Leveling Up by Executing Monsters

Chapter 94: Chapter 94: They Do Exist

While waiting for his student to prepare the carriage, Jenkins rolled out of bed. Disregarding his status, he crawled under the bed and pulled out a locked wooden box.

He opened it. Lying inside was a metal chessboard of black and white.

This was the mysterious Ancient Relic, the Chessboard. Jenkins considered it the pride of his life, certain that it was connected to the future and Destiny of all humankind.

The board was made of a special metal he had never found despite searching through countless texts. It looked incredibly heavy, yet it was exceptionally light to the touch, as if weightless. However, when he ran his hand over it or tapped it, it felt solid and substantial.

The black and white squares were still distinct, uneroded by the millennia. But they were no longer uniform. Instead, they possessed a strange, twisted quality, as if the board had been submerged in water, the colors warping into bizarre shapes with the ripples.

Something was clearly wrong with it...

But Jenkins didn’t dare destroy it.

Once a person participated in the Human Future Conference via the Chessboard, they would form a mysterious bond with it. This connection likely involved the sensitive and dangerous subconscious, making Jenkins too afraid to act rashly.

He might be willing to risk his own life, but he had to consider the other members of the conference.

Besides, he truly couldn’t bear to destroy it.

Even after the day’s events, his resolve and conviction remained unshaken. He was still certain this Ancient Relic was connected to humanity’s future.

That was the Destiny he had glimpsed after paying a grievous price.

"Mentor, the carriage is ready."

The voice of his prized student came from outside the door again.

"I’ll be right there."

Jenkins spoke as he carried the Chessboard to the wall. He took down a landscape painting, revealing a safe behind it.

He locked the Chessboard inside, clutched the key tightly in his palm, and hung the painting back in place. Only then did he change his clothes and walk out of the room.

His student was waiting outside with a kerosene lamp. The sight of Jenkins’s bloodshot eyes and deathly pale face gave him a start.

"Mentor... are... are you all right?"

"I’m fine, for now..."

Jenkins shook his head.

The carriage sped through the empty, dilapidated streets. There were no streetlights, with only the oil lamp hanging from the carriage’s roof providing a bit of light.

The unchanging Eternal City still had no electricity, and one could see almost no products of modern technology.

It was a city that had forever imprisoned itself in a bygone era.

The carriage finally stopped before a rather grand residence. Jenkins struggled to disembark with his student’s help.

The two guards at the gate saw it was him and opened the doors immediately, without any questions.

Jenkins strode into the living room with familiar ease, skillfully located the liquor cabinet, and took out a bottle of aged fine wine. He unceremoniously took several large gulps straight from the bottle.

It was less like he was visiting someone else’s house and more like he was returning to his own.

A moment later, the living room brightened under the light of dozens of candles and several oil lamps. An old woman in her nightclothes came down from the second floor, sat down in front of Jenkins, and stared at him silently.

"Please perform a mental evaluation on me."

Jenkins said in a low voice, averting his gaze. He didn’t dare meet the old woman’s eyes.

The woman said nothing. She pulled out a pure white statuette from behind her back and placed it between them.

This was a Redemption Saint Statue from the Eternal City, carved from some unique white jade. It was snow-white all over and exuded a faint, holy aura.

It depicted a male figure with a blurred face, clutching his head with both hands, as if deep in thought or perhaps restraining something.

The Saint Statue should have felt hard and cold, but its surface showed signs of melting, like a wax figure scorched by high heat, covered in trickles of hardened wax.

This wasn’t due to poor preservation; the Saint Statue had been deliberately carved to look as if it had melted.

Jenkins silently grasped the Saint Statue, and the old woman silently grasped his hands.

After a moment, she spoke.

"What did you encounter?"

"I can’t be sure, and I dare not imagine it, but I hope It was the legendary Supreme One—the being I have been searching for..."

"It seems you’ve truly gone mad, still believing in that nonsense to this day."

"It’s not nonsense, it’s..."

Jenkins wanted to argue his case, but the words died on his lips. Instead, he took the key to the safe in his room from his pocket, placed it on the table between them, and pushed it toward the old woman.

"I could die at any moment. When that happens, the future and hope of humanity will be in your hands..."

The old woman didn’t even glance at the key. With a cold flick of her hand, she sent it flying into a corner.

Then, without another word to Jenkins, she went upstairs alone.

With a heavy sigh, Jenkins silently walked over, bent down to pick up the key again, and then left, crestfallen.

He showed none of the dignity or pride of a Tier Five Powerhouse. Instead, he looked more like a down-on-his-luck commoner going through a midlife crisis.

