Chapter 12 Why is he wearing your clothes? The leader's male...
Reinhardt felt like a small boat floating on an endless sea.
The sky was covered with dark clouds, and the waves whipped up by the storm surged higher and higher, making it hard to breathe.
There was no foothold to rely on, nor any end in sight for him.
He was forced to be swept up by the waves, thrown down, plunged into the water, and then floated back to the surface, waiting for the next storm to sweep in.
Isolated and helpless.
The rain was still falling. Drifting aimlessly on the sea, Reinhardt could neither see the world with his eyes open nor the future with his eyes closed.
He thought he would drift away like this, like a lost soul, until his short life ended the moment his divine power completely vanished.
But in the next second, as the next wave rose and fell, he was suddenly pulled into a warm place.
His body remained out of control, and Reinhardt instinctively resisted the warmth. But the other person's unyielding attitude was too forceful, and Reinhardt felt as if his body was completely bound.
Until someone gently patted his back.
The first blow was heavy; Reinhardt's malnourished body couldn't withstand such a heavy impact, and he felt as if blood was about to gush out. The thing attacking him seemed to realize it had used too much force and gradually slowed its pace.
Clumsy, gentle, and slow pats on his head and back.
Reinhardt didn't know what it was; his attention was drawn to a slightly low, husky voice coming from afar.
It's alright now.
He said.
Reinhardt didn't really like that voice.
It wasn't that the sound was unpleasant, but rather that it inexplicably aroused him, a restlessness stemming from always having to care about something. Yet, he also eagerly awaited the sound's arrival, as if the free wind cutting through the waves was approaching him, and even the accompanying downpour carried the scent of sunshine.
You are free.
He added.
As if the trial against him had finally come to an end, Reinhardt's tense nerves inexplicably relaxed.
...
Buster, who had been trying his best not to make a move, opened his eyes slightly and looked at the Son of God lying motionless in his arms with some disbelief.
...He actually fell asleep?
Buster didn't know that the Son of God had persisted for so long without ever truly falling asleep, but he could roughly guess. That's why he was surprised by the Son of God's untimely drowsiness.
However, the Storm Leader quickly realized that this was probably also the work of the Stone Goddess.
"He was too tired."
The golden hand that had been roaming over the Son of God touched his cheek again, which could be considered as giving Buster an answer.
Although Buster was of noble birth, he was raised in a military camp from a young age, which made him more easygoing than others. Naturally, he didn't care much about etiquette, so he didn't keep many clothes in his personal ring.
Clearly, the current Son of God needs a garment to cover his body.
The shirt worn by the Son of God was a summer style, made of silk, and extremely thin.
The jacket was even less effective; his arms were too big, and the vest-style clothing was practically useless on the son of the god.
...
Buster sighed, then knelt down, maintaining the posture of embracing the Son of God with his bent legs. With his hands free, he deftly removed the black shirt he was wearing, which was still relatively intact.
While openly criticizing him for being "pretentious," she also wrapped him up tightly in her shirt.
After doing all this, he pulled the jacket over and put it on, shirtless. Then he adjusted himself into a position that would make sure even the Son of God was comfortable.
Mark was still recovering, and Storm took the opportunity to look at the statue while waiting.
"Are you the deity who created the rule-making spell?"
"It's less about creating and more about fulfilling." A gentle female voice floated like a veil. "The people of this city yearn for peace. All the so-called rules are made by them. What I do is merely provide some divine support."
Buster's heart stirred slightly, and he instantly understood the meaning of the statue.
The peninsula docks are located at the crossroads of three major powers. Before the appearance of the divine rule spell, it was a chaotic place filled with conflict and bloodshed. The original inhabitants of the docks lived in misery, fearing every day, and peace was indeed what they longed for.
Perhaps she heard their prayers, or perhaps out of pity, she responded.
"But alas, I am already gone. The me before you is merely a manifestation of my remaining divine power. However, even this remaining divine power will not last much longer..."
Like the energy stone, its power will eventually run out.
Even the gods are no more than this.
Buster looked down at the blonde princess in his arms and asked, "What do things outside have to do with you?"
A tomb keeper? Or an embodiment of the old aristocracy?
Even though he was already dead, Buster still wanted to ask one more question.
The stone statue, with its good temper, slowly stated while exuding vitality: "I may not know more about it than you do. The only thing I know is that it devoured my divine power."
Buster quickly grasped the situation after a moment's thought.
The original form of that thing is unimportant; the biggest variable in the whole affair is divine power. It devoured divine power and perfectly integrated it into its own, using this power to grow and swell into this monster. Having tasted the benefits of devouring, that thing used devouring as a crucial means of increasing its power.
In addition, occasionally greedy residents or outsiders would come to try their luck, and that thing could have a full meal without leaving the house, and slowly it accumulated to the size they saw.
As for Mark, he was most likely lured here by the rumors; the details will be revealed when he wakes up.
