Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

Like two lions locked in a fierce battle, steel serves as their claws and teeth, yet it never truly cuts through flesh. Rather, it's a form of communication, more efficient and direct than words, capable of penetrating deep into each other's hearts…

Chapter 511 Ending (7)

The steel clashed, scattering tiny sparks—iron filings burning in the high temperature. The two figures moved like fighting antelopes, their iron boots kicking up dust from the hard, rammed earth, and their long axes whistling through the air. Just watching from afar was enough to send chills down one's spine, as if someone would be defeated and killed at any moment.

But these breathtaking swings never landed on the opponent. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, or simply a tacit understanding, the axes were always skillfully dodged by each other, never even grazing the protective armor plates. The fierce blows could only ever hit the opponent's axe.

Fighting in armor like this is extremely physically demanding, but neither of them showed any signs of exhaustion. Only a fine sheen of sweat seeped from their skin, dampening their clothes. The armor plates rustled with each step, and the sun, peeking through the clouds, cast its soft rays upon their polished steel armor.

The battle seemed to have no end. The two remained evenly matched, their tension palpable. There were no battle cries or exchanges; they simply swung their battle axes. Although there were no fancy or elaborate movements, every move was clean, sharp, and full of killing intent. Simple yet effective, the battle grew increasingly harmonious over time.

Finally, when the shadow of the sun had passed two feet across the ground, the battle was decided. The taller figure seized the opportunity, taking advantage of the moment when the opponent's move was at its weakest, and spun his long axe, using the sharp end to precisely wed the gap in the middle of the opponent's broad axe blade, locking the axe directly to the ground. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward, struck the opponent's helmet with the axe handle, and while the opponent was dizzy, he bent down and wrapped his arms around the opponent's waist.

To throw a heavily armored opponent to the ground requires considerable skill and strength, both of which he possessed... So, without any surprise, with a slightly surprised exclamation, Karila's feet lifted off the ground, and she rolled along Tersolius's back before falling to the ground.

If it were a real enemy, Tersolius would slam them to the ground, letting the heavy force shake their internal organs, and then plunge his saber into their exposed throat... But now he simply let the girl roll down his back, no different from rolling down a low slope, without even making her dizzy, and she could immediately get up from the ground.

So, almost instinctively, to ensure that his opponent was incapacitated, he pressed down on her the instant he threw her to the ground, grabbing her arm and pinning it firmly to the ground, thus ending the girl's last attempt to turn the tide and declaring his hard-won victory.

"Huff... Huff... Hiss—I'm still no match for you."

Heavy breathing came from inside the helmet. Karila, already covered in sweat, patted the other person to let go of her hand, took off the unbearably hot helmet, her golden hair was stuck to her cheeks with sweat, and her rapidly beating heart was sending more blood to all parts of her body, making her face turn red.

“You’ve improved a lot. A year ago, I definitely wouldn’t have won this hard… I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been slacking off lately.”

Thesolius straightened up and removed his own winged helmet—which had been covered in scratches and dents since the battle and hadn't even been taken to a craftsman for repair yet.

Just then, he suddenly realized that he was still pinning down the girl beneath him, so he immediately straightened his back and prepared to stand up from the ground—and in the next instant, the sky and the ground in his eyes flipped upside down, and the back of his head hit the hard ground, while the girl who had just been lying beneath him was now smiling brightly in the sunlight with a hint of smugness.

He immediately realized what had just happened... Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration, Carila flipped over and was now straddling him, her hands pressing down on his shoulders.

It was a rather ambiguous posture, but because of the thick armor, neither of them felt anything. However, Tersolius felt his heart inexplicably race. The sensation was very slight, but he still noticed it... In that instant, he almost disliked his own extraordinary sensitivity.

"...Don't cheat, I still won in the end."

"Ah, of course, I'm not the kind of guy who can't accept defeat... I just think this seems like a good opportunity, don't you think?"

Karila seemed to have no intention of asking any questions. Almost the instant she uttered those words, Tersolius already knew what she was up to—her smug, handsome face was rapidly approaching him. Golden strands of hair were the first to touch his face, bringing a ticklish sensation. A kind of intense flame was burning in his eyes, undisguised, so intense it almost consumed him.

Whether it was meaningful or meaningless, the girl's long hair could never be completely tied up; some strands would always slip off the hair tie. At this moment, it was like a silk curtain, obscuring his view. Only their breathing became increasingly clear... This was not the sudden attack of before, but rather an action filled with unwavering determination, to complete it bit by bit in front of him, genuinely conveying that burning emotion to him, allowing neither him to dodge nor herself to escape.

