Chapter 95: Mother of All Beasts (Part 2)
Suddenly, a deep blue lightning bolt descended, ignoring George, who was behind Jima, covered in iron lumps, and struck directly on Jima’s head.
“Buzz!”
Jima’s black hair stood on end, her entire body tingled, and her heart momentarily stopped, but she still maintained her divination state.
The grain circle protecting Jima from dark magic attacks was charred and emitting black smoke. She stared wide-eyed at the firelight, directly at the mature woman with blue eyes and smooth red hair, trying to divine her name.
“Stop now!”
George rushed in front of Jima, but dared not get too close, fearing that he might accidentally knock over a candle and disrupt Jima’s divination ritual. He could only raise the golden giant sword high with one hand, pointing it at the dark cloud above Jima, hoping to act as her lightning rod.
The white candles, now corrupted, extinguished one by one, and even George sensed something was amiss. He shouted at Jima, “Hurry, stop!”
Jima’s ears buzzed; George’s shout only added to her pain.
The enemy was powerful; this was different from the situation in Marlin City, where the distance dulled the black magic’s strength carried through the “medium.”
But Jima would not let go of her vengeance.
She slightly shook her head and yelled at the woman with red hair amid the flames, “Your position, bloated ant queen!”
The other party did resemble an ant queen, the kind that lays eggs day and night in an anthill.
The dark clouds above roiled, and another furious lightning bolt struck down, directly aimed at Jima’s black horns but first hit the layers of ice that had risen up.
Eve Frostleaf raised her hands, layers of ice continuously enveloping Jima and George, but the ice was pierced like eggshell.
Jima felt her scalp burning, her tail writhing from the electricity, and to make matters worse, several shards of ice fell inside her collar, causing her to shiver from the cold.
But the divination was still not interrupted; Jima persevered, propping herself up on her knees, unable to hear what George was shouting beside her. She struggled to raise her head, looking at the firelight.
The divination produced results.
Jima saw a massive stone resembling a skull, with large hollow areas beneath her eyes, nearly the size of a university town, surrounded by cages filled with humans, confined like livestock.
The Rock of Ten Thousand Demons!
Jima immediately recognized what it was in her mind. Beastmen loved to sacrifice blood and life to the Four Dark Gods, and sacrifices required an altar—temporary altars outside were too ineffective, while the Rock of Ten Thousand Demons could be considered a massive altar where beastmen brought captured offerings to sacrifice to the Four Dark Gods.
The Rock of Ten Thousand Demons was often the lair of the beastmen.
Simultaneously, the divination informed Jima of the geographical location of the Rock of Ten Thousand Demons.
Very good, now I know where you live; one day I’ll bring toolman George to chop your whole family down.
Jima gritted her teeth, thinking resentfully.
The red-haired mature woman, exposed in her location, showed no surprise or anger, instead looking at Jima with an appreciative gaze. Her eyes passed through the firelight and also saw George, who was nervously holding a sword.
Jima strained to hold on, continuing the divination, and shouted, “Your name!”
The other party’s full red lips curled up, and she spoke, “Child, they call me the Mother of All Beasts.”
The voice crossed thousands of miles, landing in Jima’s buzzing and bleeding ears.
Jima heard it exceptionally clearly; this was not her divination result but rather the other party willingly telling her.
Why? She had no time to think more; she lifted her hands as the flames extinguished automatically, forcibly severing the connection between the medium and the object of divination.
“Boom.”
It was not lightning striking, but all the white demonic candles exploded spontaneously.
It felt as if someone had brought a hammer down heavily on the back of her head, causing her to have a throbbing headache. The extraordinary matter boiled within her, and her organs activated, moving chaotically within her cavity. Unable to hold on any longer, she barely managed to stand up before leaning back in relief.
As expected, a sturdy hand steadied her lower back, the sound of her bucket helm hitting the ground echoed as George’s handsome face appeared with concern, saying, “Jima, Jima?”
Jima’s morbid humor kicked in; she opened her vacant eyes to the dispersing dark clouds above and murmured intermittently, “Extraordinary matter… in the north… dark elves in a hurry to move…”
It seemed Jima was about to slip into unconsciousness at that moment.
“Jima.” George grasped Jima’s soft and powerless hand tightly, saying, “Don’t push yourself, rest, please rest.”
With that, he gently laid Jima down on the grass.
The dry grass was surprisingly soft; under the evening sun, the sky was blood-red, and it was autumn—a perfect time to die beautifully. Jima felt that all she needed was a shovel to dig a grave, and it would be great if George cried like a three-year-old who stubbed his toe while digging her grave.
“No… this is important…” Jima said, “…the true cover hiding the extraordinary matter… is the Mother of All Beasts. Her home is in the north… in… the… Ili Forest, near… two mountains… the Rock of Ten Thousand Demons is in… between…”
After saying this, she took a deep breath, her chest swelling as if drawing in that breath consumed all her strength. Her head tilted, her mouth half-open, her eyes lost their sparkle.
“Jima, Jima, wake up.” George’s hands glowed white as he tugged at Jima’s shoulders, shaking her vigorously, completely oblivious to her tail happily swishing on the ground.
