Chapter 150 Chapter 146 Destiny
On the land rich with the winds of magic, Jima flew quickly, easily shaking off the blood-armored dragon knight riding a zombie dragon.
He was very powerful, and Jima had divined several times, only to learn his name.
Blood Dragon Knight Duncan.
Jima had heard of his name, believing in the formidable vampire of the Blood God, who tirelessly fought and slaughtered on the eternal battlefield. It was said that he was ancient and powerful.
In front of him, those like Veline, whose strength relied entirely on lineage and time, the so-called progenitor of the bloodlines, were insignificant.
Truly worthy of being the Chosen of Eternity, able to summon such a strong ally with the assistance of the Four Gods.
While flying, Jima thought more and more, growing increasingly anxious.
The addition of Blood Dragon Knight Duncan filled the last gap in the Chosen of Eternity—lack of aerial power.
What Jima feared most was that Blood Dragon Knight Duncan would directly slay the two-headed dragon in the air, obtain the fragments of the Demon King’s crown, and fly away without a second thought.
She could only stare helplessly.
In contrast, the only advantage on her side was their numbers, with an entire Kistrif Expeditionary Force. They had lost very little when ambushing the ratmen army, roughly around nine thousand troops, among which over a thousand were winged knights, and with the remaining cavalry, there were fewer than three thousand riders in total.
However, the Chosen of Eternity, Marus, had the strength to form an army alone. Non-artifact weapons striking him felt no different from a tickle, and he was skilled in various battlefield spells.
Jima suspected that even on an endless plain, if the Chosen of Eternity, Marus, directly confronted the Kistrif Expeditionary Force, the worst outcome would be that he would kill many Kistrif people and retreat unscathed.
The more she thought, the more impatient Jima became. Just the thought that the blue planet might have to say goodbye to her forever made her heart ache.
Should she seek insight from the Lord of Deception?
Forget it, everyone knew that the Lord of Deception loved to trick clever Chosen Ones.
But Jima suddenly realized that her every move might also be part of the Lord of Deception’s grand conspiracy.
I am a piece on the board; the Lord of Deception merely needs to give me strength, allowing me to act according to my ambition, to push forward His great scheme.
Jima clenched the “branch axe spear” with distaste as she sensed that invisible fingers were weaving her destiny.
She felt an urge to act contrarily and kick over the game board.
She angrily declared, “I don’t want this crown fragment anymore; I can just get up and leave, retiring to enjoy life.”
In an instant, Jima felt the heavens and earth expanding, and life was full of many possibilities.
But then, she recalled the glass orb and saw George’s sword plunging toward her future.
Reflecting on her past on Earth, as a worthless corporate drone, incompetent, cowardly, foolish, lacking spirit, and lacking the courage to take a life of an enemy, choosing instead to end her worm-like existence from a tall building.
Jima tightened her fists.
The pain in her chest pressing against the concrete floor was so real, causing her heart to ache, her anger flaring up, growing more painful, as if it were about to split.
But she could not suppress this anger, always unable to stop herself from thinking, making her forehead bead with sweat, her small face paling.
Meanwhile, in the magical realm.
In the ever-changing Phantom Palace of the Lord of Deception, the blue light dimmed.
The Well of Origins, said to be the birth point of all things, including the world, emanated from this well.
Within the well lay the answers to all questions in the world. But even the Lord of Deception himself dared not enter it to peek into the truth. He tricked many mighty demons into the well, and none ever returned.
Except for the Weaver of Fate.
When he emerged from the well, he had an extra head—one head could see the future, while the other saw the past.
Now, he stood by the Well of Origins, predicting the future.
Two aging bird heads took turns speaking. Behind him, nine blue-feathered birdmen used blue feather quills; each blue-feathered birdman had nine secretaries, all recording the secrets he spoke, detailing the past and future he revealed.
The left head said:
“The succubus Jima is originally named Kima, and she is Kima herself.”
“Her soul does not belong to this world; it comes from another world. This is her greatest secret.”
The right head continued, “In the future, she will betray George using the blessed weapon in her hand to strike George’s back…”
The blue-feathered birdmen wrote with black-red blood as ink on a long thick piece of parchment, documenting Jima’s past and future, which was her destiny.
