Chapter Sixty-Three: Egg Swap?
From the depths of dreams, the incarnation of color and sin awakened, falling before Jima.
After not seeing it for a period of time, it was even more astonishing.
Jima gestured, and inside, there could already be a Loli demon squatting.
That Loli demon was both evil and lewd, ready to use its shamelessness and cunning to drag a precarious holy knight into the endless abyss.
This was my own doing, switching the egg was my own choice… leading me down this path… the path called corruption.
Though I could now give birth to a child to retain George, sadly, I could not… harm myself for him.
Jima’s thoughts were complex, her heart conflicted, yet there was a vague sense of exhilaration.
She conjured paper and pen, contemplating the words of the sorcerer Safrolu.
The future was uncertain because the crossroads of her past life had yet to be chosen.
Several paths appeared on the paper, intersecting to form yet another crossroads, with each intersection representing a significant choice in life.
Choosing to believe in George, to love him, to betray him, choosing to remain unrepentant, refusing to become kind, choosing to return with him to this struggling world.
The pen tip approached the first crossroads.
This was the beginning of everything, the foundation of it all.
In the past, she would have undoubtedly chosen to kill George without hesitation, attempting to capture the Saintess Jenna and Ivrule.
But after all that she had experienced, she was now compelled to make choices.
The pen tip hesitated, not falling to the paper.
“What can I do?” Jima scoffed, if I hadn’t run back to switch, would I still exist? Perhaps this timeline has already collapsed.
Her mood grew increasingly troubled, undoubtedly all of this was part of the scheme of the Lord of Deception.
With no choice, she could only pinch her nose and harm her past self.
She thought carefully; this was likely her agreement with Safrolu, when she was once the champion of the Blood God, leading armies and bringing grievances to color and sin. As one of the four great dark gods, she actually bore such a grudge.
Collaborating with the Lord of Deception to harm herself.
In this play, harming myself turned out to be quite to the liking of color and sin, she should be satisfied enough to burp by now.
In the Garden of Filth, the true form of Filth was stirring a cauldron of plague, feeling a ticklish sensation below, reaching out to poke the joyful spirit of Filth.
“Is someone cursing me?”
Filth muttered to himself.
The cauldron of plague bubbled, and Filth’s broad chest slyly hooked the unknown plague spirit, licking it, feeling marvelous, cheerfully handing a spoonful of the disease-laden green juice to the goddess locked in the cage.
“Try my newly cooked plague…”
The goddess in the cage remained motionless. She possessed infinite vitality and would definitely resurrect after death, so Filth used her to test new diseases. Seeing she did not move, Filth coaxed her for a while, and finally had to forcibly stuff it into the goddess’s mouth.
The goddess’s beautiful hair fell from her scalp, her skin covered in sores, ultimately turning into a pile of putrid foam that vanished without a trace.
Filth, belatedly realizing, slapped his forehead: “Oh no, it was fake!”
The nearby plague spirit shouted in confusion.
Filth, feeling broad-minded, noticed the green face turning red, stood up, and shouted at the wide-open mouth filled with yellow teeth:
“Lord of Deception!!!”
His roar echoed throughout the entire demon realm.
The once lively Garden of Plague suddenly became bustling. The plague spirits rushed into the foul pond in fright, sisters crawled out from the holes of the unclean, tumbling to the ground.
The plague spirits that were playing leapfrog all collapsed to the ground at once.
…
Pioneer City.
Jima scolded the four dark gods for quite a while, yet still decided to return to the past, choosing this path today. She was presiding over a ceremony, pointing forward.
Above Pioneer City, a rift continuously spewed forth magical winds, magical winds blowing from the demon realm suddenly roared like a tsunami.
Jima raised her head, her black hair that shaded her left eye had already brushed behind her ear, and the three divine marks on her glass eye emitted a faint glow.
“What happened?”
Not long after, the magical winds began to calm down.
The nearby Nose-Tooth Fairy military advisor continued to report:
“My Queen, as per your request, we utilized magical knowledge, set the old witch to regulate, and initially built the command system…”
“Alright, can it be used?”
It would take some time, just a few days. Currently, we encountered a difficulty that’s hard to solve; only you can resolve it.
“Speak!”
“The name, please grant a name.”
“Legendary Total War Command System.”
“Good name, fitting and appropriate for your identity.”
“Enough with the chatter, get the project off the ground, then improve it.” Jima said, “Is there anything else?”
“None, you may conduct the ceremony now.”
“I am already conducting one.”
Standing on the floating platform, the Nose-Tooth Fairy was surprised as he waved his hand, hurriedly closing the magical book before him, saying:
“My Queen, being this distracted will not lead to a successful ceremony.”
“Whether it succeeds or not ultimately depends on Him, right?”
