Chapter 45: The Price
Jima looked at the surface of the water and first doubted whether she had accidentally revealed her true self, prompting the goddess to come and cause her trouble.
However, that didn’t make sense. It was more likely that the goddess felt she was not an ordinary demon. With a flick of her tail, one could easily understand that in less than two years, she had advanced to the golden level without any divine assistance; there must be some earth-shattering secret behind it.
Thinking this way, it made sense that the goddess had manifested her power in front of her.
Yet, it could also be that she was overthinking, and the lake goddess was simply coming to settle scores with her. After all, she had misused the goddess’s name to deceive a group of knights into starting a small heroic war.
Jima felt a headache coming on; that was a thousand wild beastmen! If she were the Demon King, she could ride a dragon and charge into battle, slicing the head beast in half. But she couldn’t refuse.
This kind of unpaid “transaction” was the most annoying, and even though she had provoked the goddess first…
The water flowing from the stone-carved holy cup gradually diminished; the divine revelation was about to fade.
Jima quickly plunged a branch into the water and said, “I remember that when knights are commanded by the goddess to hunt monsters, she must bestow blessings upon them.”
The stone-carved holy cup stopped pouring water, as if the lake goddess had already left.
What a cheapskate! She must be a stingy goddess.
Jima picked up the straight branch, still clinging to a hint of hope, and knocked on the threshold, leaving several dents. But the branch was just that—an ordinary branch that had received the blessing of the Blood God, becoming tougher and harder.
The sergeant said, “We need to talk to the accompanying priest; those beastmen are not easy to deal with.”
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to deal with the beastmen.”
“But what if the goddess gets angry?”
“She won’t get angry,” Jima said. “The goddess bestows blessings upon the knights, and when knights go to hunt monsters, it’s an ancient tradition. Since we haven’t received any blessings, it indicates that the goddess hasn’t commanded us to hunt the beastmen.”
“But why is there water everywhere, and those images on the surface?”
“That must be the lake goddess showing a sign to thank us, being kind to the remnants of the small people of Barto,” Jima said. “At this time, we can hold the emblem of the God of Dawn and pray to him, thanking the God of Dawn for teaching us that the good army has done a great deed today.”
This statement was purely to drag the God of Dawn into this, to use divinity against divinity.
Previously, Jima insisted on dragging the sergeant over, coaxing him in various ways, all because she was keen on their identity as followers of the God of Dawn.
The sergeant nodded, “That makes sense. Later, let’s invite the accompanying priest to pray to the God of Dawn; he will surely appreciate us.”
After saying that, everyone tacitly turned to leave.
The stone-carved holy cup, which had contained no water, suddenly burst forth with a flood of water, streaming out of the church. Jima reacted quickly and jumped aside.
The sergeant and several soldiers got drenched, and the puddles on the ground emitted a faint green light, and so did the people.
“What’s going on?”
“Is the goddess angry?”
Jima shook her head, “No, it’s the goddess’s blessing.”
After saying this, she walked to the door where the water continued to gush out, bent down, cupped her hands to collect some water, and splashed it on her face. Instantly, she felt a wave of coolness spreading throughout her body.
A female voice echoed in her ears, continuously chanting: “Blessing, blessing, blessing, blessing…”
Before long, the accompanying priest ran over, confirming that this indeed was the blessing of the lake goddess. After hearing the reasons, he sighed heavily and shook his head, saying, “The blessing has been given; we can only accept it.”
The sergeant and the priest called upon the entire army, gathering everyone at the church entrance, stepping into the puddles, and kneeling on one knee. After a while, a faint green light fell upon them, and the stone-carved holy cup stopped pouring water.
Many people hadn’t yet realized the seriousness of the situation and were happily discussing what the goddess’s blessing could be.
The green light had vanished, and just as they were still speculating about the so-called blessing, they heard the accompanying priest, who had been shaking his head and sighing all this time, full of despair. The priest didn’t respond but walked toward Jima, removed his red helmet, stood four steps away from her, and asked:
“Demon, you should know what a blessing is? It is also your goal, right?”
Jima retorted, “Isn’t it good to seek justice for our kind who were eaten alive? Are you going to oppose it, priest?”
“Lofty words from a demon’s mouth sound like a butcher’s knife.”
Jima neither admitted nor denied it, drawing a sharp dagger from her waist and saying:
“You should broaden your horizons. The goddess often grants this blessing to brave armies.”