After the last word was finalized, serving as a period.
The long parchment detailing Jima’s fate was handed to the Weaver of Fate.
This tall, aged demon with two blue-feathered bird heads received the parchment in both hands; his eyes were blind, unable to perceive the “present.”
The right bird head, seeing the future, said, “She will have some variable, but she will return to the trajectory of fate, becoming a driving force in the Master’s grand conspiracy.”
After a while.
The left bird head, recalling the past said, “Just now, while weaving her fate, there was a minor variable that was not to be feared.”
The right bird head said, “It was after weaving the fate.”
The left bird head responded, “It was during the weaving of fate.”
The eighty-one secretaries accurately recorded what the Weaver of Fate said, even if it was self-contradictory.
Because the Weaver had one head lying, while the other spoke the truth. And he worshipped the Lord of Deception, who revered change. Thus, it was possible that in one moment, the left head spoke lies, and in the next, it spoke the truth.
Everything was uncertain, and everything was constantly changing.
As the chosen one of the Lord of Deception.
Jima could vaguely feel that a huge conspiracy enveloped her; the web of destiny had ensnared her, seeming to allow her to soar freely in the sky, flying wherever she wished.
But no matter how she flew, she still had to return to George’s side, continuing her effort to seize the crown fragments.
The sky darkened.
On the cracked black land, there was an open space. Eight white fire basins lit up, surrounding a vast open area, as large as a whole football field.
The holy power filtered out the winter wind laden with magic, protecting this place.
So large, it could not be made solely for a six-member savior squad, but for…
Jima stretched out her index finger to estimate in the air the marching distance covered today by the savior squad led by George.
She could see the exit they emerged from underground, noticing the black forest of rock spikes, and taking one last look at the “sanctuary” under her feet.
The distance was pitifully short, at a rough estimate of less than fifteen kilometers.
Fifteen kilometers in a whole day; they weren’t even normal people—Felix was weak, but he could ride atop a celestial steed.
Clearly, they spent most of their time on the rituals to create a forward “sanctuary” for the Kistrif Expeditionary Force.
Thinking this made Jima feel the blood vessels near her temples pulse with frustration.
Now, whichever small team reaches the two-headed dragon’s lair first would obtain more detailed intelligence and have a better chance of getting the Demon King’s crown fragments.
What is George leading the team for?
To do logistics here!
Is he not proud?
How could he hand over such a great achievement to Beow, that false hero?
Jima was greatly displeased as she glared at her little face. She descended from the air, where George sat by the campfire, took a sip of hot tea, and waved at Jima.
“Jima, you came back just in time. Could you make a separate serving of stinky tofu for Jenna?”
“Indeed, it’s great to be back, just in time to play the chef, but it also fits our little team’s positioning.” Jima said: “It’s like a mess hall; why don’t we just stop moving forward?”
“Set up a pot here, I’ll cook, Frostleaf can build a stone tower, open an inn, and Jenna can provide medical services with her medicine box. You have a loud voice, so just call out at the door to help gather guests and throw out some drunks at the same time.”
George said, “Jima, you sound quite unhappy.”
“Of course I’m unhappy. The Chosen of Eternity is assembling troops, sharpening their swords, ready to make a move. Beow set off ahead, also preparing for an operation.”
Jima paused and said, “And you? Leading us to open a tavern? Responsible for logistics?”
George replied, “Beow’s progress is fast. After communicating with them remotely, I decided to build sanctuaries along the way to prevent excessive losses to the army.”
Jima felt a tightness in her chest.
“Why is it us? Why not them?” Jima’s voice rose: “They are faster; can’t they set up sanctuaries ahead?”
“Setting up sanctuaries is still our advantage; it’s just a division of labor.” George said: “The intelligence from Beow’s team will also be shared with us.”
Jima’s chest ached more.
“Written words are no match for seeing with one’s own eyes; if they delay a little longer…” The more she looked at George’s face, the more dissatisfied she felt. She stomped her foot in anger and said: “I really regret having you as a captain!”
