Chapter 125: Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: Teasing
Volume Four: Betrayal and Healing, Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two
In the swirling dust, the winged figure emerged, the surrounding dust gradually settling, and the figure became clearer. She was a woman, with dark horns and waist-length black hair. Despite the shadow covering most of her form, this silhouette exuded an extraordinary charm.
Everyone, whether ratfolk or dwarves, fixed their gaze upon her. The ratfolk stared at her smooth tail, lost in thought, while the dwarves focused on her shadowed face, imagining she had a perfect and beautiful beard.
The ratfolk leader stared at her horned tail and asked, “Reinforcements?”
Jima’s playful spirit surged, and she pointed at the ratfolk leader with her fingers and tail:
“I am the envoy of the Great Horned Rat. Your cunning and shamelessness have been noted by the Great Horned Rat. After a decision by the Thirteen Councils, I have been specially dispatched to bestow blessings upon you.”
The Great Horned Rat is the god of the ratfolk.
“Really?”
The ratfolk leader felt both joy and suspicion as greed surged in his heart, his pulse racing. It felt like a pie fallen from the sky had struck him.
At this moment, the dwarves raised their bull-eye lamps, and a beam of light fell on Jima, stripping away the shadows and revealing her smooth face and neck.
This looked too much like a human thing, not a single hair anywhere.
The ratfolk leader felt a flicker of doubt.
Suddenly, a dwarf shouted, “Demon!”
A crossbow bolt shot toward Jima’s face. Most people felt a jolt of panic, but the bolt seemed reluctant to harm her, veering off and plunging into the darkness.
The ratfolk leader had no doubt and said eagerly, “Please bestow your blessings quickly.”
A figure fell through a hole in the rock above, so heavy that the ground shook. Amidst the dust, George’s tall figure stood up, shouldering a giant sword and clad in heavy armor, unyielding.
The ratfolk were so frightened that they quickly aimed their spears at him.
Jima exclaimed loudly, “My loyal white-armored servant, come forth and impart supreme wisdom upon this supplicant with violence.”
George strode toward the ratfolk leader, gripping the hilt of his sword. His mirror-polished armor, though dusty, reflected light like a mirror under the flames.
The ratfolk leader joyfully knelt halfway before George, his rat head bowed, stealing glances at George as he drew closer, catching sight of a paper with sacred writing stuck to his breastplate with red wax, that he could not understand.
It must be some vicious spell; he needed to remember it well.
He also noticed the embossed emblem of the Temple on George’s shoulder armor, growing more familiar. Before the ratfolk leader could recall that this was the insignia of the God of Dawn.
George had already reached him and swung the hilt of his sword down forcefully onto his head. The weighted metal ball almost sank entirely into his skull; the ratfolk leader’s head sank down half a head and fell dead on the spot.
The ratfolk began to panic slightly.
Jima said, “The blessing has been bestowed.”
The ratfolk were deceived once again, all singing praises to the Great Horned Rat’s glory.
At this moment, Eve Frostleaf and Saintess Jenna descended, while Butcher Kretch bellowed, “Felix! You stepped on my head!”
The ratfolk looked at Jima in confusion.
“Don’t panic, they are my other servants, here to wholesale blessings to you.” Jima revealed a cruel smile, “That means death. Only death can make your foolish heads smart.”
George swung his sword fiercely, charging into the ratfolk crowd. Eve Frostleaf drew her longbow, arrows glowing with flames, while Saintess Jenna raised her hands, beams of light bursting forth from between her fingers.
In an instant, the ratfolk were terrified, screaming and fleeing in all directions.
Jima flew over their heads, experimenting with her latest singing technique, inspired by the explosion she heard from the ratfolk laboratory on that day. She imitated the sound of the explosion, letting out one high note after another.
With each note, a ratfolk fell.
Jima diligently worked on her technique, discovering that the more ratfolk fell, the better her singing became. With immediate feedback on her effectiveness, her improvement was astonishing, going from knocking down one ratfolk who fell foam-mouthed and dazed to knocking down seven with a single note.
The ratfolk fled or fell, leaving behind a ground full of corpses and wounded, vanishing into thin air.
Although Jima’s throat was hoarse, she felt quite satisfied. Since she was bound to be unable to level up and grow stronger, this small improvement made her very happy.
The dwarves gathered together, and Butcher Kretch explained the situation to the remaining dwarves while Saintess Jenna assisted the still-fighting ratfolk in rescuing the wounded.
Jima flew towards the dwarves and, upon landing, felt a bit of irritation in her throat. She pinched her throat with her fingers and coughed lightly. For some reason, even the battle-hardened horned helmet wearing dwarf instinctively took a step back, looking at her warily.
It must be due to their caution toward demons.
Jima generously forgave the dwarves for their disrespect.
“You are the succubus from legend?” the horned helmet wearing dwarf removed his helmet, looking at the succubus. “No wonder the young ones can’t help but stare at you. I’ve seen a few, long horned with three pairs of crab-claw hands—though quite odd-looking, unexpectedly charming. You are the most human-like succubus I’ve ever seen.”
Jima said, “Many succubi worship the lord of pleasure, and their aesthetics surpass mortal imagination; it’s quite normal.”
“Regardless, thank you,” the horned helmet wearing dwarf said. “So many fine young men have fallen today.”
