Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The babies nowadays are chubby and fair-skinned. Although their eyes are not yet open, they look quite adorable. Their motor skills are not yet fully developed, so even when they are being noisy, their movements are still very clumsy. They will not cause any trouble as they would in a few years.

It's worth mentioning that Ristina's milk supply was more than enough to feed both children, even a bit too much, thanks to her healthy body and her own request that no wet nurse be arranged for the two children.

The Natamus family is currently safe and sound. The turmoil outside has no effect on them. Even though the root of the disturbance and bloodshed was the assassination attempt on the lady of the house, the family is still protected by the highest levels of the country and can be considered as impregnable as a fortress.

Although Karila next to her had toned it down a bit—at least she knew to tie up her messy hair with a rope—some fundamental things were still hard to change. Even when eating greasy food, she wasn't used to using utensils, and accepted a maid's help without hesitation. After finishing her food, she asked for another one without any politeness.

Christina smiled and asked the servant to bring her another serving, gaining a deeper understanding of Christina's unpretentious, straightforward, and earnest personality.

The people of the Empire greatly admire and respect warriors, especially such a rare female warrior. During this time, there have even been rumors about her in the capital, although most of them are just hearsay and exaggerated nonsense.

Christina already knew that the exceptionally tall woman in front of her would be participating in the arena next month, a grand event for the entire empire. Warriors from all over the country would gather in the city, plunging it into a frenzy and clamor that would last for more than ten days.

Although Karila looks like no ordinary person, those who can reach this point in the national competition are also the best of the best among warriors, so Christina couldn't help but wonder why she was so confident.

"Confidence? What's that?... Oh, I see... I mainly feel like there's no one here who can beat Bitsorus... Of course, if there really is, I'd be very happy!"

Carila, her mouth glistening with oil, looked more expectant. Her eager expression inadvertently revealed a dangerous undertone, like a vicious tiger sharpening its teeth and sucking blood, waiting for its fat and strong prey.

Chapter 207 Warm-up (2)

A strange thirst was plaguing Casaa, making the downtrodden man restless. Even drinking water from the well until his stomach felt like it was about to burst couldn't alleviate the deadly hunger. He felt his heart clenching, yearning for something…

He no longer cared about stealing food for the day; under this terrible hunger, even his sense of hunger was suppressed to the limit, and he was constantly suffering from a burning torment. Driven by this inexplicable and terrible feeling, he wandered around the village.

For some reason, his old dog was stiff when he woke up in the morning, and he couldn't find anything suspicious. The puzzled Casaa could only skin it, stew a pot of meat soup, and eat it well for two days with some cabbage leaves from someone else's vegetable garden. Now the bones have been dried.

Now he felt as if he had become that old dog, desperately searching for something to relieve his hunger, except that this thing was neither food nor water, but some indescribable thing.

The aroma of stewed meat wafted from the house next door. The lady of the house was quite skilled; her fried meat was enough to attract all the dogs in the village. Normally, he would have been completely captivated, trying every possible way to get a bite, but now, the smell held no appeal for him. He walked past without even glancing at her.

Most of the villagers despised and loathed him. In just seven or eight years, he squandered his father's good reputation and a large fortune. Any decent and hardworking person had every right to despise him.

But he no longer cared about those gazes. It was as if a snake was wriggling in his brain. He was in a daze, his eyes were throbbing and painful, and white, shiny snot was involuntarily flowing down his chin. His face was also frighteningly pale.

What is it? What is it? What is it that I want?!

Even though he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday, he didn't feel hungry. Driven by a strange longing, his legs always had enough strength to move forward, like a headless fly searching for that thing.

Everyone who saw him was surprised and disgusted. This guy, who was usually just an idle and lazy bum, now exuded a clear sense of madness, completely devoid of any rationality.

But because of his usual behavior, even though it was obviously wrong, no one was willing to pay attention to this guy. So he wandered around the village for most of the day, and finally, when the sun was at its hottest, he was exhausted and found a corner to settle down.

His reason finally vanished completely, his consciousness went blank, and only the purest emotion surged within him—a growing desire for something, a need for something unique.