People often fidget when they're thinking, and Buster was no exception. He unconsciously tugged at the collar of the Son of God's oversized shirt to make sure there wasn't a single trace showing on his body.
After doing that, he thought of something and turned to touch the other person's ankle.
The trousers were a bit tight, but thankfully they had snap closures. Buster skillfully unbuttoned them, his fingers tracing the trouser legs to reveal the slender legs of the Son of God.
There are wounds here too. Old and new overlap, still striking.
He rubbed his calloused fingers against the wound, intending only to check how serious it was, but this caused the sleeping blonde princess in his arms to gasp and involuntarily try to break free from his restraints.
Buster, lacking any sense of proportion, quickly moved his fingers elsewhere, gripping his ankle and barely managing to subdue him.
"It's right up there, closer to you than anyone else outside, yet the rule-based curse didn't punish it?"
Knowing that suppression was useless, Buster, in the pause between words, withdrew his hand and used the same trick again, lightly patting the Son of God on the back.
As expected, the son of the gods was swayed by gentle persuasion but not by force, and slowly calmed down in his arms.
A golden hand, hesitantly reaching out, followed the deliberate pattern Buster had created, soothing his pain and replying, "It consumed my divine power... and the rules are not omnipotent."
How long can these rules be maintained?
As Bao Feng watched the wound gradually disappear, the gloom that had gathered between his brows dissipated considerably.
"Perhaps a hundred years, or perhaps ten years..."
There was bound to be a storm eventually brewing.
Buster smiled, and when he looked down at Rapunzel, his eyes were filled with complex emotions yet remained calm.
"I think I'm starting to believe in the existence of God."
"In an era in which the gods have fallen, this is not a good choice."
He didn't speak, only waiting until all of Rapunzel's wounds had disappeared before withdrawing his hand from playing with her ankle. The golden light vanished at a visible speed, and Mark had returned to human form, though he wasn't fully conscious yet.
The Storm Leader stood up again.
After adjusting the son of the god who was sitting on his arm into a comfortable position, letting him continue to sleep with his head resting on his shoulder, the burly man walked over to his companions and took both of them away.
Before leaving, he paused, turned around, and nodded: "Thank you."
Before the other party could respond, the Storm Leader moved with lightning speed, his figure quickly disappearing from the spot.
*
Buster sped along, taking a detour around the bustling town, and carried the three of them straight onto the ship, where they happened to run into the three giants who were returning from their carefree stroll in town.
"Chief, you're back from your escapades too? Huh?!" Victoria, with her twin ponytails, was flushed from playing. She greeted Buster with a smile, but when she saw the person he was holding, her pupils constricted, her eyes widening in shock. "Is that Reinhardt?!"
Madonna was also surprised: "What happened to him? Where did you go? Why is he wearing your clothes?"
It's not surprising that people would have such suspicions; anyone who saw the Storm Leader shirtless in a jacket would think the same thing.
In addition, there was that obviously oversized black shirt being worn by the son of the god...
At this moment, the Son of God's golden hair was disheveled, with a few strands sticking to his pale cheeks, and a few strands soaked with sweat, clinging to his neck and collarbone, rising and falling slightly with his breath.
His eyelashes drooped, casting dappled shadows under his eyes. His lips were very pale, almost blending into his skin tone, with only the slight opening and closing of his lips when he breathed revealing a hint of life.
The three girls were very conflicted. On one hand, they trusted their leader's character. Having followed him for so many years, aside from his sharp tongue, love of fighting, rough manners, and terrible temper, there was almost nothing to criticize about him, especially when it came to sexual relations—he could open an entire academy of male virtues.
They once suspected that the leader did not have any junior leaders.
Upon seeing the son of the gods, all three of them wavered.
Hiss... Could it be that the leader has been upholding male virtues all these years for his sake?
Buster was unaware that he was being manipulated, but judging from their expressions, he could guess that the Big Three were not happy.
He was very annoyed, but he still lowered his voice and scolded the three girls surrounding him.
"Shut up, he just fell asleep!"
He slightly pulled his arms closer, placed his palm on the back of the son of the god's head, and gently lifted it up. He adjusted the sleeping position of the person in his arms, so that the latter's head was completely buried in the crook of his arm.
The pose was far too suggestive, yet Buster remained completely unperturbed, as if he hadn't considered anything strange at all.
He glanced at the three girls, then placed his palm over the ears of the Son of God to block out the noise from the outside world.
“If you wake me up, I’ll fine you three months’ worth of bills.”
The three looked somewhat terrified, unsure whether it was the punishment for the three-month bill or the strange sight of an iron pillar bending before their eyes.
But Tie Zhu still didn't realize that he was being humiliatingly perverted by his men. He carried the person forward, then suddenly stopped and looked back at Mai Dana.
"Keep up."
A note from the author:
----------------------
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com