He was almost stunned... This was a situation he had never encountered before. He was always the one who was terrified and dumbfounded when he saw him, but he never expected that one day he would actually be in such a situation where he didn't know what to do...

It's not that he's resisting getting close to the other person—after all, he's a normal, virile man... But the problem is, this isn't some secluded place; it's a training ground with absolutely no privacy! Tens of thousands of troops are resting in this military camp, and he's the commander leading this army!! Just now, a patrol squad even passed by and saluted him!

"cough!!"

A crisp cough suddenly came from the side, carrying a subtle emotion within it. Karila, who had been looking down, jerked her head up as if struck by lightning, her face involuntarily showing a look of panic. At that moment, Tersolius instinctively looked in the direction from which the sound came—

A girl dressed in a white dress stood by the railing of the martial arts arena with a resentful expression. Her long blue hair was repeatedly twirling between her fingers. She would look up at them one moment and then look down at the ground the next, muttering something under her breath. However, because of the distance, even he couldn't hear her clearly.

"Haha... Doctor, when did you arrive...?"

Even if Karila was as unconventional as she was, she couldn't continue at this point, so she could only stand up from the ground reluctantly, try to remain calm, and pat the dust off her armor—thanks to the repeated trampling and friction here, she could do this for a long time.

"Around the time when the two of you were rolling around on the ground together."

Although his tone was perfectly calm, Thesolius sensed a unique melancholy in his words. This time, even he couldn't feign death. He too rose from the ground and said dryly:

"It's just a friendly exchange."

"Ah, right, right, we were just sparring!"

As if she had grasped something important, Karila, feeling inexplicably guilty, quickly echoed her point, while Talina, after looking them up and down a few times, suddenly sighed softly:

“Mind your manners, sir… I’ve already sent two patrol teams around this area… Also, we should plan our next move.”

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

A fly with a bald head the size of a mung bean vibrated its wings, making a rather piercing noise in the air. Its entire body was covered in a metallic green light, and its chest and abdomen were covered with thick, short bristles. Its six disproportionately thin legs were tucked under its abdomen, ready to provide support on some surface at any time.

This creature, drawn by stench and blood, has been a companion to humankind for a considerable time. Long before primitive humans used their rudimentary stone spears to pierce their prey, it was already swarming around, licking the splattered blood. Not to mention, with the development of human society, the countless corpses left behind by massive wars have provided it and other insects and rodents with abundant food; almost no one can escape the harassment of this creature.

But it arrived a step too late today... The mountains of corpses on the battlefield had long been buried, leaving only the pungent stench of blood still tantalizing its senses. There was nothing left to reproduce or to fill its stomach, so it circled around the land several times in a daze before finally landing on a large leaf due to exhaustion.

The weather was getting colder and colder, and the creature moved more and more slowly. It was about to end its short life, and the next generation had already been living in some rotting things. But it was still unwilling to stop for a moment in its last moments, and was still tirelessly spreading germs and searching for flesh and carrion.

The rustling of leaves in the grass was delicate and dense. Then a figure in a black robe peeked out from within. The fly hesitated on the leaf for a while before flapping its wings and flying away—which would have been fatal on any other day, but was insignificant at this moment, because the people who had disturbed the area would not have paid attention to a trivial fly.

This was a small, almost ape-like person with narrow shoulders, slender limbs, and an unusually small head, about a size smaller than a normal person. He was about the height of a half-grown boy. He was almost unnoticed as he huddled in the corner of the bushes, just as a person would not notice a mouse hiding in the shadow of a table corner so quickly.

His hands are even more unique—they have a slender and long structure like an insect, with several extra joints on each finger, allowing them to curl and relax as flexibly as tentacles.

He craned his neck and gazed at the plain before him for a while, looking at the land still stained with blood. As if he had suddenly realized something, he paused for a moment, then turned and left without hesitation, his black robes not hanging on anything in the bushes.

He was already being extremely careful, and with his own advantages, he was as silent as a mouse. Even experienced veterans of the battlefield would be fooled by him. If the target was tall enough, he could even hide in the opponent's shadow. He had never failed before, but for some reason, today he had a bad feeling...

It was as if a switch in his brain had been flipped at some point, causing him to feel inexplicably uneasy and flustered, yet he couldn't find the reason at all... This was probably his current state, but after being cautious for a while, he quietly relaxed and chose to trust his own abilities.

And so, under the bright sun, he continued to advance, using the shadows of the bushes and shrubs as cover. He didn't even disturb the insects inside, but he remained completely unaware of a wisp of black mist that appeared intermittently in the treetops and canopies, swirling slightly, only about 30 paces away from him.

