Chapter 44: The Vengeful Goddess
The soldiers of the Holy Hall, shielding themselves with shields, swords in hand, with loaded crossbows, approached the village.
The village was in ruins, the wooden walls surrounding it had two more gaps, the main gate wide open, several bloodied skeletons hung from it, and wooden stakes along the road were topped with skulls, as if warning humanity.
The soldier at the front began to feel nauseous and cursed, “Damn beastmen.”
“Properly bury these innocents, or their souls will forever be trapped in the bellies of the beastmen.”
The soldiers stood up, intending to take down the bloodied skeletons.
Jima suddenly spoke, “Be careful, there may be traps.”
The vanguard soldier looked back, and Jima urged her horse forward, pointing with a branch at a taut rope under the main gate, “See that rope? It’s a tripwire; stay back, use an axe or spear to pull it.”
The soldiers obeyed, one holding the axe and pulling. Immediately behind the gate, a log fell down, crashing through the bloodied skeletons, ribs shattered across the ground. Fortunately, the soldiers were already prepared and crouched down to avoid the log.
It turned out the hanging bloodied skeletons were not only for warning but also to conceal the log.
“Those bastards!”
The soldiers cursed as they cautiously walked, searching for traps on the ground.
Two more simple traps were discovered. The Holy Hall soldiers gathered together to draw lots; the unfortunate losers had to take down the hanging mutilated blood skeletons and remove the skulls from the wooden stakes. Although nobody vomited, their faces turned pale with expressions of nausea.
Jima maintained her composure, dismounted, led her horse, and bravely walked into the ruined village.
The soldiers secretly admired the courage of this succubus.
In fact, Jima was confident that the beastmen were too preoccupied to set traps; the interior probably didn’t have any traps, and even if there were, she could find them.
The scene of devastation in the village was unbearable to view. The village’s old tree trunk, once used for a swing, had children swinging on it, but now, whether due to the beastmen’s malice or merely accident, the swing had been split in half, the rope used to bind several children’s lower legs and hang them — though referred to as children, they were precisely remains that had been devoured.
Even Jima couldn’t bear to look, pulling out a small knife from her waist, cutting the swing’s rope, and with a clatter, several skeletal remains fell down.
The accompanying priest covered his face with his hand, turning away in sorrow. Behind him, a young soldier covered his mouth, his face pale.
A group of soldiers continued forward; the village was small, and soon they reached the village center. Though called the center, it was merely a wide piece of land, likely used for village feasts, with several heavy tables set up on the ground, smeared with blood, and beneath the eaves hung human limbs left uneaten.
Bones with bite marks were piled together, a mass of flies swarming over them, feasting on the remaining flesh.
Evidently, the beastmen had held an all-you-can-eat banquet here.
The accompanying priest stared at the pile of bones. Jima suspected that this true pessimist was imagining eighteen ways to become a part of that bone pile.
The young soldier beside him looked nauseous, and an old soldier suddenly patted his shoulder and pointed to the bone pile, saying, “Look, doesn’t it look like the leftover bones from the barbecue feast we had that day?”
“Ugh!”
The young soldier couldn’t hold it any longer, bent over to dry heave, nearly vomiting.
The old soldier laughed heartily.
“Enough! Show some respect for the dead!” The accompanying priest turned his head, pointing at the old soldier and said:
“We should bury all the victims and give them a decent burial; you’ll be responsible for gathering the remains.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fortunately, I didn’t throw up.” The young soldier took a deep breath.
At this moment, a gust of wind blew through. The flies suddenly erupted, buzzing and flying all around, rushing towards the crowd.
Jima, protected by her “extraordinary charm,” found the flies veering away from her; the others weren’t as fortunate, swatting at flies that had just crawled over the dead bones, many panicking and colliding with their faces.
After the swarm of flies passed, several sounds of retching followed. The young soldier couldn’t hold back, leaned against the wall, and vomited what he had eaten for breakfast; the old soldier came over, braced himself against the wall and after retching swore, “Damn it, I just swallowed a fly.”
Perhaps it was retribution.
Jima, while fanning the air, asked the accompanying priest, “What’s the plan for disposing of the remains?”
“Dig a large hole, pour holy oil, and pray to the gods.”
“That will take a long time.”
“Thanks to Brother George’s blessing, the beastmen’s warband is far from us; surely our god would also be pleased to see us bury the dead, and Brother George’s actions will be recognized by the gods.”
Perhaps the God of Dawn would grant divine favor for the delay in burying the dead because of George’s insistence.
But Jima didn’t want to waste time; she just wanted to hurry and take her soldiers to the Deadwood Mountain to grasp the delightful and charming opportunity for advancement.
Thus, she sought to find a compromise.
“Regardless, we are in a war zone; each day spent in the war zone means more deaths, increasing the chance for more people to see their wives, children, and elderly parents.”
Without saying a word, Jima claimed the moral high ground first.
The accompanying priest frowned, about to argue when Jima preempted, “But leaving the remains of the victims to be gnawed by all sorts of beasts is not good either. If we could find a basement, we could place the bones there, which could be considered a burial.”
The accompanying priest pondered for a moment. Although, theoretically, Jima only had the right to suggest, he thought that Jima had considerable prestige in the army, and there would be those who sided with her; moreover, it wasn’t unacceptable.