“Aren’t you isolated and helpless, not guarding the city?” Jima said. “We saw countless ratfolk armies surrounding the City of Dragon Alone, making it impenetrable.”
“A small scene, nothing compared to the long-eared army I’ve seen before,” the horned helmet wearing dwarf responded in fluent common tongue. “But the ratfolk are more cunning than the long-eared; they can’t attack us head-on and keep digging tunnels to try and breach our unassailable dwarven stronghold. How could that be possible? I picked a group of good young men to charge in; we must collapse this whole mine.”
“You brought gunpowder?”
“Gunkpowder? What’s that?”
“Oh, I meant gunpowder.”
“Gunpowder? I understand what you mean.” The horned helmet wearing dwarf pointed at the dwarven engineer holding a matchlock gun. “The young fellows have come up with unreliable new things. How could I use that new gadget that might explode at any moment for this task?”
The dwarven engineer remained silent, looking elsewhere.
Jima said, “Isn’t gunpowder from Galis? I’ve heard that the Galis people create terrifying and powerful weapons with it.”
“So it’s a human brat’s thing, even more unreliable.” The horned helmet wearing dwarf’s thick fingers shook more vigorously. “Our ancestors’ runewood blast rods are far superior; that’s our traditional dwarven technology, solid and durable. We dwarves won the War of the Long Beards with rune equipment and regained our dignity.”
“You participated in the War of the Long Beards?” Jima asked, astonished. “That ancient war is older than the empire.”
“Of course.” The horned helmet wearing dwarf proudly lifted his chin. Though long and dense whiskers covered his chin, it was unclear whether he was lifting it or not. “I saw it with my own eyes; the arrogant king of the long ears fell alongside his dragon as the supreme king led the troops to surround them. The long ears went frantic, sending cavalry and spells trying to save their king, but we held firm. Their king’s head was chopped off, and his crown became our gift…”
“Enough with the rambling.”
Jima patiently listened and said, “I’ve heard dwarves repay their debts; our team needs to pass through the City of Dragon Alone to reach the two-headed dragon’s lair to retrieve a gem that concerns the world’s safety. I won’t hide it from you: the Eternal Chosen One is coming, competing with us for that gem.”
“I thought you were here to help.” The horned helmet wearing dwarf said, “I knew those people from Kirstle didn’t regard the pact one bit, just like humans. But we dwarves are not that weak; I will speak on your behalf to allow you to pass through the City of Dragon Alone. Besides, if you need anything, just say it.”
George’s voice came from behind. “We need information and someone familiar with the ratfolk language.”
Both turned to see George had just jumped down from a three-meter-high rock, pulling up his faceplate as he walked.
“You are?”
“The squad captain, Saint Paladin George.” George said. “I lead everyone, trying to destroy the gem that poses a threat to the world before the Eternal Chosen One. To be honest, this is quite difficult.”
“Youth, you don’t need to worry too much. The mortal world has never been something a team, a nation, or a race can save,” the horned helmet wearing dwarf said.
Jima automatically tuned out the long-winded speech that followed.
With Jenna’s assistance, the dwarves rescued six of the fallen, and they continued deeper into the mine to carry out their mission.
George was conversing with the horned helmet wearing dwarf, patiently listening to the latter’s ramble.
“Fortunately, the temple people are better than the Kirstlef folks; I should thank you all again.” Just then, Eve Frostleaf appeared on a rock, holding a short bow and draped in a large silver-trimmed cloak.
The horned helmet wearing dwarf immediately looked at her and said, “Even if she is a high elf, I will still thank her. Thank you, high elf.”
Eve Frostleaf didn’t even glance at him, lightly landing from the rock, her long legs draped in silver silk took a few steps across the dwarves, and she left.
The horned helmet wearing dwarf remarked, “Long ears are still so rude; it seems the suffering from the War of the Long Beards wasn’t enough.”
Eve Frostleaf ignored him and treated all the dwarves like air, striding confidently with her silver ponytail bouncing behind her neck.
What surprised Jima was that Eve Frostleaf walked close to her, just twenty centimeters away, and whispered, “Jima, dwarves are really disgusting, even worse than green skins. What do you think?”
So she wanted to chat with me; it seems that after rolling in the snow, our relationship is skyrocketing.
Jima immediately perked up and followed Eve’s lead, saying, “To be honest, every race has its strengths. For example, the green skins have excellent political systems, but dwarves, no, even dwarves have their merits.”
Eve Frostleaf’s lips curled upward slightly as she and Jima shared some jokes about dwarven racial discrimination. Thankfully, dwarves’ hearing is about the same as ordinary people; otherwise, they would probably be so enraged as to jump up, writing a book of hatred in blood.
The two women chatted happily as they journeyed from deep within the mine to the exit. Just after leaving the mine for a while, a rumbling sound echoed from inside.
Jima didn’t mind; her attention was entirely on Eve Frostleaf’s long legs behind her scale skirt, tracing the curves of her beautiful muscles, and the tail of her ponytail that danced at her waist and hips. Finally unable to resist, she reached out and grabbed that mischievous ponytail tip, saying:
“Frostleaf, your ponytail is so cute.”
Eve Frostleaf replied, “Hmm, Jima, you are also very cute.”
Eve Frostleaf didn’t refuse, and Jima breathed a sigh of relief, boldly asking, “When can we play together again?”
“There will be times.”
Hearing her affirmative response, Jima’s heart was filled with joy, almost unable to believe her ears.