…………

After what felt like an eternity, a unique aroma suddenly wafted into his nose, carrying an exquisite and wonderful sweetness that instantly took control of his entire being.

As if the parched earth were receiving a torrential downpour, or as if a thirsty person were tasting the first drop of water, he eagerly raised his head, turning it with a force that almost snapped his neck, and frantically twitched his nose to find the direction from which the scent was coming.

A peasant woman carrying buckets of water, cursing, threw down what she was carrying and bent down to untangle the thin vines that were wrapped around her ankles. These vines were thin and rough, covered with sharp thorns, and had small leaves. But they were incredibly resilient and would spread and climb wherever possible.

Similarly, if this stuff gets on someone's skin, the tiny bristles on it will act like sandpaper, scraping away a layer of skin and causing stinging and bleeding.

The weeds and vines spreading from the nearby yards caused the farmer's wife some minor trouble, but generally that was all; there wouldn't be any more serious consequences... Generally speaking...

Casaa finally realized what he was looking for... He slowly approached from behind, his hand already gripping a fist-sized stone. Following some kind of instinct, as the other person squatted on the ground muttering complaints, he raised it high and then swung it down hard.

………………

A scream suddenly rang out from the village. A woman ran out of the alley, crying and screaming. Blood had stained her headscarf, and she had even lost one of her shoes. She ran frantically to the main road of the village, shouting for help.

The pitiful cries for help immediately caught the attention of the men. The able-bodied men from the neighborhood quickly retrieved short swords and shields, as well as spears and bows and arrows from their houses, and hurriedly set off in pairs toward the source of the screams.

At the same time, warnings and shouts echoed throughout the village. To prevent wild animals or villains from harming more people, women, children, and the frail elderly hurriedly returned to their rooms and hid.

The first to arrive was a middle-aged man with a messy beard. He carried a large stick studded with copper nails and rushed onto the road with a wary expression, looking around at anything suspicious.

Then came a young man with a rather youthful face, carrying a long spear, who followed closely behind the middle-aged man in front of him.

They didn't see anything unexpected, except for the figure that had collapsed on the road in pain, so they didn't care about anything else and rushed over to help the woman up.

The village wasn't large, so everyone knew each other well, and they recognized the woman at a glance:

"Aunt Mosali, what happened to you?! Who hit you?"

Both men were incredibly surprised, because the woman's injuries were clearly not caused by wild animals. Not only was there a bulge on her head, but her scalp was also lacerated with a large gash, and blood had soaked through her headscarf, wet her hair, and flowed down to her chest.

The woman, still shaken, immediately said in a panic:

"It's Casaa! He's gone mad, Casaa's gone mad! He suddenly smashed a rock over my head!"

"What! How could that guy have the guts to commit such a crime?!"

"I don't know what happened to him. If I hadn't had a headscarf over my head, he probably would have killed me with that blow!" The woman cried, wiping the blood from her face, her whole body trembling with fear.

"His face was frighteningly pale, as if he had been drained of half his blood, and he was frantically licking the blood off the ground like a wild dog..."

"He's licking blood?!"

"That's right, if he hadn't been busy licking the blood from my head, I would definitely be dead today!..."

…………

The two men exchanged a glance, quickly bandaged the woman's head wound with a headscarf, then picked up their weapons and cautiously approached the alley.

The young man, wielding a spear, walked behind the middle-aged man, ready to support his elder at any moment. The middle-aged man, on the other hand, skillfully shouldered the heavy, copper-nailed club, poised to unleash a powerful blow at any time, and even if he missed, his companions would come to his aid.

This is a narrow path between two rammed earth walls, only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The path in the middle has become hard and shiny from being trampled on over time. In dry weather, it is hard enough to crush a person's head, and you can see the end of it at a glance.

They didn't see Casaa, only a distinct dark red patch on the dirt road. They cautiously approached and discovered it had turned into a dark red mud puddle, with clear footprints on it—small and light ones belonging to a woman, large and heavy ones to a man…

Having confirmed that what the woman had said was indeed accurate, the two were about to turn and leave to call more people to arrest the madman. Suddenly, a drop of foul-smelling liquid landed on the middle-aged man's forehead, startling him.

