The scent of Devils was unmistakable.
Once you had encountered a Devil, you would never forget it.
Sulfur mixed with rust, along with an indescribable yet intensely pungent, far-reaching, lingering strange odor.
Thus, it was generally called "the smell of Hell."
Demons were somewhat different. They did not smell of sulfur, and since there were far more varieties of Demons than Devils, their scents came in every strange form imaginable—though almost all of them were highly irritating.
Even more striking than orcs.
Its destructive power surpassed that of the sweat-soaked armpits of a fat man with natural body odor, trapped in a sealed room on a scorching afternoon.
Oh, that was simply terrifying.
Elizabeth knew this feeling all too well. Her sense of smell was too sharp, and Larven was even more terrifying than the countryside.
The population here was denser, and because people had money, they bought all kinds of expensive perfume and sprayed themselves with it.
The final effect was not that fragrance erased stench, but a more lethal double blow.
That was also one of the reasons Elizabeth liked living in Jia Xiu's pocket.
He had almost no smell on him. It was not that he had absolutely none, but compared to everyone else, it could practically be considered none at all.
To adapt to Larven's face-smothering "passionate atmosphere," Elizabeth had spent some time mastering a new skill: blocking out certain smells.
It was achieved through a combination of magic, muscle control, and a measure of psychological suggestion.
There were two modes in total: one where she could still smell a little, and one that completely took her sense of smell offline, for situations of differing intensity.
If Jia Xiu had invented it, the paper would already have been published in a journal.
But Elizabeth truly had