Chapter 32: The Goal
Jima believed that she might be one of the most destitute demon lords. After you destroyed the demon army, the total number of her subordinates was just over six thousand, most of whom were mortal followers. The only advantage was that they wouldn’t consume demon energy.
Among them, the most elite force was her Doomsday Knight squad, comprising ninety-nine members, which was the sacred number of the Lord of Deceptions. Jima had reason to suspect that He was warning her; everything was within His plans.
There was also a foolish god, a fire demon, and Jima had endured its fiery breath. As for the previous demon army, it had lost most of its essence; no strong practitioner chose to follow Jima. The Color Wretched creatures were wiped out, dying at the hands of the enemy, while about twenty Color Wretched beast riders drowned.
There were also two squads of Color Wretched warriors, each with a hundred men, who chose to pledge their loyalty to the new king. There were quite a few Color Wretched demonesses, nearly six hundred of them. These basic infantry of the Color Wretched were as swift as the wind, with three or four arms and unbreakable claws. Their only flaw was that they refused to wear armor, relying only on a few pieces of cloth for protection.
Under the influence of Color Wretched beliefs, that group of Color Wretched followers also wore very little, armed with shields, battle axes, and whips. Although they ran very quickly, Jima thought their role was merely to delay opponents; their advantages were insufficient for combat tasks.
A regular fully-staffed imperial legion had about four thousand eight hundred soldiers, equipped with battle mages who could cast battlefield spells. Jima assessed her army’s strength and thought that if she only commanded without directly entering the fray, her legion would face a great challenge to defeat a standard fully-staffed imperial legion.
Considering the current Apocalypse War, the empire operated like a war machine, using all collected resources to strengthen its legions. Soldiers of the empire faced the demon army with a spirit of sacrifice, their morale unwavering.
She estimated that her newly recruited legion would suffer heavy losses. According to Jima’s understanding of combat, to defeat the opponent, one either had to kill their tangible body or vanquish their intangible soul. Support with battlefield spells was necessary. However, no one in Jima’s legion could cast battlefield spells; they could only pray to the Lord of Deceptions for some aid.
Jima noted in the system’s text area: Overall evaluation: like the starting troops in a game. She planned to defeat the Eternal Chosen God, take revenge, and end the apocalypse, which would also fulfill her promise to George. It would be perfect if she could return to Earth to enjoy a good life.
As for the fate shackles given to her by the Lord of Deceptions? Jima could only assess the situation; if she could break them, she would. But if He had arranged a perfect fate and ending for her, why bother breaking the chains of fate?
She understood that the so-called demon race was itself a creation of the Four Dark Gods, designed for their grand game. It was not entirely accurate to call it a race; in the mortal world, people typically referred to those living in the demon realm or in lands corrupted by demonic power as demons.
A warrior might become a killing machine, living to kill, surviving to slaughter for the Blood God’s rewards and allure, with the meaning of their entire life being to please the gods. But Jima did not care much; she had long since become accustomed to the three hundred years of fighting for another world, which could be said to have been three hundred years of pleasing the dark deities. She thought she had lost something but had gained much more, becoming stronger.
However, she was still not strong enough.
The pixie serving as strategist said: “My lord, once your title is proclaimed, the loyal demon army of the Eternal Chosen will quickly pledge allegiance and offer your head and crown fragments to the Eternal Chosen.”
“I know that,” Jima replied, looking at the map, which was marked in different colors to delineate the ranges of the various demon armies and the estimated number of troops.
In the north, above the province of Talabec, where the Vanguard City was located, there was a river separating the two sides. The empire, having lost nearly half its territory, was currently in a standoff against the doomsday army personally led by the Eternal Chosen.
The flags representing the Eternal Chosen’s forces were planted everywhere, uncountable, with various battle formations, counting over a dozen types, many names Jima recognized as illustrious, having encountered them before in combat.
The three thousand legions led by the Eternal Chosen were filled with elites; Jima didn’t need to guess that the infantry within was one of the strongest demon soldier types.
If the number of demon dragons exceeded thirty, Jima wouldn’t be surprised.
The pixie strategist was well-prepared, and Jima highly suspected he knew that his former master—the Shape-shifting Demon King—was here to “transfer troops.”
“How many demon dragons do you think the Eternal Chosen has?”
“At least thirty,” the pixie strategist said. “This intel is from two months ago; there will likely be more as the Eternal Chosen aims to destroy the main forces of the empire. More demon troops are still gathering, continuously.”
“What about the behemoths?”
“Demons are everywhere.”
“And the numbers?”
“Three hundred thousand—beyond that, I can’t say,” the pixie strategist replied. “It’s an estimate.”
“Then he plans to split his forces and fully surround and annihilate the main imperial army in this province,” Jima said. “Once the people are dead, it will be our turn.”