He reached out and touched the strange thing. A unique, foul odor, like a mixture of some molluscs and insects, hit him, making his stomach churn involuntarily. His face turned pale, and at the same moment, he looked up...

Casaa, with his exceptionally long limbs, was currently supporting himself on his hands and feet in the gap between two houses. His fingers dug into the rammed earth walls on both sides, while some slender tendrils emerged from his chin, like some kind of strange beard, hanging down to his chest, and constantly wriggling...

Before he could scream, as his limbs loosened, a dark shadow descended upon his head...

Screams, wails, and curses exploded like firecrackers in the narrow space, followed by a dull thud, the crisp sound of bones breaking, and the sticky sound of flesh being torn apart, all mingling with the screams. Soon after, the pale-faced young man dragged his companion out in a panic, his spear broken in two.

The once healthy and strong middle-aged man was now on the verge of death. A hideous wound stretched from his forehead to his left shoulder blade, the flesh torn open and the bone exposed. Large gushes of blood gushed out, staining the young man dragging him red.

A sharp, trembling, eerie roar pierced the alleyway. A long-limbed, stick insect-like figure leaped onto the rooftops. A broken spearhead was stuck in his shoulder, clearly affecting his movement, but he still moved with considerable speed, leaping over rooftops and ridges, rushing towards the dense forest to the east of the village, disappearing into the lush greenery before his eyes.

The young man cried out loudly. What he had just seen was beyond his comprehension; it wasn't a human at all! How could a human look like that? Kasaya had become a monster, he was a monster now!

Despite being gripped by panic and fear, the young man did not turn to flee. He gripped the broken spear shaft tightly, vigilantly shielding the men and women behind him...

Before long, the men of the village had gathered here. A strong and durable oxcart was driven out to transport the two wounded men to a nearby town with doctors. The others, based on the intelligence they had received, carried torches and entered the woods to search in the gradually darkening sky.

Like hunting a dangerous beast, the men shouted and shoved their weapons through the dense bushes and pounded into the deep grass as they searched eastward.

"Little Cass, you mean you saw with your own eyes that Casaa had things that looked like worm horns growing on his face? And that his arms and legs were as thin as bamboo sticks, right?"

The young man nodded repeatedly when asked. He had already thrown away the broken cedar pole in his hand and was now holding his spare weapons—a small round shield covered with hard cowhide and a polished iron knife.

The man who questioned him was muscular, with a thick mustache, but the rest of his face was clean-shaven. He held a long, reverse-bladed broadsword and was also peering into the dark corners of the forest with a burning torch.

"That's right, village chief! I saw it with my own eyes! Just like the horns of a longhorn beetle, those things grow out from under its neck, and they can even move!"

"And his wrists grew scythe-like spikes! My uncle was injured by these things. They climb and leap between houses like spiders. I dare say even the best hunter in our village couldn't do that!"

The village chief silently swung his longsword with a reverse blade, splitting a large patch of dense bushes and vines in two, clearing a path—the villagers used to get their firewood from the woods to the west, but this area had been left untouched this year because too much had been cut down before, and the bushes and weeds there had grown very lush.

"No matter what he's become, he has already committed murder, and we must bring him back... The government officials will be arriving soon, so everyone stay alert tonight and don't let us down!"

The young man's face was full of bitterness... His uncle could not be saved in the end. The oxcart that had just taken the patient had already returned. The aunt was not seriously injured, but the uncle had lost too much blood and died halfway there.

In the dead of night, a streak of fire swept from the edge of the woods all the way to the other side of the village, while other villages also erupted in commotion. Torches were being lit everywhere, converging on this place, and shouts and cries rose and fell, continuing until dawn.

The men returned to the village dejectedly. They had spent the whole night searching, but they had come up empty-handed... Well, not exactly empty-handed, though. They had managed to catch a few small animals, such as rabbits, which had been disturbed.

"It's alright, don't worry. As long as that guy Casaa dares to leave the forest, given his ghostly appearance, he won't last more than a few steps before he's spotted by the people around him. He's definitely still in that forest..."

The village chief's words were cut short as the sound of galloping hooves echoed through the village from afar...

