Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

But if you look closely, you'll find that the glittering things aren't glitter or debris, but rather the shiny heads of slender objects wriggling within them, colliding, intertwining, and moving, their smooth, glossy heads reflecting the torchlight.

“Give us revelation, great and wise Lord! Share a bit of your wisdom, which is as vast as the ocean, with your humble servants! Guide us to continue on your path.”

Among the kneeling men in black, the leader suddenly raised his head and shouted, forcefully bending his entire body backward like a bow arm, seemingly about to break, before pulling back heavily forward. His head slammed against the floor with a thud, leaving a pool of crimson blood.

"Give us revelation, great Lord of wisdom! Reveal your wisdom, as vast as the ocean..."

The others immediately followed suit, making almost identical movements. The abbot did not move an inch from beginning to end, remaining directly in front of the statue, receiving the worship of everyone along with the statue, and naturally being watched by those fanatical gazes.

The Apostle and the Lord of Wisdom are one, and His coming into the world was to guide ignorant people to understand extraordinary wisdom. Therefore, He is originally a part of God and a part of faith.

And so, the god of the shadows raised the bottle high and slowly poured it over the offering as it struggled with its eyes wide with rage, allowing the purple liquid, along with the writhing creature within, to come into contact with fresh flesh and blood.

Almost instantly, as the purple liquid washed over everything, the bound sacrifice suddenly began to struggle violently, and a strange layer of "fuzz" grew from the palm-sized wound on his body—worms swarming and writhing around the wound, densely packed everywhere, even stopping the blood from flowing.

Then, as the "fuzz" grew shorter and shorter until it disappeared completely into the wound, the offering also stopped struggling.

Immediately afterwards, the wriggling tentacles used to bind the sacrificial offering's hands and feet were also swiftly severed by the bone blade. The young man's body was stiffly pulled up from the stone slab, and he was manipulated like a rag doll. Finally, he sat upright on the stone table that had just bound him.

The young man was completely different from before. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was ashen, but countless scarlet blood vessels were spreading from his wounds, all wriggling and deforming like worms.

The next moment, his lips suddenly began to move without warning. This movement seemed to be irregular, more like a muscle twitch, but it made everyone focus their attention, and no one dared to look away for even a moment. The man called the Patriarch stood aside and listened intently, nodding from time to time, which captivated the attention of everyone present.

He then turned around and spread his arms high, like an eagle spreading its wings, while the others immediately held their breath.

"The Lord of Wisdom has decreed!..."

Chapter 509 Ending (5)

"Our great undertaking has reached its final stage! The Kingdom of Wisdom is about to descend upon the earth, and the final sacrifice has been completed! There is no need to continue to feign compliance with mortals; we will finally achieve our most sublime goal!!"

The Sultan's voice, sharp and clear as metal, echoed repeatedly on the specially designed stone wall, reaching even the ears of those in the most remote corners with clarity and precision, and quickly igniting their passions like gunpowder.

The sudden burst of cheers was like a torrential downpour washing over tiles, and everyone was practically tearing their throats apart. The volume they produced was quite abnormal by normal standards—ordinary lungs and vocal cords would be insufficient to support such a sound, or even come close but would quickly tear and bleed. But for them, it was effortless, requiring almost no effort at all.

Everyone here has undergone a terrifying, custom-made transformation. Parasites, carefully cultivated by the Mushishi, replace their organs and limbs, giving them bizarre powers far exceeding those of ordinary people, as well as inhuman hunger and desire. They have long since deviated far from the concept of being human.

They were greedy, vicious, and utterly inhuman, yet without a doubt, each and every one of them was a devoted fanatic, genuinely believing that everything they did had meaning and precious value. Therefore, at this moment, an indescribable ecstasy immediately seized each of them; the path they had been searching for had finally come to an end!

"I urge you to continue to fulfill your duties, my children! Do not slacken in the slightest. The closer we get to success, the more careful we must be. Do what you are supposed to do! The kingdoms of mortals may flaunt their power, but they do not know what they will ultimately face!"

The sacrificial offering's body had turned completely pale. The fine, downy parasites, having drained all his blood, were now throbbing actively in his muscles. His throat was as dry and parched as a piece of firewood, as if it would fall to the ground if his head were touched.

He reached out and gently brushed his hand across the cut wound. The horrible downy hairs vanished instantly, leaving only dozens of tiny bumps beneath his skin, converging towards the joints before disappearing, leaving only a crisp cracking sound from the bones.

