Chapter 118: Autumn of Adolf (5)
Riding on the magic mirror, the plaguers blew their suonas, fat white maggots continually falling from their bodies.
Dagji couldn’t understand the music played by the suona, which represented some command. But he saw the military flag with mushrooms swaying, indicating full speed ahead. “Mongol people!” the commander shouted with joy, “Buying this instrument today is of utmost importance! As long as we hold the Southern cavalry here, the Eternal Chosen shall surely capture the capital of the Southerners! Then we can all ascend to become demons.”
“Ascend to become demons!”
“Good!”
Two nagou spirits crawled up the commander’s rusted armor dripping with bodily fluids, climbed to his head, grabbed the mushrooms growing there, and shouted: The nagou spirits are generally considered messengers of the nagou. When the nagou spirits made their noise, everyone seemed to hear the nagou making a promise in person.
Dagji was incredibly excited. He stepped forward and opened his mouth to spit out a swarm of flies, asking, “Really?”
“Really,” the commander smiled widely, a swarm of flies fluttering around in his mouth. “Especially you, if you work hard, your wish will surely be granted by the benevolent father.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Dagji’s single eye grew moist, and the swarm of flies flew to him, delivering the spilled tears. Dagji turned his head and raised his hand to touch his sister’s decaying cheek behind him, saying, “Sister, after this battle, you will be able to live.”
The commander forcefully patted his shoulder and said, “Seven cycles, you will eventually be reborn. The benevolent father is merciful, as long as you don’t kill Him, He certainly won’t mistreat a capable child.” At that moment, Dagji’s sister’s face seemed to stir.
“She moved! Sister, her throat is moving; she’s breathing! Will she be reborn? The benevolent father is merciful.”
“The benevolent father is merciful.”
The commander said, “Do well.”
Yes!
Dagji gripped his iron sword tightly: “I am quite powerful. The warrior taught me strong swordsmanship, which I will use to be loyal to the benevolent father!”
At that time, they saw the heavy infantry regiment in front of them had already set off, and it was their turn now.
“Set off! Full speed ahead!”
Dagji took big strides forward, feeling joyous, the iron arrow in his neck wriggling in his muscles, not feeling any pain, but rather itching, making him smile.
After the battle ended, once he ascended, after his sister spoke, he would surely talk to her all night, reminiscing about the fish bone necklace from home and the grilled fish. He had so much to say, wanting to tell his sister about his wonderful adventures. He would ask his sister to properly introduce his good friend in his belly and tell her how benevolent the father is.
His sister would surely be by the campfire, resting her chin on her hands, begging him to tell stories. He would start from how he begged the gods for resurrection while carrying his sister’s corpse, letting her know that among so many gods above and below, only the benevolent father and nagou are the best.
Thinking of the campfire in his sister’s eyes, his steps lightened, and he walked further, remembering just now how his sister’s throat was wriggling, Dagji burst into laughter.
On his back, a maggot with a human face wriggled out of his sister’s throat blood vessels and fell to the ground. All along, his sister had always been a decaying corpse. All requests for resurrection were merely his forced interpretation, believing what he wished to believe.
Thunderous…
A loud sound of hooves came closer, waking Dagji from his beautiful fantasy. He looked up and saw many green “stinky heads,” all his good family and good comrades, everyone looking around in chaos, amidst the buzzing of flies, came the shouts of the Mongol people.
Too fast! They didn’t stop at all.
Stop! Stop!
Everyone hugged together.
Dagji stopped and raised his head back to reality.
He was very confident in his forehand slash; every time he executed it, he would remember the swordsmanship of a man named George. At that moment, his sword would always carry the style and momentum of how George wielded his sword in memory.
It was as if that wise and kind man was teaching him swordsmanship face-to-face; Dagji was very grateful to this benefactor for teaching him the skills to survive in this cruel world.
Suddenly, a roar erupted from the crowd ahead.
“Follow Saint George!”
“Long live Sigma!”
“In the name of light, purify them!”
The last sentence sounded a bit familiar; he didn’t know why he thought of that benefactor from back then, perhaps it was an auditory hallucination.
Boom… boom… like thunder, the sound waves echoed forward. Then a strong white light shone from behind, the heat penetrating his helmet, irritating the sticky back of his head, and itching; something was crawling away crazily from behind his helmet.
Dagji wanted to turn around to look, but the thunder of hooves was getting closer and closer, and he could see the imperial knights on large steeds, preparing to dismount and draw long lances to stab at his family.
No matter what, he had to focus.
Dagji remembered his benefactor George’s teachings, eyes fixed firmly ahead.
