Chapter 246 Chapter 243 Hunters and Prey (Combined)
In the early morning, in the forest, a layer of faint white mist enveloped the treetops.
Light rain fell from the sky, landing on Balsa’s smooth back, dampening her red hair. She put on her clothes and left one of her fortunate subordinates who had received her favor.
The assassin Kane leaned against the tree, his eyes filled with resentment as he looked at the rewarded subordinate. He shifted his gaze to meet Balsa’s red eyes for a second, and his expression was complex.
The man’s lamentable possessiveness.
Balsa snorted coldly, causing him to lower his head, not daring to meet her gaze.
The assassin Kane forgot that Balsa’s favors were not meant for him alone, but men always harbor unrealistic fantasies, often dreaming of being the special one.
Balsa sensed this fantasy and deliberately rewarded another capable male dark elf.
This way, she could exploit their jealousy, provoking them to compete with each other to prove their worth.
Balsa had played this trick many times, but when the red-haired dark elf knight walked past Kane, she found him with his head down, like a wounded dog on the street.
For some reason, her heart ached slightly. He was loyal, and when she rewarded him, she was genuinely happy, plus he was strong enough, unlike the weak Asur.
But Balsa did not show it; she still had many tasks to attend to.
After drinking the potion, they had ample stamina to pursue the traces of the succubus, but the price was the burning of their souls, not a sustainable solution.
However, as long as they obtained the demon lord’s extraordinary material and completed the task, these costs were worth it. She would be granted lordship, and her subordinates would receive generous rewards.
The sorcerer king had personally promised her, and the sorcerer king had never gone back on his word. As long as contributions were made, regardless of status, background, or nobility, the sorcerer king would generously bestow rewards. This was far better than the Asur who always emphasized lineage and status, being weak and incompetent.
Thinking of this, Balsa couldn’t help but gaze into the hazy sky.
The day before, she had seen the shadow of the succubus. The succubus was injured and bleeding, igniting her infinite desire for the hunt.
She commanded her subordinates to chase day and night, but ultimately lost the succubus’s trail, and the exhausted team had to rest.
Now, looking at the empty sky, Balsa couldn’t help but start to regret. If she had been more resolute, not rested, and continued seeking the traces of the succubus, perhaps the demon lord’s extraordinary material would have been in her hands.
“Master.” A distant voice from behind interrupted her thoughts, it was Kane the assassin. Balsa instinctively placed her hand on the hilt of her sword; no one could feel at ease with an assassin behind them. “You asked me to gather information, and I’ve heard a rumor.”
Balsa turned around and asked, “What rumor?”
“That group of beastmen said that the Mother of All Beasts deliberately led us away. Because the succubus is now at the end of her rope and no longer needs us; if they capture the succubus, they won’t have to pay us.”
Balsa believed this rumor immediately; she recalled that after they received the Mother of All Beasts’ message, they completely lost the succubus’s trail—what a coincidence.
“That despicable creature,” Balsa cursed. “I heard she’s hiding the demon lord’s extraordinary material in a twisted womb, satisfying her reproductive desires. She doesn’t want to give us the extraordinary material at all.”
But now, what could be done?
The sorcerer king’s rewards were as “generous” as his punishments. For this mission, the sorcerer king had provided many resources.
Balsa had no choice but to continue searching for the succubus while considering the information provided by the Mother of All Beasts.
One day passed, then another day.
The elite team led by Balsa seemed to be forgotten by the Mother of All Beasts, as the raven representing her had ceased to deliver messages.
Balsa was furious. She led her team to secretly slaughter a group of beastmen they encountered along the way, satisfying her own desire for killing to alleviate her irritation.
But it was only a momentary relief.
When night fell, Balsa often dreamed of her success, being conferred as the Lord of Fear, sitting on a throne made of obsidian, ruling over land.
The dream felt so real; she could see the torches burning against the palace walls. She saw two favored servants prostrated beside her thighs, and her palace had its own dedicated arena.
She could throw any slave into the arena to watch them fight against scorpions, lions, or hydras. Sometimes she would throw a hundred slaves, providing them with swords and spears, with only the last one standing allowed to live.
Just as Balsa was enjoying the sight of the slaves battling each other, she woke up, opened her eyes.
The sky was still gray, drizzling with light rain, and it was a bit chilly.
No throne, no palace, and no slaves.
Balsa felt a deep sense of loss, unable to shake off the beautiful dream—it was too lovely, exactly the life she had always dreamed of.
Was it possible that it was a dream created by the succubus?
Balsa immediately checked her mental state, finding no signs of the succubus invading her dreams.
For someone of her caliber, the succubus’s manipulation of dreams was difficult to accomplish without leaving traces, unless the meddler was significantly stronger.
But Balsa had once cut off the wings of a succubus, and she didn’t believe the succubus was that much stronger than herself.