All that remained on the table was a useless wreckage, and no one would waste their attention on it anymore. Meanwhile, these guys, who were used to hiding in the shadows, were cheering and desperately bowing to the man standing at the front... completely oblivious to the man's gaze, which seemed to regard him as if he were a pig or a sheep to be slaughtered.

........................

The last corpse was thrown into the pit. Its cloudy eyes were like those of a rotting dead fish. Only tattered undergarments remained on its body. A horrific wound that cut from the shoulder to the ribs was the main cause of the injury. Ordinary swords could not cut so deeply and cleanly. It was a terrible wound caused by a double-edged sword used to decapitate a horse, which killed him almost instantly.

Although it has begun to decompose, you can still see that he was once muscular and strong, with a dense array of old scars on his body, indicating that he had been through many battles.

This is a veteran of the legion, who has served in the army for many years. His long military career has allowed him to accumulate rich experience and martial arts skills. There are quite a few opponents who have died under his iron staff, and he has also received rewards from them all over his body.

He should have returned to his hometown in glory, living a comfortable life with the substantial savings he had accumulated over the years of serving the country. Even if he squandered his fortune due to incompetence, he could have chosen to return to the army and continue doing what he was good at...

But now, he could only silently rot among the corpses, without glory or value. Flies had already laid eggs in his wounds, and finally, a clump of yellow earth covered his face. The two idle laborers who watched him being buried were just chatting and joking around while they worked. To them, burying him was no different than burying a pig that had died of disease.

The cleanup of the battlefield was finally completed. A full week later, the last rotting corpse was buried. Swarms of flies were everywhere, and putrid blood left horrifying pools on the ground.

This place had almost become a death zone, where even the weeds were unusual. Only carrion animals lingered reluctantly at the edge of the battlefield, trying to dig up the corpses from the ground to fill their bellies... But the buryers were prepared, and the thick soil forced them to return empty-handed.

Karila frowned and sniffed – the stench in the air had been greatly reduced; nature's purifying ability was quite remarkable, and many people had become accustomed to the smell, so its impact at this moment was negligible.

But Karila was different... Her sense of smell was so exceptional that even in this situation, the smell still felt like needles pricking her nose. The smell of blood was something she was used to, but the smell of a large number of rotting corpses was still extraordinary.

The army's rest and reorganization had lasted for a long time, but given their heavy losses, it was not surprising. Most of the lightly wounded soldiers had returned to their ranks, while those with more serious injuries were sent to the rear. Many military-trained reservists were also brought in, allowing the two legions to at least superficially regain their fighting strength.

However, this period of rest is eventually coming to an end, and the army will continue its march. But for now, she has plenty of free time and nothing she absolutely has to do.

Wearing only a suit of chainmail and leather boots, Karila wiggled her toes, feeling the texture of her cotton socks. She looked up at the sky, slowly contemplating her next move. Her mind offered suggestion after suggestion, which she then eliminated one by one, until only one remained—

I should go and see Tersoly.

It was a rather strong idea, with an unquestionable dominance and presence, that immediately dispelled all other thoughts as soon as it appeared, just as a colossal creature emerged from the water and all the other ice shards had to make way for it.

Nakalila's personality has never shown any hesitation or timidity. After realizing this, she changed her direction in just a dozen breaths and walked firmly and quickly toward the central command tent in the military camp.

Thesolius spent his days in that place, even sleeping there, though he would separate it with a curtain. A black flag fluttered above the tall white tent, which had a golden spire at the top. Several thick ropes were driven into the ground with steel spikes around it, and guards holding halberds stood solemnly beside the gate.

Chapter 510 Ending (6)

"It seems I have suffered a shameful defeat."

Thesolius calmly uttered these words without the slightest change in expression. It was just an ordinary sentence, but the way he said it always carried a sense of shock and horror, enough to arouse strong curiosity in many people. Few could imagine his defeat; in many people's eyes, Thesolius was the epitome of victory.

If those words hadn't come from his own mouth, anyone who relayed the scene would likely have been ridiculed, thought to be out of their mind. But Thesolius knew perfectly well that his words meant nothing more than that he had experienced a defeat.

The glass jar in front of me is a beautiful, smooth pear shape. It is not very transparent, but it is enough to see what is inside. A layer of ominous green mold floats on the surface of the liquid, and some rotten and spoiled residue flows in it. The black liquid also looks very bad. In short, it is a jar of stinky water.

This was far from his expectations... He had sealed the finest grapes in this jar, each one reaching the limit of what this species could grow on this land. Even the most discerning winemaker could not find better raw materials. They should have fermented into excellent wine, but because of insufficient time, the taste would be very bland.