He nodded, “Very well, if we can’t find one, dig a grave and bury them.”
Having said that, he hastily distanced himself from Jima. Previously, he had maintained a four-step distance while talking to her.
Jima stood a straight branch upright on the ground, activating her divination ability, mentally pondering: where is the basement?
Letting go, the straight branch fell to the ground, pointing directly at the only stone building in the village, the Church of the Lake Goddess.
As expected, it might hold treasures.
With light steps, Jima led her bay mare toward the church. The church was a two-story gray building with narrow windows; none of the wooden boards nailed on the windows were pried off, and the thick iron-plated wooden door, though uneven and dented, was not completely broken and could hold for a long time.
Jima remembered that the Beast King had breached this last fortress using lies; she had seen it in her dreams.
She refused a few “well-meaning” soldiers who wanted to accompany her and stood before the church door, where several lines of ornate script were carved into the stone wall beside the door, praising the two knights who donated to the construction of the Goddess’s church.
Jima stepped over the threshold, and the first sight that met her was the statue of the Lake Goddess. Its head had been smashed by an unknown beastman, leaving only a jaw. With arms extended, it had originally held a sword, symbolizing rising from the lake and granting the sword to the knights.
The sword had also been shattered, replaced by the corpse of an old soldier hanging from the statue’s hands, the soldier’s remains were relatively intact, only missing below the thighs, and wearing only a tattered battle attire.
He bore several deep scars. Jima recognized him; she’d seen him in the beastman’s dream. The old soldier had commanded the remnants of humanity trapped in this last fortress, standing firm until the end, refusing to be deceived by the beastmen, but the others yearned for survival, however slim their hopes.
Those scars were likely inflicted by the beastmen in a fit of rage upon seeing his suicide.
Jima thought as she grasped the branch tightly, pushing the old soldier’s corpse down from the statue, one push, two pushes, with a forceful shove, the branch scraped against the statue’s hand.
A ethereal feminine voice seemed to echo from the sky, reaching Jima’s ears: “Demon, cleanse this place of the beastmen who desecrate it.”
Jima, as if struck by lightning, retracted the branch. A shiver ran through her, and her brain instantly cleared of fatigue. The extraordinary substance within her surged. Undoubtedly, the Lake Goddess had manifested.
Even without a head, the statue retained divine power, sensing me; she must have been watching over me all along, but how careless of her.
Jima pretended she hadn’t heard anything and muttered, “I think I just heard a mother cat in heat; how strange.”
With that, she turned and quickly walked toward the church, carrying the troublemaking straight branch on her shoulder.
At that moment, a surge of water unexpectedly erupted from the stone chalice carved in the wall nearby, prompting Jima to quicken her pace and run.
The water from the chalice morphed from a surge into a spray, as if a fire hydrant had been kicked open, water gushing forth. The water on the ground spread like a flood, catching up to Jima, who hurriedly jumped onto the threshold to avoid soaking her shoes.
“Whoosh!”
The water shooting from the stone chalice angrily splashed against the walls.
“How strange, why did it suddenly become a fountain? Perfect, we can call everyone over for a wash.” Jima spoke to herself, yelling at the soldiers passing by, “Sergeant, I have good news! A fountain has appeared in the Goddess’s church; everyone can come wash up.”
“Really?”
The sergeant led a group of soldiers to take a look, seeing the unblinking corpse of the old soldier floating on the water, he said, “Let’s forget it.”
Jima urged, “If we move the body out, the water will flow out, and it’ll be clean.”
“That makes sense.” The sergeant replied, “It wouldn’t hurt to drink some water, but why is the water spraying out from the stone chalice?”
A native Bartonian exclaimed, “The goddess, the goddess has manifested.”
Jima quickly responded, “The goddess must be thanking us for burying the remains of the victims, so she grants us water. Also, I heard that the knights of the Holy Grail were all mortal knights who became so by drinking the holy water bestowed by the goddess.”
Everyone grew excited, feeling that their good deeds had been rewarded.
Jima smiled, believing that the law does not punish the masses; she did not believe the Lake Goddess would punish the followers of the God of Dawn as well.
The sharp-eyed sergeant remarked, “Strange, why is there suddenly an image on the water’s surface?”
Everyone focused, and to their surprise, on the water’s surface appeared a forest shrouded in mist, where a golden-haired woman in a white dress, her face hazy but glowing, floated towards a group of drunken knights, who all knelt down partially.
The more Jima looked, the more familiar it seemed; wasn’t this when she had impersonated the Lake Goddess during the subjugation of the Green Dragon, tricking a group of knights into coming to their aid?
It turned out that she had used the Lake Goddess’s name without permission, and now she had been discovered.
At this point, she could no longer play dumb. After all, the knights of the Bartonian Kingdom were all followers of the Lake Goddess; if the goddess was displeased and called a few Holy Grail guardians to come and cut them down, it would be a big problem.
Jima sighed, piercing the water’s surface illusion with her branch, saying, “I understand; the Lake Goddess hopes that we, like knights, will go purge the beastmen destroying this place.”
The force of water spraying from the stone chalice diminished greatly, changing from a spray to a drizzle.
The soldiers’ expressions changed, and the sergeant asked, “Can we tell her we refuse?”
Jima stared at the water’s surface and replied, “I want to refuse too, but what can we do?”
This must be the price; it would come knocking someday.