He remained completely unaware throughout, even sneaking past beneath the black mist several times. The black mist never seemed to intend to harm him, silently following him as he moved forward. Accompanied by the chirping of birds and insects, shadows were constantly shifting in the shadiest part of this land.

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

The marble altar is spacious and grand, with its finely textured surface carved with countless ornate patterns. Every detail is the result of the painstaking efforts of skilled craftsmen. The edges are specially made to be raised to prevent the offerings from rolling off due to their shape. The four corners are adorned with upward-pointing dragon heads, with scales, horns, whiskers, and teeth carved with lifelike detail. The mouths of the dragons contain the finest lamp oil, which is immediately replenished if it runs low, ensuring that the lamps burn eternally.

This is the temple in the imperial capital, the abode of the goddess Fusgrina. People always flock here to offer sacrifices, and recently it has been even more so... This is thanks to news from the front lines. Almost everyone knows that the legions led by Tersolius have, as always, defeated the enemy and protected the capital. In addition, many of the members of these two legions are residents of the imperial capital, so more and more people are coming here to pray and offer sacrifices, hoping that the gods will bless their loved ones in the legions with invincible victories.

The number of people was so large that the priests in the temple were completely overwhelmed. In order to maintain order and dignity, many things could not be compromised, which often resulted in long queues that could last until night.

Chapter 512 Gray Shadow (1)

Every victory brings a mountain of poverty here. The fattest lambs, the freshest fruits, and the most abundant ears of wheat are as insignificant as sand. According to the ancient tradition of the empire, the offerings must be edible, so nobles, officials, and wealthy merchants always try to make their offerings unique.

The fat, vegetarian snakes from the southern kingdom of Turru, the agile horned wolves from the eastern grasslands, the ferocious lions from the western forests, and the strange, large fish from the northern ocean with a mouth full of sharp teeth, capable of swallowing a pig whole... all sorts of rare and exotic beasts that ordinary people could not even see were slaughtered and placed on the offering platform.

Their flesh is not necessarily delicious and tender; in fact, it can be described as coarse. Many of them even have an unbearable fishy and foul smell that is difficult to remove even with spices. However, they are novel, rare, and precious enough. Without exception, they are all covered with oil and burned to ashes after the ritual.

For this reason, the altar is almost always busy. Even with the priests' careful maintenance, it has long been stained with a faint black layer of smoke and fire, which has deeply penetrated into the stone.

A slender, long hand slowly swept across the dark stone platform, unsurprisingly quickly becoming stained with a layer of black ink. This ink inevitably contained some oil, making it difficult to clean.

Fortunately, the owner of this hand was not a delicate little girl. Her palms and knuckles also had thick calluses, marks left from years of holding weapons. Naturally, she wouldn't care about this little bit of dirt, not to mention that it was something she had deliberately gotten there.

The emperor of the empire walked through what was perhaps the most magnificent and majestic temple in the entire world. The towering statue of the goddess calmly watched everything before her, the sword and scales in her hand casting strange shadows in the firelight.

"Tell me, Perilaya, what did your father, the wise man who once served Emperor Igulus, think of his lord?"

The emperor slowly descended the steps, the braziers on either side illuminating the area brightly. A woman in a white dress, with gold rings on her white arms, followed behind him, her long gray hair gleaming gold in the firelight.

The chief scholar and her monarch walked one after the other in the vast, silent hall in the dead of night, but without a definite purpose... or rather, the emperor had no definite purpose, like a playful girl walking in an unfamiliar place, sometimes climbing up the steps, sometimes jumping down lightly, sometimes holding onto the railing and stroking the hard, smooth carved patterns on it.

The place was eerily empty; you could almost hear a person breathing. Only the huge, majestic statues silently watched them, surrounded by darkness.

"...Please allow me to be so bold as to ask, Your Majesty, why do you suddenly want to know these things?"

Silence suddenly descended upon the scene. If a third person were fortunate enough to witness this moment, they would probably not dare to utter a sound—a monarch's silence always signifies something, and such things are generally not good, especially for an emperor whose majesty is growing ever stronger.

Moreover, Perilaya's words themselves were a questioning of the Emperor... As the Emperor's chief scholar, she should have answered all the doubts of the Empire's supreme ruler. But at this moment, she was going against her duty to raise such a question, and even if she were punished for it, it wouldn't seem out of place.

But the emperor had no intention of punishing her, and she was already prepared for it.

"Because of some signs."

"sign?"

"Yes, because of some signs."

The emperor nodded, walked around once more and returned to the seat of the god of war. There was nowhere to sit and rest, so at the emperor's prompting, she took two more steps down and sat on the marble steps.

"According to the information I have, Emperor Igulus was not a cruel and incompetent person before he ascended the throne. On the contrary, he was known for his wisdom, resourcefulness, and integrity. Elder Scripps greatly admired him and had high hopes for him."