Just as Jima’s voice fell, in this dim night filled with a faint purple light, several magical circles suddenly flew forth, swarming with three-eyed crows.
Each crow cried:
“Success.”
“Success.”
“Success.”
“All retreat!”
The attendants wearing purple hooded robes bowed and nodded, their beaks emerging from the hoods as they all retreated together.
The three crows gathered together, inseparable.
“Tell me, how to go back to the past?” Jima said coldly, “That is the past you want me to return to.”
The crows praised in unison, and after speaking, several purple lines appeared in the air, forming one character after another.
Now, now, as long as you praise my name.
Jima snorted coldly: “How about a high note?”
“I know your affliction.”
The words in the air began to change: “You can choose to go.”
“How can I not go?”
Jima’s tone grew colder: “If you force me, I will not go and can only die.”
“You won’t die; I give you a choice.” The words continued to change: “As long as you break the egg, everything will return to before.”
“Definition of before?”
Jima’s heart stirred.
With the memories from the outside, returning to the past, her own system, would that not be an addition to an addition?
… You will forget everything.
“You can forget and also remember.”
Jima asked: “What will be forgotten?”
“Never experienced, how can there be memory?” The words explained: “You make a choice, and things go in another direction. Thus, everything you haven’t experienced will disappear, and so will the memories.”
“Does that mean that no matter what, all memories of George will disappear?”
“Not just memories.” The words continued: “Everything and anything, love and hate will disappear because they have never come.”
Jima wanted to ask if this would not trigger the grandfather paradox?
But then she thought it over; it seemed not to have triggered, for if she did not go back to switch eggs, none of this would have happened.
Each time the words changed, it felt like a branding iron pressed against her face.
Her head grew hot; she found it hard to ask too many questions and merely inquired:
“What is the deadline?”
“Before this time tomorrow.”
Jima blinked, and everything vanished. No crows, no rambling words, no magical circles on the floor, dusk had long stopped, and everything was cold and desolate, leaving only her in a solitary world.
Jima raised her hand, brushing a strand of black hair to her face, covering her left eye, and her left eye’s pupil felt hot.
She fumbled, groping for the crow-feather cloak, turned, and left the dark chamber, standing on the floating platform, soaring into the sky.
The sky was covered with a layer of blood-red ominous clouds, a newly constructed bell tower let out a crow-like cry, its bent pointer indicating nine o’clock in the morning.
Through the blood-red rift, rows of blood-colored iron boots were being spewed forth.
The Blood God demon clan warriors had finally arrived.
They were clad in blood-red full armor, raising square blood-colored shields, the faces of which bore chaotic symbols, the formation was neat, and the footsteps were synchronized, each step resonating like iron hammers striking rusted iron anvils.
Their helmets all had distinct “rabbit ears,” and hanging from their shoulder armor and waists were distorted skulls.
A total of a hundred-man team, banners flying upright in all directions.
In a fit of enthusiasm, Jima rode her floating platform to their front.
The standard bearer slammed the flagpole into the ground, and one by one, the Blood God demon clan warriors halted, stomping their feet, looking up towards their queen.
Jima’s gaze swept over this army; it was an exceptionally powerful heavy infantry. All along, the demon race’s valorous warriors were the elite within the army; the more demon warriors there were, the more formidable this team was.
If they had had this heavy infantry from the beginning, dealing with the demonic king would have been far less harrowing, and the ambush would have been mundane, without waves.
The favor of the Blood God astonished Jima; she had thought it would be great to recruit two or three hundred-man teams of the Blood God.
As the blood rain poured down, the Blood God war altar was revealed, with several blood beasts riding on altars resembling metallic motorcycles, their spikes filled with white skulls.
This was not the end; after the blood-red war altar, dozens of copper bulls appeared, wearing heavy blood-red steel armor, their heavy hooves seemed capable of stomping the ground into pits.
On the back of the copper bulls were knights armed to the teeth, their armor marked with signs of war.
Jima’s heart raced as she watched.
The copper bull knights could be said to be among the most powerful cavalry; once the copper bulls galloped, none could stop them, and she loved powerful weapons.
This blessing from the Blood God struck her heart.
In a moment of ambition and heated blood, Jima nodded at the blood god’s gifted army and made arrangements.
After finishing the arrangements, Jima stood on the floating platform, admiring her army.
This army was becoming increasingly elite, showing signs of a strong force, and her ambition for conquest was burning within.
After a while, she recalled the important matter—whether to go back to switch eggs.
She suddenly thought that if she did not go to switch the eggs, she would lose George, and from then on, George and she would become complete strangers.
But then, what next?
She would come to realize that there was a conspiracy against her.
She would regroup an army, and that army would be even more terrifying, more bloodthirsty, and more elite than the one in front of her.
Jima hesitated.