Chapter 208 Warm-up (3)

In the clear stream, a plump fish is nibbling on aquatic plants, plankton, and some small insects. Its full, fleshy back can be clearly seen above the water.

A slender figure appeared silently by the stream. Tentacles, like a snake's tail, slowly reached into the water, and translucent mucus spread in the current. Before anyone could notice, the fish that had been swimming suddenly floated to the surface, its white belly turned up, and it weakly thrashed its tail.

Snake-like tentacles coiled around the immobilized prey, stuffing it into a seemingly unchanged mouth. The pale tongue had grown long and thin, devoid of blood, and with the mechanical snapping of the teeth, foul-smelling fish blood and entrails flowed out. Elastic subcutaneous fat released a greasy residue within the mouth.

The old linen clothes he was wearing had been torn to shreds by the thorns and bushes in the jungle, and even his hair was covered with dust and fallen leaves. In just one day, this creature, who was once called Casaa, had become full of wildness.

Normal people generally cannot eat a whole, unprocessed live fish like that. Human taste and digestive systems are very different from those of our ancestors, making it difficult to return to the dietary habits of eating raw meat and drinking blood.

But this creature ate very quickly. More and more fish were floating on the surface of the water around it, and blood and residue kept falling into the stream. It was like it was gnawing on a fresh radish. It could finish a fish in just a few bites. Before long, it had eaten all the fish in this section of the stream.

The black tentacles spread out once more, this time to replenish their moisture.

The clear water reflected the creature's current appearance—as if it had consumed most of its nutrients in a very short time, Casaa's cheeks were deeply sunken, its eye sockets were hollow, its cheekbones were high and prominent, and the hair on its forehead had become dry, gray, and extremely sparse.

The most striking feature was the tentacles emerging from his chin. Each one was as thick as an index finger, emerging from the pores of his chin, stretching and swelling the skin. They were covered with tiny segments, and translucent mucus flowed through them. The tips were sharp and thin, with a bony, pale white hue.

His limbs seemed to have been artificially lengthened, becoming thin and slender, with large and swollen joints. You could clearly see the tendons pushing against the skin when he moved, and the wrinkles at the joints were also noticeably more numerous and deeper.

The bones above his wrists had clearly mutated, growing a pair of sharp spikes six or seven inches long, still covered in dried blood. With each movement, they clenched forward like the claws of a feline.

He took a long time to drink this water, only stopping when his stomach was noticeably swollen.

He deftly shook off the water from his eight tentacles, raised his head, and shook it slightly in confusion. A look of pain suddenly appeared on his face, which was so grotesque and ugly that it was unrecognizable. It was quickly replaced by bewilderment. After hesitating for a moment, he chose a direction and hurriedly left.

His hands had grown to be two or three-tenths of an inch longer than his legs, so he ran like a wild beast without any discomfort and disappeared into the dense jungle in the blink of an eye.

………………

A dozen minutes later, a pair of thick black leather boots stepped onto the pebbly ground beside the stream, and a black robe that reached mid-calf swayed slightly in the forest breeze.

The man wearing a brass mask with a bird's beak on his face silently watched the ravaged stream—leftover fish scales and blood were scattered everywhere. Their prey made no attempt to conceal its tracks.

His opponent's skills were so clumsy that catching him would be easy, but the jailer did not feel fortunate... His years of accumulated experience made him keenly aware of the abnormality of the situation, but he could not quite put his finger on what was wrong.

A slender figure appeared beside him, wearing a mask shaped like a feline skull, covered in scratches and with black spots along the edges, clearly showing signs of years of use.

“I’ve located the prey’s movement. He headed west and hasn’t been gone long. If we move quickly, we can easily catch up.”

The man nodded silently. Behind him, beside the saddle of his strong and silent horse, hung a long, gleaming weapon—a polished three-pronged fork. This was unusual for them; the jailers were used to hunting criminals in all sorts of complicated situations, and portable short weapons such as scimitars and rapiers were their most common weapons.

While long weapons like these are incredibly powerful and can easily give an advantage in hand-to-hand combat, they are ultimately not portable or flexible enough.