Chapter 62: Chapter 61: Deception
Young Daggi was caught up in a frenzy, dancing and flailing his arms, looking as if his head had been pumped full of adrenaline.
Jima was not pleased and said, “George, we don’t have time.”
George pointed at the still dreaming troll and said, “You get ready. I’ll take care of these two kids first, then we can discuss how to attack Village Six.”
Jima muttered something Georges couldn’t understand: “Timing is of the essence in warfare.”
The surviving troll remained lost in the beautiful dream woven by Jima, completely unaware that the bodies of seven companions were burning nearby. Its eyes were vacant, drooling continuously.
Jima stepped in front of him, pinching his nose, raised her right hand, and began to weave his dream.
In the troll’s dream, he was feasting on delicious child meat. Suddenly, two or three hundred children ran over, all decked out in gold and silver, looking not only tasty but wealthy as well. The other seven companions immediately dropped what they were eating and rushed over, ordering him to go back and report.
The troll shook its head violently, refusing to comply. The intensity of the shaking nearly splattered drool onto Jima’s head.
She shouted, “George, come help me hit him!”
“I’m busy.”
Jima turned her head to see George was teaching young Daggi, unaware of what was being said. She felt a sense of crisis; if young Daggi got too excited and let something slip, wouldn’t she have to find a hole to hide in?
Had she known this would happen, she would have killed to keep quiet, but alas… alas.
Jima picked up a branch axe, turned around, and struck the troll’s cheek with a heavy blow, causing it to pivot its head. In his dream, he imagined that because he refused to report back, the leading troll struck him hard across the face, waking him up in confusion.
Eve Frostleaf, who was watching, immediately picked up her longbow, an arrow resting on the string.
Jima raised her hand to stop her.
The troll was finally aware, even before he realized what was happening.
Jima shouted, “You’re finally awake! I thought you were knocked out cold.”
The troll looked down, squinting: “Little horned person?”
As it spoke, it raised its stick.
Jima, the succubus, raised her voice, “Are you seeking death? I’m a messenger of the sinful one who sent me to deliver her gospel to you.”
The troll, not easily fooled, put down its stick and said, “You don’t look like one.”
She insisted, “Before I was blessed, I was also a troll.”
The troll blinked its yellow eyes, examining Jima closely—her long, clean, and smooth black hair went down to her waist, she looked strange, and her figure was deformed and skinny. Her skin was unsightly, smooth, without hard skin and mushrooms, looking like a troll suffering from “peeling disease.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Jima pointed at her own shiny horns, saying, “I have two horns, and you also have two horns. Our horns are the same. If you don’t believe me, feel it.”
The troll, half-convinced, lowered its stick and touched the horn that had grown from the blessing mutation.
“Look, you grew horns from the blessing. I also grew horns, plus a tail and wings, so I am also a troll. Isn’t that right?”
It sounded reasonable, but the horned troll still felt there was something off.
Before the troll could think further, Jima continued to use her extraordinary abilities to deceive him:
“The big yellow-faced troll you followed just told me that you were sent back as a messenger to report, and he also said that if you refused, he’d strike your head with his stick.”
Now the troll believed Jima was a blessed mother troll and, scared, stepped back a few paces, saying, “You look really strange, your skin is smooth, pinkish—do you have peeling disease?”
Peeling disease is a fatal illness for trolls, causing them to lose their proud self-healing abilities.
Jima answered honestly, “No.”
The troll didn’t believe Jima at all, retreating a few steps: “Just stay away from me.”
As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped on a charred corpse and looked down to see the charred body of the leading yellow-faced troll. George had slashed him in half, and the body was still smoking.
“What is this?” The horned troll quickly retracted its legs. “Is it, is it—”
“The leftover child from earlier,” Jima said seriously. “You see, children have two hands; this one has two hands as well. That’s a child. I thought he was too tall and strong, so I tore him in half and roasted him to eat.”
Eve Frostleaf silently observed the charred body of the three-meter-tall troll on the ground, split in two. The amount of meat there could easily feed ten children. Moreover, trolls inherently loathed fire, and no troll, even the dullest, would be fooled by such a poor lie.
But looking at Jima, she seemed reliable and unlikely to be joking.
The horned troll pointed at the seven charred corpses of its companions and asked, “What about these?”
“All children.”
“Why are they so big?”
“Blessings from the Four Dark Gods.”
The horned troll raised its stick and shouted at Jima, “You’re lying to me!”
Eve Frostleaf silently raised her bow.
Then, the horned troll’s next words made her lower her bow: “Only trolls suffering from peeling disease would use fire because they’re unhealthy already. Stay away from me!”
Jima exclaimed, “You’re so clever.”
The horned troll pointed his stick at Eve Frostleaf and asked, “What about this white bean sprout?”
Jima said nonchalantly, “That’s a goblin archer, blessed by our god. Look at her ears; aren’t they long?”
It is well known that blessings from the Four Dark Gods can lead to a multitude of bizarre mutations in appearance.
Eve Frostleaf huffed and remained silent.
The horned troll pointed at George, who was teaching the children, “What about him?”
“Black orc. His weapon is the biggest cleaver in the entire tribe.”
“And her?”
“Her?” Jima said. “Just like me, she’s also a mother troll. Jenna, lift that rock to show him.”
“She doesn’t have horns!”
Jenna, helpless, bent down and picked up a boulder half-buried in the ground. The rock was as large as her half body; with a strain, she pulled it from the dirt and dropped it to the ground.
Jima said, “She’s strong; trolls are also strong, so she is a mother troll.”
The horned troll tapped its head and thought for a moment, feeling Jima made a lot of sense.
“So? Why are you here?”
“To go back with you and tell your kin that the blessings from our god have arrived,” Jima said. “You’ve seen many children adorned in gold and silver, right? Those are blessings for you all to come together; the more, the better.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go, let’s go!”
Having said that, he eagerly lifted his stick and led the way.
“Wait,” Jima said. “Look at us; we four have received blessings and look strange. It would be hard to explain, so help us explain, or else there won’t be any blessings left.”
“Okay.” The horned troll was as happy as a child but suddenly grew dark again: “Stay away from me!”
Jima took a few steps back and said, “Let’s go; someone’s leading the way.”
“Old Bai, take good care of them,” George waved to Old Bai and walked with Jima behind the troll. “What do you plan to do?”
“Have that idiot bring a group of trolls to find the so-called blessings,” Jima said. “Then we will raid Village Two.”
The four of them followed the troll up the hill and saw many trolls heading out from the distant town; he asked:
“Are you confident?”
Jima patted her chest, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Once they see a troll leading four people, they won’t be alert.”
Thus, a group of four and a cheerful troll swaggered directly toward “Village Two,” ready for a massacre to save people.
