Chapter 155 (1/2)

“Let me get this straight,” Azalea said with a blank expression. She stared at Grandpa Vremya and pointed at Pravos. “You want to cut her open, and you want me to wear her body like a skinsuit, and afterwards, you want me to kill someone for you while dressed as her? Couldn’t you just have her kill whoever you want me to kill and skip the steps where both her and I are traumatized?” She glanced at Pravos. “Alright, maybe I’ll be the only one traumatized, and she’ll fulfill some sick wish of hers, but can we not?”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of pervert!”

Grandpa Vremya ignored Pravos’ outburst. “That’s the gist of it,” he said. “Gods are forbidden from hurting one another, so if you wear her body like a piece of armor, you’ll be invulnerable to Istoriya’s attacks. While you’re inside of her, you’ll still be able to control your spiritual energy to attack people outside of her.”

“I should’ve known you were a god,” Azalea said and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. She dragged her palms down her face, stretching it out while groaning. When fingers slipped past her chin, she sighed and stared at Grandpa Vremya. “How’s this going to work? She’s shorter than me.”

“You’ve accepted things surprisingly fast,” Karta said. “No wonder why Vremya’s avatar kept you around for so long. You’re so compliant.”

Azalea’s expression darkened. She wasn’t sure if she was being complimented or insulted, but she did know this talking dog was going to be a pain in the ass. She didn’t know any other talking dogs, but she knew how pains in the ass talked, and the dog talked like one. Before she could retort, Grandpa Vremya cut in. “Don’t worry,” he said and gestured towards Pravos. “Her body stretches. Gods are more resilient than false immortals who’ve passed the tribulation of the body.”

“Why doesn’t she go inside of you?” Pravos asked. “Why does it have to be me!? Why am I the living armor!?”

“We’ve been through this already,” Vremya said. “You and the stinky dog are the most useless ones here when it comes to combat, but you have thumbs.”

Pravos’ expression turned as black as Azalea’s. The two women exchanged glances with each other. “What do you see in him?” Pravos asked. She gestured towards the two Vremya’s. “Exactly what part of that wrinkly, saggy, old man do you love?”

Azalea shook her head, not knowing how to answer. “Is this how it’s going to be?” she asked. “I’m going to wear her”—she jabbed her thumb towards Pravos—“and kill all your enemies for you?”

“There’s only one,” Grandpa Vremya said. “After you kill him, you can keep his divinity, and you’ll become a god as well. Then, you won’t ever have to do this method again.”

“God of history, huh?” Azalea asked. “You’re the god of gravity. Your other self is the god of time. This woman over here is the god of justice. Why does this almost seem normal? I didn’t expect gods to be so similar to normal people.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” Karta asked. “I’m the god of potato chips and of the marketplace.”

Azalea raised an eyebrow. “Your pet is a god too?”