Chapter 29 Chapter 28 The Blessing of the Four Dark Gods
In the Dream Palace, three people gathered, with Eve Frostleaf absent.
George looked at the two women: “Where’s Eve Frostleaf?”
Saint Jenna shook her head: “I couldn’t find her among our teammates.”
Jima shrugged: “Maybe she’s skiing.”
“Have you seen her?”
“She was having a great time skiing, so I didn’t want to disturb her.”
“To be honest?”
“We’ve all gone our separate ways.”
“Jima! Teammates need to stick together.”
“Come on, Kislev is cold enough as it is.”
George said, “Be serious, Jima. This isn’t a field trip; it’s war, and you are key to the war. If the demon race attacks, being together is safer.”
“Whoa, next to her, I’m afraid I’ll freeze to death.”
At that moment, Lianxi brought over an ice cream wrapped in flatbreads. Jima turned around, took the ice cream, bit into it, and continued, “I’m just being safety-conscious.”
George tapped the table.
Jima straightened her back and sat up properly to eat the ice cream.
“You’re lying,” George said. “You still haven’t shifted your mindset from having fun.”
“Since I’m so important,” Jima said, “I’ll just come over to your side now; that guarantees safety.”
“What about Frostleaf?”
Jima shrugged indifferently: “Come on, she’s a long-legged creature; she can run away if she can’t fight.”
George slammed the table in anger, causing it to shake, making Jima hurriedly finish her ice cream and give a military salute, saying:
“Report, Captain! I will find Frostleaf and regroup with her to help each other!”
George rubbed his forehead and sighed, saying, “After we communicate our positions, you go find Frostleaf immediately.”
“Understood!”
A large map was spread out on the table, and Jima located her approximate position on it and marked it with a red dot. She noticed that she was on the western side of Kislev, very close to the Claw Sea and not far from the northern Troll Kingdom.
Jima raised her head and asked, “What about you guys?”
George drew a circle in the southeast of Kislev, near the vast northern forest of the Empire:
“I got lucky; I found a small town on the first day and roughly confirmed my location.”
Saint Jenna, beside George, exclaimed, “I’m nearby.”
Her hand, holding the pen, was very close to George’s hand as she drew a circle nearby.
George immediately marked a circle on a small city: “Let’s regroup in Blaztsk.”
“Okay.”
George then looked at Jima’s position and said, “We tentatively plan to meet in Kislev (the capital), you and Frostleaf regroup, and we’ll gather in three days at the Dream Palace to reassess the situation.”
Jima looked at the distance between her and George’s group; she could traverse more than half of Kislev. The thought of a long journey accompanied by the cold-faced Ice Mountain Long Legs made her expression sour.
She held out a glimmer of hope, looking at George and asking, “Can we rest in the Dream Palace now and then?”
“No,” George immediately rejected. “Waking up is faster than going back from the Dream Palace. This is a critical time. Have you forgotten the handbook I sent you?”
“I remember,” Jima said, her disappointment evident on her face, like an eggplant hit by frost, “but I need to eat something.”
She looked at George with a pitiful expression, her youthful face and shining black eyes resembling a cat yearning for its owner’s affection.
Even Saint Jenna felt sympathetic towards her. After all, she was a succubus, naturally feeding on such things, so there was no helping it.
“You were full two days ago.”
“The long journey is like a long night; even bears must eat well before hibernating to survive it,” Jima said with tears in her eyes, “This is the first day of teleportation, how dangerous can it be? This is the perfect time for it.”
George hesitated.
In Jima’s mind, she thought,
Hesitating, big-headed fool, I’m actively offering you a bargain, and you’re still hesitating? Hesitating? Are you even a man? Hurry up and kneel, lick my toes to thank me.
Saint Jenna nudged George and said, “Just agree.”
As she said this, she smiled and said, “I have something to take care of, so I’m leaving first.”
Jima wouldn’t let go of the opportunity to climb the snowy mountain; she licked her lips and quickly raised her hand to stop Saint Jenna, shouting, “Jenna.”
Jenna, dressed in silver robes, turned around: “Huh?”
Jima looked at her oval face, her gaze flitting past her well-defined curves, and the butterfly on her lower abdomen slowly flapping its wings, feeling a tickle.
When the two women locked eyes, Jima’s face turned slightly red, and she shyly looked away, saying, “Sister Jenna, how about we stay together and play with something fun? I’m a bit bored alone.”
Jenna immediately understood Jima’s intention. Initially, she felt resistance, but since this wasn’t the first time and her past experiences had been very good, the flame within her reignited, sensing a more ambiguous atmosphere in the air.
She blurted out, “Sure.”
“Great, Sister Jenna.” Jima jumped into Saint Jenna’s embrace, resting her face against her wide chest, rubbing against her. “You’re the most gentle.”
Jima’s black hair stood out distinctly on Jenna’s silver robes, her face half-buried into Jenna’s chest, her movements causing Jenna’s chest to sway.
The succubus’s tail swung wildly behind her calf, resembling a restless heart.
All the men present struggled to contain themselves at this sight.
George, being a man, watched all of this, the beauty in his heart overwhelming everything.
Jima turned her head, her golden eyes meeting George’s gaze, her face breaking into a mischievous smile, revealing a small section of her white tiger tooth.
