Chapter 8: The Matchmaker, Jima
In a room that felt like a dungeon, Acanis had no choice but to pick up a pen and write a line on the paper:
“Dear evil Whelin! You whore killer, a rotten bone in a coffin! You despicable corpse, how dare you torment a witch hunter like me—”
“Hey, hey, Acanis, do you want me to be torn to pieces by Whelin’s wrath by writing this?”
“I don’t care,” Acanis said. “What do you think about calling her a rotten—”
“I think it’s quite nice for you to stay in this small room,” Jima mocked. “Free food and lodging, and every night there’s a night raid from a noble vampire lady. Truly a divine life.”
After saying this, Jima stood up and walked towards the door. “Find someone else for this. I can’t help you with this.”
“Wait!” Acanis gritted his teeth and said, “I’ll write!”
He swiftly crossed out the previous words and wrote:
“Dear, sweet, beautiful Whelin, your love is too intense for me to accept, and I want to—”
“Acanis!”
“Alright, alright.” Acanis continued writing, “I hope Jima can teach you how to love a living person.”
He signed it: Acanis Dishar.
After completing this, his face was dark, looking like a female knight resigned to writing love letters to an orc. His hand trembled as if he would tear the note apart at any moment.
Jima snatched the note and put it in her pocket, saying, “No way, since I value friendship, I have to risk my life to help you.”
“Jima,” Acanis’s voice was low and unfriendly, “You’re probably lying to me.”
Defending himself at this point made him seem guilty.
Jima lazily replied, “Oh?”
“But as long as there’s a chance to get rid of that blood-sucking corpse, I’m willing to bet.” Acanis raised his head and looked at the cunning succubus. “However, I will not be caught by Whelin and become her blood slave. If I get tricked by you at the moment you catch me—”
Acanis made a slicing motion across his neck. “I will kill myself immediately.”
“Hey, saying that is quite provoking,” Jima said. “Whelin is so beautiful and strong; what’s the big deal about dying? In summer, it’s cool to hold her. You’re threatening a friend and claiming you want to commit suicide; I’m really tempted to give you a hit.”
Acanis replied, “Because falling into her hands is worse than death.”
“Don’t you know that death doesn’t escape the grasp of vampires?”
“As long as my soul can be taken by Sigma, she won’t have control over me,” Acanis said. “As a witch hunter, I have my ways to prevent my body and soul from being toyed with.”
“You don’t trust me as a friend?”
“Not at all.”
Jima threw the note back at Acanis.
“Then goodbye.”
With that, Jima’s figure vanished into thin air.
Inside the Dream Palace.
“Damn it, that Shadow King has such high vigilance.” Jima lay on a lounge chair, angrily waving her fists.
Earlier, Jima didn’t throw the note out of anger. She intended to force Acanis to back down. But unexpectedly, the Acanis she had deliberately ignored for a while didn’t soften.
“I’ve got a headache; why is he so stubborn?” Jima was somewhat exasperated. “Isn’t it better to honestly fall into my trap and be delivered to Whelin’s skirts?”
In this way, she could also acquire clues about the potion formula for upgrading to diamond rank.
Then she could bring George to Whelin to prove that she’s a married woman and not here to steal her man.
Jima could leverage George’s ability to discern lies and ask Whelin if she had the potion formula for a succubus to upgrade to diamond rank.
As a result, there were indeed relevant clues.
This made Jima’s heart race; compared to that, what Whelin wanted was quite simple. She only needed Acanis—someone who could move and speak. It was clear that even a forcibly twisted melon wouldn’t be sweet, but it could quench thirst.
Jima sighed, “This is really tough.”
Thinking this, she opened the task list in her personal system and clicked on the task titled “Find a way to obtain the potion formula for upgrading to diamond rank.”
After the words “design a plan to get Acanis out and deliver him to Whelin,” she added a question mark.
Setting Acanis up was the easiest way, provided she could gain Acanis’s trust.
Right now, she absolutely could not go back immediately, as that would make her seem guilty.
Jima decided to ignore Acanis for another seven or eight days. After a week, she would visit Acanis, citing “even though my good friend doesn’t trust me, I still value friendship and have come back to help” as her reason.
After making this decision, Jima went to bed.
She had a nightmare.
She dreamt of the demon realm and the capricious Four Gods, dreaming of a man with three eyes standing in front of a blood-soaked altar, staring at her.
Jima suddenly opened her eyes wide, waking from the dream, and found her forehead drenched in cold sweat.
“I’ve been targeted by Marus.” She felt somewhat panicky, “Damn the apocalypse war; has Marus already killed all the other useless demon lords in the demon realm?”
It was just barely dawn outside, but Jima was no longer sleepy.
She got out of bed, her white silk nightgown clinging to her skin. She tugged at the collar, feeling a chill in her chest, got out of bed, and paced by the window.
She started contemplating her current situation.
Marus was so eager to find the piece of his demon lord crown, which could only mean one thing: it was very likely the last piece of the demon lord crown, or he was confident he could collect all the pieces.
Having once been a demon lord, Jima knew that unless the pieces of the demon lord crown were collected completely, it made no difference how many pieces were gathered. The demon lord crown pieces would only grant a person one powerful wish, enhancing their power once.
“If my piece is the last piece of the demon lord crown,” Jima’s pace quickened, “then the demon lord Marus will definitely want to find it at all costs.”
He might even be the chosen one for eternity, seeking the last piece of the demon lord crown.
She felt frightened.
Jima took a deep breath to calm herself down.
