Chapter 148 Chapter 144 The Two-Headed Dragon
“I must have done something horrible. Sigma, please save me.”
The bard Felix looked desperate.
The butcher Gortrek held his wrist tightly, dragging him forward as he stubbornly said, “Your god can’t save you because you are fulfilling your promise to the dwarves.”
“I’ve already composed two songs of the butcher for you.”
“I’m not dead yet; how can there be a protagonist in the butcher’s song without a glorious death?”
“You nearly died three times. I nearly died twice too.”
The butcher Gortrek showed a look of regret and said, “If only that stitched beast had a bit more strength, I could have achieved a glorious death.”
The bard Felix complained, “Why are you still alive?”
The dwarf looked gloomy, “Yeah, why am I still alive?”
“Can’t you, when blocking, move the axe a bit more aside?”
“No!” the butcher Gortrek replied seriously, “A butcher must sharpen his combat skills and fight with all his might to die in glory; otherwise, that honor would be tarnished.”
The bard Felix sighed.
As they walked, they passed a chair where Jima was sitting, chatting with a bare-chested dwarf engineer.
He said, “It’s a pity that the new thing I made hasn’t been used.”
Jima had high hopes for this dwarf engineer, who was also a butcher.
“It will be useful in the future.”
“The ratmen’s weapons inspired me; I might create a gunpowder version of the ratling, but…” the dwarf engineer raised his hand, looking at his bare arm, “I don’t know how to earn my death honor.”
“The advancement of new weapons is achieved at the cost of life,” Jima said. “You can use your life to keep trying new weapons until one day, you die in the workshop.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, can you promise me one thing?” Jima asked. “When you develop new weapons in the future, could you share their secrets with me?”
“Sure,” the dwarf engineer said, “You’ve given me a lot of inspiration, especially that weapon called the AK-47.”
“If I could create it, that would be great.”
“If you can create a version from another world of the AK-47, I would call you a god.”
“Remember today’s promise when that time comes.”
“Do you doubt me?” the dwarf engineer said. “I can engrave the oath on gold for you.”
“No need,” Jima said, shaking her head with a smile.
She approached the dwarf engineer for his promise, but it was merely part of a grand scheme.
She had already planned to betray George; regardless of success, there was no future in this world. Since there was no future, why care about the weapons the dwarf engineer might create?
But she also couldn’t appear as if she had no future. Otherwise, it might raise George’s suspicions.
Ever since becoming the Chosen of the Master of Deceit, Jima felt she had become quite skilled in schemes and lies. She no longer needed to draft in her personal system as she did before.
Now, with some spare time, she could easily notice many details that might reveal her intentions.
“Jima!”
George’s voice came from below.
“I’m coming,” Jima stood up and said, “Then see you later.”
The dwarf engineer waved to him, “Goodbye, my friend.”
What was his name again?
Jima vaguely remembered that his name had more than four characters.
So there was no need to remember it.
She went downstairs, bent over, and smiled at George by the door, “Are we ready to set off? Everyone must protect me well.”
On her shoulders were dazzling black feather cloaks.
Jenna said, “Your feather cloak is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She asked, “Where did you buy it?”
“I made it myself.”
“You made it?”
“Yes, I made everything, including the raw materials.”
Jenna was momentarily confused, “Ah?”
George said, “The feathers, are they from the blessings after they mutated?”
“Yes,” Jima replied. “I pulled them out one by one. Luckily, I resisted some of the blessings; otherwise, I would really have become a bird person.”
As she spoke, a flash of blue light shimmered in her golden eyes.
“Your eyes just glowed blue.”
“That’s also a mutation,” Jima said. “Next time, I’ll show you where the feathers grow.”
George nodded.
The atmosphere in the group became somewhat tense.
Following the four of them were Felix and the butcher Gortrek, making a total of six, heading directly to the tunnel at the gate.
At this point, by surface time, it was already evening. The dwarves had said that by nightfall, the tunnel would probably be completed.
Jima said, “We can’t delay any longer. As soon as the tunnel is open, we will pass through immediately.”
The group unconsciously quickened their pace and ran to the tunnel at the gate.
All around were rubble and the dwarf construction team, with exhausted dwarf workers lying on makeshift beds on the ground.
To repay them, the dwarves had allocated precious manpower, taking turns to hasten the digging of the tunnel.
At the entrance of the tunnel stood a group of people, among them a bald head stood out in the dim firelight, like a lighthouse on the sea, flickering.
It was Beow and his group.
“As expected,” Jima did not hide her disgust for the hero Beow, “A pile of dog shit as anticipated.”
Beow’s golden beard was still neatly trimmed, his eyes shining with light. As soon as he spotted Jima from afar, he unapologetically drew his holy sword from behind.