George grabbed Jima’s swishing tail, pulling her out of Jenna’s embrace, saying, “You’ve stirred up desires again.”
Jima turned around, wrapping her arms around George’s neck, whispering in his ear, “Why should you suppress yourself?”
The three of them started to play games together.
Jima even brought Lianxi along to help.
Once the map was laid out and everything was ready, Jima tossed a 20-sided die, officially announcing the start of the tabletop game.
…
…
“Ah! Ah! Ah!!!!!!!”
In the Norska war camp, a tall man, over 1.8 meters, with strong, muscular arms, was crying uncontrollably like a goblin that had just been stepped on the toe, wailing in pain.
He rolled around, tears flowing. His eyes bulged as if they had grown legs and wanted to jump out of their sockets.
The eyeball was pushing out from the eye socket, and this Norska man knelt down, pressing his hands hard against the eyeball trying to keep it from escaping.
But the eyeball seemed to have grown tentacles, firmly gripping the bone of his eye socket, pushing out with all its might as he pressed down.
The eyeball was being squeezed, but the nerve was still attached to the flesh, and he could feel all the pain. He could even feel the nerve of the eyeball pulling out of his flesh.
He dared not think too much; the more he thought, the scarier it became.
In pain, he kept screaming, cold sweat trickling down his forehead, the excruciating pain and the little rationality he had left gnawing at his strength, his hands trembling, his power fading.
With a “pop,” the eyeball forced itself out from his grip, and he couldn’t help but glance at the eyeball.
He saw that the eyeball on the ground had turned black, the purple-black color resembling an eggplant, with several tentacles at the end, waving and crawling on the ground.
Before he could look for a few moments, the last eye jumped out too.
“Ah, ah, ah.”
He covered his empty eye socket, blood and tears streaming down his face.
He deeply regretted that he had provoked a woman with wings flying in the sky today by slapping shields.
The success of his plundering had given him the reckless courage that led to his downfall.
Not long after that winged black-haired woman flew away, he felt his eyeball itching, and then…
A series of agonizing cries echoed outside the tent.
This vicious curse was even contagious.
In his pain, he felt despair. How could invisible Norska people survive in this world? The Dark Gods would inevitably despise abandoning and turning into a crippled, weak version of himself and his comrades.
He dropped his hands and groped around on the ground, finally finding his battle axe. He stumbled out, following the sound of the cries, feeling around on the ground until he found his companion’s weapon and tossed it to him.
“Stop crying! Pick up your weapon.”
He shouted, “All cursed kin! Better to die in battle than to drag on in suffering! Grab your weapons, and let’s end this!”
Not long after he finished speaking, a blind man-to-man fight began.
All the healthy Norska, not infected, watched from afar.
Inside the tent, some shaky figures wielded axes and machetes at each other. It was impossible to see the specific battle process; people kept collapsing, and some figures were wildly swinging at the air, even cutting down parts of the tent.
That was fine, but the bad news was that someone knocked over the fire pit, and the fire spread, turning the camp into a scene of flames and blood.
A Norska raider wearing a glasses-framed helmet whispered,
“Are they really going to ruin the tent like this?”
“Not afraid of catching the terrible curse, you go on then.”
A shout rang out, “Someone’s coming!”
In the burning camp, a Norska man carrying double axes stepped out of the flames, striding towards the healthy Norska hiding behind a distant hill.
“Don’t let him come over and infect us!” someone picked up a spear, “Move aside!”
But someone stopped him, shouting, “He’s been blessed!”
The Norska man’s body was growing taller and stronger, his skull deforming, black horns and spikes piercing through his scalp as a horn grew out. His skin turned red and thick, and within minutes of walking, he developed heavy and sturdy full-body armor.
“Blood God’s blessing?”
“May the Four Dark Gods protect us!”
“He ascended?”
Now, the Norska man had elevated from human to demon.
He stood before the Norska, his empty eye sockets glowing red, saying:
“The Four Dark Gods have granted me a new life. I can see more than ever now. Either submit to me and seek the blessing of the Four Dark Gods, or take my axe!”
The remaining Norska eagerly swore allegiance to him, recognizing him as their leader.
The newly appointed dual-axe leader looked in the direction of Jima, seeing the connection between her and him like a line connecting them both.
That was the bond left by Jima’s curse.
At that moment, a heavily armored cow burst out of the flames, its nostrils adorned with copper rings, exhaling breath that could ignite the grass on the ground. Its armor bore the blasphemous sacred emblem.
That was the Blood God’s blessing, a steed given to him.
Upon seeing its master, the armored cow kicked off its hind legs and galloped fiercely, shaking the ground with each step, charging towards the dual-axe leader with its sharp horns.
Weaklings cannot obtain the Blood God’s blessing.
The dual-axe leader seemed to foresee this; he rushed up with a slide and smoothly slipped underneath the armored cow, slicing through its belly with his axe, creating a spark of fire and blood.
The armored cow fell, then stood up again, the wounds on its body disappearing, bowing its head to the dual-axe leader.
“Come with me,” he said, raising his axes to the crowd. “Let’s go kill a succubus; along the way, we will gather more allies.”
