Chapter 130: The Autumn of Adolf (Seventeen)
Ossuan, an island beneath the Great Maelstrom, is shrouded in dark clouds, with lightning flickering amid the turmoil caused by a magical wind. The high elf dragon knights, diminished in number compared to the dragons, are said to have summoned tens of thousands of dragon knights to battle during ancient times, directly confronting the demon race in an era devoid of the Great Maelstrom.
But now, many dragon knights are gone, leaving only elf steeds clad in scaled armor to pretend to be dragon knights. Only a handful of noble-blooded, powerful dragon princes can ride the great dragons and engage in battle against the demon race in the sky.
In such a brutal context, great dragons occasionally descend from the sky, landing on the battlefield, which resembles a charred wasteland. The seas outside are stained with blood, filled with corpses and debris, as dark elves, high elves, and demon armies clash in a chaotic melee, all vying for great magical power.
The chairman of the High Elves’ War Council, the Ossuan Guardian, has just returned from a distant land. As he materializes in the air, his guards raise their tower shields around him for protection.
At a critical moment, a black arrow suddenly shoots toward the Ossuan Guardian, who just arrived back from afar and has no time to dodge, for he has just returned to the physical realm. The black arrow strikes his dragon armor.
This armor, inherited from the first elf king, should have been flawless. However, one scale is damaged due to its color resembling that of a demon prince. The black arrow accurately hits this missing scale, piercing through the Ossuan Guardian’s silver armor and entering his body.
The Ossuan Guardian clutches his dragon-front, and everyone gasps in horror, staggering back, unable to rally morale. The High Elf army instantly becomes a headless dragon…
Jima is unaware of all this. She is muttering insistently, claiming to be called by the lake fairy. Despite different stances, her bravery and sharp intelligence shine through, for beneath that wicked exterior lies a heart that glows with the brilliance of chivalry.
The knights, initially stunned, nearly revere Jima as a divine messenger. They do not know who first knelt, but soon many knights follow, kneeling before the demon king Jima and praising the lake goddess loudly.
Jima feels a deep satisfaction: “No need to be polite, everyone. You are all brave knights of chivalry, even though many have not achieved the vital honor.”
With a cheerful expression, she adds, “That’s right, the ultimate honor of chivalry should belong to them.”
Many gaze sideways at Arkanis, who often disappears during routine times but suddenly appears to seize the spotlight in critical moments.
George’s grandfather, half-kneeling, peers at the exquisitely wrapped demon king, growing increasingly familiar with the black, shiny horns and the tail resembling that of a rat. Despite feeling suspicious, he stealthily asks the knight beside him:
“Is this demon king named Jima?”
The knight tries not to show disdain and responds, “That’s right, she is the demon king Jima.”
“She’s a succubus?”
The knight answers impatiently, “Yes.”
George’s father blushes and stands up in surprise, raising his hand to point at the demon king Jima.
…A greater honor is waiting for you. The emperor and the heroes are protecting the Sigma Cathedral, which holds world-ending sacred relics. There, the soldiers sing battle songs bravely, but the enemy outnumbers them. The eternal chosen fight valiantly against overwhelming odds, enduring hardships.
“As long as you defeat the eternal chosen, you can save the world. Humans, elves, and dwarves will remember your names for generations. If bards forget your names or fail to sing your ballads in taverns, the audience will surely beat him up and kick him out.”
“The northerners will flee to desolate lands and panic at the mention of your names.”
George’s father clenches his fists, unsure whether it’s because he heard George’s name or was moved by the promised honor from Jima.
“Yes, yes.” Just moments ago, Arkanis had mocked Jima, but now stands beside her, saying, “Knights who do not dare to challenge the eternal chosen are not true knights; they are just pig-headed greenskins.”
The knights arise, cursing the witch hunters while forming ranks to reclaim their silver steeds, preparing to challenge and slay the eternal chosen.
Jima looks at the knights, excited, full of enthusiasm. Even if someone is injured and grimaces in pain, they maintain a facade of indifference, enjoying the accolades from other knights, with comments like “taking wounds is a knight’s badge of honor.”
Even more interestingly, Jima can see from the knights’ subtle expressions that many are not deceived by her.
Truly useful cannon fodder, they all bear the title of knights, but in terms of being cannon fodder, they pale compared to those apocalypse knights who vanish in the heat of battle.
Jima smiles, thinking to herself:
Someone asks Jima if she wants to reclaim the head of Richard the Lionheart.
At first, she intended to return it, but upon seeing the Lionheart’s face, she grits her teeth, recalling that a rusty saw had effectively severed his head, though he showed no trace of fear.
She remembers back when they were at Chang Song Park. At that time, George’s barbaric bloodline had just been revealed. She, as a succubus, faced rejection from knights unwilling to share a table with him, demanding him to leave. The Lionheart had proactively let the chivalrous army show their side, distancing themselves from the vanguard, awarding a precious silver steed to George.
