Chapter 138: The Autumn of Adolf (24)
Amidst the multitude of demons, the undead, and the shattered bones, a look of “pressing closer” flashed across their faces. Each flash brought them one step closer to the cart carrying the holy artifact.
What to do? What to do? Should I enter the dream state right away, then use the dream seed to close the distance, and exit the dream again? Can that even be done? Even if I manage to do it, will I be this exhausted?
Jima’s mind nearly overloaded; every plan that came to her pointed towards a “failure” outcome.
“Jima!”
George below was calling out her name.
One demon and one human made eye contact and immediately understood each other’s thoughts; George always wanted Jima to take him away.
“It’s useless.”
Jima said, but she fell behind George, wrapping her arms tightly around his back, her wings spread wide, untied. She flapped her wings with all her strength, lifting the heavy George into the air.
George said, “We must hold on.”
Jima replied, “We can retreat now.”
“I won’t abandon my comrades.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a blue rift appeared behind the Emperor of the Empire, and the Everlasting Chosen leaped out. The Emperor turned sharply, clashing his Sigma war hammer with a half-revealed longsword. The two exchanged two moves, and with an explosion, the Emperor flew out, his arm severed along with him.
Jima flapped her wings even harder and faster, but even at maximum speed, she couldn’t gain any ground; essentially, her wings were merely ornamental.
The demons could only watch helplessly as the Everlasting Chosen’s sword pierced through the top of the cart, seizing the book within. The book’s cover had a single eye opened, characteristic of the master of transformation. The iron chains locked on the book broke apart, and the sacred runes on the sacred parchment began to smoke and burn.
The surrounding soldiers rushed forward as the Everlasting Chosen stood before the book, its pages flipping open, finally settling on a page that resembled an opened template with five lines of written text. The Everlasting Chosen read it aloud.
“The apocalypse descends upon us today!”
His voice was like thunder, declaring the final judgment—the end of the world. A powerful force exploded, creating a cerulean shockwave that sent everyone flying, and the steeds pulling the cart cried out in death.
As if fulfilling his own prophecy, the book melted into a liquid resembling oil, dripping down, flowing into his body, healing wounds, growing armor on his skin, and his weapons restored.
Uncertain what kind of power this could grant the Everlasting Chosen, even if it merely returned him to full condition, restoring all attributes in an environment akin to heaven, it was beyond what Jima could handle.
Beneath the “oil,” a milky-white eye suddenly opened on the forehead of the Everlasting Chosen, emitting a faint white light that fixed its gaze on Jima.
He roared her name: “Jima!”
Nearby rubble shattered under his roar. Jima felt a desire to retreat; even if this world were to end, it seemed it wouldn’t impede her ability to survive. After all, she was a demon. Why should she risk her life here?
“Jima, you can let go now.”
“Huh?” Jima made a sound, realizing she was over a hundred or two hundred meters away from the Everlasting Chosen.
“You don’t want to fight, right?”
George said, “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for this world. Take the crown shard and leave here.”
Jima’s words echoed the teachings of the Sigma church: “I could really leave, without hesitation.”
“Depart,” George said. “If possible, try to persuade Jenna and Frostleaf.”
“Of course I will.” Jima landed, the crown making way for her, “I couldn’t ask for more; after you die, I can take good care of her, helping her forget you completely. No, they will reminisce about you while we embark on our journey together, both shedding tears.”
“That’s fair enough.” George spoke as his legs touched the ground: “This way, your wish is fulfilled.”
Jima kicked him in the backside: “You’re really not a man; George, I won’t accompany you to death.”
With that, Jima turned and leaped, flapping her wings lightly as she ascended into the sky.
After flying for a bit, she saw fires blazing below, the clashing of blades resounding incessantly. Groups of furious demons flew past her, slaughtering the loyal souls and the undead.
She didn’t see the familiar light pollution.
Unable to help herself, Jima turned her head to look.
Just in time to see the Everlasting Chosen swinging his sword at the Emperor of the Empire, who was leading his troops into battle. The Everlasting Chosen struck, severing the Emperor’s hammer-wielding hand, and with a reverse thrust, he pierced into the Emperor’s head, causing it to explode, creating a hole in his back.
He flew out, smashing against the Sigma statue’s base, motionless.
Jima deemed it an act of humiliation intended to demoralize the soldiers.
Indeed, the remaining soldiers of the Empire’s morale plummeted, fear finally consuming these brave warriors’ hearts.
In the midst of the shadowy undead army, George shone with a white light, stepping towards the Everlasting Chosen, like a lonely creature traversing through the night. A blue light flickered, gradually approaching him.
Jima turned her head away, no longer wanting to see him, and with a firm flap of her wings, everything below rushed past her.
Muttering curses at George, her anger only grew. A swarm of furious demons flew past her, and suddenly, Jima grabbed two of them, one in each hand, and forcefully smashed them together.
The innocent heads of the furious demons collided, and Jima turned and scolded, “Damn!”
She hurled the two furious demons downwards.
