Chapter 60: Preparation for the Attack
The goat-horned child was once again abandoned by “mommy,” feeling extremely sad. Taking advantage of George’s distraction, he turned and ran away, covering his face with his hands.
Jima held a ceramic bowl in front of her, idly stirring the blood with a root of grass, her smile on her face turned malevolent.
The accompanying priest expressed his displeasure, saying, “Is this how demons behave?”
Jima nonchalantly replied, “You should feel fortunate; I am not your enemy.”
A slew of vicious thoughts bounced around in her mind, each capable of causing extreme pain to the head beast.
As Jima reviewed these thoughts, her mood grew even more cheerful. Happiness, if not built on the suffering of others, is mere castles in the air, lacking authenticity. If it is built on the misery of bad people, then such happiness truly brings joy.
“May the gods protect us,” the priest prayed, standing up to leave.
“Add some rye horn powder, yes, that should work well,” Jima sat cross-legged on the ground, taking a pinch of black powder from her bag and sprinkling it over the blood. “With the mother’s blood as the medium, the malicious curse will continuously flow into him from the umbilical cord.”
The long-silent sergeant also stood up to leave.
George sighed and said, “Jima, I think you should be gentler sometimes.”
“For example?”
“When dealing with a sad mother, consider your words and try to be more tactful.”
Jima finally shifted her gaze from the blood mixed with rye horn powder to George and asked, “Do you dislike it?”
“Somewhat uncomfortable.”
“Is that a tactful remark?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll pay more attention next time,” Jima said, “but let me say this upfront: don’t sympathize with enemies. Even if you do, don’t voice it to accuse me; I really dislike that.”
“Understood.”
Jima blinked, her golden eyes suddenly filled with deep compassion. Not even Saint Jena could rival her.
She cupped the bowl full of blood in her hands and gazed into it, saying with emotion:
“How pitiful, truly sad. This world is so dark that a mother must abandon her newborn son, a father dies at the hands of his son, and the mother would rather her son die faster. Some children are born into mistakes and have been abandoned twice, each time more heartbreaking than the last.”
“Ah~ what a tragic world.”
Eve Frostleaf shivered, goosebumps rising on her neck.
Jima set down the ceramic bowl, leaned forward, grasped George’s hands tightly, and said:
“In this pitch-black world, finding you, a glimmer of light, is my greatest fortune (or misfortune). The world may be dark, but we must be bright, illuminating all darkness. One day, people will treat each other gently, with no discrimination or war. Children of demons and humans will hold hands and sing and dance together on the sunny days of spring.”
To George’s ears, this was a cacophony of noise, and he could not help but say, “Jima—”
“Don’t say anything, George, oh no, Comrade George,” Jima looked intently into George’s eyes, “I will follow you and use love to move everyone, no matter how long the road ahead is.”
George’s mouth twitched, goosebumps
