Chapter 177 Chapter 172 Back to Earth
In a local tavern half-buried underground, a bald brute stood at the entrance, his bare arms displaying strong muscles covered in tattoos, his expression fierce, making a significant contribution to the tavern’s order.
Even the most intoxicated patrons would regain their senses before his imposing height and muscular build.
A sign hung on the tavern door, reading: “No kicking the door; anyone who does will face the consequences!”
A silver-haired Akannis rushed over, lifted his foot, and attempted to kick the door.
“Stop, shorty!” The bald brute reached out to block him, bellowing, “Dare to kick the door, and I’ll kick you into the gutter across the street.”
Akannis lowered his foot and took a few steps back.
“That’s better—”
Before he could finish, Akannis sprinted forward, leaped, and kicked the tavern door, which fell to the ground with a loud crash, kicking up a cloud of dust.
In an instant, everyone in the bustling tavern turned to look at him.
Akannis joyfully raised both hands and said, “Happy to see you all!”
“You rascal!”
The bald brute kicked from behind him, but Akannis twisted his waist like a rubber band, dodging the kick, then grabbed the brute’s leg and pulled, throwing him to the ground.
“Damn it, damn it! I swear I’ll kick you into the gutter,” the bald brute exclaimed as he stood up, feeling a chill below.
The surrounding patrons burst into laughter as he looked down to find his pants missing, revealing only his underwear.
How could he have sneaked away with pants tied with a belt?
“Hey, cute and sexy. The boss lady, who’s only slightly less chesty than a succubus.” Akannis placed the bald brute’s pants and a silver coin on the table. “A big mug of beer, please.”
The boss lady, plump, with a waist as round and thick as a bathtub, looked at him incredulously.
“Where did this little mouse come from, kicking my door and stealing the pants of my doorman to buy beer?”
“Of course!” Akannis shouted. “I also want to treat everyone to a drink to celebrate my wife’s death. Let everyone drink to their heart’s content today; the money’s right here.”
Akannis jumped onto the table, reached into his bag, and tossed a handful of shiny gold coins.
The gleam of gold awakened the boss lady’s hospitality.
Suddenly, she thought that the tavern door needed replacing and reconsidered having that sign, as it always made customers feel the tavern was unfriendly.
Other patrons hurriedly gathered the fallen gold coins.
The bald brute crouched, picking up the coins from the ground.
“Go ahead, pick them up.” Akannis raised someone else’s drink. “Cheers to my freedom! Cheers to my wife’s death!”
The tavern was lively all night long.
…
…
“Don’t pour out the ashes inside. These ashes are snow-white and delicate; she must have been a beautiful woman in life. What a pity, marrying a poor loser.”
“What use does dead stuff have?”
“Make up a story that she was the daughter of an electors’ candidate who eloped with a poor loser and ended up being abused daily, with her family disowning her. After her death, even her urn was pawned by her husband for booze.”
“But what’s the use of that?”
“Heh, then you’ll only be a servant for life. You can take it to auction, claiming it’s a love grave. Nobles will like that story; keep it safe and send it to the city tomorrow.”
“What if her owner comes to redeem it?”
“Impossible, just a drunkard. Even if he comes, just say it’s lost. What can he do?”
As a lowly servant, since he received the gold-embellished urn, he felt something was off, very off.
He always felt that the ashes “were not dead” and could pop out at any moment. It was hard to articulate this feeling; everyone said the older a person was, the closer they were to death, and thus they were more sensitive to it.
The old servant increasingly believed that saying was true, as he sensed the urn exuding a deathly aura.
Before sleeping, he placed the precious urn on the wall cabinet in his room, facing the foot of the bed so that he could see it as soon as he opened his eyes.
For some reason, the weather was particularly cold, and the entire room felt like a tomb.
The old servant wrapped up tightly in his blankets and painstakingly fell asleep. In his half-awake, half-dreaming state, he faintly heard the sound of a girl crying.
In the darkness, a beautiful girl was crying, her skin as white as snow, mourning her love for a man she should not have loved.
Filled with pity, the old servant approached, wanting to comfort her.
But he saw the girl’s figure blurred, revealing a ghost. He wanted to escape, but his feet felt as though they were nailed to the ground, unable to move an inch.
Suddenly, the surroundings transformed into a graveyard. After the girl’s figure vanished, from below her, a coffin lid flew open. A girl with dead-white skin and half-rotted face stood up, reaching out to him with sharp teeth and claws.
“Ah!”
The old servant woke up in fright. He heard a noise and saw a blurry shadow in the dark, something white swaying.
It was the girl! It must be her.
The old servant shouted, “Who… who’s there?”
“Burp.” Akannis burped and stuffed Velin’s urn into his bag.
