Chapter 126: The Fall of Adolf (Thirteen)
The potion not only exploited the potential of the magic dragon Mawuo but also damaged her physical structure. Under the command of Jima, the cunning spirits used the knowledge granted by the Lord of Deception to employ various arcane arts unheard of in the mortal realm, implanting not only illusions within Mawuo’s body but, more crucially, devices capable of taking her life.
A strong being cannot be brainwashed; they can only be deceived temporarily, not indefinitely. Jima had long since given up hopes for this device. Her true killing move was to blow up the magic dragon Mawuo.
What a magnificent ancient dragon with a colossal body! Her powerful physique was blown apart, as if a chef were dismembering a cow, blue shockwaves first slicing through her muscles and then precisely exploding her bones, layer upon layer of explosions tearing her apart, disintegrating in midair, with blackened bones flying in all directions.
Such an explosion was not chaotic; instead, it possessed an aesthetic of order, much like the demolition of a skyscraper in a bustling city. Even George couldn’t help but glance several times, appreciating the beauty of that order.
The explosions progressed layer by layer, extending from her soft abdomen towards both ends. Mawuo could already feel the pain, but she pushed herself with all her might towards the Eternal Chosen. Even though her wings were blown apart, she transformed into human form in the air.
The Eternal Chosen was also sprinting forward with all his strength, watching as Mawuo’s body disintegrated into bones, flesh, blood, and skin amidst a series of explosions. With a wave of his hand, he could send a skilled knight clad in heavy armor flying into the sky, but now, even exerting all his strength, he couldn’t get closer to Mawuo.
What landed in his arms was merely the head of the magic dragon, Mawuo, in human form. Temporarily conscious, she opened her mouth to speak but had no lungs, uttering no sound. Yet they shared a profound understanding, simply reading her lips to grasp her words.
“My king, please forgive my disloyalty.”
The Eternal Chosen said, “I have never felt that you betrayed me.”
Having said that, he gently caressed Mawuo’s dimming golden eyes and said, “Rest in peace.”
Mawuo closed her eyes, no longer resisting the terrifying force within her head.
“Boom!”
Mawuo’s head exploded in the arms of the Eternal Chosen. Blood and shattered scales rained down from the sky, as if a sorrowful rain were falling at a funeral.
The Eternal Chosen did not shed tears; he had already cried eighteen seconds ago. Mawuo might have been the one person in the world who understood him best, who most agreed with him, that all beings were merely puppets in the hands of the Four Gods; if they could resist the Four Gods, what did suffering and death matter?
But he hadn’t anticipated that the Four Gods’ puppets would somehow torment Mawuo like this.
Feel pain, feel rage. This is what you get for provoking me; bad people deserve to suffer.
Jima looked at the Eternal Chosen with a cold smile. She stared at the cloud-like pain power emanating from his chest. This grand gift, her carefully crafted spear of pain, should have evoked his greatest suffering, right? But contrary to her expectations, that pain power merely expanded slightly.
What was going on?
Jima thought of a possibility: Could it be that he had foreseen this, having prepared himself psychologically in advance?
“Mawuo followed me from beginning to end, fighting for great deeds,” the Eternal Chosen pointed his bright sword straight at Jima. “What does it matter if it slightly delays victory so she can die quickly and escape pain? Jima, I have long seen through your despicable tricks.”
Under the backdrop of “black rain” and fire, the Eternal Chosen radiated an air of invincibility.
Jima suddenly understood why the Eternal Chosen was acting like a madman, falling for her “provoke strategy” and continually putting himself in danger. He just wanted Mawuo to die sooner; he held no regard for George, herself, or the other order faction powers present.
At that moment, George and the imperial troops that had come to reinforce, along with the Doomsday Knights, surged forward.
George shouted, “For the Empire! For Humanity!”
“For Sigma!”
“For our King!”
The Chosen Ones were rushing up from behind to defend their Eternal Chosen, roaring, “For the Eternal Chosen!”
The Eternal Chosen showed no fear; once again, he charged forward rapidly, shield at the ready. Bullets ricocheted off the shield, and arrows exploded against his armor. He charged into the crowd of order warriors, roaring, “Do you think you can kill me?”
Boom!
The sound of explosions immediately turned several Doomsday Knights flying off their floating discs. Only George faced the Eternal Chosen directly, raising his gleaming holy sword to strike at him.
The pain power in the Eternal Chosen’s chest was not as substantial as Jima had anticipated.
What a determined individual. Jima gritted her teeth; the tougher the enemy, the worse they were, and the more she hated them! Ah, can’t you just die from rage like a good boy?
The battle raged on, with both sides trading blows.
The Chosen Ones rushed in to share the burden for the Eternal Chosen, but it merely alleviated some pressure. The Eternal Chosen was single-handedly facing ten, and oddly enough, he was still gaining the upper hand. In close combat, aside from George, no one was a match for him.
Jima kept her eyes on the Eternal Chosen, searching for the right moment to trigger his pain power but struggled to find it. Her curse was as ineffective as Eve Frostleaf’s arrows; the latter’s arrows could still stall some minions, controlling the enemy a bit.
It was the Eternal Chosen who remained vigilant against her triggering his pain power. As time passed, the pain power within his heart was gradually dissipating.
Jima extended her hand and swiftly swept towards his chest, bursting his pain power while speaking, “Look at how much more you are willing to sell out for your great cause!”
The Eternal Chosen’s body suddenly paused; the pain erupted violently. In that instant, it was as if he had experienced countless different separations, each torturing his heart. Even though he had foreseen it, it was still hard to bear. He let out a low groan, blood mixed with iron spattering onto his faceplate: “Four Gods’ puppet!”
Taking advantage of this moment, George attacked, transforming into light as he passed through the Chosen Ones, lunging towards the third eye of the Eternal Chosen. However, the Eternal Chosen had already anticipated this; despite the pain, he forcefully avoided it. George switched from stabbing to slashing, the holy sword cleaving down. The Eternal Chosen’s long horns and almost half of his helmet flew into the sky, revealing half of his cold face, covered in scars, with pale hair breaking off and burning strands.
The Eternal Chosen’s thin lips said, “Unfortunately, you have lost.”
A silent “boom” echoed through the sky, felt by all attuned to the demonic winds, sensing the shocking waves within. Jima sensed the stench of decay first; she flew in the sky, looking towards that direction, and saw a crack appearing in the sky above the Shalayah Temple, through which a corrupted garden could be seen.
Jima’s heart sank; if her eyes did not deceive her, that was the back garden of the true form of Nagarjuna.
The plague winds blew like a typhoon from the crack towards the mortal realm. Wherever the plague winds blew, burning houses extinguished, all wood sprouted mushrooms, various white fungi and moss spread across walls, and corpses rapidly decayed, filled with maggots, while the living immediately fell victim to dozens of plagues.
The entire Adolf was transforming into the visage of a plague garden.
