Chapter 33 Discussion
The night was deep and quiet.
Outside George’s tent.
Jima set up a “Tranquil Secret Barrier,” took a deep breath, opened the tent, and peeked inside.
She saw George kneeling on the ground, wearing a breastplate, with his eyes closed in meditation.
He opened his eyes, which emitted a white light, and asked, “You’re here?”
Jima immediately revealed an innocent smile, “I’m here.”
She took off her shoes in the tent, stepped on the white silk, and tiptoed into George’s tent. Looking around, aside from George and the statue of the Dawn God, there was nobody else.
“Is Frostleaf not joining the family meeting?”
She specifically mentioned the family meeting for two reasons: to make her stance clear and to remind George that she was now his wife, hoping he wouldn’t turn against her just because she led the demon army and became the Demon King.
“No, she’s seriously injured and may need to lie down for a while.”
Jima pulled out a small stool from her interdimensional bag, placed it under her heart-shaped backside. The stool was intricately carved, exuding a modern and peculiar beauty. What could she do? The craftsmen of Sin would feel unsatisfied without some embellishments, it was a condition that couldn’t be cured.
The tent fell silent, only faint sounds came from outside the tent.
Jima and George sat facing each other.
Jima was primarily dressed in black, her shawl made from her own black feathers, with soft, silky fabric adorned with beautiful silver patterns. One side of her skirt was open, revealing the roots of her thighs. The dress was crafted by the Sin tailors, and the patterns were designed by them as well.
The enchantments on the clothing were also done by the Sin tailors, intended to keep the fabric spotless and to reduce wrinkling through a bit of anti-gravity effect for a more appealing appearance.
It was said that the Sin tailor mentioned using a human soul, and several human souls, intending to make various outfits for her.
At that time, Jima was preparing to find George but upon hearing that, she beat the Sin tailor with her bare hands.
Wasn’t that like putting herself on the grill? It was easy to tell that wearing this outfit, when in front of George, she would most likely emanate an evil aura that couldn’t be contained.
Jima hit so hard that even the branch axe and spear on the weapons rack seemed eager to try, shouting, “Let me! Let me!”
After finishing, Jima took a deep breath, picked up the ceremonial dress, matching accessories, and stockings, and looked at them, unwilling to part with them.
The Sin tailor stood up, smiling, waiting for praise.
Jima turned around and kicked it down, pummeling it with vigor, cursing, “Your craftsmanship is so good! Made it look so nice! Now I have to wear this and ruin my big plan! You’re damned!”
She knocked the Sin tailor out cold, its mouth askew, but before it passed out, it wore a happy smile on its face.
Jima changed her mind; she wanted to wear this beautiful outfit that proclaimed “Sin” to meet George.
After all, on the path of leading the demon army, she could not change it into a righteous army, for it would inevitably commit unforgivable sins in the eyes of mortals.
So, instead of hiding her intentions and being clever with George, she thought it would be better to be straightforward and clear, to see his attitude.
Compared to Jima’s gorgeous outfit that cost human souls, George’s attire was in stark contrast.
His armored clothing was simple and devoid of any patterns, wearing a dented breastplate with a plain divine emblem hanging around his neck. He had the Holy Sword for slaying demons, especially crafted for killing powerful demons like Jima.
The armor was coated with a layer of holy oil, which Jima touched, feeling it was as hot as boiling water to a mortal’s hand.
If only my faction were chaotic evil, it would be fun, just right opposite to him.
Jima couldn’t help but think.
George said nothing, and six minutes passed.
Jima transitioned from apprehension to calm, then shifted to boredom, eventually, impatient, she swept her tail and patted George’s leg saying:
“Hey, say something.”
“What should I say?”
“Don’t pretend nothing happened.” Jima lifted her heavy chest, “Standing before you now is the Demon Queen, the commander of the Vanguard Corps.”
“You named that group of demons and cultists the Vanguard Corps?”
“Yes.”
“Got it.”
George stopped, remained silent, and did not open his eyes.
Jima felt like feathers were softly tickling the inner thigh, caressing her legs. It was normal; it had just been a few days since she had seen George, and this reaction came a bit too fast.
“Why aren’t you talking anymore?”
“Hmm? What should I say?”