The emperor did not explain what he had just said, and Perilaya did not ask; she simply listened patiently.

"All the changes occurred ten years after he ascended the throne. This emperor, who was originally diligent and hardworking, suddenly changed his temperament, becoming cruel and suspicious. He would not listen to any advice that contradicted him, and despite opposition, he launched several wars that were wasteful and futile, even destroying the Southern Ksa Legion at that time, causing this famous army to completely lose its lineage."

"The war he forcibly pushed forward brought no benefit to the empire, and it was defeated by foreign enemies. If it weren't for the efforts of a brave general, our westernmost province would probably have fallen into enemy hands. In addition, his tyrannical levies on the entire country finally exhausted the people's last hope for him, and in the end he could only fall from the palace tower like a cowardly and ridiculous madman."

"Are all of these true?"

Clautina turned to look at the woman beside her, her expression calm, but something was brewing in her eyes, while Perilla hesitated briefly before slowly nodding:

"You must have learned a lot from Lord Scripps... That is indeed true, and even the death of that mad emperor was partly due to the influence of this elder. The period when he wreaked havoc on the country was also known as the 'Year of Madness'... But it is undeniable that Emperor Igulus gradually went mad, and this is also verified in my father's records."

"That's right, an emperor who died because of madness... and his son also caused us a lot of trouble."

The firelight in the brazier flickered and danced like a living thing, instantly obscuring half of the emperor's face in shadow. His face was as somber and cold as a marble sculpture, giving even the usually accompanied Perilaya a strange sense of estrangement, a feeling that quickly sent chills down her spine.

“There are certain signs, like I just told you—though extremely subtle and very slow, I have noticed them… I am undergoing some changes myself, and it is definitely not a good thing.”

Perilla was startled and sat up abruptly from the steps, completely disregarding her composure.

"Your Majesty, you mean...!"

"Yes."

The emperor calmly admitted, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the hard marble beside him:

"If I'm not mistaken, the madness that killed Emperor Russ and brought disaster to the whole country has probably already begun to sprout and grow within me."

"I've thought about this for a long time and I'm sure that my irritability and mental imbalance are not due to the heavy burden of national affairs, which is why I came to this conclusion... And I won't let the situation continue to worsen, so I need to know more."

Chapter 513 Gray Shadow (2)

A sizzling hot frying pan was carefully removed from the flame, covered with a plate, and then flipped over—the golden-brown, perfectly baked pie was now on display, its shape still intact. The prepared meat sauce was then carefully poured over it, the heat of which could not be dispelled by the damp, cold air from the west.

Take a small fish called chestnut fish, whose scales are only the length of a finger, squeeze out its internal organs from its gills, cut off its head, and then add slices of freshly picked grey goose leg from the forest, pork belly from Papuan black pig, and freshly picked and washed river shrimp.

Layer upon layer, with fresh grape leaves at the bottom, and a sauce made with wine as the base is poured in. Then it can be slowly simmered on a stove. When it's done, even the bones are tender, and the aroma will waft out far and wide.

The wheat flour, sifted several times, is so fine that it would fly away with a breath. Eggs, honey, oil, and sugar are added to it, and it is rolled into a curved shape in a special mold and baked in an oven. It becomes crispy, oily, and fragrant. It can also be eaten with cooked jam.

The delicious food in front of him was like a hand gripping his stomach and captivating his eyes, making it impossible for him to focus his attention elsewhere. His mouth was watering so much that he swallowed several times in a short while, and even choked on his own. His breathing was heavy and rapid, like an angry dog.

Of course, to be fair, while the food before him was plentiful enough, it still seemed simple compared to the delicacies he had enjoyed before. But at this moment, after enduring hunger for several days, this carefully prepared food suddenly seemed irresistible, making it difficult for him to think. His brain was like a rusty sword, unwilling to move, only urging him to eat what was in front of him quickly.

At a table not far from here, the guards and servants who had betrayed him were also being treated well, and they seemed no less so than he was... This made him feel a little annoyed—but it was only a fleeting feeling. After all, he wasn't a fool who couldn't see the situation clearly; it was just his past pride temporarily churning in his mind.

But no matter what, he needs to eat something first, otherwise he won't be able to do anything.

And so, as if some mechanism had been turned on, the ragged, unkempt red-haired man suddenly reached out and grabbed the steaming hot pie, tearing off a piece with his hands covered in sauce and grease and stuffing it into his mouth... He was immediately stunned by the rich aroma, then chewed a couple of times rather perfunctorily and swallowed it hastily, almost as if he had swallowed it whole, while his hand had already grabbed the next piece.