Shadow of the Evil God

"Solair." Allandi was already leaning on his arm. Her voice was lazy, but her eyes were meaningful. "I don't know what your impression of Solair is, but I have never met such a cold and cruel father. It was Milava's misfortune to be raised by her. When I was pregnant with my child, I felt that I should be the one to comfort this child and help him get out of his distorted hatred and love."

"I think you brought him a more cruel and distorted hatred and love." Cesar said, "Do you want me to tell you about the final outcome of you and Milava?"

"You're speaking for Soleil? How interesting." Alanti smiled. "Do you know why I call her father? Actually, it's not me who says she is father, everyone says she is father. Milava also calls her Holy Father. Since I started to comfort Milava, every memory related to Soleil has frightened him so much that he can't sleep at night. Sometimes he even wakes up crying in his dreams."

Cesar didn't want to connect Arlandi's description with the girl Soin from back then, but the past was right before his eyes, so he could only bear it. "Who is reading this memory?" he asked.

"It's my mother," said Alante, "but I can say it's me too. When I was a fetus, she was obeying my instructions and doing what I asked her to do. Everything she saw and heard, all her memories and feelings, she shared with me. So, there is a secret here that the world doesn't know. Can you see what it is, my dear?"

"You first met Milava and realized that you would fall in love in the year before you were born," Cesar murmured to himself. "Your mother used magic to observe Solaire and Milava on the road, and you also observed him through your mother's vision. However, Solaire is a god, how could she let you..."

"Soleil allowed us to observe them because she knew that this seemingly proud boy was riddled with shadows and wounds. If he wasn't healed, he would be destined to become a tyrant."

"Are you saying that you are responsible for Milava becoming the monarch he later became?"

"Of course, Solaire knows that she is incapable of loving anyone, and no one else can overcome Milava's mental defenses. Who else can do this?"

"Soleil..."

"I don't know Solaire very well." Alanti looked at him meaningfully. "But if someone can make it this far alone during the dark ages of the transition between eras, it certainly wasn't love or compassion that made it."

Cesar watched as Milava finally caught up with Soler's warhorse. "Holy Father, where are we going?" his voice was hoarse with exhaustion. From the carriage window, he saw the young Emperor of France, dressed in a slim-fitting leather coat, his black hair tied back at the waist. Though dusty, his skin was fair, his eyes were beautiful, his features delicate, and his frame somewhat thin. Back then, he looked quite androgynous.

"Do you remember what I said, Mile?" Soler said in a stern voice, and Cesar could not recognize it as the girl's voice at all.

"I remember," the future Emperor Fran said nervously, "I have always remembered it and have never forgotten it for a moment."

"speak out."

"Wherever I pass, hope will not be extinguished."

"Very good, you are my adopted son. I hope you will remember the inscription that has supported me to this day. As for this place, it is the place where the person who will accompany you for the rest of your life will be born. Your injuries can be healed here, and your path will be revealed here. What you cannot do..."

"Mother!" Milava's voice suddenly became urgent, "My destiny is in my own hands..."

"Remember what I said?" Soler's voice was like a sigh in the mist, completely overwhelmed by Milava's rebuttal. Her face was also hidden in the hood, like the mist, completely impenetrable.

"I remember, but..." He said with fear in his voice.

"You will obey my wishes, Mile," she said in an unquestionable voice, "until I return to the brink of the abyss."

"I can see my path and my hope!" His tone became more urgent.

"Your so-called hope is so empty and meaningless, and your so-called path is so dark and unclear. Before you loudly proclaim your blind faith, have you ever considered what you are doing?

All you do is enjoy the flattery and adulation of mediocre people?"

Chapter 425: The Names of the Gods

Cesar waited for a long time, but found that Milava did not answer. It seemed that the young Emperor of France had experienced similar things many times and had learned that rebuttal was pointless. Before the conversation, Milava had just caught up with Soler on horseback and seemed excited. After the conversation, his sparkling black eyes had become listless and his expression was indifferent, as if covered with a layer of dust.

Many years later, Milava was tall and muscular, his face a battle-worn, irreparably burned, his fair skin and thin frame invisible to the naked eye. Now he looked like a lifeless young girl, slender and frail, with a pale face. His black hair fluttered in the wind, brushing against his eyes. Cesar realized that they revealed something more than just indifference.

"You noticed it too?" Alanti said with a smile.

Of course, his eyes were the most remarkable feature of his face, making it all the more striking. They were large and full of life; even after death, when Milava spoke to Cesar about his ideals and beliefs, he was full of vigor, as if no obstacle stood in his way. On the other hand, they were also highly variable; now, for example, they shone with a nervous, morbid light that was not childish.

At that time, in front of Cesar, his eyes flashed with fanaticism and pride, demanding others to obey his beliefs and follow his ideals.

But in front of Soler, the look in these eyes was one of repression and anticipation. Because he had never fulfilled Soler's demands on him, and his expectations of Soler had never been met, the repression would become deeper and deeper, becoming as indifferent as it is now, and covered with more and more gray.

