In truth, the six maps Jenkins had just traded for contained no information about the key or the location of that mansion. But with the guidance of The Unknown Path, it hardly mattered whether he had them or not. Wasting three Blasphemy Seeds was rely a pretext, a plausible excuse for how he could locate the door.
Though it was an incredibly wasteful way to create a cover story, The Unknown Path was his most profound secret—an ability intrinsically linked to his very arrival in this world. He would never allow anyone to question it.
His companions were sowhat puzzled and displeased by Jenkins's decision to burn the maps imdiately after reading them. Still, he had paid the price for them, and as long as he could truly lead them to the final exit, it didn't matter if the maps were reduced to ash.
Likewise, since Candle Mr had borne the cost, the others offered to compensate him. But with no one carrying valuable items or cash of equal worth, they all emptied their pockets, handing Jenkins a strange assortnt of objects. They promised that once they escaped the Mysterious Realm, he could seek them out for proper repaynt.
Jenkins accepted the miscellany but had no intention of ever eting these people in the real world.
Before they set off, he also ntioned that one of the maps he'd bought showed a readily accessible treasure on a fork off the main path. Since it was nearby, he suggested they take a look first. After a brief discussion, the others agreed. As long as he had a map to guide them, it wouldn't be a waste of ti.
The group soon departed the sacrificial grounds, leaving the old demon standing alone in the darkness. The flas burning in the basins at the edge of the area made its shadow writhe across the ground in grotesque shapes.
"To deceive even his own companions... Truly worthy of the one who killed those three siblings."
It exclaid in admiration, then, with a blood-curdling laugh, it dissolved into a ball of black fire and vanished.
anwhile, Jenkins was already leading the group back onto the narrow path winding through overgrown grass. The scenery was much the sa as during the loop, but the route itself was entirely new. When they ca to a fork in the road, he chose a direction with barely a mont's hesitation. His confidence indirectly proved that he truly knew the way, slightly easing the lingering doubts his companions held about him burning the maps.
The guidance of fate pointed to the right, but Jenkins chose the path to the left. According to his fictitious map, this smaller trail led to a rural cetery. The path snaked between leaning, densely packed tombstones until Jenkins finally brought the group to a halt at its terminus. Beyond them lay a deeper darkness, devoid of any light. The path ended here; it was a dead end.
To one side of the path's end was an open grave. A heavily weathered stone headstone lay toppled beside it, and a few badly rusted shovels were scattered haphazardly among three malford skeletons. Inside the shallow pit, there was no coffin, only a small wooden chest. While it hadn't decayed as severely as the headstone and bones—one could still faintly discern its fine craftsmanship—it was now coated in a repulsive layer of green moss.
"This is it," Jenkins declared. "According to the six maps I bought, this treasure location should be the most valuable of them all."
Jenkins spoke truthfully once again, then motioned for Mr. White Cat to help him lift the chest. But the mont the two of them jumped into the shallow pit, two pairs of skeletal hands erupted from the soft black soil, seizing each of them by the ankle.
This, too, was within his expectations. Mr. White Cat used so unknown ability and, with a slight shrug, the white bones imdiately released him. Jenkins, for his part, simply flooded his ankles with the imnse life spirit from within his body. The skeletal claws reacted as if they were snown touching fire, frantically retreating back into the earth.
"Let dust return to dust, and earth to earth. Those who should be gone, do not linger. Your final journey has begun."
At the Gravekeeper's loud proclamation from the edge of the grave, the skeletal hands that were poised for a second attack imdiately ceased all movent.
Jenkins glanced up and gave the Gravekeeper a nod before he and Mr. White Cat hoisted the wooden chest onto level ground. It was incredibly heavy. Jenkins, passively enhanced by his Titan's Power, managed fine, but Mr. White Cat nearly buckled under the weight. Once he was sure it was safely out of the pit, he gave Jenkins a quick word and let go.
A corner of the heavy chest slamd onto the ground, splintering the wood. A cascade of gold ornants, jewels, and coins spilled out through the newly ford crack.
"Hahaha, humans are forever so greedy..."
The old demon's voice echoed from all directions, but even with his unique sight, Jenkins couldn't pinpoint its location.
"Even in a situation like this, you still rember to seek out treasure. How strange humans are. Each of you may take one item from the chest as compensation for taking this long detour."
The voice, dripping with mockery and sarcasm, gradually faded into the distance. Realizing their ti was short, the others quickly grabbed items from the chest, guided by intuition. Jenkins, however, used his sight to choose one of the two Bestowals nestled among the treasure.
The two Bestowals appeared as a platinum coin and a white orb. The coin was slightly larger than a Sin Coin but smaller than the standard one-gold-pound alloy currency, bearing the image of a scale on one side and a dagger on the other. The orb, in contrast, seed to contain a swirling mist, giving the pure white sphere the luster of an oversized pearl. Jenkins ultimately chose the orb. It was about the sa size as his old Life Pearl, and he figured his cat would like it.
"I know where other treasures are hidden," Jenkins announced, "but for the sake of safety, we should head straight for the exit. There's no need to waste any more ti on greed."
He said this to his companions as they set off again. The others naturally agreed with his sentint. Following Jenkins's lead, they pressed onward and arrived before the manor five minutes later.
With five people in their party this ti, they had more ways to deal with the wraiths that sward them like flies. Sticking close together, they took turns using their abilities to maintain a protective barrier. After safely entering the manor, Jenkins led them to the inverted pentagram, the candles, and the great door—the one that had no keyhole yet required a key.
"So, where is the key?"
Mr. White Cat asked nervously. He kept glancing at his pocket watch, knowing that their ti was running out.
"The key is right here," Jenkins replied. "It's a simple puzzle."
Jenkins saw the purple line of his ability pointing directly at the inverted pentagram before him. After a mont's thought, he crouched down and blew out the five candles.
The light in the narrow corridor imdiately faded, making the terrifying red glow all the more conspicuous. This crimson light seed to be the natural ambient light of this world—omnipresent and without a discernible source.
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