Chapter 939 - 460: Omniscient and Omnipotent

Damian was the oldest woman in the tribe.

She watched her tribespeople gathered around the bonfire, their faces beaming with joy as they faced the savory roast meat. Unlike them, her face was lined with worry. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the powerful Red Dragon was an ominous sign. Such a mighty creature intruding upon their peaceful lives could bring about a terrifying disaster.

But she was too old. It was already incredibly difficult for the tribe to support a woman over sixty. In other Demon Tribes, an elderly individual like her, who could no longer provide sufficient labor or combat power, would either be used for food or exiled to fend for herself. She knew she couldn’t say such depressing things while everyone else was celebrating.

"Sigh..."

The firelight flickered across her wrinkled, bark-like face, casting gloomy shadows. She could only pick up her rosary, part her dark, chapped lips, and silently chant the "Ode to the Saint."

Both the rosary in her hands and the scriptures of the "Ode to the Saint" had been passed down by her grandfather, who had died many years ago. It was said that his generation was the main force that followed the Hero Roland to fight their way into the Demon kingdom. To create an opportunity for Roland to penetrate deep into the demonic lands, countless people waged an epic war against the Demons. In the end, the Hero slew the Demon King, but countless lives were lost on this land. A small fraction of people were separated from the main force and had no choice but to take root and survive in the Demon territory.

The "Ode to the Saint" was actually a hymn praising the Hero Roland. They hoped that this lifelong enemy of the Demons could bring spiritual comfort to humans like them, who were just scraping by and struggling to survive.

"Thank the Red Dragon!"

"Thank Nira!"

"Thank the food!"

The people danced and sang around the bonfire. The more oppressive the environment, the more they needed to unwind. This was also a tribal tradition. Whenever the tribe secured enough food, they would hold a similar bonfire event. People enjoyed the hard-earned meal, celebrating their survival for another day with dancing and cheering. After the celebration ended, they would all return to their homes to engage in the most primal of pleasures.

Nira sat by the bonfire. Her slightly rough but well-defined face appeared even redder under the glow of the fire. Of course, it was impossible to have alcohol at this kind of tribal celebration; the blush stemmed purely from her own ordinary physiological reaction.

Not far away, a bearded man named Matthew saw this. He instantly felt that this woman—who was pursued by every eligible man in the tribe—looked even more radiant and captivating. As sparks from the crackling bonfire danced before his face, he felt his body grow increasingly hot. A fiery passion surged forth like a gushing spring.

Through his keen Detection, Matthew noticed that the woman he secretly loved seemed somewhat distracted during this celebration. Glancing around, he mustered up his courage and walked over.

"Nira, may I invite you to dance..."

Before he could finish, Nira waved her hand.

"I’m sorry, Matthew. I want to be alone."

It was the same excuse she had used to reject him countless times. Matthew’s restless heart, which had just been fluttering with hope, suddenly skipped a beat.

"Al-alright, then take a rest." He shrank back once again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to act more assertively. However, Nira held a unique position in the tribe. She was stronger than the vast majority of men and wielded mysterious Magic Power. Furthermore, her father was Zeke, the chieftain of the tribe. Because of this, even though she had reached marriageable age and, according to custom, should have begun courting the good men of the tribe, she simply chose not to. No matter the place, the strong always enjoyed privileges.

What was Nira, the woman who made Matthew’s heart flutter, thinking about at this moment?

The red bonfire reflected in her eyes seemed to gradually transform into a red Giant Dragon. Amidst the flickering light and shadows, it was as if she could once again catch a glimpse of that radiant figure sitting quietly beside the Red Dragon.

THUMP! THUMP!

She could clearly hear her own heartbeat. An unprecedentedly intense sensation filled her heart. Chewing on the fragrant roast meat, her entire body felt as if it were gradually melting.

She thought, "It’s so nice..."

In truth, her complex emotions weren’t just a basic attraction to the mysterious man, but rather a mix of deep longing and an underlying sense of inferiority. A person like him didn’t seem to belong to the same world as wild dogs of the wasteland like them. The value of the elegant moon-white robe he wore could probably buy the lives of their entire tribe—if such a trading place still existed in this world.

But the thought that they were now in the same place, and that the breath leaving her lungs might drift over to him... It sparked a thrilling sense of pleasure within her. It felt almost taboo, as though she were defiling a flawless piece of jade with her filthy hands. In her twenty years of life, this was the first time she had ever experienced such wondrous emotions.

She prayed inwardly, "O Saint, please forgive me..."

After that brief moment of joy, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for her impure thoughts. She quickly closed her eyes and silently recited the "Ode to the Saint," a hymn every member of the tribe had memorized by heart.

The celebration soon drew to a close.

The next day, just as the sky began to brighten, a damp, hazy mist still blanketed the air.

RUMBLE!

A terrifying commotion echoed from outside the mining valley. Damian, the old woman, was the first to be awakened. Her pupils rapidly contracted as she looked toward the source of the massive disturbance. She hastily shook awake the young people sleeping on the straw mats nearby.

"Wake up! All of you, wake up!"