0p0 Chapter 168 The Legacy of the God-King (Part 2)
Chapter 168 The Legacy of the God-King (Part 2)
Another night of heavy drinking ensued. This is how the people of the desert are: as long as they have wine in their hands, no matter how cold the night wind is, it can't compare to the burning liquid rolling down their throats.
They reminisced about the dangers and feats of their youthful desert adventures, teased each other about their embarrassing past experiences, sometimes bursting into laughter over a simple joke, and sometimes sighing in frustration at the helplessness of reality.
Finally, the bottles were empty, the campfire went out, and they fell into a deep sleep amidst their fading conversation, leaving behind empty bottles scattered on the ground reflecting the cold moonlight in the sky.
If you have wine today, you will be drunk today.
Even as the sun rises tomorrow, the threat of evil still hangs high overhead, and the weight of life is accompanied by the clash of swords. Even if they are dissolved into the sea of sand, washing everything away is the fate of the desert people.
But at least, they were happy tonight.
This night is a golden dreamland.
Kusela seemed to be dreaming, dreaming of Dixia growing up, dreaming of that timid little girl who had held his hand, now a blazing beast whose roar shook the desert.
Although this wasn't exactly what he wanted her to be, he was still proud of her.
Then, the dream woke up.
He sat up, clutching his head which ached from the alcohol, and looked up to see the familiar, chaotic scene inside the tent.
Kucera gave a wry smile. He parted the thick curtain of the tent and looked out. Outside the camp, the sky was full of stars again.
The bottles were still scattered all over the ground, but Balsha, Tikriti, and Idrissi were nowhere to be seen.
They've gone to carry out a mission... That's good.
He sat back in his tent, sitting there listlessly, his thoughts churning in the silence.
Tomorrow is another day to report to the God-King's Legacy.
The legacy of the God-King has grown rapidly in just a few years. Under the banner of following the Crimson King, they have gathered most of the mercenaries who hate the rainforest, and have also used despicable means to control nearly half of the gilded brigades in the desert.
The troupe's survival was extremely difficult, but under the overwhelming military threat of the God-King's legacy and the unquestionable authority of the Red King, the only option for the affiliated troupes was to remain silent in their anger.
A criminal record is a nightmare that haunts their minds. If they disobey the orders left by the God-King, being disgraced or buried in the yellow sand is the luckiest outcome.
Kucera was already tired of this kind of life, and he often saw the weariness on his brothers' faces.
The darkness has no end, and the swamp will only get deeper and deeper until nothing remains.
Earlier, Cousela had conceived a plan in his mind, a vague, rough plan, but one that would produce immediate results.
But each time, he hesitated, shrank back, and comforted himself, thinking that perhaps things would still turn around.
He mocked himself, the hero who thought he could save the world, for he was nothing but a shameful coward.
Because he hadn't yet watched his Desia grow up.
However, fate is like a venomous snake lurking in the darkness, always baring its fangs at unexpected moments.
Mishal's ambitions continued to grow, no longer confined to the barren lands of the desert.
A few days ago, the remnant of the God-King recklessly killed the envoy sent by the Rainforest to negotiate peace, and relations between the two sides deteriorated rapidly, reaching the brink of armed conflict.
Kucera finally realized that he had no way out.
If conflict breaks out again between the desert and the rainforest, the peripheral, gilded tour groups will inevitably be the first to suffer.
They could either let their brother become a victim of the conflict between the rainforest and the legacy of the god-king, or watch as little Dishia never had the chance to escape this chaotic desert again.
Either take a gamble.
Kucera suddenly smiled with relief and let out a long sigh.
Does he have any other choice?
A victory achieved even at the cost of mutual destruction is still a victory.
He gently stroked the toy sword that Dixia had used when she was a child, and his gaze fell on a small pile of dates that he had picked earlier and placed in the corner of the tent.
I'd completely forgotten, the little girl has already gone on a long trip.
Although all he can make is date porridge that doesn't taste good.
Letters with scribbles and corrections were scattered on the table. Kucera had no interest in making any more changes. He randomly picked a bottle from the empty wine bottles on the floor and stuffed the letter inside.
If you ever remember home, come back and visit. This is the last thing I'm leaving you.
I am not a good father, and in fact, I am not your real father either.
But you will always be my daughter.
The remaining wine soaked into the letter paper, blurring the writing.
Kusela picked up the toy sword, stuck it into her cane, and slowly walked out of the camp.
The hidden wounds from his early competitive nature gradually surfaced with age, but he disguised them quite well; at least when he deliberately provoked an argument with the young girl, she didn't notice.
As for those brothers, they couldn't be kept in the dark, but they're probably already on their way to the rainforest.
He turned back and looked longingly at the camp of Ahmar's Beard, where a few mercenaries were still patrolling, and campfires were lit, shining with the light of home.
Then, he staggered into the night, leaving the light far behind.
"In the end, the valiant mercenary slew the dragon and rescued the princess."
He can't be a hero, nor does he deserve to be one, but he can slay the dragon and save the princess.
The journey was long, from darkness to darkness, from the campsite to the Hall of Transfiguration.
Finally, one night, he went underground and entered the archives of the God-King's Legacy.
There, the "records" of coercing the legion of the God-King are sealed.
The archives were cold and damp, the marble walls exuding a chilling aura.
Like a swamp that swallows everything, there is no light here, only a sticky, thick darkness, suffocating you in malice.
Kusela fumbled among the rows of heavy wooden shelves and found the records of Ahmar's Mustache deep in the archives. On the dirty parchment, the names of the troupe members were clearly listed.
Then he sat down.
The long journey worsened his already weakened body; he gasped for breath, his heart pounding in the darkness.
Fortunately, it's time for me to get some rest.
With a slightly trembling hand, Kousera struck the flint, and a flame shot up. With a flick of his wrist, the light instantly pierced the thick darkness, igniting the parchment displayed on the wooden shelf.
It's cold here, we should start a fire.
He watched the flames rise, their orange-red light shining and slowly engulfing everything in place of darkness.
At this point, he suddenly stopped being afraid.
So he sat down again, calmly drawing the toy sword from his cane. The blade reflected the firelight, radiating a warm glow.
"The evil dragon has been slain by Princess Desia."
"Come on, quick, the most crucial lines."
"You're the one who defeated the dragon, everyone wants to hear you speak."
"Sigh, there's really no other way, I guess I'll have to do it myself."
"Therefore, I hereby declare victory! There will be no more evil dragons!"
He suddenly smiled; in his heart, he also longed to say that line.
The boy who once vowed to slay the dragon ended up becoming one of the dragon's minions.
But who can say that the dragon's claws and teeth cannot one day pierce the dragon's heart?
The fire was spreading, and the raging flames consumed the darkness along with the crime. In the distance, the sounds of hurried footsteps and curses gradually came, but he knew it was too late.
Kucera sat quietly cross-legged, closed his eyes, gently drew his sword, and raised it above his head.
Just like in the story, except he can no longer hold his princess's hand.
"I am here—"
"Declare victory."
The firelight reflected in his pupils; it was the destruction of everything, but also the dawn of new life.
"From now on, there will be no more evil dragons."
As bricks and stones crumbled and pillars collapsed, just as flames were about to engulf everything, he finally turned around for the first time.
Dixia, my child.
If you could see all of this
Would you feel even a little bit proud of me?