A cool wind blew, and Balsa got up, took care of her physical needs, and after dressing, a wave of disappointment washed over her.
The dream was so beautiful; she truly wanted to sleep a little longer.
It was all that vile Mother of All Beasts’ fault, that half-worm of a woman…
Resentment surged within Balsa.
But perhaps fate’s goddess smiled upon this ambitious dark elf knight, as Kane the assassin came to tell her good news.
“Master.” Kane the assassin spoke to Balsa, whose eyes were bloodshot, “I’ve found important intelligence. Several groups of beastmen are rushing northwestern, including some of the Mother of All Beasts’ flying offspring.”
“We will head northwest.” Balsa declared firmly. “If necessary, we must retrieve the compensation we deserve from the beastmen.”
At that moment, a long-absent black raven flew in, landing on a branch, calling out to Balsa:
“Caw caw, dark elf ally, the Mother of All Beasts’ will has arrived, she wants you to hurry west, keep an eye on the sky; the succubus may be there.”
Balsa asked, “Is the succubus there now?”
“She can fly, she can escape. If you want to obtain the demon lord’s extraordinary material, you need to hurry west, go now.”
“Understood.” Balsa turned back and shouted, “Everyone, prepare to set off.”
The dark elves quickly rose, securing their crossbows, tying their swords, and saddling their black steeds.
However, the raven lingered, watching the busy dark elf team with keen eyes.
Balsa asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Ensuring the will of the Mother of All Beasts is fulfilled.”
Balsa drew her sword, pointing it at the raven: “Get lost! We are not your dogs.”
As soon as she finished her sentence, two crossbow bolts pierced the raven, which screamed and fell from the branch.
Balsa turned around and saw it was Kane the assassin and another dark elf who had acted. A rare smile appeared on her face as she donned her purple-black armor, galloping northwest.
If the beastmen were hunting the succubus, then she had the chance to capture the succubus.
But Balsa missed again.
It was said that the succubus once again used her keen sense of smell to escape the encirclement, leaving a group of strong beastmen staring at each other, dumbfounded.
“Search, all of you search!” Balsa almost roared, commanding: “Find her trace; no sleeping tonight. Remember, unless we find the succubus, I will not give you the antidote to the potion.”
Yes, their souls were slowly burning. Originally, the potion was a slow-acting poison meant to harm and murder dark elves’ kin—the aristocrats among high elves, since they often had tasters.
But some discovered that this slow-acting poison had a good side and altered it into the secret potion.
Balsa swore that she would only provide the antidote once the succubus was captured or killed.
Thus, all the dark elves had to maximize their initiative.
They widened their eyes, meticulously searching the battlefield and quietly kidnapping beastmen allies, using poison and torture to force them to divulge information.
As the moon climbed to the night sky’s center and executed three beastmen allies,
Kane the assassin returned with good news; he found a bundle of bloodstained bandages left by the succubus. The succubus was very cunning, digging a pit to cover the bloodied bandages and carefully laying a layer of fallen leaves on top.
But it was still discovered by the sharp-eyed Kane the assassin.
At the same time, Kane the assassin also reported bad news. One of his colleagues, an “Obsidian Shadow,” tried to monopolize the credit and brazenly ambushed Kane. Luckily, Kane the assassin was skilled, stabbing the opponent’s back eight times, killing him.
Coincidentally, this “Obsidian Shadow” was the dark elf who had been personally rewarded by Balsa a few days ago.
Balsa did not pay attention to this small coincidence; she praised Kane the assassin for his agility, and then took the team to search for the succubus’s traces.
The dark elves’ homeland was a vast frostfield. The environment was harsh, rich in ferocious beasts; only hunters skilled in tracking the faintest signs could catch these beasts and bring back food.
In Balsa’s team, many dark elves had been hunters, and there were also dark magicians proficient in tracking faint clues.
But even so, Balsa’s team found it incredibly difficult to track Jima; they lost trace several times and had to start searching over again.
Balsa issued a stern order: do not sleep until they catch up; if they were tired, the succubus was tired too.
One dark elf lamented, “What a cunning prey.”
“She can fly, and she flew over here.” A wisp of pink smoke hung in the air, wrapping around a broken branch.
Balsa commanded, “Keep searching.”
In the heavy darkness, Balsa’s team split up in search; they kept searching until dawn broke.
They found a fallen comrade, dead from a clean, swift strike across the neck.
But Balsa was overjoyed, because this indicated that the succubus was nearby.
Balsa regrouped the team and pressed onward, finally spotting the running succubus across a stretch of wasteland.
“Chase her!” She charged forward on horseback, yelling, “Be careful, do not let her tricks deceive you again.”
Two legs could not outrun four.
The succubus was easily caught by Balsa, riding her black steed. But she stopped in front of a dead tree, the dew from the wild grass soaking her calves. She looked at Balsa, a smile playing on her lips.
