Chapter 212: The Gathering
Returning to the story, the two women searched for George and, after continually using divination to make adjustments, finally made a breakthrough on the morning of the fifth day.
Jima stood on the corpse of a large horned beast, looking at the “Wish Compass” in her hand, her face blooming with a smile as she said, “We’re almost there!”
Eve Frostleaf, standing beside her with an impassive expression, nodded.
Jima wondered if Eve was having her period; she had been cold and aloof these past few days, almost like a popsicle. How could such a tall leggy girl turn into a popsicle?
Was it because she was all alone and feeling too lonely?
Jima asked, “Worried about the safety of your maid?”
Eve Frostleaf nodded.
Indeed, she was a kind person. Even though her maid was always meddling, Frostleaf still cared about that nagging maid.
Jima said, “In a few hours, we will know whether she is alive or not.”
Eve’s expression grew serious.
Two hours later, Jima, who was flying invisibly in the sky, spotted the besieged large troop.
Though it was called a large troop, there were barely a thousand people in sight, with nearly half being knights in gleaming armor.
A horde of beastmen was biting at the rear of the troop trying to retreat. The horned beasts could not suppress their bloodthirst and charged forward, eager for humans to spill more blood, and in the brown sea, the familiar white light pollution erupted— it was George.
On a second glance, Jima locked onto an “old acquaintance.” The dark elf knight with red hair was riding her black steed, observing the human army that was forced to stop like a wolf.
Jima dove down, returning to Eve Frostleaf’s side:
“I saw George; we arrived just in time—they are being attacked by a pack of wolves.”
Eve Frostleaf asked, “Wolves?”
When it came to fighting, Eve Frostleaf would rein in her elven temper.
“The beastmen are constantly harassing the troop, dragging them into the larger army,” Jima said, “but if the large troop doesn’t arrive soon, they will be caught by that team led by the red-haired dark elf from yesterday.”
“Are they not going to counterattack?”
“Morale is low, and supplies are lacking. Even if they defeat the enemy, would they dare to pursue? Behind them is an army of tens of thousands of beastmen,” Jima said. “Furthermore, this group of knights lacks unified command.”
“From which direction will support come?”
Before Eve Frostleaf finished speaking, a silent crossbow bolt flew from behind Jima, piercing through her waist and embedding into a tree.
The bolt was surrounded by what seemed to be living poison gas, and Jima’s figure dissipated into the air.
It was a silent phantom.
Eve Frostleaf did not hesitate; based on her archery experience and the flow of air currents, she immediately discerned the position of the attacker hiding nearby. With a powerful leg kick, she propelled herself forward, and with a flick of her hand, a transparent air bullet exploded in the shadow behind the tree.
A flushed-faced assassin from the Kane family leapt out and blew his whistle.
“I detest when others use the same trick on me.”
A female voice rang out above him, followed by a venomous curse.
The Kane assassin immediately felt his joints ache, and his body slowed. Turning his head, he saw a dark-haired succubus wielding an axe-gun, about to swing it at him.
He endured the pain, pulling out his longsword and dagger to confront Jima. Naturally, Jima was no match for him and was at a disadvantage, but Eve Frostleaf came charging from behind.
However, in this situation of being attacked from both sides, the Kane assassin felt no tension; instead, the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up in a slight smirk. He retaliated by casting a puff of pink smoke towards Jima. The smoke seemed to swell with life, enveloping her.
As long as her skin made contact, her mind would be filled with a desire for slaughter, unwilling to leave.
Simultaneously, several lurking wraiths charged into the pink smoke, attacking Jima.
“Bang!”
A strong gust of wind erupted around Eve Frostleaf, dispersing the poisoned fog. She herself was unaffected since she was a combat profession.
And what about Jima?
Four pink-haired wraiths, wielding poisoned daggers, were also puzzled over Jima’s position.
“What I dislike most is that there are always people who think they can scheme against me.”
The Kane assassin suddenly came to his senses and realized that he still held the pink pellet in his hand. The pink poison gas had not been released; everything had just been a brief beautiful dream.
Just now, Jima had dragged him into a dream and filled it with pleasant thoughts.
Approaching him was only a silver sword, continuously closing in.
“Ugh!”
The wind-laden silver sword sliced through his elbow’s scale, rendering him weak; the pink pellet fell to the ground, exploding into a cloud of pink smoke.
He quickly kicked back, trying to escape Eve Frostleaf’s attack range.
Jima ignored the wraiths pursuing her, even though she enjoyed fighting with the scantily clad wraiths. She zoomed forward at high speed, wielding the axe-gun and attempting to finish off the Kane assassin.
The sword light split her view in half as it rushed towards her.
“Poof.”
Jima turned into white smoke, leaving behind her “substitute doll.”
The poorly crafted doll split in half, and Jima helplessly watched as the red-haired Balsa rushed over, covering for the fleeing Kane assassin who was clutching his left arm.
As long as Balsa arrived, with her assisting and exhausting half of the elven ranger, it would be a miracle to survive.
Balsa shouted in Elvish, “Retreat!”
The wraiths entangled with Eve Frostleaf hurriedly retreated, one dead and one injured.
