Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

“What!? The Gods of Light are returning?!” After hearing the news that left Shamara unable to finish her meal, Negris also felt an unexpected knot in his stomach.

“Yes, or perhaps it’s not a return, maybe it’s a rebirth, or something else. I can feel a power growing stronger, contesting my control over the Power of Light,” Shamara said.

Negris had to take Shamara’s words seriously. She was, in a strict sense, a false god who had stolen the belief of the Gods of Light. Despite her being somewhat incompetent, and rather unlucky to have crossed paths with the ‘True God’ twice, she was part of the Belief System of Light. Her senses were unlikely to be wrong.

“Could there be another false god sensing the absence of the Gods of Light and trying to steal their divine power from you?” Negris suggested another possibility, immediately suspecting Anthony.

That guy knew the Gods of Light had disappeared and Shamara had stolen their power. Would he just stand idly by? Perhaps he was competing with Shamara for the divine power?

Shamara shook her head: “Impossible. The other party’s affinity is higher than mine. The Power of Light leans more towards them. It’s not another faith thief—it has to be the Light itself.”

Negris was taken aback. If this was the case, it would be a great deal of trouble. Whether the Gods of Light were returning or new gods were forming, either would prove severely detrimental to their cause.

Now a divided entity, the Church of Light had seen Anthony undermine its structure by setting up independently, all because it was confirmed that the Gods of Light were gone. The only ones left were the Holy Spirit Angels, who were more obtuse than even the Dwarfs. Only with this assurance did Anthony dare to plot his own path, otherwise he wouldn’t have faked his death to escape after plotting for a millennium to become the Pope.

If the Gods of Light returned or were reborn, Anthony would be the first to be set on the Fire Execution Frame, wrapped in shroud, and burnt to death with the Sacred Flame.

The Church of Light, consolidated with all its forces, would become incredibly powerful. It would no longer be like before where the commander of the Saint’s Edge Army dared to exploit resources for personal gain. Without the Undead King and Steadfast Locke’s oppression, they would never see peace from the abyss.

What trouble this was. Negris spun around a few times on the spot before realizing—wait, why was he worrying about this? This should be Anthony’s headache.

After this realization, Negris breathed a sigh of relief and then asked: “Why are you telling us? Do you think we can solve this problem that has made you lose your appetite? And what does this have to do with food?”

Shamara also appeared confused. She muttered uncertainly: “I’m not sure, but a voice in my heart tells me that you can help me solve this problem.”

“That’s ridiculous, what do you mean by a voice in your heart… Wait, you are a fake God, the voice in your heart… is that a Divine Technique? Kvada, have you awakened some Divine Technique?” Negris exclaimed in shock.

Shamara stared with wide eyes, appearing bewildered. She was only a former maiden who had become a false god by stealing divine power; she didn’t really understand these things.

“Um, have you heard any other voices in your head?” Negris asked tentatively. If Shamara’s feelings were not an isolated event, it was highly likely to be a Divine Technique. Otherwise, they were just her random thoughts.

Shamara stood still for a while, seemingly trying to listen to something. Then, she suddenly loosened her hair and bowed to Ange.

“Oh, you’re too polite, what’s the occasion? No need for that, we haven’t done anything particularly deserving,” Negris hurriedly said.

Shamara raised her head, looking at him with a bizarre expression. Then, she lowered her head again, pointing at her head: “The voice in my heart tells me that you can cure my hair loss.”

Shamara was indeed suffering from hair loss, quite severely. Her hair was thinning out substantially, revealing patches of scalp. It wasn’t noticeable when her hair was tied up, but once let down, it simply draped over her head like a thin layer of gauze.

Negris heaved a sigh of relief: “This, we can handle. We deal with that sort of thing all the time. How about this: We cure your hair loss, and you help us kill someone.”

Shamara paused to think, hesitating before she opened her mouth and removed her gloves: “And this, and this. My body has been corrupted by the Power of Fall. If you can cure these issues as well, I will accept your service.”

Negris leaned in to take a closer look and frowned: “Those are cavities and wear-and-tear on your teeth, not to mention nail loss. Are you sure that’s corruption caused by the Power of Fall? Or maybe it’s just your age?”

Shamara’s teeth were in better condition than many humans of the same age. After all, she was in her sixties or seventies, only appearing as a young woman due to the protection of the Power of Light.

Now that she had fallen, these areas lost their protection, and natural aging was only expected. What seventies-year-old woman would still have all her teeth?

Shamara’s eyes widened in anger: “I have been corrupted.”

Shamara, who had remained calm even when threatened by a scythe, was angry now. This left Negris somewhat taken aback. Had he said something wrong?

“Alright, alright, you’ve been corrupted. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help,” said Negris, and then turned around and asked: “Can we do anything to help?” Apparently, his ‘seeing’ meant asking others.

Ange cocked his head without replying, simply advancing towards Shamara and reaching out his hand.

Shamara did not resist, standing quietly as Ange held his hand above her head. This gesture was surprisingly docile as Ange could smash her skull with a mere swipe of his hand at any time.