In front, there were more than two meters of monsters; they were failed spellcasters, with excessive blessings chaotically crammed onto their bodies, but they also endowed them with resilient bodies and tenacious vitality. They blocked most of Dagji’s view while roaring and charging forward.
Dagji recognized them; he had seen them with the other monsters when they smashed down the gates of Kalon Fortress.
An annoying white light suddenly burst forth, and the monsters fell down so abruptly that Dagji momentarily doubted if the menacing, valiant monsters he had seen last time were real.
A white-armored warhorse charged over the fallen bodies of the monsters; the knight atop the warhorse was clad in splendid Gothic plate armor edged with gold, shining brightly, his body gleaming everywhere, blue feathers white as angel wings, so pure it made Dagji uncomfortable.
This armor, this height, this aura, aligned perfectly with Dagji’s memory of benefactor George. He recalled how George looked when he slayed a demon, his body exuding holiness like a song. It had been so long since they’d last met; he had become Saint George, and what about Dagji?
Around him, the “families” were momentarily stunned into inactivity, standing frozen in place.
But Dagji grinned broadly and charged in. He intended to greet George properly, using the rage strike he had been taught.
“Hello!” Dagji twisted his body, gripping his sword and moving it behind his back, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground.
George leaped over the corpse of Dagji, looking at the shimmering George, shouting: “Benefactor! Look at my sword.”
Saint George was pulling his lance from a “stink head” and charging straight towards Dagji, who unleashed a furious strike, aiming the blade directly at the warhorse’s skull.
Boom.
His vision turned dark, and he heard a hard object forcibly penetrate his body, followed by the sounds of armor deforming and bones shattering.
“Bang!”
The ground smashed into his forehead.
He should have died, but perhaps due to some merciful grace or perhaps thoughts of his sister.
No, I…
I haven’t seen my sister’s smile yet.
Dagji recalled his sister’s clever smile; she was always so smart, exerting all her strength to grasp that glimmer of light in the darkness and make it grow. He opened his eyes, discovering he was lying on the ground, the decaying corpse fell nearby, and not far away, his sister’s rotting corpse lay on the ground, utterly still, even their bones had shattered.
It was truly the benefactor, strong enough to separate flesh and bones.
Dagji thought, his eyes held no strength, but his hands still had some energy. He clawed at the ground, slowly crawling toward his sister’s corpse.
Iron shards fell around, stepping on him, breaking his short horn. His right hand was stomped on three or four times, very painful, soft and defeated. But Dagji continued to move toward his sister’s rotting corpse, his left hand reaching straight toward her hand, her frail body needed his protection.
“Sister, hold your brother’s hand.” Dagji tightly grasped his sister’s hand with his decaying palm, pulling it into his embrace, turning himself to shield against the hooves. If his sister could grab the eyeless eyeball, amidst the thundering hooves, she would say, “Don’t… worry, don’t be afraid, the benevolent father is merciful; you will be resurrected…”
The dark wound on his chest burst forth with white light; within the white light, it seemed he could see his sister smiling. Dagji smiled, then the light purified him. They were turned to ash beneath the knights’ hooves.
Saint George, leading the charge, silently muttered: “May light purify all filth.”
He then snapped into action, kicking the warhorse’s belly and charging towards the largest nagou deity of magic, hurling insults at it. The latter laughed heartily, seeming to mock George’s wild ideas. After all, this god of vomit was also a being tainted by nagou.
Twenty minutes later.
Under heroic protection from the valiant half-lion knights, George faced off against the vomit deity, using the holy sword to slay a monster that interfered with their duel, as well as the nagou deity knight and three vomiters, ultimately severing the vomit deity’s neck and head, which bore seven chins.
The imperial knights, charging forward with thunderous hooves, chose not to change their horses but decisively attacked, breaking through the nagou demonic army.
However, the nagou demonic army had also consumed a lot of the imperial knights’ time. When the imperial knights reached the shallow crossing to ride over the riverbank, thirty minutes had already passed, and they still needed to cross the riverbank.
Adolf was burning; black smoke was rising from behind the city walls, as numerous forces from the Fire World surged into the city, intending to crush the hard bones of the God Chosen of the Dead World.
At the Sigma Cathedral, heavily guarded, corpses lay everywhere. Although no one knew specifically why the God Chosen from the Fire World had come, it was speculated that it was due to the many “holy relics” imprisoned in the basement of the Sigma Cathedral. Over the past half year, the Sigma Church had continuously eradicated evil, bringing the evil artifacts back to the Sigma Cathedral basement for suppression.
Champion Marshal Helberg arrived and saw the silhouette of the Eternal Chosen appearing at the far end of the bridge, quietly unsheathing his waiting sword in greeting.
