Chapter 95 Chapter 96 Out of Control
The wooden puppet was a palm high, poorly crafted, barely resembling a human figure. Its head had a crooked, large smiling face painted in red, seemingly mocking the intelligence of both the dragon and the human.
“Human.” Cerys’s face was cold as she picked up the puppet and asked, “What’s going on? Has she already advanced?”
“Impossible, she asked me yesterday how to brew potions.” Saint John’s facial scars appeared to be spreading again; he realized, saying, “That little b*tch has been hiding things from me and has an extraordinary item on her.”
“Your pathetic human intellect makes me doubt whether you are capable of fulfilling our pact.”
“I can, I definitely can.”
A barely noticeable smile appeared at the corner of the green dragon Cerys’s mouth as she said, “What if George arrives?”
“I will kill him without hesitation,” Saint John said. “I have no way back now; you can trust me.”
“Good, the advantage is still on our side.” Cerys pulled a black hair off the puppet, “She still thinks she can escape.”
The hair wrapped around her fingertip spontaneously ignited, emitting wisps of green smoke that formed strange patterns.
The green dragon glanced at the pattern created by the green smoke and said, “She is escaping downwards, on the second floor, heading east.”
With that, she pointed her slender finger in the direction of Jima.
“That’s the alchemy room.” Saint John breathed a sigh of relief, “She must have placed her hopes on the advancing potion; she explicitly said she could finish brewing it tonight.”
“Human, are you happy?”
“I buried a trap in the potion-making method I taught her.” Saint John narrowed his milky white eyes, “At her level, she won’t discover the trap.”
…
…
Jima was sprinting through the corridor, showing no intention of hiding. She pushed through people and shouted:
“Run to the dungeon, the dragon is coming! It’s here to eat people!”
The crowd erupted into panic, a clamor as people ran in all directions towards the dungeon.
Jima moved swiftly like a nimble rabbit among the crowd. Just as she reached the stairway, a wail erupted behind her.
Turning her head, she saw a mass of thorns slicing through the crowd, carving out a bloody path.
But Jima was even faster, reaching the first floor in an instant. She pushed open the door to a room where a fire was still burning in the stove, and a boy was intently watching, adding more firewood to the flames.
Jima grabbed a flask with iron tongs and poured it into a glass bottle, saying, “Good job.”
“Jima sister,” the boy proudly said, “I have kept the fire burning.”
“Little John is great.” Jima smiled brightly, “The dragon is coming, you must hide quickly. Wait for Uncle George to come and kill the dragon with your father, then we can drink dragon blood.”
It was indeed Saint John’s son, who had been lured here by Jima with an absurd dream.
Little John’s excited face turned red: “Really?”
“Really, how could I lie to you?” Jima emphasized, “You must not go outside, you must hide well. No matter what happens outside, you must not go out.”
“Okay, Jima sister.”
“Good boy.”
Jima smiled and patted Little John’s head. She took the glass bottle filled with black liquid and stepped out.
Outside was the hall on the first floor, where panicked people were screaming loudly, rushing down the stairs, pouring out the door, blocking it tightly.
Jima went to a corner and took a sip of the black liquid. As the liquid entered her mouth, it seemed to boil again, bubbles bursting, prickling her tongue, and a sweetness spread at the root of her tongue.
She enjoyed the sensation of drinking the potion, leaning against the corner of the hall, activating her chameleon skill. A layer of goosebumps rose on her skin, and her figure disappeared in the corner.
Just as her figure vanished, a brilliant blue oval light appeared in the middle of the hall, two figures emerged from the light, using dragon-like teleportation magic.
The green dragon Cerys had her cape stained with bright red blood, and next to her, Saint John’s gray robe was already mostly stained with blood, his black beard splattered with it.
“Humans are like rabbits, they multiply, filling every hole without restraint.” Cerys said, “Where do you think that cunning little succubus is hiding?”
Ignoring the blood on his face, Saint John said, “She has invisibility; we should—”
“Shut up.” Cerys said coldly, “Human, who do you think ‘we’ are?”
The esteemed Saint John had forgotten when he last faced such disdain.
He took a deep breath and said, “Respected Dragon Lady, your spell has shortened her escape time. After she goes to get the potion, she won’t have time to escape the hall; she should still be hiding in a corner of the hall.”