At that moment, she truly felt overtaken by impulse, rushing into the ripples of this miserable other world with him. He would rather die in vain than live through it with her.
Still, she was eager to look back at what had happened.
Jima forced herself to suppress that impulse, muttering, “Gold is precious, love is more valuable, if it is for life—”
This was the last time, as the two walked away from each other.
“Great King!”
Out of nowhere, a doomsday knight sprang forth, standing upon a floating disc as he approached.
Jima had no intention of stopping. The doomsday knights were cunning; she had no doubt about their loyalty—appearing riding the wind, vanishing with the gale. Now that someone showed up, it was likely to keep her busy and curry favor with the Everlasting Chosen.
“What is it?”
Strangely, this doomsday knight could actually keep up with Jima’s speed. He removed his helmet, revealing a beak-like face. It turned out to be an acquaintance—the one who had previously sold her the rich green broth.
He took out a rented test tube containing the thick green potion.
The beaked knight said, “You still have a chance, Great King.”
Jima thought about smashing the test tube with her weapon; even if it caused a mess, it didn’t matter. Could Adolf look any worse than he already did?
She wanted to ask but realized in her haste that she had forgotten to grab the rescue axe gun.
She cursed, “Get lost!”
The beaked knight smiled as he pocketed the test tube: “You already have no chance. The second of the four divine selections will be born; this is part of my grand plan.”
Jima thought of something terrifying, her heart shuddering as she asked, “Is it George?”
The beaked knight was about to reveal a mysterious smile, but darkness spread from his beak-like mouth, rapidly engulfing him, turning the once golden beak black, then gray.
The beaked knight, frightened, immediately drew his sword and struck, severing the darkened beak; it fell, becoming fragile and shattering into dust, but the darkness continued to spread over the healthy beak, relentless.
“What have you done to me?”
His initial words were strong, but as the darkness crept up to his neck, his voice weakened.
“It’s a curse you cannot resist.”
Jima waited for the knight to appear with the test tube, then kicked him off the floating disc. He screamed as he fell toward the ground, only to transform into a decayed tree in mid-air, scattering into black ashes.
The undead horde below suddenly paused, then collapsed to the ground simultaneously; the only explanation was that their controller had also fallen.
…
“If possible, after I defeat the Demon King, you can chop off my head.”
Frostleaf said, “Don’t hesitate; by then, I will already be dead. Those who survive will only be corpses filled with evil.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t join hands with you.” Jenna turned her head, trying to use the distant flames of battle to mask the green-eyed emotions, “It should be just as the books say—after defeating the Demon King, the hero and the saintess live happily ever after; why is it like this?”
“I’m sorry.” George personally took a hot branding iron and pressed the eight-arrow desecration mark onto his shoulder: “All along, I have advanced an inch because of your tenderness.”
“Ah, that’s not a thing George would do.”
Saintess Jenna shed tears: “Before your fall, could you kiss me once?”
As they finished kissing, George vanished from Saintess Jenna’s sight.
…
What does it feel like to fall? How does it alter a person’s values? Transform a kind person into the right one? How does it change the body? If one remains resolute, can they withstand the fall?
George was well aware; during his studies in the sanctuary, all forms of contact with the feeling of falling were forbidden, and he had kept this curiosity buried in his heart. Now, this curiosity had sprouted and grown.
He only felt himself falling into an abyss, that’s all; his nails were a bit hard, his bones somewhat sore; deep down, there was clearly no change.
Perhaps I will be the first who has fallen physically yet retains his will.
George thought this way when he heard someone call his name. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by a dark green whirlpool. Turning his head, he saw Jima’s mature face; the light from the desecration mark on his shoulder reflected beautifully on her profile.
Jima sighed, “My dear, I have arrived late; it seems there’s no saving you. The next step is the blessing from the four gods. I respect your choice, just as you respect my values.”
It was strange; she could accept George’s death but struggled to accept his fall.
“Jima, even though you see me falling, if you could, please kill the fallen me.”
George said, “The fallen me will not be someone you would like.”
“You make it sound like I really like the fallen you.” Jima sighed deeply again, holding George tightly: “You are the only one in this world who knows my secret and accepts me.”
“And your mother; I believe your father would as well,” George said. “Many others can accept you.”
“But I don’t care about them.”
Jima said, “Let’s be intimate for the last time, as you are about to be beheaded; after all, you desire my body; I know it.”
Jima leaned in and kissed George’s lips.
George said, “It’s not just the body.”
“Hmph, you say that, but if I become one of the six gods, you’d look down on me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I was once a man; I know.” Jima said, “So farewell, George.”
“Goodbye, Jima. The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life.”
“Me too.”
Jima said tenderly, but her fingers felt rigid as the Shadow Blade of Arcanis appeared in her palm. She grasped the blade and thrust it forcefully into George’s unprotected side.
George’s blue eyes widened in shock, and Jima felt a sense of satisfaction—oh boy, there’s more to come that will astound you even further.
He asked, “Jima, what are you doing?”
Of course, it was a backstab; haven’t you figured it out after I stabbed you once? You’re really slow.
