The Sin Coin tumbled onto the grass. The owl-headed figure stared at Jenkins again, its gaze filled with suspicion. After a long moment of hesitation, its human body lurched forward with great effort to retrieve it.
No, Jenkins hadn't meant to toss it to the very edge of the bowl. His aim clearly needed some work.
"According to the rules of the Sin Coins," Jenkins stated, "I've paid my price. I expect something in return." Thɪs chapter is updated by novęlfire.net
The generous Evil God's Scion had given him thirteen Blasphemy Seeds. He'd since spent five to buy some fertilizer from the young flower seller, which meant the remaining eight were only useful if he put them to use.
"Do not leave the path and enter the forest."
That was what one Sin Coin was worth.
Jenkins nodded, produced another coin, and tossed it over. To his surprise, the old beggar snatched it from the air and threw it right back.
The Sin Coin struck Jenkins's boot and, just like before, tumbled over twice before coming to a stop. Jenkins had no choice but to bend down and retrieve it.
"No, no," the creature rasped. "I don't want to make any deals with you."
A wave of dizziness washed over Jenkins, and he instinctively pressed a hand to his forehead. He had to remind himself that he was dealing with an inscrutable native of this Mysterious Realm.
He turned and, without another moment's hesitation, continued along the stone path. A shrill laugh echoed behind him, and nothing else unexpected occurred until the sound faded into silence.
Something was deeply wrong with the forest. Jenkins couldn't sense the presence of any living thing besides the plants. An unnerving silence pressed in from all sides, broken only by the occasional gust of a sinister wind. The sound of his own footsteps was the sole accompaniment on his journey.
Four minutes and thirty-two seconds into his journey, according to his pocket watch, three small, dark figures appeared ahead. As he drew closer, he saw they were three little girls. Their skin was deathly pale, their eyes were deeply sunken, and dark circles ringed their sockets. They looked no different from corpses.
The three girls were sitting in a circle on the stone path. Jenkins craned his neck to see what they were doing and spotted two bright red apples and a silver dinner knife on the ground between them.
As he approached, the girls turned their heads in unison. The one with her back to him swiveled her head a full one hundred and eighty degrees to face him.
"We have a problem," she said. "Can you help us?"
The horrifying, dark-ringed eyes sent a shiver down his spine, but he had no other choice.
"What seems to be the trouble?"
"Mister, there are three of us, but we only have two apples. How can we divide them? We each want a whole apple—not a sliced one, and not juice."
All three girls spoke the exact same words, but they began at slightly different times, creating a disturbing echo. Their childish voices, combined with their ghastly faces and the sinister surroundings, felt like something straight out of a horror story.
Three children, two apples, and one knife that could easily kill someone...
The knife seemed to glint with a purpose all its own, as if to remind him of what it could do. Despite the lack of any obvious light source, it continuously reflected a gleam from parts unknown.
"Mister, can you help us?" the girls asked again in that unsettling chorus.
Jenkins pressed his lips into a thin line, took a step back, and swallowed hard. A moment ago, a careful look had revealed a curious detail—the face of one of the girls was identical to that of a corpse he'd seen in room number four.
If this isn't a coincidence, he thought, then the Mysterious Realm hasn't let these poor souls rest, even in death. The absorbed spirits must serve some purpose. If they aren't simply being crushed for energy, then they're being used as props in this twisted play.
Just like those bodies buried deep beneath the sand in the desert realm.
"It's a good thing you like apples," Jenkins murmured, holding out his right hand with the palm facing up.
Black lines sketched themselves into the air above his hand, forming a strange geometric shape. The rigid lines then began to soften and curve. Swaths of color filled the empty spaces, and the shape of an apple slowly solidified. Three breaths later, a perfectly formed, bright red apple dropped into his palm.
"One for each of you," he said. "Little children need to eat plenty to grow up big and strong."
He suppressed a shudder of revulsion as he bent down and placed the apple on the ground between them. The girls cackled with delight—a strange, crow-like sound—and each one snatched up an apple. Ignoring Jenkins completely, they leaped into the forest and vanished.
Jenkins bent down to retrieve the knife they'd left behind, but one of the girls suddenly leaped back out from the trees and snatched it away.
"Hmph. Stingy," Jenkins muttered under his breath.
Though the scenery was in constant flux, the forest was so monotonous that it felt as if nothing was changing at all. Seven minutes and fifty-three seconds after leaving the old beggar, another figure appeared, blocking his path.
This time, it was a handsome man sitting on the path, holding a book. He was dressed like a decadent nobleman from a bygone era, with a red coat and a feathered cap. He looked surprisingly dashing.
He, too, was a corpse. While his face was perfectly preserved, his hands were nothing but fleshless bone.
"Oh, young sir," he called out, "might you do me a favor?"
"Of course," Jenkins replied.
He had no choice. The man was sitting right in the middle of the path.
"I am searching for fine tales to enrich my collection of poems. Could you perhaps offer some inspiration?"
His tone was remarkably courteous. Had he met someone who spoke in the material world, Jenkins would have been quite impressed.
"Certainly," Jenkins agreed.
Jenkins wasn't much of a storyteller, but he was an expert at retelling stories he already knew. After he spun a quick tale to satisfy the man, the nobleman stood, offered his thanks, and then, just like the girls, vanished into the woods.
Further down the path, he encountered a succession of others: an old crone pondering a philosophical question, a lost little boy who couldn't find his way home, a portly gentleman desperate to fill his stomach, and an alluring lady looking for someone to spend the night with.
He managed to get past the first few using a combination of his abilities and quick thinking, but the last one was the most difficult to handle, forcing him into a fight. The undead creature was incredibly hard to kill; even when engulfed in his Inexhaustible Flame, it endured for a surprisingly long time. If it hadn't been for his [Contact with Death] ability, which allowed him to crush its skull with his bare hands, he would have lost an arm.
By now, Jenkins understood the pattern. The purpose of this Mysterious Realm was to overcome every obstacle on the path. And if his hunch was correct, the most difficult challenge of all was still waiting for him at the end.
He pressed onward. Just as he thought he must be nearing the exit, the trees gave way to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood a strange, imposing mansion. The path led directly to its front door. If he wanted to continue, his only options were to brave the forest or investigate the house.