The sword’s tip was pointed at Jima.
George did not draw his sword but stepped forward confidently to block the tip of the holy sword. He was confident that he could handle the worst-case scenario even without drawing his weapon.
Beow asked, “Defeated, why did you bring your dark god’s servant here again?”
“I would like you to thank her,” George retorted, “Without her, you wouldn’t know where to find the crown fragments right now.”
“It must be her scheme.”
“Shameless.”
“Because my faith in my god is above yours.”
“Only because you sacrificed your ability to discern right from wrong and think.”
“You—”
Jima originally wanted to go pull George, looking pitiful and saying, “Please don’t provoke conflict for my sake; the mission is important,” to gain sympathy.
But seeing George so happily scolding someone for her, she decided against stepping in.
“Hey! Hey!” a dusty dwarf stepped forward, saying, “Stop arguing; the tunnel is nearly completed.”
Jima asked, “Is that considered completed?”
“Sort of.”
“I thought, digging a tunnel would be like being pregnant,” Jima responded, “There are only pregnant and not pregnant, there’s no such thing as ‘almost pregnant.'”
“They’ve dug out a hole, just big enough for one dwarf to squeeze through.”
Eve Frostleaf interjected, “A dog hole?”
The dusty dwarf shot her a glare with bloodshot eyes.
“You humans can crawl through,” the dusty dwarf continued, “Or we can wait a bit longer for the hole to be bigger.”
Beow impatiently said, “We’ll go first.”
George said, “First come, first served.”
“I’m not like you,” Beow threatened, “If given the chance, I will unhesitatingly execute your dark god’s servant.”
For Jima’s safety, it would be better for Beow’s group to go first.
Jima said, “The stupidest thing in the world is to threaten others face-to-face while having no power to enforce it.”
“Shut up, demon.”
With that, Beow angrily led his other teammates into the dusty cave.
The saving team waited outside for nearly an hour.
While waiting, all six stood in a tranquil, secret barrier, as George took out the information translated by the dwarves of the Dragon City, distributing it to everyone.
Jima looked at the intel translated into the common language, which not only summarized the information concerning the two-headed dragon mentioned in the ratmen’s documents but also included the Dragon City’s information on the two-headed dragon.
It was a gigantic dragon, residing atop the chaotic wasteland at the world’s end. According to the records from the Dragon City, the two-headed dragon arrived around several thousand years ago.
There was a rough illustration drawn by a dwarf ranger.
On the drawing, the dragon’s head was split in two, extending down to its neck. It looked as if someone had cleaved its head and neck in half with a tremendous sword.
Jima said, “The two-headed dragon doesn’t actually have two heads.”
Jenna said, “It doesn’t look that frightening; it probably can’t breathe dragon fire.”
“Things aren’t that optimistic,” the former demon lord Jima remarked. “Look at the intel; it’s an ancient dragon that has been corroded. From that picture, it has many spikes growing on it, indicating how badly it has been eroded.”
“I’m telling you, if it could breathe dragon fire from its rear, I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
George asked, “There’s no description of the two-headed dragon here; it seems that anyone who confronted it died… does it have a servant army?”
Jima said, “That’s quite normal; the wasteland is similar to the demon realm; the strong survive.”
“I once chatted with a druid who taught me about the mysteries of nature, how plants gain nutrients from light, water, and soil to nurture insects and animals, so the biology of a piece of land is limited.
“I’m curious, in the wasteland, there are no green plants; how can there be a servant army? And a large one at that.”
Jima looked around; the text description read, “A monstrous army that seems endless.”
“For example, the demon warriors. Killing, to them, is like milk and bread. They rely on killing and the winds of magic to sustain their existence and become even stronger.”
“And besides that?” George said. “It also mentions that its servant army has many Northerners, abominations, demonized giants, and of course, the ubiquitous goblin tribes.”
“There might be some places with green plants, the corrupted green plants are very violent and nutritious.”
“Such green plants are rare in the wasteland,” George said. “I’ve been to the demon realm; many places there are barren, yet there’s no shortage of magical beasts and demon kind.”
“I’m not quite sure about that either,” Jima said, rarely stumped. On closer thought, not only the wasteland but also the demon realm had large barren areas; generally speaking, there weren’t many habitable locations.
But Jima had gotten used to it; after walking a few miles, a fierce beast would jump out to try to eat her.
She said, “Anyway, it all comes down to magic; just ask about the wondrous magic.”
“Alright, does anyone have any questions?” George closed the scroll.
Everyone shook their heads.
The butcher Gortrek impatiently said, “I don’t understand and don’t want to listen; just tell me where the danger is.”
The bard Felix wiped away a tear and began playing a sorrowful song, sounding as if he were about to die, his voice filled with nostalgia for the world.