The old servant quickly lit an oil lamp, realizing it was a thief. Anger boiled within him as he grabbed a cane and rushed at Akannis, shouting, “You little thief!”
Akannis drew his curved knife. Upon seeing the old man with a cane, he became frightened and covered his head. The cane struck his head; he yelled and escaped through the window, disappearing into the darkness.
He stumbled out of the city but found no sign of the caravan.
“Where’s home? Where’s my home?” he cursed, like a dog, crouching on the ground to sniff, examining the tracks and following the trail, disappearing into the night.
He eventually found his caravan in a yard on the outskirts of the town.
A few armed men, illuminated by torches, were moving things out of the caravan.
“There’s even a dining table and cutlery inside?” a beer-bellied man picked up a dish basin. “It’s really clean; maybe this traveler has a wife.”
“It’d be great if we could snatch his wife too.” Another man with a garlic-shaped nose held a stack of neatly arranged ceramic bowls. “Look, there are even spice boxes inside.”
“Struck it rich, struck it rich, it’s all for cooking.” The beer-bellied man said, “That traveler must be living the good life. I wonder which noble is out traveling, eating so well.”
“Who cares? It’s our turn to enjoy now.”
“Burp.”
A strong smell of alcohol wafted from behind.
“Who’s that?”
A dark blade slashed across a throat. In under ten seconds, only one breathing sound remained in the entire yard. Darkness swallowed the wheezing of the dying.
The next day.
When Akannis awoke from his hangover, the horizon was bathed in golden dawn light.
He rose from the caravan, and the scenery before him swayed and came back into focus.
Two horses pulled the caravan, grazing leisurely on the grass.
Akannis, like a philosopher, pondered over what happened yesterday but couldn’t recall much; he only remembered drinking a lot to celebrate his newfound freedom.
“I feel terrible.” Akannis slapped his head, “I really shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
A morning breeze blew toward him, and Akannis took a deep breath. The thought of possibly having escaped Velin for good lifted his spirits.
He jumped on a horse and gave it a hearty whip on its rear, shouting, “Let’s go! A wonderful day, here I come!”
“Today is just terrible!”
Dawn light spilled over Jima’s head.
She walked along the ceremonial formation, green grass grew around the magic array, and a circular disk floated slowly at the center of the array as Jima received it.
She had tried for several days, but there was no trace of a crossing, not even a sign.
Jima’s initial confidence gradually shifted to her current anxious state.
Scratching her black hair, Jima struggled to think about what had gone wrong.
At that moment, she suddenly felt a gaze piercing through her body.
Damn it! Damn it! It’s pinpointed me again.
Jima looked toward the distant east, as if she could see a young George, glaring at her with bloodshot blue eyes, searching for her.
She hadn’t forgotten that George’s previous profession was “Arbitrator.”
The more evidence he collected, the greater the harm to the criminal. Moreover, it appeared he had an extremely strong tracking ability. And she couldn’t recall how many “strong anchors” she had left in his hands.
Jima felt her breathing becoming difficult—even though she didn’t currently need to breathe.
Curse it! George’s abilities countered her on all fronts. She lied, and he could discern lies; she created illusions, and he had the eye of reality.
Before the eternal chosen Marus could come for her, George could already chop her into pieces before she even had a chance to react.
Jima halted, putting away the disk, muttering to herself, “Finally found that slut!”
Seconds later, Jima vanished into thin air.
In the eastern part of the empire.
In a city adjacent to Kisleaf, this city seemed like a solitary island of civilization.
The black forest surrounded this city.
A main road stretched straight to Kisleaf, making it an important hub city from the empire to Kisleaf.
Since the twin-tailed comet streaked across the sky, countless people with aspirations to resist the doomsday army had come.
There were mercenaries, adventurers, scholars, and knights pursuing glory.
But sometimes, the knightly pursuit of glory could yield to the allure of beauty.
A blonde knight knelt before a tall elf woman, while behind him, another knight rolled on the ground, covering his face.
The blonde knight took the outstretched hand of the tall elf and said, “Beautiful lady—”
“Shh~~” The bespectacled Ritis gestured for him to be quiet, leaning closer to sniff the blonde knight. “Hmm, good. You followed my advice, sprayed perfume, and took a good bath. I like you a lot.”
The blonde knight blushed with excitement and said, “Though everybody says you humiliated me by making me wear lady’s perfume, I believe you would never insult a knight who upholds your reputation.”
“Of course.” Ritis, even more eager than he was, pulled him up and said, “We should go to a private place now. I want to thank you for upholding my reputation by hearing your magnificent battle stories.”
“I feel immensely honored, Sanchi, hold my horse tight—what is this?”
Suddenly, a woman with dark horns, large wings, and dressed in red with hair like the night treaded into the air.