After he left the living room, his student, who had been anxiously pacing outside, immediately rushed up to him. He noticed that Jenkins’s condition was much better than before.

"Mentor? Are you all right now? It seems your wife... oh, no, I mean, Her Excellency the Bishop..."

"All right, all right, that’s enough."

Jenkins waved his hand helplessly and walked toward the carriage.

His emotions were a complex mix: worry, relief, excitement, and the frustration of being misunderstood.

To have recovered with such a simple treatment after the danger he had just faced convinced Jenkins that the mysterious being truly had no ill intent; it wasn’t due to the Bishop’s exquisite skill.

But humans bear ants no ill will either. Yet, an accidental step or a casual pinch to observe them can bring an irresistible, catastrophic disaster upon the ant.

’I feel like an ant on that chessboard...’

’Thankfully, this "human’s" methods were relatively gentle; I wasn’t crushed on the spot.’

’It could also be that the protective effect of the Chessboard took hold. It’s a defense that can Shelter the mind and Rationality on a subconscious level. The Human Future Conference relies on it to dare discuss topics that couldn’t be mentioned outside.’

’Although the mysterious "spectator" controlled the Chessboard, they didn’t disable this layer of protection. They clearly didn’t want to kill me, which could be seen as an expression of goodwill.’

This further convinced Jenkins that the being was the Supreme One he had been looking for.

Although the Supreme One existed only in human speculation and hypothesis—and was even considered absurd, foolish ’pulp fiction’ by many—Jenkins believed in It without a doubt.

He had to believe in this, if only to prove that his own principles and ideals were correct.

The Chessboard was his pride and his greatest trump card. Not even a Redemption Saint could affect it, yet the mysterious "spectator" had controlled it with ease. This proved that It had surpassed the shackles of the Saints and ascended to the supreme level.

So, after returning to his residence, Jenkins didn’t even think about sleeping. Instead, he sat at his desk and began writing letters to the other members of the conference.

Since he couldn’t use the Chessboard to contact them, he had to resort to this hopelessly slow method. Given the distances between cities, there was no telling when they would receive the letters.

’I don’t even know if they made it out alive...’

But Jenkins was still full of passion as he laid out his discoveries in the letter, trying to boost their morale.

"Since the Supreme One truly exists, the principles we have always believed in are not wrong! The hope and future of humanity are now before us!

But... to communicate safely with this Supreme One, we still need to find a safe way...

If you are still alive and can read this letter, then you must tell me your thoughts."

After finishing the letters, Jenkins went to his basement. He locked the door, lit an oil lamp, and dragged out a large box of materials.

He was about to perform a dangerous but necessary Divination.

’Definitely not a Divination about the "spectator." That would be suicide.’

’Instead, I’ll perform a Divination on myself. I want to see what I’ll encounter in the next few days to get some indirect information.’

This was a common tactic in Divination.

Jenkins spent several hours in the basement, laying out an extremely complex Orbit to ensure the Divination’s efficacy and protect himself.

Hundreds of mirrors were arranged on the floor. A lit candle stood before each one, and all of them faced Jenkins, reflecting the candlelight and his figure.

Jenkins then took a palm-sized Crystal Ball from his coat. A wisp of pale blue substance had been injected into it, giving it a satin-like texture. It looked a bit like a large marble.

"Will I be able to sleep in the coming days?"

Jenkins stroked the Crystal Ball, repeating this simple, seemingly unrelated question.

The more dangerous the Divination, the more one had to proceed step-by-step like this, starting with simple questions to gradually gather indirect information, rather than rushing for an answer.

On his tenth repetition, the Crystal Ball reacted. It began to spin on its own in his hand.

Immediately after, he heard the sharp sound of shattering glass next to his ear.

Then another, and another, in quick succession.

One by one, the mirrors on the floor began to shatter. One by one, the candles in front of them went out.

As the candles extinguished, darkness began to spread, closing in on Jenkins layer by layer.

When the last candle went out, the Crystal Ball in Jenkins’s hand shattered and fell to the floor in pieces.

Jenkins stood frozen in the pitch-black basement, not daring to move.

His mind felt as if it had plunged into a dark Abyss, leaving only despair...

An hour later, his student’s voice reached his ears:

"Mentor? Are you still in the basement?"

Only then did Jenkins snap back to his senses, as if waking from a dream.

Before his eyes were rows of intact mirrors. In front of them were candles that had burned all the way down. In his hand, he held an undamaged Crystal Ball.

Jenkins shuddered and fainted.

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