He was absolutely certain that he had followed every step of the instructions, but the situation was still quite bad. No one would consider the contents of the jar to be drinkable; even pouring it into the grass would be poisonous to insects.

After a brief moment of thought, Tersolius concluded that the reason was likely that he had brought it with him on the march, and the bumpy roads and changes in the weather had some unpredictable effects on it, which led to this result. This also meant that his plan to celebrate the victory with his own brewed wine had completely failed.

After a sigh, he walked out of the tent with a hint of reluctance, pulled out the seal, and dumped everything inside into the grass next to him. The guard on duty stood motionless, leaning on his halberd, without even turning his head.

The warm sunlight shone on the land, but the stench of blood and decay from the battlefield still lingered. He took off his gloves and firmly grasped the glass jar. A gust of wind blew, rustling the leaves and weeds, and some extremely faint footsteps took the opportunity to quickly approach him.

He realized it a little too late. Before his fingers could even grip the hilt of the military knife, two long, slender hands grabbed his shoulders and suddenly unleashed a force that even he couldn't resist, turning him around completely, one hand still tightly clutching the jar.

At that moment, a certain instinct took over his body. It was an instinct honed through killing countless people, just like a baby's innate ability to swallow and breathe. In an instant, he had a way to deal with it. This distance was not enough to fully draw the general's sword, but it was enough to draw it out one-third of the way. This distance was enough for the counterweight at the end of the hilt to break the bone, thus giving him room to swing the sword and kill.

He should have executed the maneuver without hesitation, and the so-called attacker should have been beheaded in the next instant... but a familiar scent happened to enter his nose at that moment, like a switch being flipped in his brain, causing him to stop immediately.

He lost his fleeting chance to resist, and the other person immediately took advantage of the situation, suddenly crashing into his arms and then greedily and wantonly biting his lips.

It was like holding an angry she-wolf in her arms, trying to bite off his face starting from his lips, but far from being so ferocious. Instead, it revealed a hint of shyness and awkwardness, making his lips hurt from the bites.

The duration was short, but it left a deep impression on him, even causing him to fall into a strange daze. It took him several breaths to come back to his senses, while Karila in front of him showed no intention of backing down and remained pressed tightly against him.

"Haha, good morning, sir."

She tried to make her voice sound light and nonchalant, but she didn't quite succeed. A certain obvious wavering was still revealed in the subtle details, making what should have been a carefree statement sound stiff and unnatural.

"...Your way of greeting people is quite unique."

Thesolius hesitated for a moment with a stiff expression before finally managing to utter such a sentence. His wavering was no less than that of his opponent, and the two seemed particularly evenly matched in this respect.

At this moment, Karila was desperately trying to get her head moving... She didn't even know why she had the courage to attack Tersolius like a lion that would approach its prey when it had its back turned... Of course, up to this point, it was just a rather reckless prank, but then, driven by some emotion, she did something even bolder.

It was as if a flame suddenly exploded in her heart, burning fiercely in every corner, and once it started burning, it was unwilling to be extinguished, greedily craving, cheering and leaping... driving her, seducing her, and she obviously could not resist the temptation.

This thing had existed before, quietly sprouting at some unknown time, slowly growing like a tiny flame... But recently it has become increasingly uncontrollable, as if some kind of fuel had been added to it, making her feel as if she were bewitched.

The old way of getting along no longer satisfies her—she may not be fully aware of this, but she does it subconsciously, and because of her innate boldness and meticulousness, she does it without hesitation.

However, doing something without hesitation doesn't mean she can face it calmly afterwards. In fact, at this moment, the man's gaze was more dangerous than a hot iron to Karila, making her feel helpless, unsure of what to say or do... But surprisingly, this situation didn't disgust her.

She longed to see this man; her yearning grew in her heart like spring grass sprouts, driving her to make that bold and reckless move... Now it seemed the adventure was worthwhile... and she should continue.

The problem lies precisely in this step, just like a running machine suddenly getting stuck due to a program error—this girl, who has spent more than a decade of her life amidst wind, snow, axes, and splattering blood, passionately hacking down one opponent and enemy after another, clearly has no experience or clue about this.

Of course, she wasn't completely unfamiliar with such matters, but such advice was probably not very practical—in Karila's hometown, there was a day every year when everyone from several neighboring villages would gather in the largest longhouse for a banquet, with men, women, and children all present, and this day also had a special significance.

