Chapter 49 Chapter 50 The Correct Way to Open It
A pitch-black nuclear bomb lay in front of me.
Jima was so excited her hands trembled as she reached for the dark nuclear warhead.
Tears unexpectedly streamed down her cheeks.
After mixing in this otherworld for so long, she had finally found her true ace in the hole.
No longer would she have to worry about being stabbed by a hero, nor about failing to dominate the world, and certainly not about being unable to take revenge.
First, she would drop a hundred bombs on the demon realm to vent her anger, and then build her harem.
Jima imagined a hundred beautiful maidens from various tribes beckoning to her, and happily embraced the nuclear warhead. The moment her delicate hand touched it, the nuclear warhead fell lightly to the ground.
Jima stood frozen, watching as the warhead rolled half a turn before coming to a stop.
With a blank expression, she approached it and kicked the warhead that stood as tall as herself.
The warhead floated up, flew a few meters, and then landed back on the ground.
With a crisp snap.
It was the sound of a dream shattering.
“This is fake! It’s not even real metal.”
Jima picked up a stone and threw it at the nuclear warhead.
A hole broke through the warhead, revealing the darkness within.
This was merely a realistic imitation of a nuclear warhead.
Jima sighed and said, “Lies are ultimately lies.”
As her voice fell, the surface of the nuclear warhead blurred, and it vanished in the blink of an eye.
The ups and downs left Jima feeling particularly gloomy. She leaned against a large tree and took out the silk pouch that George had given her.
Was this a test, or a warning?
If I had strength, I wouldn’t have to be afraid and could easily play the good girl.
Jima opened the silk pouch and took out its contents: a talisman woven from yarn, crafted skillfully. There was also a note, handwritten by George.
“Keep the talisman close; it can withstand one lethal attack and heal the wearer. It’s very useful and was made by Jenna herself. I originally wanted to give you a doll, but I think you’re not an ordinary woman; you enjoy fighting, and I don’t want to see you bleed anymore.”
Jima scoffed, “So foolish.”
After saying that, she carefully put away the silk pouch, tucking the talisman into her collar, pressing it against her heart, feeling warmth inside.
It seemed like, for the first time, someone had willingly given her a gift.
Afterward, Jima experimented a few more times. She discovered that she could use “lies” with absurd logic to manifest physical objects, but they didn’t last long.
Jima firmly pulled the trigger of an assault rifle; indeed, nothing happened. She tossed the lightweight assault rifle onto the ground, and it disappeared.
She pondered, “Maybe it’s because I don’t understand assault rifles? After all, I don’t even know its internal structure; I only recognize its appearance.”
Thinking about this, Jima started to imagine a crossbow—the steel crossbow she had touched herself, which she remembered very clearly. In her last life, it had accompanied her through the beginner phase, killing many people. But in the end, it was stolen.
“…So it’s quite normal for me to have a steel crossbow.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a heavy steel crossbow appeared in her hands, the bow arms etched with several tally marks she had carved herself.
Jima fondly caressed it, raised it, aimed at the tree trunk, and pulled the trigger.
“Whoosh.”
A short arrow flew out, firmly piercing the tree. Then her hand felt lighter as the arrow and the crossbow both vanished.
Jima recorded her findings.
Only very familiar objects could be concretized into real items, and their time of use was limited. Making lies into reality had its constraints.
Jima thought for a moment and added a comment:
Perhaps it was also because believing brings power, while doubt brings limitation.
I haven’t been able to believe that the assault rifle in my hand could fire bullets. I don’t understand it either; perhaps if someone I aimed the gun at believed I could fire bullets, I could shoot them as well?
But given the current situation, testing was not an option. After all, Jima had yet to find someone knowledgeable about firearms to use as a test subject.
“Is this all there is?” Jima muttered to herself. “I must not have found the correct way to utilize this core ability?”
After some reflection, Jima realized that the abilities of her profession mostly influenced and misled intelligent life.
A light bulb went off in her head; she decided to use George for her experiment.
Before the experiment, Jima felt that she had already used nearly half of the power gained from the “Elf Queen” rumors.
Given that the tail control is so strong, I might as well use up all my power.
Jima clasped her hands together, muttering to herself:
“George and the Saintess are publicly dating, causing a lot of jealousy, because the Saintess herself is adored by many. Originally, this jealousy was only kept in their hearts, but he has a beautiful, cute, and sexy succubus as a servant, even having slept together. He occupies two great beauties; George is undoubtedly a winner in life.”
Jima paused for a moment and said, “And a winner in life like him exudes an aura that makes other men envious, which is quite normal. It’s just like the protagonist in a self-indulgent novel; when the male rivals see him, they feel angry and want to beat him up, which is understandable.”
As soon as she finished speaking, her magical energy and power rapidly depleted.
Jima swayed slightly.
“Did it actually work? But George and I are two levels apart.”
She felt a little afraid; worried that things would be exposed and that George would come to settle the score with her, her heart sank.
“What am I afraid of?” Jima encouraged herself, “We’ve already slept together; he can’t possibly hit me. He’s a good person; aren’t good people supposed to be bullied?”
With that thought, Jima felt more confident. She stretched, walked back to White City, practiced dancing well, maintained her daily routine, and observed the experiment’s effects.
…
…
In White City, at the chapel.
Saintess Jenna, dressed in silver robes, politely declined a visiting knight from Bartow.
