Chapter 24: Three Witches

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Work by Sanbaijin de Weixiao

"But more of these creatures are approaching us!" someone roared, looking into the distance across the black swamp, where more large-eyed, tentacled monsters were drawing near.

These weak species were slowly crawling, their viscous tentacles wriggling. Although their movements were comically slow, their bizarre power was terrifyingly extreme. Once surrounded by these large eyes...

"Even if it costs us our lives, we must kill one!" Medea voluntarily raised her stone spear, transforming into the tribe's fiercest warrior, and charged straight ahead.

Bang!!!

With just one spear thrust, accompanied by a sharp, hoarse shriek like a baby's cry, the fragile large eyeball quickly burst open. A fishy smell filled the air as it transformed into disgusting, viscous, explosive fluid, splattering thickly onto Medea's face.

"Take it away!" She lifted one of the corpse's sticky tentacles with a single hand, quickly turned her head, and when she regained her composure, found herself surrounded by seven or eight evil eyes, her face turning ashen.

"Follow me! We'll fight our way out!"

It was a brutal struggle. Nearly all thirty members of the tribe's powerful hunting party were dead. They could have escaped, but by delaying their retreat, they became surrounded by the terrifying creatures. Ultimately, only three survivors managed to escape that dreadful, seemingly death-cursed demon swamp.

"They're all dead," Medea, a woman of extreme strength and wisdom, couldn't help but break down and weep. She looked at the two remaining warriors beside her, knowing what this meant. Over the years, the brave men of the tribe had mostly died while seeking food and hunting giant beasts. Of a tribe that once numbered nearly a thousand, only a hundred strong men remained, with the rest being the old, weak, and sick. Now, another third had been lost... They were practically facing extinction.

"However, our race will die sooner or later; it's inevitable. We might as well give it our all." Medea took a deep breath, looking at the corpse of the evil-eyed monster. "I hope the evil blood of this creature, obtained at such a high cost, can be useful..."

Over the years, countless individuals had also attempted to fuse with the blood of various powerful giant beasts, hoping to gain the strength of a Hero-King, like Gilgamesh, to protect the tribe. But apart from the 'Blood of Power' bestowed by the gods upon unknown creatures, all attempts had resulted in death. It seemed only the blood of special beings held any potential.

"Perhaps the blood of these unique, vile, and evil creatures could become another kind of Blood of Power..."

When Medea returned to the tribe with the few survivors, her father had fallen into despair.

"Are you insane? Do you know what you're doing?!" The burly, middle-aged chief, clad in black animal hides, was panting heavily in his high-backed animal-skin chair.

"I'm not insane." Inside the tribal tent, Medea took a deep breath, facing her father's furious roar. "We have no retreat. Instead of waiting for death, we should fight to the last, to bring forth a second Gilgamesh, a Hero-King who can lead our civilization to glory. This is the only way for our wise race to avoid extinction!"

"That's impossible." The leader slowly shook his head, a look of profound bitterness on his face. "Only the legendary blood bestowed by the gods—the Blood of Power—can bring us great strength. Moreover, these disgusting monsters are viscous, repulsive, and brutal. Even if we succeed in gaining such vile power, the gods will punish us..."

"Power has no inherent good or evil," Medea's voice became low and hoarse as she looked at her aging father, who was seated above her. "Even possessing the bright and great Blood of Power can lead one to become a tyrant, wielding the holy sword of civilization to challenge the Almighty God... Conversely, possessing dark and terrifying power, if coupled with a good heart, might still protect people. This monster is completely different from other giant beast species! It's weak, even weaker than us humans, yet it possesses inconceivable power. If we could possess power like theirs..."

"Medea, you are incredibly audacious!"

The leader fell silent, panting heavily, seemingly contemplating this outrageous idea. His decision would affect the rise and fall of their entire civilization and race. Once, his grandfather Utnapishtim had saved hundreds of the tribe's people from Noah's Ark, allowing them to repopulate. Now, with the flame of civilization passed into his hands, he had sworn to the heavens the moment he became leader that his race would not perish under his watch, even if it cost him his own life. He clearly understood that the strength of any individual was insignificant compared to the survival of the race.

He breathed raggedly. He slightly closed his eyelids, breathing in ragged gasps. This was a terrifying decision, one far more significant than his own death. He suddenly lowered his head, looking at his stubborn daughter below him, and wailed softly, his voice choked and hoarse: "But we no longer have enough people to test fusing with new blood."

Over these two hundred years, if they had reproduced normally, they might not have been left with so little strength. Instead, it was due to generations of brave, resourceful leaders, unwilling to face extinction, who had pushed the tribe's youth to attempt fusing with the blood of new giant beasts. In every generation, people had died selflessly, perishing in endless agony. These generations of martyrs, whose bloody deaths had written the history of the tribe's attempted rise, explained their sparse population. Yet, despite these sacrifices, they had still not risen.

Medea took a deep breath. "Yes, our Babylonian tribe no longer has enough able-bodied men to experiment with; they are needed to protect us. But we have enough old, weak, women, and children. For years, men have protected women. This time, it's the women's turn to step forward."

Medea remained silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "Furthermore, if a large number of women die, our burdens will be fewer. Reducing the population might not be impossible... This time, let the women of our tribe face death."

Silence fell! Instantly, the tent became deathly silent.

Half a day later, on a high point within the tribe, torches blazed brightly. Medea was gathering all the tribe's people.

"If we do not wish to face extinction!""If we wish to restore the glory of the Sumerians!""If we hope for the emergence of a great Hero-King to lead the wise race's civilization!"

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