Eve Frostleaf saw this and stepped forward, crossing the charred grain circle, gently kicking Jima’s tail.
“Ah, I’ve met a terrible end.” Jima said, “So tragic, so tragic.”
George stopped; he recognized this as a lie, tightening his hands and asking, “Are you okay?”
“Not a bit of trouble. Let go; you almost shook my head off my neck.”
George released his grip.
Jima did a fish out of water and stood up, picked up a shard of ice from the ground, smoothed her black hair that had risen, and chuckled, “How was that? Did I act well?”
George took a deep breath, repeatedly telling himself that hitting women was a despicable act.
“Very convincing; I almost want to hit you hard on the head right now.”
Jima glanced at Eve Frostleaf, who stood silently to the side, feeling the jealousy simmering within her. Suddenly, it occurred to her that since the other party was essentially a masochist, why not make her happy?
I’m really kind-hearted.
She said, “Domestic violence is no good, you know.”
George immediately stopped feeling angry.
As the autumn wind grew colder, he bent down, picked up his helm, and put it on, saying, “Winter is coming quickly this year.”
He completely failed to notice Eve Frostleaf’s frosty demeanor; but he couldn’t be blamed for this, as only someone like Jima, who was good at reading expressions, would realize that at least three layers of “ice” had formed on Eve Frostleaf’s face.
“Thank you, Frostleaf.” Jima graciously walked in front of Eve Frostleaf and slightly bowed in thanks, “It turns out that in times of crisis, women are far more reliable than men.”
Eve Frostleaf nodded subtly and said, “You’re welcome.”
George looked at Jima with displeasure.
“I didn’t say anything wrong.” Jima lightly tapped George’s armor, saying, “You’re covered in iron armor, so you’re not afraid of lightning. Did you know lightning avoids you?”
This knowledge contradicted common sense.
George retorted, “Really?”
“You just wouldn’t understand.”
Jima proudly placed her hands on her hips, recalling the content of her middle school physics lessons. The specific details were unclear, but she remembered a picture of a bird standing inside an iron cage next to a Tesla coil, unaffected by electricity—“If you don’t believe me, you can try.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Having tricked George once again and standing on the shoulders of scientific giants, Jima became even more pleased with herself.
“Let’s talk about serious matters.” George said, “Did you succeed in your divination?”
“Look at the huge commotion just now; it must have worked, no need to say more.” Jima replied, “And you have to promise me that, considering how badly I was electrocuted, you must help me out and chop down the Mother of All Beasts from that huge piece of meat.”
“What does she look like?”
“Two lives.”
“Two lives?”
“That’s what I nicknamed her.” Jima said, “The upper half is a mature woman wearing a soft and fluffy tiger skin, half exposing her bosom, unexpectedly clean and beautiful, with fiery red hair, resembling a charming wife. Those blue eyes can steal a person’s soul—”
“Wait, why does that sound like a description from a brothel?”
“I’m expressing strategic disdain for the enemy.” Jima explained, “The upper half is alluring, wanting a life; the lower half requires a life too. Have you seen an ant queen? She drags an incredibly fat body underneath, with many legs growing below. Perhaps she, like the ant queen, constantly exchanges genetic fluids with male ants and keeps producing, adding to the beastmen’s ranks. It’s truly terrifying.”
Jima’s irreversibly silly mind suddenly took a bad turn, and her tail stiffened.
“You’re saying something very strange.” George commented, “Well, at least we know where our enemy is now and have a target; the next steps will be much easier. By the way, what else did you see?”
“Many living people, like chickens waiting to be sold in cages at the market.”
“Their fate…” George didn’t finish, as everyone knew that beastmen didn’t eat people; they would have to kill them to sacrifice to the Four Dark Gods for various divine favors.
At that moment, a sound of hooves approached. It was the elven maid; as soon as she dismounted, she sniffed suspiciously, like a detective dog tracking an extramarital affair, examining George and Eve Frostleaf.
She sensed something was off—ordinarily, after Eve Frostleaf rejected George, she could have stayed away, but she had just turned down George and then switched armors to catch up. Plus, her complexion didn’t seem bad now.
Could it be that while she was careless for just a second, old feelings had rekindled?
The elven maid narrowed her eyes, focusing on Eve Frostleaf.
“By the way, I’d like to once again thank you both for protecting me from the front and back.” Jima said meaningfully, “Sister Frostleaf is still a good person.”
As she spoke, she secretly winked at the elven maid.
The elven maid felt relieved, knowing she had a reliable succubus ally; she must have stood as a wall, isolating the two and leaving no chance for old feelings to rekindle.
The elven maid reciprocated with a look of camaraderie.
“Alright, let’s talk while we walk.” Jima walked toward her chestnut mare, “Maid, please help us patrol the area; there might be dark elves lying in ambush nearby.”
The elven maid readily agreed and rode off.
Jima approached the chestnut mare, raised her legs a few times before putting them down, turned to George and said:
“George.”
“Hmm?”
“Help me.” Jima said, “My legs are all wobbly from the electricity.”
“You just said you were fine.” George dismounted, supporting the soft and limp Jima, and helped her onto the horse’s back.
