Chapter 263 The Night Before War
George, of course, was unaware and indifferent to the troubles his infamous reputation brought to his half-brother.
At the moment, he was solely focused on Jima, who was surrounded by rising smoke.
Around Jima, circles of white candles surrounded her, with a ring of magically infused wheat grains scattered among the candles, the grains emitting blue smoke.
The wheat grains protected her from the erosion of dark magic, and the smoke served as proof that a magical duel was in progress.
The blue smoke seemed to come alive, drifting towards the black-haired succubus, caressing her pale neck and gliding over her innocent face. The flickering candlelight illuminated half of her face, her black lashes closed tightly, and the dark horns glimmered slightly in the firelight.
She lay motionless on the reclining chair, appearing to be asleep, while the tail that lay limp on the ground subtly twitched towards George.
Desire began to stir within George’s heart.
Jima’s nose twitched, her eyelids lazily lifted, revealing a light golden gaze as she looked at George and smiled:
“What’s wrong? Want me?”
George asked, “Did you just charm me?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Jima replied, “Everyone has been busy lately.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I won’t feed you, pervert.”
Jima sat up from the cushioned recliner, raising her smooth bare arms, fingers interlaced, her supple waist straightened as she stretched.
George remained silent.
Jima tilted her head, observing him as he continued to guard her through magical means. She said: “If you want to make a move, I wouldn’t mind.”
“We’re about to go to war.”
“How serious.”
From under her pure white dress, Jima extended a bare foot to step upon the forehead of a bull-headed man’s severed head, which George had brought to serve as a medium for her curses.
The head was large, and Jima’s bare foot appeared particularly small upon the crude bull’s head. She stood up, balancing on the bull’s head with one foot while slightly raising the other to maintain her balance.
The wheat grains no longer emitted blue smoke.
George asked, “What is this ritual?”
“It’s not a ritual at all.” Jima effortlessly maintained her balance, “I just want to stand on this head. It’s quite a big one; how did you chop it off?”
“With a horizontal strike.”
“Impressive.” Jima said, “I wish I had your strength.”
“Have you gotten any results from your divination or curses?”
“Carry me to the camp, and I’ll show you.” She opened her arms, gesturing to George.
George pointed to the long leather boots on the ground, asking, “You can put on the boots.”
“Too lazy.” Jima lifted a bare foot toward George, her smooth, white toes wiggling, “My toes say they want to breathe in the fresh night air.”
George shook his head, sheathing his sword and brushing his hand, clad in an iron glove, against the black headband tied to the hilt. He stepped over the burning candles.
Jima smiled victoriously: “Come on, my iron horse.”
George picked her up in a horizontal embrace.
Jima shifted in his arms to find a comfortable position, resting her head against his shoulder guard. Her soft legs draped over his sturdy arm; the edges of the elbow guard and arm plates were slightly uncomfortable, but very stable.
Being carried felt nice.
Jima licked her lips and said, “In light of your obedience, I’ll be generous and tell you.”
As George carried Jima out of the tent, the stars shone bright in the sky, and a cool night breeze stirred his hair, tickling around her face.
What a beautiful night; it would be a shame not to do something to match this scenery.
George’s voice came from above: “Go on.”
Really, it smelled so good yet still so serious.
Jima inhaled the aroma in the air and spoke:
“The army of wild monsters is approaching; there are many beasts, but my curses have been trickling through their ranks. They seem undisciplined and poorly organized; if they could just isolate properly, with the Mother of Beasts in command, my plague curse would merely delay their actions.”
George continued to carry Jima step by step up the stairs, steady. He said, “If they manage to do that, we’ve already lost half this war. Look at the lions’ heart army these past few days; they haven’t coordinated with each other at all. Now, even who knows how many knights and foot soldiers there are is unclear.”
Jima didn’t know what George had been through, using “it” or “they” to refer to the wild monsters.
“That’s how provisional armies are.” Jima said: “Most of the time, fighting is about who is worse.”
“Who do you have more confidence in?”
“That’s hard to say. Although both sides are disorganized, the Lionheart King has a core army that has participated in the holy wars; they have a mutual understanding and can work seamlessly.” Jima said: “And the Mother of Beasts has enough strife around her; I can only assess both armies’ formations after the battle begins.”
“How many beasts do you estimate they have?”
“Seventy to eighty thousand, I suppose.”
“That’s even fewer than our first battle with Duke Carsson’s expedition.”
George carried Jima to the earthen wall. Jima looked down, her gaze following the gently rolling land toward the distant flickers of light. Those were the conscripted farmers, working through the night to haul away burnt trees.
To expand the cavalry’s running space, the Lionheart King ordered the burning of forests.
But Jima was sure that this place would still be filled with people.