The power and authority of the eternal chosen one were enough to terrify Jima. That was the person who commanded the demon army to destroy the world, and once the destruction army succeeded in descending to the mortal realm, they would declare war on the entire world and all nations.
High elves, dark elves, wood elves, empires, Barto, lizardmen, Kisliv, greenskins, dwarves, and as far as the extreme east, the Seris… all would go to war.
The destruction army also had the strength to sweep the entire world.
Jima felt some dread.
What way could she find to extricate herself?
Should she directly give the “wish compass” to Marus, telling him the location of the demon lord crown piece?
What a humiliation!
Jima became angry, and a vague pain surged in her chest.
She should be enjoying herself in the demon lord’s palace with her thirty maids. If it weren’t for Marus and a few demon lords causing trouble, how could George have reached her bedroom door and killed her?
After all, at least half of this grudge was Marus’s.
If she couldn’t fight back, she couldn’t be pathetic enough to deliver herself.
“But… my enemies have become stronger,” Jima plopped down into a chair, holding her forehead and muttering to herself. “This is really a headache; there’s a chance I might die, and that wouldn’t be too bad, but I just dread the thought of not being able to die.”
Memories of her past failures from when she was still demon lord Jima flooded her mind.
Perhaps having turned into a woman had stripped her of that drive. Now reflecting on it, she felt anxious. The defeated were scorned, and having their shattered souls crafted into weapons was normal.
Moreover, the challenges really were numerous. It was highly possible that after enough slaughter, pleasing the Blood God, He might reward you with a steed.
Regardless of whether you agreed or not, a spatial rift could suddenly open, and a four-meter tall monster with sharp, strong teeth might leap out, leaving nothing but fur behind after a single bite.
Great, that would be your steed—either defeat it or be defeated and eaten by it.
Jima had seen no less than a hundred demon clansmen die while being sent their steed before being promoted to demon knight, unable to fight back.
Jima shook her head. “I’ve really spent too long with humans and unknowingly contracted their weaknesses.”
She had even identified with the weak! Forgetting the glory of the victors.
“Regardless, I absolutely cannot compromise. If Marus collects all the pieces of the demon lord crown…”
Jima had no idea how mortals might fight back, and it might really lead to the end of the world.
Historically, there was one instance when the eternal chosen one donned a demon lord crown and killed his way into the mortal realm. He was the first-generation eternal chosen one. Half the world turned into ruins as he slaughtered his way into the empire, where he encountered Sigma, who had yet to become a god at that time. Old Sigma, holding a hammer, crushed the first-generation eternal chosen one’s head, causing the demon lord crown to shatter into several pieces.
The first apocalypse was thus thwarted by old Sigma with a single blow.
But in today’s world, who could match Sigma?
George? He was hardly qualified; if demon lord Marus collected all the pieces of the demon lord crown, with George’s nature, he would undoubtedly die.
“I cannot compromise.” Jima narrowed her eyes.
To survive the apocalyptic tide, enhancing her strength was crucial. Reaching diamond rank was essential; otherwise, she would still be nothing but rotten fish and shrimp.
Moreover, the pieces of the demon lord crown must not fall into the hands of the eternal chosen Marus.
So, Acanis, why can’t you lower yourself for the welfare of the entire world?
Jima suddenly stood up. She needed to consider another solution—playing matchmaker for the two.
She would use this week to have a good talk with Whelin, asking her what exactly she did that made Acanis prefer death over being with Whelin.
At this moment, the sun was rising, and false light fell before the blue curtains.
Jima looked outside, observing the world, and sincerely said, “I hope the apocalypse comes a little later.”
Hope the apocalypse arrives a little later.
The emperor of the empire gazed at the dawn, and a thought drifted through his mind.
This square-jawed emperor of the empire rarely had quality time with his family. To his left was his queen, who smiled happily while holding their two drowsy children. To the emperor’s right was his marshal, who was also the commander of the Rick Guard knight order. They were all dressed in solid armor to prevent an assassin’s attack.
They stood in a row, facing the rising sun, unmoving.
The painter was capturing the emperor of the empire in a “family portrait.”
The emperor seemed to sense something and specifically set aside a significant amount of time during his busy schedule to paint a “family portrait” with his family.
After chatting with his family for a bit, the emperor could not resist discussing political matters with his marshal.
“Are the high elves still unwilling to form the ‘Shield of Civilization’ alliance?”
“They say they don’t want to ally with the dwarves unless the destruction army appears on the horizon.”
“What a bunch of arrogant folks.” The marshal said, “I heard they nearly got into a fight with the dwarven ambassador.”
“This doesn’t surprise me; however, it won’t matter. The high elves will join the alliance in due time.”
“Until the destruction army descends into the mortal realm?”
“The Barto knight kingdom and the Supreme King have already agreed to form the Shield of Civilization alliance,” the emperor said. “The order factions should unite to prepare for the upcoming storm and resist the annihilation faction.”
“What about Kisliv?”
“I am confident,” the emperor said. “I have personally issued orders for the electors to lead an army to assist Kisliv. We have just survived the Black Death, and the Ice Queen will see our sincerity.”
“This year is not suitable for war, Your Majesty.”
“I know; the Black Death has claimed too many lives.” The emperor said, “But what can we do? Kisliv has always been the front line against the demon race, and the fate of all ordered races is interconnected.”
“My dear,” the queen interrupted the two men’s political discussion, “This is not the Senate; you don’t need to be giving speeches. Can you please turn your faces back and look at the painter?”
The square-faced emperor awkwardly smiled and turned to the painter.
This year marked the year of the Black Death in the history of the empire. It was also the year the emperor of the empire captured a family oil painting with his loved ones.
