Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Thus, the white ghost lifted its two small hands, trailing behind the Holy Light as it floated around. Only when Ange stopped teasing it did it let out a sigh sounding like a soul’s relief. It happily stayed by the Holy Light, ‘toasting’ its little hands.

‘Toasting’ is simply a metaphor; it’s actually absorbing the radiation of the holy light, but it dares not touch the Holy Light directly as it won’t be able to stand it.

Ange found it amusing, but Negris was baffled: “A holy… ghost? Kvada, is there such a thing?”

A Holy Skeleton, Holy Light Corpse Witch, can be man-made. But, a holy ghost? Who would make such a thing?

A naturally-formed Holy Ghost, that is not unlike ‘bright’ darkness. That’s unscientific.

Other than this little ghost, the square remained silent with nothing else around. As time went by, the whistling in the sky gradually quieted down, and upon looking up, one could see the hole closing and would fully closed soon.

After about ten minutes of treatment, White Neck recovered. The damaged wing membrane had healed, and Ange retracted the Holy Light.

Ah, that upset the little ghost who then spun around Ange’s hand. Finally, in desperation, it hugged Ange’s hand, twisting it outwards – probably thinking that doing so would reward it with Holy Light.

But how could a ghost have the strength to twist Ange’s hand? After futile attempts for a while, it became sullen with its entire form radiating despair.

Ange lighted up a finger. The little ghost was immediately invigorated and jumped straight onto it. Because the Holy Light from the finger wasn’t intense, it even directly hugged Ange’s finger.

It was just a bit of weak Holy Light, and using it did not take much effort, so Ange maintained it throughout.

“Ange, bring out two heavily armored undead to walk in front,” said Negris.

Two armored undead were brought out. One was a defender, and the other a swordsman. They carried their sword and shield respectively, and paced forward orderly.

Shamara sniffed, seeming to have detected the smell under the armors, and muttered softly: “Undead heretics…”

For a pure maiden like her, eradicating heresy had become an instinct engraved in her bones. But there was a voice inside her continuously screaming: Don’t move rashly, you’ll die! Don’t move rashly, you’ll die!

The heavily armored undead paved the way in front, with Ange and White Neck following behind. After a few steps, they realized that White Neck was walking very awkwardly, with wings tucked in and hips twisting like a hen. It was very inefficient.

With a sigh, Negris suggested, “Pack it back. It is too hard for a giant dragon to walk on the ground.”

The situation here was uncertain; letting it fly isn’t a good idea. Who knows if any defense tower is in the attack range, ready to blast it off with a single shot.

With White Neck sent back to the Resting Palace, only Ange and Shamara were left here; of course, there was the little ghost too.

The entire Holy Kingdom was silent, not a living soul in sight. They left the Square of the Gods, walked straight down the Holy Light Avenue, looked around the buildings on the sides, but saw nothing. There were no defenses. The undead walked majestically in front, in this sanctified kingdom road, with not a trace of the holy decrees against them.

“It seems to be truly deserted now. Even the automatic defense function is lost; only a layer of barrier membrane is left. Yet, how can a dead membrane guard against the living?” Negris sighed.

Ange did not heed it, but looked back at Shamara with curiosity. Since a while ago, he had been feeling that Shamara’s emotions were fluctuating sporadically. Her anger was accumulating continuously, somewhat like an active volcano brewing and reaching the edge of eruption.

Indeed, Shamara’s eyes were full of anger, her breath was drawing black fury.

Negris also noticed it promptly and asked urgently, “What’s wrong?”

I, want to slay God,” Shamara articulated each word, fuming with rage and bulging eyes.

Subconsciously, Ange stepped back a few paces and wielded yhe Scythe of Death on guard.

Why are you hiding?!” Shamara asked angrily.

“You want to slay God,” Ange responded. He was the Undead God, falling within the range of what Shamara wanted.

“It’s none of your concern. I want to kill all the Gods of Light!” Shamara uttered word by word, as if taking oath. The black Sacred Flame on her body swelled a bit.

“Why this sudden declaration of such an oath? You know it would be troublesome if the oath to slay God can’t be fulfilled,” Negris was at a loss.

“They have deceived everyone. There is no Heaven, no happiness. This is not a place for the living,” Shamara pointed towards the surrounding buildings.

“Hmm, now that you mention it… this is not a world for the living. The Gods of Light had been deceiving people. Where had the believers who were supposed to be brought to Heaven gone?” Negris was filled with horror-thinking about Shamara’s hint.

In the Holy book of Light, believers of God are promised that after death, they would be beckoned to a Heaven where the ground teems with grains and rivers flow with honey. There will be no disease, no hunger, and it will be home to countless handsome men and beautiful women…

But all along, they had seen various buildings, but not a single grain or honey river was to be found, let alone everything that humans need. There wasn’t even a place for a fire to cook.