“I’m sorry, I already have someone I care about.” Saintess Jenna gently nodded, “Please don’t dedicate your victory in the competition to me, thank you.”
The young knight, sporting a brown mustache, looked disappointed but still waved politely at his servant.
His male servant returned, holding a silver crown.
With regret, the brown-mustached knight said, “I came too late.”
Saying that, he turned to leave.
At that moment, a strikingly handsome paladin in shining silver armor, tall and robust, with twin greatswords on his back, walked up.
The brown-mustached knight felt an inexplicable surge of anger; he found the other man infuriating to look at.
The enamel sun on his chest armor was too bright and flamboyant; it was clear he was a flashy, attention-seeking dandy. His face was too striking, looking almost effeminate, devoid of any masculine charm. What was even more annoying was his shiny silver armor, which reflected light right into his eyes when he got closer.
Sadly, women usually liked this kind of flashy dandy.
The brown mustache huffed silently, glaring fiercely at George.
George found it a bit strange but didn’t take it to heart.
At that moment, Saintess Jenna smiled and walked toward George, saying, “George, you’re here?”
Unable to resist, the brown-mustached knight deliberately nudged George with his shoulder as they passed each other, trying to knock George down and make him look foolish in front of Saintess Jenna.
“Boom.”
His shoulder seemed to crash into an iron wall, producing a crisp metallic clink. The brown-mustached knight was unable to push George aside and had to step aside.
George turned and said, “Sorry.”
To the brown mustache’s ears, it sounded like George was mocking his lack of strength, making him the subject of laughter in front of his beloved.
He gripped the hilt of his sword.
Saintess Jenna stepped beside George, close to him, and asked, “What happened?”
The brown-mustached knight’s eyes blazed with fury. He asked, “What’s your name, kid?”
George replied quizzically, “I’m George.”
“George? Yes, I’ve heard of you. You were stripped of your hero title for bringing back a succubus servant from the demon realm.” The brown mustached knight’s anger surged, filled with jealousy, “But that’s not enough; you even want to marry the Saintess?”
Saintess Jenna clutched George’s arm, leaning against him, saying, “He is my beloved; I understand and support him.”
Blood surged to the brown-mustached knight’s head, and he drew his sword, pointing it at George’s nose, declaring, “For honor, I challenge you to a duel!”
“A duel?” George replied, “Is it absolutely necessary?”
“Yes! Though my rank is only silver.”
“There must be some misunderstanding between us.”
“Impertinent, don’t underestimate me!” The brown-mustached knight took off his gauntlet and said, “Let’s see who has better swordsmanship. Don’t think just because you got a boost from the chapel, that you can look down on me; this is a case of hubris without merit.”
Once he finished speaking, the brown-mustached knight threw the gauntlet at George’s face.
George raised a hand to catch the gauntlet and said, “Alright!”
The sword duel was quite simple.
Both sides wouldn’t use supernatural abilities but relied solely on strength and physical prowess, using wooden swords until one side surrendered.
In the arena, George initially showed no mercy, wanting to quickly subdue this hotheaded Bartow knight.
However, the brown-mustached knight fell once but got back up. After half an hour of being beaten, he finally collapsed from exhaustion and had to concede.
The brown-mustached knight lay on a stretcher, bruised and battered, still shouting, “Don’t underestimate me; I still have my dad…”
From anger, George turned to confusion as he stood in the arena, watching the brown-mustached knight depart.
Saintess Jenna approached and asked, “George, are you alright?”
“Just warmed up a bit.” George rubbed his forearm, “He only hit my arm. He has good perseverance; did I do something wrong?”
“No, such a bizarre person is rare, but not non-existent.”
George and Saintess Jenna walked together while conversing.
At that moment, five holy knights approached.
“Wait a moment, brother George,” one of the holy knights said, “I’m very jealous of you, being able to have the Saintess’ love, plus a lovely succubus. You either go down today, or I do.”
“Right, it’s too hateful.”
“Count me in!”
An hour later, George was panting heavily, his nose swollen from a hit.
The fifth holy knight was carried away.
Saintess Jenna expressed concern, “George, let me heal you.”
“Today has been quite strange.”
Just after healing him, three more holy knights appeared, removing their helmets as they said, “Brother George, we’re jealous of you and want to take you down.”
George turned to look at the Saintess, pointing at his face, asking, “Am I that punchable?”
Jenna shook her head, “No.”
George accepted the challenge again, and twenty minutes later, the three holy knights were carried away.
“Luckily, being platinum gives me plenty of energy; I won’t get tired.”
As soon as George finished speaking, he saw the five previously beaten holy knights walking over, their injuries already healed.
Before they could say anything, George quickly donned his helmet and turned to run.
“Brother George, if you have the guts, don’t run!”
“Quick, catch him!”
“Saintess, please don’t protect this cowardly man!”
George jumped through a window, after five minutes of fleeing, he shook off his pursuers and hid behind a wall, gasping for breath.
“Today is so strange.”
Before he could finish, an old knight approached. With a dark expression, he said, “Are you the so-called hero George who has insulted my son? As I see it today, you’re indeed asking for it. In the name of my family, I challenge you to a duel.”
George looked up and said, “Please wait.”
Before he could finish, a steel gauntlet came crashing toward his face.
George caught the gauntlet.
“You’ve got guts, kid, to accept my challenge.”
“I—”
“Get to the arena now!”