“Stop playing dumb.” Jima parted her black hair that covered her left eye, revealing her glass eye glimmering with a blue light: “I am now the genuine Changer, chosen by the deity.”
“Got it.”
“So, George, don’t you have anything to say?” Jima continued, “And I don’t intend to abandon my army. To be honest, I could say it’s to save the world and defeat the Eternal Chosen, but that’s one of the reasons. Another reason is that leading the demon army is much better than staying by your side as an adventure party member like in the novels—it’s far more fulfilling for my various desires.”
George sighed, finally opened his azure eyes, which emitted a faint white light in the darkness, and asked, “Is this your true thought?”
Jima glanced at the Holy Sword on his thigh, the tail swishing back and forth, stopped, and mustered her courage to say, “Yes, are you not angry?”
“I did not provide you an environment to refuse the Changer’s power.” George said, “So how can I blame you? We were in a dangerous situation at that time; the sudden appearance of the Changer’s demon army could have buried us on the battlefield.”
“You could abandon the Vanguard Corps, lead them into an encirclement and kill them all.” Jima still felt uneasy and said, “But I have ambition; I want to command the demon army to fight for me.”
“You originally fought for me, how can I demand too much from you? It was I who got you into danger.”
“Is that so?” Jima fell into thought, and after a moment, she held her head high and placed her hands on her hips, saying, “Right, it’s your fault. It’s you who, for the sake of justice, put me in danger; surprisingly, you don’t come up with some gesture to express your apology?”
“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”
“Dream on, is it that simple?” Jima patted her chest, “Now give me a proper massage, call me ‘Mommy,’ and then you move yourself.”
“I don’t know how to massage.”
“As a rare genius, you can learn.”
“What I mean is, I won’t do as you ask.”
“What about a massage?”
“No.”
“Move yourself?”
“Neither.” George maintained a serious expression, “Can we discuss serious matters? This isn’t the time.”
“Hey, talking tough when you pull up your pants.” Jima moved her hand away from her trembling chest, calling out George’s name: “George.”
“Hmm?”
Jima looked into George’s blue eyes and asked, “Will you fight for me? When I summon you with my extraordinary power, will you come at my call? To fight with all your strength?”
“I won’t.”
Jima’s heart sank like shattering ice on a frozen lake, plunging into icy water.
George spoke, “Under certain circumstances, I will.”
Jima leaned forward, asking, “What circumstances?”
“Overall, in unjust wars, you cannot summon me. For example, if your army is slaughtering cities, or you are fighting against the coalition of Order—I might come to avoid conflict and negotiate, but I will choose to fight for you based on the specific situation, neutral, or be your enemy, my wife.”
“When your army and the annihilation army like the Destruction Faction are at war, I will dedicate my efforts and fight for you. However, I can’t respond to summons twenty-four hours a day; if you have combat needs, it’s best to let me know in advance.”
“More details are here.”
As he spoke, George picked up a piece of paper from the side, the paper was yellowed, and its quality did not compare to Earth’s A4 paper.
Jima took it and found it filled with Chinese writing on both sides, “Battle Application Form? General Conditions for Deployment?”
The battle application form detailed the reasons for combat, expected duration, nature of war, etc.
As for the general conditions for deployment, it took up a whole side, stating when he would not respond to summons, such as in emergencies or while in combat. At the bottom, it stated that the right to interpret was with the B party, which was George.
Jima read through line by line, feeling a warmth in her heart.
George had accounted for most situations, showing he cared about her and had done his homework in advance.
But she couldn’t help but retort, “You set all these conditions, and somehow I’m the A party?”
“It’s better if these matters are clear and detailed.” George said, “What I am most worried about is the Changer, who may plot against us and create discord; it’s too easy. A critical battle could just delay things, and then he might do something behind your back, causing you significant losses…”
“Don’t worry.” Jima folded this parchment, which only the two of them could understand in this world, and tucked it into her bosom.
With that, she knelt on the ground, held George’s face in her hands, and gave him a kiss, saying, “Now you are my little Pokémon, dear.”
George’s hand went from head to tail, but then he frowned slightly and gently pushed Jima away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your clothes,” George said, “I hear the cries of the dying.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Jima said, “I didn’t expect the tailor to use human souls when I mentioned my needs. I’ll just take it off now.”
As she said this, Jima grasped her waist, preparing to undo her clothes.
