Volume 2 Chapter 52: Miss Ishar'mla, You wouldn't want the Seaborn to perish, would you?
This was destined to be a year that would go down in the annals of Aegir history.
Their enemy—lords of the deep sea, gods of the Seaborn—had been conquered by a land-dweller.
With dopamine surging through his body, Garde moved forward without a care about the consequences.
Who could resist a red-eyed, white-haired beauty throwing herself at them?
In a desolate wilderness, Garde spent a week pounding the Skadi-look alike non-stop.
Day One: Banged a Seaborn.
Day Two: Banged a Seaborn.
Day Three: Banged a Seaborn.
When he finally came back to his senses, Garde could hardly believe his eyes. He had gone completely mad and actually ravaged a Seaborn—this world equivalent of Eldritch Horror!
Anyway, he kept thrusting.
Day Four: Continued banging the Seaborn.
At this point, he figured that since he already did it, might as well make it count, right?
After four days of nonstop 'sparring', even someone with Ishar'mla's extraordinary adaptability was nearing her physical limit. If she stayed any longer, she feared she wouldn't even have the strength to return to the ocean.
"Hunter, hmph~ I've acquired enough seed. I should be going now."
Finding an opening, Ishar'mla attempted to slip away.
But how could Garde possibly let her go? Would he let Ishar'mla leave? Of course not!
"Trying to run?"
The crocodile man grinned menacingly, his arms like steel bars clamping around Ishar'mla's upper body, holding her tight and making escape impossible.
"It's too late! From here on, you are one of mine!"
Use him and then try to bounce? Not a chance—that's not how things work around here.
The Ascension Power had severed Ishar'mla's connection to the collective consciousness of the swarm. Though she was, in essence, a Seaborn, she had evolved nearly identical internal structures to Skadi during her mimicry process.
Thus, during their union, Ishar'mla's body still experienced the same sensations and pleasure a human woman would.
Yet, her Seaborn nature granted her far greater regenerative and adaptive abilities than ordinary Abyssal Hunters—allowing her to endure his onslaught longer.
But even her regeneration and adaptability had their limits!
Only when close to the sea could a Seaborn's resilience be truly unleashed. Now, cut off from the network of the swarm, Ishar'mla had to rely solely on her own will to resist Garde.
As time passed, that will was continuously being assaulted—physically and mentally—by Garde.
The Seaborn's evolution was rooted in survival—an almost primal instinct.
If the Aegirians hadn't injected Seaborn blood into themselves to create Abyssal Hunters, even if the Seaborn could evolve intelligence comparable to humans, it would've taken them an extremely long time.
During her first battle with Garde, Ishar'mla had tried to analyze his strength by studying his blood and cells—but ultimately failed.
His cells seemed to harbor a unique energy that naturally rejected external interference. Once outside his body, Garde's flesh quickly lost vitality and died.
That's why Ishar'mla had set her sights on his seed.
All living beings exist to reproduce—or at least, that was true of most prey she'd encountered. She didn't know whether someone as powerful as Garde could sire offspring, but she was willing to try.
Later, she secretly observed Garde mating with one of her scaleless sisters and discovered that even when his seed spilled onto the ground, it still brimmed with vitality.
Mating. Reproduction.
If she and this hunter produced a child, her species would evolve—ascend.
That was Ishar'mla's belief.
The genes of a divine warrior—nearly perfect.
And that was what she had been after.
Now, her mission is complete.
She was supposed to leave.
But Garde had absolutely no intention of letting her go.
She had only thought about how to get his seed—never once considering how she would leave after obtaining it.
Day Five.
Day Six.
Day Seven.
Her mind went completely blank. Aside from her body's automatic metabolism, Ishar'mla could barely think anymore.
More than once, she thought this body of hers would die.
But every time she was about to collapse, Garde would moisten her dehydrated form with his essence, reviving her—bringing a faint glow back to her pale, withered skin.
"Miss Ishar'mla, you don't want your people's efforts to be in vain, do you?"
Garde gently lifted her chin, staring into her delicate face, his voice like the whisper of a devil.
That forced Ishar'mla to crush the thought of reverting to her original form.
Countless of her kin had sacrificed themselves just to obtain this precious seed.
For the sake of evolution—she couldn't fall here!
Day Eight.
Bathed in the light of the newborn sun, Garde took a deep breath.
His chest surged with pride.
A whole week.
Through sheer perseverance, he had upheld the dignity of the Crocodile Men.
He hadn't lost to the Seaborn.
He had once again defended this land from their hands.
Lying on the ground was a snow-white, curvaceous body.
In that moment, if Garde wanted to kill Ishar'mla, it would've been as easy as a passing thought.
Ending her would rid him of trouble and buy time for the Abyssal Hunters.
Even if Ishar'mla wasn't the true form of the Seaborn's god, destroying an avatar would surely weaken the real one.
What's more, he could use his Ascension power to suppress any signal that might be sent from her corpse—leaving the Seaborn's god in the dark about what had happened on land.
But Garde's fingers only brushed gently across Ishar'mla's cheek, caressing her now-sleeping, exhaustion-stricken face.
He didn't strike.
He knew what he was doing was foolish.
He was actually starting to develop feelings for a Seaborn in disguise.
The worst part? He didn't even really like the woman Ishar'mla was imitating.
"My feelings really are so shallow," he spat at himself.
But if he criticized himself first, no one else could.
So what if he liked pretty girls?
Just because he became stronger, did that mean he had to cut himself off from all human emotion?
Renekton wasn't some damn golden circlet that locked away all earthly desires like Sun Wukong's.
Wasn't the reason he sought strength to protect those around him?
Infected, Feranmuts, Seaborn, Collapsals—whatever they were, once they fell into his hands, they weren't getting away.
First, he'd take care of this avatar.
Then once he reached the sea, he'd take care off the real one.
If the Seaborn were willing to go to any lengths for survival…
Then all he had to do was become stronger than them.
His finger traced the curve of Ishar'mla's face.
A faint smile crept onto Garde's lips.
"Miss Ishar'mla," he murmured,
"You wouldn't want the Seaborn to perish, would you?"
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon[1]
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Volume 2 Chapter 70: Who Wakes First from the Great Dream![2]
Link to the Latest Chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/127564092?collection=193798[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/193798?view=condensed[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/collection/193798?view=condensed
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/127564092?collection=193798
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/127564092?collection=193798
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/193798?view=condensed