The pixie strategist nodded and said, “Victory is assured; we will prevail under your command.”
Under Jima’s command.
Jima poked the pixie strategist on the head; this round, short demon creature bounced slightly.
“Alright, shut your mouth; I need to think clearly.”
The little pixie strategist jumped down from the table onto the floating tray and scampered away.
Jima sat on a chaise lounge, covered in silk satin, soft and comfortable, made by a craftsman found among the Color Wretched followers. Before his fall, he was a renowned luxury furniture maker in the province of Osthma. Unsurprisingly, he had fallen down the path of pursuit for comfort and perfection.
She picked up the heavy orange cat, scratching its head and belly, listening to its purring sound, falling into a deep thought.
Should she let the big fish eat the small fish, gradually growing stronger, instigating division to defeat the Eternal Chosen? That pathway was nearly impossible.
The quickest and simplest method was to kill the Eternal Chosen directly. Without His command and suppressing authority, all the doomsday army would undoubtedly turn against each other due to differing beliefs; unity would be impossible.
For example, in the eyes of the Blood God’s demon army, any army of mortals resisting the doomsday forces was a gift; they merely needed to enjoy the process of slaughter. Thus, they looked down on the Color Wretched demon army because they saw war as a means to satisfy extreme, depraved, and perverted psychological desires.
Mutual slaughter among the doomsday legions would greatly diminish their strength.
High-tier magic could also be used to conceal the truth; by properly managing the partially malfunctioning maelstrom of the dual-tailed comet, absorbing too much magical wind from the mortal realm could significantly reduce the number of demon forces. The mortal army was slowly reclaiming lost lands and closing the fissures.
As for how to get rid of the Eternal Chosen?
Jima thought that perhaps bringing Sigma over could provide a chance at victory. But it was impossible.
She found a nuclear warhead, a specialty from the underworld. This nuclear warhead, sourced from the Amerykan nuclear arsenal, was modified in a foolproof manner; all one needed to do was input a password and pull a lever—it was mechanical.
Then, ten minutes later, it would explode with the force of three hundred tons of TNT—if it could explode in another world. If it detonated on the Eternal Chosen’s head, it might very well turn him to ashes.
However, Jima couldn’t guarantee that this specialty had no magical attributes. Non-magical weapons could only inflict pitiful damage to someone as powerful as a diamond-level being.
She still remembered that when she first arrived in Ameryka, she took two precision-guided missiles to the face, using cement warheads to avoid harming reporters below. Theoretically, she should have died long ago.
But all she had was a bit of dust on her clothes.
Let alone the Eternal Chosen, Malus, only artifacts could harm him.
So, she needed to imbue the nuclear warhead with a bit of magical power to bring about a qualitative change through quantitative change.
Jima added a note in the system’s task area titled “Eliminate the Hostile Eternal Chosen Malus”:
“Add a bit of magical power to the specialty?”
This method felt too crude.
Naturally, Jima thought of the Lord of Deceptions, skilled in magic.
Now that she was a Chosen of the Lord of Deceptions, she could certainly acquire knowledge of enchantments through various channels to benefit herself.
However, among the cult of the Lord of Deceptions, schemers were in abundant supply; if something unexpected happened while enchanting the specialty, she would end up shooting herself in the foot.
This path was absolutely not to be taken.
Jima recalled Eve Frostleaf, who was also a bastard child of the elven queen. She could connect with her to gain the assistance of high elven White Tower mages to enchant the specialty.
But it seemed she wanted to cut ties with her family?
Jima didn’t think much of it. In any case, George was around, and matters requiring psychological counseling and “Sassy” intervention would be left to him.
After all, he was the one who opened the harem!
Therefore, the key was to secure George’s assistance.
“Our goals are aligned, and we are married; it should be fine, right?”
Jima muttered to herself but had little confidence.
George was quite opposed to her becoming the doomed demon lord.
Even so, Jima still planned to quietly communicate with George; at worst, she would let him vent a bit. After all, with George and Frostleaf together, it was genuinely difficult for her to bear George’s needs alone.
Moreover, between married couples, how could there be any long-standing grudges? There should be harmony between the head of the bed and the foot. She also didn’t intend to neglect their normal married night life.
And once she had George’s support, it would mean she could bring him and Frostleaf to the battlefield and later bring Jenna, filling the gap left by the absence of battlefield spells.
With these thoughts in mind, Jima donned the new clothes freshly sewn by the Color Wretched seamstress after nightfall and entered George’s dream.
“George!”
She appeared in George’s mind, innocently saying, “Come on, let’s have a family meeting, invite Frostleaf, and discuss how to take down the Eternal Chosen.”
Her smile and expression emphasized her innocence.
If not for her dark hair covering her left eye, one might think nothing had happened.