She clasped her hands in front of her face, then lowered them to reveal her veiled face.
The blonde knight immediately fell into a trance.
Jima strode up to Ritis, shouting, “Ritis! Finally found you, you damned liar! If you don’t want to die, come with me!”
The blonde knight snapped back to reality, drew his sword, and whispered a prayer, “May the lake goddess protect me.”
He stood defensively in front of Ritis, sternly admonishing, “Demon! Depart at once, or I’ll use my blade—”
Jima pointed her finger, and the blonde knight vanished on the spot—trapped by a maze spell.
“Just as expected of my student.” Ritis glared enviously at Jima and said, “All the men on this street are looking at you.”
“I don’t have the mood to joke now,” Jima replied. “My ex-husband is out there with a sword, chasing me. He always knows where I am, and here you are, right in this damned place. If he jumps out from the roadside to cut me down, I won’t be surprised at all.”
“If you continue to dilly-dally and lie to me, I’ll cast a curse on you that ensures every man who sees you will want to vomit, with only women wanting to use you. I mean it.”
Ritis replied, “There’s no need for that.”
“I can let you experience it right now.” Jima raised her hand, snapping her fingers. “First, the admiration of women.”
Originally screaming or showing jealousy, the women all turned their fiery gaze on Ritis.
Ritis trembled and said, “That’s disgusting. I’ll come with you!”
“Good, hold my hand tightly.”
Jima snapped her fingers again, and the surroundings transformed into a black-and-white dream environment; Ritis closed her eyes in the dream.
Jima felt her body growing heavier within the dream, making it difficult to traverse the dream and cross the entire continent at will. She blinked quickly and performed a divination.
Sure enough, she realized she was restricted by someone.
Outside the wilderness, a trail of smoke was rising from a “dream seed.”
Jima, along with drowsy Ritis, flew through the dreamscape. Arriving near the dream seed, she could now use the “dream seed” parasitizing on a human body to directly shift from the dream to reality.
With another snap.
The monotonous black and white were filled with vibrant colors. Not far under a tree, a woodsman was napping, caught in an unnatural sleep—only a constructed plaything by Jima with a “dream seed.”
Ritis stood in her sleep, and Jima punched her in the face, shouting, “Wake up! Quickly tell me the real way to use the disk!”
Ritis jolted awake.
Jima said coldly, “Hurry up, or I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Why so rude?” Ritis replied. “If you keep this up, I’ll get angry and start rambling.”
“Then I’ll go all out.” Jima declared, “I just upgraded to diamond; I haven’t even tested my abilities yet, and I’m in dire need of a lively test subject.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you.” Ritis responded. “It’s simple; the ritual I mentioned isn’t wrong, but it needs my blood.”
“Then why didn’t you say so? Is it going to take a bathtub’s worth of blood?”
“No need.” Ritis said, “I’m worried that if I smear my blood on it, it might send me back to my original world.”
“How many years have you spent in this world?”
Ritis counted on her fingers, “A century? Or one-and-a-half? I can’t remember; time passes so quickly. I thought I arrived in this wonderful world just a week ago.”
“Wonderful?”
“Yeah!” Ritis exclaimed. “The men here are so proactive. They even fight for me. Unlike in my world, when I like a man, there are usually ten women who like him too. We must have a good fight, and even that isn’t enough; I have to buy gifts. My gosh, I really don’t want to go back.”
Jima muttered something quietly, her voice low.
“What are you doing?”
“Reciting a composite curse.” Jima said. “You talk so much; I believe you haven’t faced my curses yet.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t; I’ll just smear my blood.” Ritis complained. “You know, you remind me a lot of people back home.”
“Shut up.”
With the blood smeared, the ritual completed, the disk floated.
But the phenomena remained delayed.
Jima continued murmuring.
“Don’t, don’t, don’t.” Ritis said, “It needs time, yes, time.”
“I’m just preparing a backup.” Jima responded. “In case the pursuers come after me all the way to Earth. Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know.”
Before she finished speaking, a blue tunnel suddenly appeared in the air above the disk.
At the same time.
A familiar sensation struck Jima like an electric shock.
She turned her head just in time to see an ice crystal arrow shot from a fleeting silver figure.
It was Eve Frostleaf.
The arrow skewed, exploding, with icy mist spreading everywhere.
Next, three or four arrows flew simultaneously, directly targeting the disk.
With Eve Frostleaf here, George wouldn’t be far behind!
“Why so fast?!” Jima gritted her teeth, summoning a bald-headed figure to shield against the arrows while attempting to charm Eve Frostleaf, turning her head to ask, “Ritis! What’s next?”
“Dive right in.”
Thank goodness, Eve Frostleaf stood there looking confused, halting her barrage of arrows. But thanks to Eve, the disk began wobbling, the blue tunnel growing unstable and seeming to tremble uncontrollably.