Those men and women who grew up and became fertile in that year would invite each other... Most of the time, it was the boys who took the initiative, and the process was quite straightforward—they would go directly to the girl they liked, take her hand, and if she was willing, she would leave with him to go to a nearby house to do what needed to be done, without wasting a moment.

If someone looks down on him, he might get slapped or punched, but fights are unlikely to break out. Everyone maintains a certain tacit understanding and patience... That harsh land needs newborns, and they don't have time to drag things out.

She briefly recalled what she had seen and heard in the past, and then almost instinctively discarded it, realizing that it was indeed of no use, or rather, even if it were useful, she would find it difficult to make up her mind to do so.

So, almost instinctively, perhaps out of path dependence, perhaps out of genuine feeling, or perhaps just a fleeting thought, she blurted out a sentence uncontrollably:

"Would you like to have another spar?"

Carila, you idiot...

Almost the instant the words left her mouth, she regretted them, but unfortunately, there was no going back. She could only grimace and watch the other person's reaction.

"……Can."

Karila immediately laughed, a blush spreading across her snow-white cheeks, and she smirked, revealing sharp teeth.

"Let's go then!"

"Go to the training ground in the south."

........................

The sturdy long-handled axe in his hand had an exaggeratedly broad blade, like a crescent moon, almost enough to cover his face. It was heavy enough and reliable enough, with its center of gravity forward, enough to cut a strong man in two with a single blow. The mahogany handle was sturdy enough, and it was reinforced with carved copper rings. The pointed end was also made of fine steel, which, while adjusting the balance, could also shatter the bone beneath the flesh.

This is a very useful axe, and it is also very difficult to damage. Even if you chop hard on iron armor and break the sword and its owner, it still doesn't require much maintenance. You can pick it up and use it right away. After you're done, you just need to wipe off the blood. This makes it especially suitable for her.

Of course, this was just a friendly spar, not a contest to behead the other person, so this wasn't her most proficient weapon. She had sharpened the blade and reduced its weight, so while it could still kill, it was much easier to control.

The heavy armor covering their entire bodies was another layer of protection, and it was also to allow their bodies to get used to the weight and constraints, so that they could perform well in the main battle. For the two of them, the armor was almost like a second skin, and it was difficult for it to cause any more trouble to their bodies.

The field before them was covered in yellow dust, but not a single weed grew there. It had long been trampled flat and solid by thousands of feet. Military formations and iron boots had repeatedly trampled and flattened it here, making it a perfect place for battle.

She dragged the axe across the ground, carving a furrow in the hard soil, and then, with the strength of her wrist, she made it bounce off the ground and land in the palm of her other hand. Feeling the subtle change in the center of gravity and the feel of the axe, she habitually hoisted it onto her shoulder and walked forward with her head held high. A similar figure was walking towards her from the opposite side.

It was a long-handled crescent axe, almost identical to the one in her hand, made by a skilled craftsman in the Imperial Army. Even the engraved copper sleeve came from the same batch of molds. The mahogany handle was painted black and was now sliding calmly inside her leather gloves.

They continued forward for about five steps before finally stopping. The two looked at each other through the helmet visors and then silently assumed their fighting stances.

Thesolius's shoulders tensed like mountain rocks, and he slowly raised the long axe behind his head, his two arms forming a stable support. He exuded a heavy and majestic aura like a mountain, and the axe was like a rolling boulder that could collapse at any moment.

"Let me see just how good you are."

With a swift flick of his wrist, the axe pointed diagonally downwards, its gleaming tip, sharp enough to disembowel a man, buried in the dust. Karila revealed a savage smile, showing no sign of retreat or wavering.

"Then you'd better be careful, sir. Don't suffer here. I won't hold back against you."

Thesolius raised his eyebrows, though no one could see it because of his visor, but a smile, clearly carrying a different emotion, drifted out from his helmet, like a warm cloud reaching her ears:

"Heh... Well then, be careful."

The axe blade tore through the air and cleaved down with a piercing shriek, almost piercing people's ears. Just this terrifying momentum was enough to make people's hair stand on end. There was absolutely no room for holding back, and it was enough to leave many people stunned and waiting to die.

But his opponent was equally formidable, fiercely slashing upwards at his side with an axe blade. If it hit, it would be enough to leave him breathless for a moment, making him unable to cope with the subsequent pursuit. So he had to change his movements and deflect the attack with a spinning long axe.

Every subsequent attack and defense was equally ruthless and swift as the wind, yet they never actually injured each other. Only the dust on the ground was kicked up by their boots, and the clash of axes sparked sparks, creating whirlwinds and tearing through the air.