Before Balsa could react, the sun rose, and dawn light fell on the grass, making every dewdrop glimmer.
In the light of dawn, George, a follower of the God of Dawn, appeared behind Jima, clad in super-gothic armor.
The light made Balsa squint, and it took her a second or two to recognize George by the holy emblem on his shoulder armor.
She whispered in elven, “George the Dragon Slayer?”
“Indeed, it is I.”
From behind the mask came George’s voice, along with a giant sword shining with white light, hurtling toward Balsa.
He moved at incredible speed, his heavy armor clanking. As he ran, it sounded like a storm raging, and the bright white light, along with the golden dawn, filled the vision of all the dark elves present.
In that instant, the hunter became the hunted.
“Boom!”
With the aid of the potion, Balsa swung a sword to meet George’s holy strike. She felt the surging heat explode along with the white light; the immense force made her palms throb painfully, the sound of buckling armor tormented her eardrums.
She fell from her black steed, rolling several times on the ground before getting back up, only to see her warhorse, which had tasted the blood and flesh of the captured Sir Bartou, bowing its head toward the ground.
George was charging straight for Balsa.
Jima felt a stone lift from her heart: “Finally caught.”
She took the opportunity to sneak around Balsa’s team, continuously provoking their greedy desires. She deliberately left clues to slowly draw them away from the main force, leading them into a trap.
To be honest, Jima thought her deception was quite ordinary. Anyone with a clear mind would think that a truly cunning prey would never leave behind bloodstained bandages since prey certainly would have a dimensional space bag.
But then again, many times what is called deception is merely providing evidence for victims filled with greed to deceive themselves.
People are often willing to believe what they want to believe.
As Jima racked her brain over how to annihilate the dark elf squad entirely, to prevent her capability to summon George from leaking,
Balsa suddenly raised her sword, pointing at Jima, commanding: “Capture the succubus! The rest of you hold him off.”
This order stunned Jima for half a second.
Wasn’t she supposed to be the hunter? Why are these dark elves so confident?
But the dark elves promptly obeyed Balsa’s command.
Several agile darklings wielding poisoned daggers, driven by their desire for killing, rushed at George from all directions.
George immediately swung his double-handed golden sword, the blade surrounding his body. The darklings nimbly dodged, tilting their chins back as the blade scraped past their noses, but George abruptly quickened his sword rhythm, slicing one darkling in half.
Jima felt a pang for the darkling that fell dead; after all, there were so few of these battle-goddesses clad in bikinis and stockings in this world.
Just then, like a streak of red light, Balsa dashed toward the succubus, while arrows rained down towards Jima from behind.
Jima saw the dark elves’ chests filled with blue spirals symbolizing greed, especially Balsa, whose chest was almost entirely blue.
She did not dodge.
The blood blade pierced through her body, the arrows shot through her form.
No surprise, just a silent illusion.
Jima’s voice echoed from above: “Poor puppet.”
Balsa looked up and saw Jima at a height of fifty meters in the air, flapping her wings and lifting her axe spear.
Jima truly couldn’t have imagined that the dark elves would have any means to capture someone capable of flying; flying was one of the most monstrous abilities.
“Shoot!” Balsa yelled, “Bring her down!”
Crossbow bolts rained toward Jima, who gracefully twirled in mid-air. She climbed higher, quickly surpassing a hundred meters.
The arrows fired from the rune crossbows appeared slow; several arrows empowered with supernatural abilities approached Jima, but were diverted by her extraordinary charm, missing her and crashing down to the ground.
Jima elegantly spun several times in the air; while evading, she flicked her tail, stirring up the negative desires of the crowd.
Many arrows shot from below missed by a lot.
Jima looked down, seeing the dark elves as tiny black bugs. Below, George, glowing with white light, was quickly closing in on those black bugs, eliminating them one by one.
Some dark elves ignored George, who was coming to chop them down, and aimed their crossbows at Jima. The merciless golden sword pierced through one of them; as he fell towards the ground, he widened his eyes, watching the arrows fly toward Jima, hoping that this arrow might knock her down from the sky.
But that was merely a fantasy.
The surviving dark elves under George’s sword had to accept the fact. They had no way to deal with Jima, who was flying high above; magic and arrows simply couldn’t hurt an incredibly capable succubus who could fly around, let alone bring her down.
Hope turned into despair, despair turned into fear, and fear overshadowed greed.
They scattered, fleeing from George, who was relentlessly pursuing them.
“Too late.”
Jima dove down from the sky, attacking the fleeing dark elves across the wasteland, where there was no cover. Jima could clearly see the pale white pain power radiating from them, the brutal slaughter and defeat generating their power.
But it was still not enough.
Jima began to chant a spell, triggering the curse she had previously cast upon the dark elves.