“I remember, only a handful of armies can receive such blessings.”
“That’s because you have lived too short a life and learned too little.” Jima bit down on her leather glove, revealing her calloused palm, spreading her five fingers with the palm facing the priest, the blade pointing inward.
Jima’s small knife was very sharp, able to cut a hair cleanly. She had previously used it to cut thick ropes for swings, and with just a few strokes, she cut through. She dragged the knife across her palm, leaving only a faint red line; Jima could feel a mysterious force preventing the blade from harming her, as if there was a layer of tough membrane separating them.
“Anti-cut?”
Jima explained, “It can resist a certain amount of physical damage, but if you escape in fear, this blessing will disappear. If I remember correctly, only knights who are deeply favored by the goddess can retain this blessing all the time.”
This blessing, Jima was fairly satisfied with; she planned to complete this “transaction.”
“Alright.”
The accompanying priest said, turning around to stop, intending to say a few harsh words as a warning to Jima to be wary of her schemes. Yet this pessimist thought that Jima would likely run to George and complain, trying to sow discord.
So he sighed once more, “All gifts must have their price marked in secret.”
After saying that, he returned to the crowd and informed everyone about the blessing. The soldiers were very happy; who wouldn’t want more protection for themselves? They were like children who had received new toys, eagerly banging stones and knife handles against themselves to test the efficacy of the blessing.
Until the sergeant repeatedly ordered them to collect the remains of the fallen, the soldiers finally continued their work.
Jima continued searching for the basement; she stepped over the damp ground, heading toward the church threshold, where the water had not yet drained.
Two soldiers waded through the water, carrying a half-corpse of an old soldier who lacked legs, disposing of it alongside the nearby militia corpses.
“Hey!” Jima pointed at the old soldier’s body and said, “He was the toughest; the beastmen were so furious they whipped his corpse. The militia were all killed by the beastmen while trying to escape.”
The two soldiers respectfully moved the old soldier’s body away from the militia, saying, “He shouldn’t be among cowards.”
Jima approached the church threshold where the water could engulf part of her calf. Stepping down directly would surely wet her leather boots. Instinctively, Jima bent down, wanting to take off her boots, but her hand touched a translucent blackness, and she noticed one or two excited gazes directed at her.
If she took off her boots and black stockings in public, the air would carry the added scent of sour lust.
Jima thought, retracting her hands from her long leather boots, bringing her hands together, utilizing the “Power of Lies,” picturing water boots in her mind. In the blink of an eye, the sensation of her long leather boots changed, as if she were really wearing water boots. She stepped into the water, and the surface rippled; the water wrapped tightly around her boots, letting in no moisture whatsoever.
She strode into the church, leaving behind a few disappointed expressions.
Hehe, I actually started caring about these things. In the past, I wouldn’t have thought so much.
Jima shook her head and soon forgot about this small episode.
She looked around and, not finding the entrance to the basement, stood still, watching the ground and quietly waiting for the water surface to calm.
Only she remained in the church. She gazed at the water until it became still enough to reflect her face—a pure and beautiful face, expressionless, with golden eyes radiating a hint of spirituality that evoked joy in those who looked upon her.
Jima stared at this familiar face, reminiscing about the past, suddenly realizing she couldn’t recall what she looked like, a wave of faint sorrow welled up in her heart.
“Succubus Jima,” the voice of the accompanying priest came from the church door, “Have you found the basement? If not, we will bury them in the ground.”
Cremation would be more convenient, but the continuous black smoke over several days was an excellent beacon.
Jima didn’t turn around; the water surface had already dropped to her toes. She walked to a place where debris had gathered, where the water had collected floating objects together.
Jima tossed a silver coin, asking in her heart, “Is there an entrance to the basement beneath my feet?”
It landed face up, right beneath her feet.
Jima used the branch to move away the debris and found a “door” similar to the floor tiles, originally covered by a rug. She pulled open the “door,” and the water flowed in, revealing a damp stone staircase. She turned back and said, “Found it.”
The basement was spacious, though water was flowing in, but fortunately, the floors absorbed the water, and it was merely damp inside.
The soldiers brought basket after basket of remains found in the village, stacking the corpses in the room, and then digging earth from the basement walls to bury them.