“Oh?” Cerys showed a mocking expression with her dragon eyes sweeping around, the now empty hall, “By the time my green mist finds her, George will have already arrived.”
“Don’t worry, Dragon Lady.” Saint John said, “With her character, she will definitely drink the potion and wait for the upgrade, but her potion is poisonous and won’t last long.”
“It would be bad if she dies from poison.” Cerys said, “With a corpse, it will naturally emit extraordinary substances, packaging it would be troublesome.”
“Trouble lives for a thousand years.” Saint John said, “That little bit of poison won’t kill her; it will only leave her half-dead.”
“Did you hear that, little Jima?” Cerys said, “Come out to take the antidote, so you can live a little longer; otherwise, just wait to be poisoned half to death.”
Jima, frightened, secretly took another sip of the black potion. It felt great. Harnessing the power of lies, she concocted a bottle of happy water; it felt quite nice.
Cerys waited with a smile.
Time passed second by second, and the panicking crowd ran out of the hall, chaos erupted outside. The green mist from Cerys spread across the wide hall.
The hall suddenly fell silent, making the emptiness more pronounced.
Time continued to pass, and no one revealed themselves; only the green dragon and Saint John were left anxiously waiting in the emptiness.
Cerys’s smile transformed into a grin, then finally to a frosty expression.
Saint John’s old face showed an awkward smile.
George burst through the door, his heavy armor causing him to kick up a tile from the ground. He wielded his sword and shouted at Cerys:
“Green dragon! Today I will roast you… Saint John, teacher? What are you doing here? Are you fighting alongside that monster?”
Saint John’s skin twitched, just as he was about to respond with a cold face, Cerys glanced at him and harshly asked, “Human, your pathetic intellect is mistaken again. Jima is not here.”
Saint John responded, “Dragon Lady, I will prove myself.”
His previous attitude, now subservient, was the best reply to George.
George suddenly felt that Saint John appeared extremely unfamiliar; how could he have the blood of innocent people on him? George struggled to reconcile the pitiful old man before him, akin to a green-skinned orc’s goblin, with the kind and learned Saint he remembered.
“I’ll give you one more chance.” Cerys tossed a gray-black ring, akin to tossing a bone to a dog, “Put it on.”
The gray-black ring, exuding the aura of death, lay in his palm while his fingers felt weak and withered.
Saint John stared at the ring in his palm, his only remaining good eye reflecting a complex gaze. He still remembered that many years ago, the ring’s previous owner took one of his eyes and youth. Back then, he was so fervent, even severely injured, he shouted the name of the god while swinging his sword.
What a fool.
Now, the ring had been reforged; it was time for him to put it on himself.
Saint John extended his withered index finger towards the ring.
“No! In the name of the Dawn!” George roared, pushing forcefully against the ground. The force was so great it left a shallow pit as he leapt and slashed towards Saint John, “Please, don’t fall.”
Anger erupted within Saint John’s chest as he swung his left hand towards George, forming a five-fingered, semi-transparent arcane shield to block George; this was his last use of the light magic.
George’s massive sword got stuck in the shield; he wasn’t in a much better state than Saint John, one shoulder high, missing a shoulder plate, and his paper with sacred scriptures was tattered and soaked in blood.
George chopped off one arm of the warlord, but the massive beast retaliated with two axes. He had exhausted his divine healing for the day. In a hurry through the orc pile, he swore to never let yesterday’s events replay with Jima. He braced against the attacks of the massive orc with his armor.
Now he felt slightly dizzy, his ears ringing.
He felt no physical pain at all, his eyes wide as he looked at the man who was once his life mentor.
“In the name of the God of Dawn,” George’s voice quivered, “Please forgive this sinner before you, send down the dawn, and let him return to the right path.”
The green dragon Cerys tilted her head back slightly, revealing a look of delight.
Saint John put the ring on his index finger before George and shouted, “God? He betrayed me!”
As the ring was worn, Saint John’s complexion turned pale, his beard dry as if he were a corpse. His heart stopped, and a stronger force supported his body; within this power, he felt eternity.