“Those will all be battle beasts, and they are of high quality; inferior horned beasts are rare.” Jima said: “Aside from green-skinned ones, often more quantity doesn’t mean better. The battlefield is only so big.”
“So does that mean the scales of victory tip in our favor?”
“Oh, and there’s bad news.” Jima said: “I divined about magical energy.”
“Magical energy?”
“To be precise, it’s the traces of my kin.” Jima said: “As you probably know, the demon army needs magical energy to come to the mortal realm. When the land is not eroded by magical energy, marching on it is lethal for demons.”
And Jima could sustain herself through George’s desire for her.
“I know.” George said: “Each apocalypse has opened numerous portals from the demon realm, allowing magical energy to erode the mortal world. It’s a pity that the portals located at the poles have never been able to close.”
“You don’t dream of closing them, do you?”
“I’m considering it.” George said: “As long as they close, there won’t be a massive influx of magical energy into the mortal realm every day, reducing mutations and erosions significantly.”
“The high elves and the ancient saint’s son have been trying for over ten thousand years and haven’t found a good way to close the portals; you… never mind, you won’t listen anyway.” Jima said: “The high elves have created a great vortex to continuously absorb magical energy, so you needn’t worry about that.”
She knew that ancient history, where the ancient saint’s son desperately blocked the demon army, using flesh and blood to buy time for the high elves to build the great vortex. When the great vortex was completed, over a million demon troops lost support from their magical energy and rapidly collapsed.
“That’s merely treating the symptoms, not the root cause.” George lowered his head, perhaps seeing the worry on Jima’s face, he said: “I’m just thinking, after all, I currently have no way out.”
George’s stubbornness might genuinely lead him to a dead end.
“I hope it’s truly like that.” Jima said: “With your determination, once the master of deception pulls some trick to fabricate a method to close the portal, it could easily fool you.”
The master of deception, one of the dark four gods.
“I will see through the trick.”
“Hmph, that sounds nice.”
George showed no courtesy toward Jima: “I can see through your schemes every time.”
Jima opened her mouth, wanting to refute, but then closed it again; if she refuted, wouldn’t that mean she acknowledged that she was still deceiving him?
Idiot, I still have several lies hidden from you.
Jima’s tail flicked proudly, but then she thought of the recent three lies she had told, and her tail anxiously swayed left and right.
At the very least, it should be revealed after I enjoy myself.
Jima actively brought the conversation back on track: “Alright, that’s all. Do you have anything else you want to ask?”
“About your kin, what do you know?”
“I don’t know. The demon army might send troops over, but it shouldn’t be too many; there are still many places not corroded.” Jima said, “They may also provide some dark secrets, or both.”
“That’s worth noting.” George said: “I will report it to the Lionheart King.”
“Then carry me back to the tent.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she felt her sole being poked by fingers.
Jima looked at George in surprise and asked, “Did you touch my foot?”
The steady arm beneath her leg moved slightly, and Jima felt a pinch on the sole of her foot, tickling her.
Jima couldn’t help but laugh.
He replied, “Yeah.”
“Get your stinky, leather-gloved hand off me.”
Now Jima’s foot was firmly grasped, unable to move, at his mercy.
Jima’s face heated up, her lower abdomen warming; she said, “I thought you would grab my tail.”
“With you in my arms, I can’t reach it.”
“You’re quite honest.”
Jima felt a sense of satisfaction; in interactions, if only one party moved without any feedback, who would want to continue moving?
At that moment, the night wind grew cooler, the heat in the air easing a bit.
Jima sensed something; she propped herself up in his arms, resting her head on George’s shoulder guard, where she saw a silver-white silhouette standing atop a low watchtower.
Look at that tall figure with pointy long ears; it could only be Eve Frostleaf.
What a coincidence, it was her turn for tower duty. Her ears must be sensitive, meaning she saw and heard everything just now.
Jima leaned close to George’s helmet and said, “Do you have time tonight? Oh, you smell nice.”
“I don’t.” George said: “I’m busy; there are many battles awaiting me.”
“Alright then.” Jima said: “When you have time, let’s have a big one.”
“A big one?”
“Yeah, a four-person brawl.” Jima said: “I’ll bring Frostleaf along.”
“Ah? That doesn’t seem appropriate.”
“I’m just informing you, not negotiating.” Jima said: “Frostleaf will be very happy, truly.”
“You should still ask her.”
“Not asking.” Jima said: “Of course, if she really doesn’t want to, she can just stay outside and continue eavesdropping.”
Almost immediately, those pointed ears turned red.
“I think you’re wronging her.” George said: “You haven’t seen it with your own eyes.”
“Is your implication that I’m slandering her?”
“She doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”
“Hmph, believe it or not.”
——————
About a month, there might be several days where I’m not a man, and there could possibly be a thirty-second of this month.