“Don’t.” George said, “The meeting hasn’t started; it’s not the time.”
“Alright then.” Jima said, “Why hasn’t Frostleaf arrived yet? Is something wrong?”
“Fortune-tell her.”
Jima blinked her eyes, performed the divination twice. The first time failed; the second time Frostleaf, with no resistance, voluntarily revealed her location—alive and ten steps away from George’s tent.
She divined again; ten steps, what long legs she had.
Jima said, “She’s coming over.”
The tent flap opened, and Frostleaf appeared, looking icy: “I’m late.”
“It’s okay; you arrived just in time. Focus on your recovery.”
In fact, Frostleaf had been up for a while; she was waiting for Jima to divine about herself before entering.
Because she wanted to give George and Jima some time alone, to have a good talk; they needed it. If they celebrated their love together, Frostleaf wouldn’t be surprised.
Therefore, to avoid awkwardness upon arrival, it was best to wait for Jima to divine about herself.
At the same time, it was considered an acknowledgment of Jima’s status as the legitimate wife. Compared to that status, Frostleaf preferred being a “third party.”
Unfortunately, neither Jima nor George noticed this thought at all.
Jima just felt that Frostleaf arrived at the right time, even if she was a bit late.
Frostleaf sat next to Jima and George, forming an isosceles triangle.
“How’s Frostleaf’s injury? Can that spring water be used?”
“It can,” Frostleaf said, “but some injuries can only heal with time.”
Not surprising; for a strong one like Frostleaf, it was impossible to heal with just spring water.
Jima asked, “There’s a question: for defeating the Eternal Chosen, would you respond to my summons and fight for me?”
Frostleaf said, “If George responds, I will too.”
George did not object.
Jima understood; the two had reached an agreement, and she needn’t worry about other issues.
Jima thought: Frostleaf is truly sensible.
“Alright,” Jima said, “I have a plan, but I need your help.”
“Say it.”
The magical prowess of the high elven race is world-renowned.
Jima flattered, “I want you to contact the White Tower mages for enchantments.”
To get in touch with the White Tower mages, she would have to go through her uncle, the hereditary great mage, who also handed her over to the vampire, the Teddy mage.
Frostleaf’s body trembled slightly, a barely noticeable shiver. Caught off guard, she blurted out, “No! Absolutely not!”
“Huh? Why?”
Frostleaf turned her head: “No reason; I will never set foot on Osuan again.”
Jima opened her mouth to speak.
George raised his hand to signal Jima to stop, saying, “Jima, you want to enchant local specialties?”
“Yes, although it may not work.”
Jima said, “But if it succeeds, it will definitely eliminate the Eternal Chosen and vaporize his entire army.”
Frostleaf asked curiously, “Local specialties?”
“The civilization of my homeland invented a powerful weapon called the nuclear bomb, turning mass into energy with astonishing destructive power. Because of its existence, the major countries that own nuclear bombs have not waged war against each other for almost a century.”
Frostleaf looked surprised: “How strong is it?”
“They once used it to make artificial lakes.”
“Our elven magic can achieve that too.”
“But it relies on pure destructive power to create lakes.” George said, “Like bombing the ground with spells to carve out an artificial lake.”
Frostleaf: “It sounds alright.”
Jima interjected: “With one, the largest elven city would probably lose half its population.”
“Impossible, you don’t know our race’s defensive magic, nor have you considered our largest city’s size.”
“Compared to my homeland, it’s nearly as small as a countryside village, with low and short buildings.”
Frostleaf’s ears stood up angrily: “Impossible! My race is the most civilized and most adept at construction in the world.”
“Jima, don’t provoke.”
Jima shrugged and said, “If you don’t believe it, you can ask George.”
“George?”
The city where Jima originally lived had a population of twenty-five million.
She chewed on that number, doubting her ears, “Twenty-five million?”
“Yes, it was prosperous, the most orderly place I’d ever seen, and only such order could allow twenty-five million people to live together in harmony.” George said, “If it succeeds, I have no doubt that the nuclear bomb could directly eliminate the Eternal Chosen. Frostleaf, I know this is difficult for you.”
“I can’t promise anything.”
Frostleaf’s heart-shaped face was cold: “Jima, if you’re ready, you can call me.”
“It’s decided.”