“Is the situation okay?”
“I don’t know; it was more stable when I came here.”
“You go in first.” Jima urged Ritis.
She wanted to be cautious, but all her caution evaporated the moment she saw a white flash closing in.
Terrified, Jima yanked Ritis back and dove into the blue tunnel.
At the moment of entry, flowing azure lightning surrounded her. She saw a tunnel appear ahead, and a divination revealed it led to Earth.
However, despite the surreal sight, Jima wasn’t captivated. As she cast the maze spell, she looked back.
In the distance, where the flowing blue lightning pulsed, there was only a small hole—Ritis was as tiny as a dot, and behind that dot, a silver-armored figure leapt in.
A sharp, vengeful gaze locked onto her.
But in the next second, the “maze spell” blurred everything, obstructing his line of sight.
Suddenly, a hole appeared before Jima. She rushed through it, and the surrounding flowing blue lightning immediately vanished, as if it were merely a dream.
Yes, a dream.
Strange surroundings enveloped her; she felt no trace of magical winds.
Beneath her feet was solid gray stone, and to her right was an oddly shaped tall building, thick and straight, covered in chunks of glass likely influenced by reproductive worship.
Next to her long boots lay a man in a black short-sleeve shirt, sprawled on the gray stone, next to him lay a pair of black-framed glasses with a broken leg.
He stretched his right hand forward, pressing his index finger against a cracked piece of glass which had strange characters on it, four lines of orderly characters displayed below, showing:
“120”
Jima froze for a second, but the intense pain in her chest reminded her.
These were Arabic numerals; 120 meant a vehicle full of personnel could be summoned.
As if electrified, the unwilling memories of the past surged in her mind.
Jumping off a building, she hadn’t died instantly upon landing on the concrete. Regret filled her as she struggled to reach her phone to dial 120, but she couldn’t press any buttons.
The corpse lying on the ground was her own.
Did I time travel back to the moment I died?
“***& jump off building*&…”
A sudden sound of footsteps echoed from the reproductive-worship-influenced tall building behind her.
Jima caught the unfamiliar yet familiar language, immediately activating her “Silent Hidden Barrier.”
A black-haired woman dashed out the doorway, pointing in Jima’s direction, saying to a few men behind her, “Hey! I just saw someone jumping down.”
“Did it land in the greenbelt?”
They moved closer but were completely unaware of the succubus standing next to a corpse, not even a meter away.
Jima ignored these mortals, squatting down to grab the dead woman’s black hair, which was greasy and messy. The yellowed hair was sprinkled with white flakes of dandruff, mixed with several strands of gray hair.
Jima turned the dead woman’s head, withdrawing her hand, complaining, “I should’ve worn gloves.”
The corpse’s profile was quite greasy, with visible blackheads on the nose, red marks from where glasses had pressed down on the bridge, and very prominent dark eye bags.
Jima stared for a few seconds, aligning the corpse’s face with her image from long-ago bitter memories.
A pathetic, pitiable weakling, living a life as a livestock, foolishly offering her flesh and blood to the big bad people.
“Hey, Wanziqi,” Jima coldly called her original name in Mandarin, “You waste, are you still alive?”
Wanziqi’s eyes widened, frozen in place.
“Of course she’s dead.” Jima pulled out a towel, vigorously wiping the grease off her hands, “You waste, why couldn’t you have died earlier? Hmm?”
Her chest ached; the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She kicked Wanziqi’s corpse, causing it to curl into a C-shape, revealing a pool of blood underneath.
“Why are you so stupid? Don’t you know how hard it is to earn money? Working overtime, taking on extra shifts, all the benefits go to others. You get so little yet give it all to that woman. Even when she gets mad, you just hand her all your hard-earned money. You’re just… a softie! A waste!”
Jima kicked Wanziqi’s corpse again, her own body.
She took a moment to compose herself, placing her hands on her head as she took a deep breath and said, “I am a waste.”
In conclusion, she thought of something and gazed at a group of mortals very close to her.
“But that’s no longer the case.”
Although she felt not an ounce of magic in her homeland, at least, for now, her abilities were still usable. Looking at these foolish mortals, who remained completely unaware of her presence, there’s no way they could cause her any trouble.
“Look above!”
“What? Where?”
“There!”
“A hole!”
Following their fingers and gaze, Jima’s heart skipped a beat.
There, a large hole floated, the kind she had crawled through, hovering three floors up, right above her head.
“Crack.”
The mortals held a device called a smartphone, releasing bursts of white light.
“Quick, post this online.”
Jima recalled the internet, smartphones, and the evils of photo-taking, and her face darkened.
Then, thinking of surveillance cameras, her expression soured even more.
——————
To be continued 3/5