Jima saw Eve Frostleaf’s leg, clad in white long boots, forcefully stomp on the chest of the injured wraith, kicking her to cough up blood and then sealing her throat with a sword.
The wraith’s limbs went limp as she lay against the tree trunk, her black-sheathed calves dangling helplessly.
Jima landed beside Eve Frostleaf and sighed at the sight of the dead wraith.
Eve Frostleaf disdainfully blew the blood off her sword blade, letting it sprinkle down, and asked, “Feeling hurt?”
In this brutal world, any woman willing to step onto the battlefield in a bikini was a good person.
Jima said, “I wanted to ask what material those black stockings are and where to buy them.”
“Sea dragon skin.”
“I can’t tell; it doesn’t have that hard leather feel at all.” Jima squatted down, rubbing the black stockings on the wraith’s thigh. “Pretty nice.”
Eve Frostleaf scoffed, “Druzi’s dark craftsmanship.”
I want a pair too.
Jima thought, while putting on her leather gloves to confiscate the wraith’s dagger.
However, the association with something belonging to the dead felt disturbing, so Jima didn’t strip the black stockings off the wraith, also considering that it would upset Eve Frostleaf.
Not long after Balsa retreated, George came charging in like a tank, crashing through the flowers, grass, and branches along the way.
The reason for Balsa’s retreat was obvious—George had been keeping an eye on her.
George looked extremely disheveled, missing a piece of shoulder armor, and the exposed tunic was patched poorly. His breastplate and helm were uneven and dented.
He had no time to stop and rest, let alone clean his armor.
Hence, the surface of his armor was filthy, obscuring its original color, splattered with blood and dirt, and the grime was even baked by George’s body heat, emitting a complex stench as one got closer.
Jima felt guilty, afraid George would blame her for abandoning her teammates to escape. While her teammates were fighting, she was sleeping in the palace.
She quickly opened her personal system, looking at the excuses she had long since prepared.
Something like, “I had to break out early due to coercion; after all, I’m just a weak little succubus not even two years old.”
She pinched her nose and walked towards George, wearing a servile smile.
George asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, eating and sleeping well.”
George was genuinely delighted. “That’s good to hear. I was worried you might be sacrificed to their evil god by the dark elves.”
Jima felt like she had punched cotton; all her preparations were in vain because George didn’t hold it against her, and she deleted all the excuses from her personal system.
Eve Frostleaf walked over, spotless and pristine. In contrast, George looked like a pig rolling in the mud.
Eve Frostleaf’s gaze swept over George, her thighs itching as she couldn’t help but recall that dream of “mud pit fighting” from that day.
She said, “When I have time, I’ll clean you up.”
“We’re still in battle; let’s talk about it after the troops are safe.” George turned and ran quickly to return to the battlefield.
With three extraordinary beings charging from behind, the beastmen responsible for the harassment instantly fell apart, scattering like birds.
The weary knights’ morale soared as they charged after the fleeing beastmen.
Jima noticed their mounts were running slower than before, too exhausted, and was about to call out to George to order the knights to stop pursuing.
Just then, the leading Knight Tang De rode his white flying horse toward them, and the horse was so tired that it ran on the ground with its four hooves, passing right in front of them.
George raised his sword and said, “Knight Tang De, I think it’s not wise to pursue now.”
“Your suggestion is constructive,” Knight Tang De said, passing by the three without slowing down but allowing his mount to slow down. He raised his Milan helmet visor and said, “But we all agree we need to strike their morale.”
Saying this, he rode away.
Unlike George, who looked filthy like a pig rolling in the mud, Knight Tang De remained the eye-catching white knight from the arena, in shiny silver armor and a blue cloak, not a speck of dirt on him.
George took off his helmet, revealing hair dampened by sweat, with steam rising from his golden locks.
He appeared indifferent, stepping over the bodies of beastmen, happily saying to the two women:
“You arrived just in time; for this whole week, the beastmen have attacked us daily. Many did not survive this hellish week—I’ve gone four days without sleep. Now we finally have a chance to rest.”
Jima looked at him, feeling a pang of sorrow.
Some infantrymen who were cleaning the battlefield waved to George and called out:
“Lord George, thanks to you again today.”
“Everyone go back and rest well.” George shouted, “We have defeated the enemy.”
“Okay.” The older farmer infantryman who spoke to George grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth, thick dark circles under his eyes. “But it’s hard to sleep when you’re hungry.”
With that, he cut off a leg of a low-quality horned beast, beaming, “Finally, something to eat.”
George sighed helplessly, saying, “There are other things to eat; try to eat less beastmen’s meat.”
“Absolutely, absolutely.”
After moving a little further away, Jima whispered, “Aren’t you afraid of mutations? Some people seem to have already grown fur.”
George replied, “They have no choice; without any food, after the horsemeat is finished, the next step is to eat boiled leather.”
The battlefield was noisy, and many soldiers greeted George warmly.
Eve Frostleaf’s face suddenly darkened, looking extremely displeased.
A tall elven maid jumped out of the crowd, joyfully saying, “Lady Frostleaf, it’s so good to see you!”
Eve Frostleaf softly said, “How are you not dead yet?”
The elven maid beamed, seemingly not hearing anything at all.