With nearly a hundred households in the entire village, it barely filled the basement. After sprinkling holy water on the disfigured remains, the accompanying priest emerged from the basement, closed the “door,” piled dirt on top, and erected a nameless tombstone, marking it as those who died from the beast disaster.
After burying the dead, the army left the silent village, and the mood was heavy.
A soldier looked back at the ruined village and said, “This village is completely dead.”
“Yeah, there are no more residents, not a single survivor.”
“If we take down a few more beastmen, we would be avenging them.”
Someone suddenly asked, “Why do beastmen like to kill us humans so much? After killing, they even eat us.”
“I only understand that they hate us. I’ve heard that beastmen are originally hybrids of humans and beasts; hybrids hate normal people, and that’s natural.” With that, the soldier cast a sidelong glance at the horned child not far away.
The horned child had his head down, imitating Jima, wearing a hooded cloak he had found somewhere, covering his horns tightly.
He raised the back of his hand to wipe his eyes.
The middle-aged woman who had been eagerly helping the soldiers collect the remains approached, comforting him loudly:
“Poor child! Who can choose their lineage? If they could choose, who would want to be born as a hybrid and suffer?”
“Those who are powerless and can’t take revenge on beastmen can only vent their frustrations on innocent children.”
As she spoke, the middle-aged woman wrapped her arms around the horned child, who couldn’t help but burst into tears, while the soldiers turned their heads in shame.
Jima, riding her horse, didn’t care about others’ joys or sorrows; she said, “It’s so noisy.”
As she spoke, she flipped through a large stack of parchment found in the basement. It looked like miscellaneous records kept by church clergy, detailing who had been sentenced, who had donated money, the total population of the village, and even personal letters.
Among this expensive stack of parchment, she found a piece of cloth filled with neat handwriting in a beautiful common tongue. If one said that Jima’s handwriting resembled a curse, then this was as lovely as a prayer of blessing.
But the content was not so pleasant.
“My child?” Jima read the title from the old cloth, continuing silently:
“My child, mother hopes you won’t suffer when you’re born. My child, mother hopes you aren’t a bastard. My child, please don’t ask me where your father is when you grow up…”
As she continued reading, Jima found that the words on the ancient cloth should have been written by a woman who was pregnant yet fleeing for some reason. It was filled with love and hopes for her unborn child.
“…please goddess bless the innocent child. My child, I will do my utmost to protect you.”
“The fabric is quite nice; it hasn’t decayed after so many years.” Jima didn’t pay it much mind and placed it back among the parchment, “However, this woman likely lacks the power to protect others comprehensively. After all, she cannot raise a bastard well. It’s likely that mother and child perished early, one corpse and two lives.”
After checking a box of written papers, Jima found nothing of value and returned the heavy box to the sergeant. The spoils of the Holy Army were to be uniformly handed over.
Of course, Jima didn’t tell them that she had already discovered a golden candlestick, which unfortunately fell into her dimensional bag.
The road of marching was long; Jima had plenty of time to start planning how to deal with the lake goddess’s transaction—destroying the beastmen’s war gang, at least cutting off the head of the beastman leader, so she could explain it to the goddess.
But the strength of the beastmen’s war gang was indeed too strong. Even with the goddess’s protection, a head-on confrontation would likely leave only three surviving.
She could only take a shortcut.
Jima looked around, surveying the soldiers, pondering how to ensure this group of soldiers would die with greater value.
With the army backing onto critical ground and flanked by terrain protection, she could anger the beastmen’s war gang, making them charge headfirst like mindless green-skinned creatures, allowing every soldier to take a piece of the beastmen with them before they died.
With no retreat, the soldiers would naturally fight to the death.
In that case, with everyone dying as the price, there was still a glimmer of hope to trade for the head of the beastman leader and repel the war gang.
As for how to provoke the cunning beastman leader? By then, she should have advanced to platinum rank, giving her hope.
Jima glanced at the surrounding bodies for the price and couldn’t help but smile.
A “cost” saw Jima smile and returned a friendly smile.
Jima turned back and continued looking ahead.
The cost quietly spoke to his comrade, “She smiled at me just now; does that mean she has a crush on me?”
“You must be mistaken.”
“You’re definitely just jealous.”
That’s right! I’m both scouting and roasting meat for you, asking for nothing more than your lives in return.
As she thought about this, Jima opened her personal system, began drafting a plan, and prepared to deceive George so this tool could obediently lead his brothers to become her price.