The curse first affected their feet, the gout stone immediately filled every joint, causing their feet to swell and stretch their boots. Suddenly planting a foot on the ground, they were hit by severe pain.
This pain felt like biting soldier ants gnawing at their joints.
Even the dark elves, who had endured whips and could tolerate pain, found it hard to bear. Some fainted from the pain, while others curled up on the ground, unable to rise, only able to crawl away in agony.
Awaiting them was a far more terrible torment.
Jima, brandishing her branch axe spear, looked like a death angel standing on white clouds, began to sing, and her song detonated the pain power within the dark elves.
Their faces twisted, hands covering their ears, blood flowing from their eardrums; many dark elves died to Jima’s song that way.
George, who was pursuing Balsa, couldn’t help but tremble. This focused paladin couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted, thinking afterward to find Jima a vocal teacher capable of withstanding such powerful performance.
Suddenly, a burst of pink smoke enveloped George.
“Run!” Kane the assassin came running, shouting at Balsa: “They want your dreamcatcher!”
Balsa’s black-purple armor warped, one of her twisted shoulder pads hanging off, but her sturdy legs ran swiftly like a galloping horse. She shouted, “We need to split up!”
At that moment, a loud thudding sound came from behind them.
The two turned to look, their expressions changing suddenly.
It was George, who had just made a great leap from the pink smoke, landing and bounding like a kangaroo, leaping nearly twenty meters. As he landed, the sound of his armor echoed like the heavy footsteps of death.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
A chorus of cawing sounded from the sky; it was the killer crows sent by the Mother of All Beasts.
Jima’s expression became grave; the killer crows flew faster than she could. If they took away the dreamcatcher, this operation would declare failure.
She immediately used her “simulation” supernatural ability, mimicking George’s control over light, her hands glowing red, and through that light, she transmitted a “curse pestilence” to the flock of crows.
Many crows descended from the sky, but still, a significant number of killer crows flew toward Balsa, one of which shouted:
“Return the dreamcatcher! Quickly return the dreamcatcher!”
Balsa immediately understood, her chest filled with flames of revenge. She pulled out the dreamcatcher with her right hand.
Jima flew in the air, gripping her axe spear tightly, holding her breath, preparing to intercept the dreamcatcher.
George saw his distance closing just enough and prepared to use “light charge.”
Balsa flipped the black sword toward Jima, and the black sword, wrapped in a surge of blood energy, forced Jima to evade as Balsa’s arm tensed to throw the dreamcatcher.
Then chaos erupted.
Kane the assassin suddenly launched at Balsa from behind, stabbing a dagger forcefully into Balsa’s armpit, snatching the dreamcatcher.
“You!”
Balsa’s red eyes widened in disbelief as she was stabbed again, her eyes bulging as she fell directly to the ground.
Kane the assassin knelt halfway, presenting the dreamcatcher to George while speaking in a hesitant common tongue: “I surrender, I surrender.”
From the now human George came the command: “Throw me the dreamcatcher.”
Kane the assassin tossed the dreamcatcher, which George caught, and Kane continued:
“She forced us to drink potions that burn our souls. I surrender; I am willing to switch sides for the light, I wish to repent and atone.”
As he spoke, under him, Balsa lay bleeding on the ground.
George discerned he was speaking the truth; the dreamcatcher was indeed real. At that moment, Jima landed beside George, looking regretfully at Balsa lying on the ground, exposing her white thigh behind her thigh armor.
Jima looked at Kane the assassin, her gaze turning fierce: “What dark elf isn’t a pervert? Kill him.”
Suddenly, Balsa moved, leaping from the ground to swing her mace, crushing Kane the assassin’s skull.
Kane the assassin’s body fell to the ground, having neglected the “potion’s” factor.
This red-haired, proud knight struggled to stand, gazing at Kane the assassin’s lifeless form, momentarily lost in thought, her eyes slightly moist.
She looked at the pair of individuals before her, feeling despondent for a moment and said, “Just kill me.”
Jima spoke: “What if you are willing to repent?”
Balsa looked at Jima in confusion, ensuring she hadn’t misheard.
Jima smiled: “If you are willing to repent and compensate the sole victim, which is me, I think you will have a chance to atone.”
Balsa’s gaze wavered at Jima’s jagged wings and tail: “Really?”
“Really.” Jima’s smile turned sinister as she pointed to the ground: “You kneel on both knees.”
Balsa’s form trembled slightly; she closed her eyes in grief, her knees weakened, trembling as she prepared to kneel.
“Enough!” George said: “You don’t need to kneel.”
The delightfully warped Jima complained: “George.”
Balsa looked at George with a hint of gratitude.
But George still remembered how she had severed Jima’s wings.
George said: “Extend your neck; I now sentence you to death.”
With that, amidst Jima’s cries, George swung his sword down, severing Balsa’s head.
———
To be continued (1/5)