In that moment, he suddenly understood why so many people pursued black magic, seeking immortality. Two sharp fangs extended from his lips.
“No!”
George broke through the shield and swung his sword at Saint John.
Saint John, unteachable, unleashed a wave of black mist from his palm, drowning George.
The two passed each other; George was gasping for breath as sacred scripture paper burned on him.
“You have betrayed God.”
Saint John picked up the fallen hand from the ground and attached it:
“He left me in poverty, gave me strength only to be trapped in the countryside, watching the decaying land and seeing death. He didn’t restore my youth, only provided me with a heap of rotten potatoes for company. After all I’ve done for him, is this what I deserve? Not even peace after death, not even sparing my ashes.”
“Not even sparing my son! I was born noble, but in the end, my son could only play in the fields with the children of farmers! Look at that little Drew, growing up with me, he’s so much more foolish, can’t even steady a sword, took a year just to sit on a horse, and now he’s living better than I ever did! And I gave up inheriting family wealth, what did I gain? My son marrying a farmer’s daughter, becoming someone who only knows how to till the soil!”
A tear fell from George’s eye through the visor of his helmet, saying, “You really have fallen.”
“Pity me?!” Saint John furiously waved his hand, “You understand nothing. A genius like you will have rich saintly ladies willingly marry you, along with succubi. You get the favor of the divine temple while I am merely fuel for it! I will use your blood to satisfy my first thirst for blood.”
“Do well, human.” Cerys waved her dragon tail joyfully, pleased to see a saint twisted into this state, so elated she felt like singing, “George hasn’t collected evidence of your sins; his judgment ability won’t work on you. You can drag this out for a long time.”
Saint John suppressed the surging extraordinary power within him. Since he had just “darkened” and his emotions were unstable, he was in poor condition and at risk of losing control. In fact, he was rather worried about being killed by George if they fought.
George bent at the waist, glaring at the green dragon, vowing to chop her into three pieces.
“Spit!”
Jima suddenly appeared near the entrance of the hall, spitting out a stream of black liquid that hit the ground, causing white foam to bubble up and hissing.
Everyone looked at this unexpected guest; Saint John’s blood-red eyes turned towards Jima, and he sighed with relief, realizing she had still drunk it, though she had just been holding on.
Jima burped and said, “Haven’t drunk happy water in a long time, overdid it a bit. Do you really think I drank poison? You’re quite dumb. Living well has nothing to do with one’s inherent goodness or badness; only fools live worse, and usually die quickly.”
Saint John controlled the chaotic extraordinary power inside him and snorted coldly, “You coming out saves me some effort.”
He instead felt relieved, wanting to keep George occupied; although his strength had surged, his condition was poor, and it could easily result in being stabbed to death by George in one strike.
With Jima out, Cerys would fight alongside him, increasing their odds of winning significantly.
Suddenly Jima looked towards the doorway, stunned, “Little John, how did you get out?”
Saint John’s body trembled, his neck awkwardly turning back as he saw the wooden door to the alchemy room ajar. Little John’s round face was filled with tears, his eyes red as he looked at his unfamiliar father and asked, “Dad?”
Saint John didn’t dare respond; his emotions were chaotic, and the extraordinary power within him became unruly.
Little John looked to both sides: one side was a knight in shining silver armor with a sword glowing with white light, and the other was his father, who looked like a zombie crawled out of a coffin, sporting fangs.
Little John found it hard to accept that this was his father, but he wore a grass-woven charm that he had made for him. He remembered the bedtime stories his father told him, of dragon-slaying heroes paying a terrible price, of the last surviving hero finally beheading the evil dragon.
All heroic tales lay shattered.
Tears welled up in Little John’s eyes, and he cried out, “My dad is a monster who is with the evil dragon!”
With that, he collapsed on the threshold, crying loudly, the tears blurring his vision. He wished for nothing more than for this all to be a dream.
Saint John froze; something shattered inside him. He suddenly recoiled, his limbs bending against the ground, his belly facing up, and his belly protruded, becoming translucent, nurturing a bright light that illuminated the entire hall in a pale white. His mouth, nose, and eyes all emitted white light, and the gray-black ring on his index finger slipped off due to the intense desire of the dead.
Saint John was out of control.
——————
Early update.
