed to have materialized out of thin air on that desolate island. We've designated it A-10-1-0230 and named it the 'Parchment from the Future.' The first person to find it was a man named Brolosiro Gilib, one of the island's natives. The parchment contained a warning to him... from his future self."
Now that was interesting. Jenkins frowned, his gaze drifting to the moonlight outside the window. What was this, a transmigrator versus someone sent back from the future?
"It documented numerous major events from the future. Among them was a chilling prophecy: that a Mr. Jenkins Williams of Nolan City would, in thirty years, become the Beast of Calamity that brings this Epoch to an end. Don't ask what a Beast of Calamity is—we can't discuss that here. The point is, the parchment claimed that Jenkins Williams, a newly awakened Enchanter, had already begun to master the power of blasphemy."
Jenkins's abilities were all above board. But... seeing the true nature of things, hearing divine whispers, a mortal soul on the path to godhood... could that be considered blasphemy?
"And you believed it?"
Jenkins asked, his voice cold.
"No. Cursed Items are never to be trusted. Frankly, I don't believe any Cursed Item should ever be assigned a security level lower than two. However, the team we sent to the Shattered Isles had informants for certain factions within the Grand See. Word from the parchment reached Bel Diran. Your act of offering divinity to the Sage, Mr. Williams, earned you considerable merit, which unfortunately put you in the path of certain individuals. Consequently, the central church authorities ordered the Nolan diocese to... probe you."
She nodded to a Mr. Bellini. The middle-aged gentleman cleared his throat and began, "A-10-3-9912, the Mirror of Soul Reflection. That was the mirror you saw the other night.
First, it can generate a monster of equivalent power based on the spiritual sin of a living being standing before it. That standard of judgment is infallible.
Second, if you place the corpse of an Enchanter before it, the mirror will display their Soul Emblem. While many rituals can achieve the same result, this item is far more convenient.
Third, if a special item is placed before it and that item is a Cursed Item, cracks will form along the mirror's edge. Before Papa Oliver joined the Church, the Nolan diocese used this very method to identify them."
He moistened his lips. "As for the fourth trait... Mr. Williams, this must not be repeated to anyone. Its existence is normally restricted to members with a very high security clearance. But since we have wronged you, we feel it's only right to make an exception.
Fourth: When a deity projects their divinity into the mortal realm and selects a suitable vessel, that individual can merge with the divinity and walk the earth temporarily as a Saint. This mirror... can identify such a Saint."
Jenkins took a deep breath. So that was it. The mirror hadn't exposed him that day likely because his soul lacked any trace of divinity at the time. Combined with the concealing effect of his black robe, it had produced a false negative. He recalled that even the Legacy Sage's gaze, when it had fallen upon him, had failed to identify the cuckoo in this nest.
Still, if he ever managed to acquire divinity again, he would have to be extremely wary of that mirror.
As his thoughts raced, Jenkins suddenly realized how utterly blasphemous it was to be contemplating his own ascension to godhood while sitting in the heart of the Church. And yet... the thought was undeniably thrilling.
"In any case, after using A-10-3-9912 to verify your status, it became clear to us that the parchment was deeply flawed."
Miss Bevanna let out a soft sigh. Her voice, surprisingly youthful, carried a vibration that reached Jenkins's ears and made his heart skip a beat.
"What was that?" he wondered. "A special ability? But I didn't see any aura light up around her."
Jenkins was baffled.
"We conducted further tests using other methods and discovered that the parchment possessed a faint, rudimentary sentience—a bizarre, spirit-like entity of its own. It could prophesy, but imprecisely. Every week, if it changed hands, it would display a new letter from the future, supposedly written by its new owner. Of course, we now know its predictions are unreliable."
"Then what about tonight's incident?"
he asked again. His mood had lifted slightly. If their story wasn't a fabrication, he could grudgingly accept it—provided the compensation was adequate.
"Tonight was the Nolan diocese's way of compensating you. You personally vanquished that powerful possessing spirit, which will be recorded as a significant achievement."
"So, it was just a coincidence that after Mr. Barnard was grievously wounded, he managed to escape right to my doorstep?"
"Yes."
Mr. Bellini confirmed. "This was merely the diocese's compensation. The central church's recompense will arrive in Nolan along with your reward for the offering of divinity. You can expect it next week."
"Does this explanation satisfy you?"
Miss Bevanna asked in conclusion.
Jenkins remained silent, and Papa Oliver, who had stood quietly behind him all this time, did not press him for an answer.
He reached for one of the cups on the table and took a sip. The tea was sweet, with a flavor so pure it felt like a clear stream washing over his very soul, leaving him feeling light and refreshed.
"It contains snow bee honey, a specialty from Mount Wendisnow in the thousand-year-old frozen ranges of the Hamparvo Kingdom," she explained. "It cleanses the spirit. Drinking it after exposure to a Cursed Item can help ward off certain types of contamination. If you like it, I have plenty more."
The woman's offer was straightforward, but Jenkins shook his head. The name "snow bee" sounded inauspicious to him. He'd had more than his share of bad luck lately and had no desire to invite more.
"I have one more question. About the Grand See..."
Thud.
Mr. Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, lifted a bronze box from the floor beside him. Its six faces were embossed with terrifying demonic visages, though the box itself was an ordinary object. He opened it, revealing the severed head of a chubby, middle-aged man, his face frozen in a look of astonishment.
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Chapter 97: The Head
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