The sheer number of wraiths was overwhelming. With no other choice, Jenkins offered a silent prayer to the Sage and unleashed a divine radiance that temporarily scattered the suffocating swarm of spirits. This bought the Gravedigger a precious mont to catch his breath and recover, and only then did the two of them manage to force their way into the manor.
The wraiths lingered outside, refusing to disperse but equally afraid to enter. The ten-minute tir was ticking down to its final monts. Jenkins and the Gravedigger surveyed the manor's interior, illuminated by the eerie glow of red candles, montarily at a loss for where to begin.
"The light we saw before seed to be at the back of the building," Jenkins suggested imdiately. "Let's look for a back door. We'll be faster if we split up."
The Gravedigger headed for the staircase to the left of the entrance, likely planning to climb out an upstairs window. A purple glimr flashed in Jenkins's eyes as he walked down the main hall, straight back from the entrance. At the far end, he spotted a rusted iron door.
An inverted pentagram, drawn in blood, was etched on the floor before the iron door. A lit candle stood at each of its five points, their flas wavering as Jenkins drew near.
"This must be it!"
A surge of excitent shot through him. He broke into a run, adjusting his stance and, empowered by his Titan's Power, slamd his shoulder into the iron door. To his shock, a force of nearly equal magnitude repelled him. The door, firmly fixed, only let out a dull thud, but Jenkins was sent flying backward. He tumbled across the floor, rolling twice before coming to a stop.
"What in the world was that?"
He scrambled to his feet, feeling a bit foolish. His gaze shifted from the candles to the door and back again, only to notice sothing new: a slip of paper had materialized in the center of the bloody pentagram.
You need a key to open the door.
"I know I need a key!" he grumbled to the empty air. "But where am I supposed to find one with no ti left?"
He muttered in frustration, scanning the surrounding area. Unsurprisingly, no key was in sight.
Finding the final destination so quickly seed too convenient, but Jenkins trusted the power of his Destiny's Stage and his own bizarre luck. This strange door had to be the final piece of the puzzle. The problem was, he had no idea where the key was—or if it was even in the house at all.
He decided to find the Gravedigger upstairs and ask if he'd found any clues. He located him in a bedroom, struggling to pry open a boarded-up window. After Jenkins explained the situation, the Gravedigger shook his head. He hadn't seen anything resembling a key.
They spent the last two minutes in a frantic, fruitless search for the key. Then, in a dizzying blur, the floor gave way beneath them, and they plunged into a bottomless abyss.
When consciousness returned, he found himself back at the sacrificial grounds. This ti, however, no new Enchanters had arrived, and all his previous companions were there with him.
Once everyone was lucid, they began to compare notes on what they had found. Mr. White Cat hadn't located the manor, but his downhill path had led him into a massive chasm. There, at its center, he'd discovered a spear plunged into the earth, sward by buzzing flies.
"It was undoubtedly a Bestowal," he lanted. "But to claim it, we'd not only have to find that pit again, but also discover the exit to this entire realm."
He sighed, clearly disappointed.
The others had similar stories of finding "treasures"—so discovered books, while one had even stumbled upon a life-sized demon statue cast from solid gold.
"People have found things like this in previous loops," one of them explained. "But the paths outside this area change every ti, so sotis we find nothing. This is the first ti so many of us have discovered 'treasure.' It pretty much confirms that the high difficulty of this Mysterious Realm cos with high rewards."
Jenkins and the Gravedigger shared their own discovery. As they suspected, they were the only ones who had entered the manor; none of the others had even seen a building they could enter.
Just as Jenkins had guessed, most of them agreed that the manor was likely the final puzzle—the ultimate goal of the realm. But when it ca to the key, no one had any useful ideas.
"Doesn't this Mysterious Realm seem a little too difficult to all of you?"
Jenkins couldn't help but ask after the discussion about the key died down. No one answered right away. Finally, Mr. White Cat spoke up.
"Truthfully, this is only the second Mysterious Realm I've ever been in," Mr. White Cat admitted. "I don't really have a grasp on their average difficulty. Mr. Candle, if you have an opinion, please share it. We're all in the sa boat here. If it sinks, we all go down with it."
Jenkins definitely had an opinion. A Mysterious Realm that required them to find a door and a key without any kind of map was far more difficult than any he'd ever encountered.
He was convinced they were missing a crucial clue. Most Mysterious Realms revolved around the the of 'sacrifice'—sacrificing one's health to drink poison, one's blood to water a plant, or one's sanity to converse with so unspeakable entity. This realm, however, demanded nothing of the sort. The only sacrifice was their own stamina as they ran endlessly...
"Speaking of which," he began, "before I arrived, did any of you try talking to the announcer—the one who explained the rules? Did you ask her anything about this place?"
He directed the question to the group, but since Mr. White Cat was the first to arrive and the one Jenkins knew best, he was the one to answer.
"No," Mr. White Cat replied. "We all know from the records that any entity you can converse with in a Mysterious Realm is a terrifying being beyond human comprehension. So, other than listening to the rules, we didn't dare ask any follow-up questions."
"And that's precisely the problem!"
With that, he turned to face the demonic old crone who had silently materialized on the far side of the sacrificial grounds.
"You can skip the rules," Jenkins called out to her. "No new Enchanters arrived this loop. Now, I want to know—do you have a key, or perhaps a map?"
"The complete map of the lands beyond this altar is split into twelve pieces," the crone rasped, her voice like grinding stones. "Each piece details the terrain, paths, and treasure locations of a small region. But the maps I peddle co at a cost..."
It was just as he'd suspected.
Jenkins listened as the crone began to list her prices:
"You can choose from several paynt thods to acquire the maps.
First, you can trade the ti in your hourglass. For every three minutes you sacrifice from your ten-minute limit, you may have one piece of the map.
Second, you can pay with your lifespan. You may pool your years together. For every five years of life you give , you may have one piece of the map.
Third, you can pay with your soul. If one of you willingly offers their entire soul, I will give you five pieces of the map.
Fourth, you can pay with emotion. If one of you is willing to give up all the emotions you will ever feel for the rest of your life, I will give you three pieces of the map.
Fifth, you can pay with fate. Should one of you choose this option, the generous lady or gentleman will be required to do one thing for upon their return to the material world. In exchange, I will give you six pieces of the map."
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