Then she recalls earlier when the two opposing armies, who were previously at odds, supported Adolf together. The two armies could have met a ghost in daylight, but Jima thinks of how the Lionheart let the chivalrous army show their side, awarding George a prized silver steed.
It caused her a great deal of trouble.
Such a good man should not die like this, nor should his body be left in the hands of cannon fodder, only for it to be discarded on the battlefield later.
The temple of Samoya may collapse after we leave.” And you bunch of cannon fodder are all going to die.
Demon king Jima continues, “The lake goddess hopes that I will take good care of his body and let it flow down the river until the legendary Avalon, where he can meet the Green Knight.
“How can you take care of it?” He still could not connect the current demon king with the succubus Jima from over two years ago who had fought on the battlefield.
As poems sung by bards echo, almost everyone knows of the enchanting succubus merchant Jima, who capitalized on chaos to sell heaps of ordinary goods claimed to be noble, yet strangely, every knight who bought these ‘noble goods’ swore that they were worth every coin.
“I can directly connect to my palace. Since he is a king, I believe it is most fitting for his body to be temporarily stored in the palace, in accordance with his noble status.”
After hearing this, the knights solemnly lift the body with both hands, shouldering it and walking toward Jima. Their faces appear illuminated by a soft moonlight, and Jima recognizes that they are all Grail Knights, closely related to the lake goddess.
So why didn’t the lake goddess warn the Grail Knights to expose her deception? Deities are not easily fooled.
Four Grail Knights stand in front of Jima, one of them murmurs, “Praise the goddess.”
The lake goddess would surely agree.
Jima, lost in thought, becomes solemn as well.
She opens an entrance to the dream palace, placing the head and body together on a small boat. Through the eye of the storm-like entrance, one can see the body resting on the little boat, with its hands folded over the sword hilt, flowing down the river along with its lion-like mane into the green woods.
“Praise the lake goddess.”
Praise the Grail.
This could be seen as holding a small memorial service. With only the raucous noise of the shambling corpses outside, it seemed relatively quiet.
“What! Where did you get this letter?”
In this solemn moment, the witch hunter Arkanis shouts, his whole demeanor resembling a cat whose tail has been stepped on. This metaphor is hardly exaggerated, for he truly jumps more than two meters high, letting a letter slip from his hand.
The Sword Saint Skali Henry quickly catches the paper and says, “A beautifully stunning maiden asked me to deliver this to you.”
Curiosity piqued, Jima flies over to see what’s happening.
However, after Arkanis lands, he hastily snatches the letter and angrily tears the sheep parchment apart, exclaiming, “What beauty? It’s just a decaying corpse of an old hag, with worms gnawing at her for over a thousand years without cleaning her up!”
The red-haired wood elf Katan, almost enchanted, pats Arkanis on the shoulder, handing over the letter. The paper is filled with red ink, and after being crumpled, she mechanically says:
“The most beautiful maiden told me to give you this letter.”
“Crazy! I knew she would come looking for you all.” Arkanis retreats a few steps, but Jima is faster, snatching the paper.
“Give it to me!”
Jima leans back, pulling the letter tightly and sees it is filled with an unintelligible language that seems very Gothic, with red ink declaring “I love you!” “I love you!” “I love you!”
Before each “I love you!” is a heart drawn, the writing in bright red, half of it saying I love you, the other half implying I will devour you!
“Drink your blood!” “You are mine!” “My husband!” “Keep it tight!”
That mad passion for love seeps through the letter, piercing into her chest, genuinely sending chills down her spine.
The witch hunter Arkanis originally shouted, “Give it back to me! Damn! Aren’t you afraid she’ll rip you to shreds?” Suddenly, like a frightened cat, he raises an imaginary cat tail and looks back.
“My shadow is moving!”
“Your shadow was already moving.”
“I’m done!” Arkanis suddenly says, “That corpse old hag must be stalking me. I’m not doing any of it! Goodbye!”
“Hey! Wait!”
The witch hunter Arkanis jumps into the shadows, but the shadows swiftly evade Jima’s intent and flee from him.
“Hey!” Arkanis mimics Jima’s tone, saying, “Now that you’re getting stronger, you’re going to betray your old friends?”
“You don’t have to.” Jima extends her hand, “Can you lend me that Shadow Blade for a moment?”
Arkanis glances at her:
“Lend?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Arkanis pulls out a short sword, on which the words ‘Shadow Blade’ are awkwardly written, and hands it to Jima, “Alright!”
“It’s the one that can steal identities.” Jima coldly threatens, “Otherwise, do you believe I’ll fill you with pale elixirs and hand you over to Salin for her service? If it weren’t for our past friendship, I’d have done so long ago.”
“Really.” Arkanis snaps a finger, and the Shadow Blade appears in his palm. Jima flicks it with her fingertip, and it disappears, becoming a slender shadow beneath her fingernail.
“Be quick.”
Arkanis turns and jumps into the shadows, vanishing without a trace.