Alante turned her sapphire eyes, finally resting on the forest where Milava was watching. "The strange thing about this child is that he is blindly following the path that Soleil has taken, and therefore his habits, but he can't bear it and is almost going mad," she said.

"And you stood up?" Cesar asked her.

"I don't know what sustains Soleil. She looks up to the gods, and down to the faithful who see her as a god. She seems to care about nothing except the rise and fall of civilization and the hopes of her people. That's why people call her the Holy Father, implying that her spirit transcends human limits. Milawa emulated her, believing he should learn everything, but the result is that he owns no one but himself throughout his life. And how can one live without hope?"

Cesar pondered what he had witnessed. "At first, Milava placed his hopes on Soler. Later, when he found no response, his soul became covered in dust and he wanted to go mad, but he couldn't find any other hope. So you took the opportunity to show him a more magnificent imagination."

"Imagination?" Alanti turned and smiled. "You're being harsh, dear. The visions behind those histories are real. How can you call them imagination?"

"Because it's just a story," Cesar said, "describing an immature dragon as the mother of all people, as a symbol of faith, and describing the wise men of the Kuna people and their tribe as a kin-killing people, as a symbol of hatred. The way you use this story to describe his journey is essentially no different from a country fortune teller using bloody organs and viscera to fabricate visions of the future."

"Isn't religion born from stories like this?"

"I do not deny."

"Just as the believers willingly sacrificed their lives, Milava herself willingly surrendered to deception." Arlandi yawned and stretched, her chest, barely contained by her robes, threatening to break free. "At least I truly understand magic. Even if I can't learn to predict the future, I can capture the consciousness of those who will live after us and let them tell me about the future. Do you know how the Franks, before they learned magic, spun religious stories?"

Seeing her with a hazy smile on her face, her arms folded across her chest, her snow-white upper breasts swaying against the hem of her robe, Cesar moved his fingers. After a moment, he had grasped each of her breasts, barely grasping half, his fingers sinking deeply into the soft, fragrant flesh. He kneaded them vigorously, pinching her perky nipples with his thumb and index finger, twisting them between his fingers. Soon, he could hear her hazy gasps.

He kissed her, their lips intertwined, and when he looked up again, everything had changed to a quaint stone house. He saw believers from who knows what era were kneeling before Arlanti, begging for forgiveness, while Arlanti himself was preaching in another voice.

"This was an earlier era," she whispered to Cesar. "As for this person, he was the first to spread the origins of the Pantheon among the Franks. In other words, it was me."

It was a dark room, and the ceiling seemed to be covered with a starry sky descending into the world. Cesar looked carefully and found that they were some shiny blue scales, and he didn't know what the scales were.

On either side of the dark room stood the skeletons of ancestors, whispering to the people and asking them to obey the prophet. But hidden within the skeletons was a bone microphone connected to the basement behind Alante. Cesar followed the silk thread under the straw and saw that someone skilled in voice modification was hiding in the basement, pretending to be the people's ancestors and making up religious stories.

After the dry bones finished their speech, someone carried a brazier and walked around the kneeling believers. The wax sticking to the dry bones was burned and then the dry bones of the ancestors disintegrated.

The brazier that melted the dry bones of the ancestors was carried behind some colorful gems. The light became brighter through the colorful gems, and then passed through some misty white smoke. Suddenly, the phantoms of the gods appeared behind Alanti. Cesar had always wanted to know where the statues of the gods came from, but he didn't expect it to be at this time.

The believers shouted that the prophet had brought them salvation, and the ancient Alanti smiled and stretched out his hand to cover the forehead of the tribal leader in front who was dressed in luxurious clothes.

Cesar watched all this in silence, watching the ancient Arlanti comfort the crowd, shouting out the sins and terrors of Analik, and preaching her newly invented faith in the gods. She called out names such as Helgast and Hiel, and many other names of gods that had been lost to later generations.

He stood behind the worshipped prophet and gripped her even harder, as if that would dispel the scene before him. Her breasts were as smooth as fat, the beads gradually hardening, and two circles of red swelled. He pressed the beads firmly into the white flesh, then lifted them up and teased them with his index finger, making the blush on her neck even more pronounced.

"The gods originally had no names," he suddenly thought of something, "it was the Chosen Ones who, after the Age of Gods, imposed the images and names you made up on those seemingly real beings."

"I was very weak at the time, and I couldn't use magic very well." Alanti smiled at the believers in front of her, "I had to use some strange means. But these little means contain great and profound secrets, my dear. People need madness to support themselves. Madness is not the madness of one person, but the madness of a group of people, a madness shared by everyone."

"To them, the glittering scales are really the starry sky, the nameless bones are really the ancestors, and the liar who has not yet recovered his magic is really the prophet. People see the illusion created by the candlelight passing through the gems and smoke, so they cry to the gods they imagine and condemn the alien god Analik..." Cesar muttered to himself.

"What does it matter, dear?"

Cesar grasped her hips, gently gripping them. He felt the plump flesh slide open like grease, the butt crack already overflowing with juice. With his left hand, he caressed her soft, oozing lips. With his right hand, he squeezed open her tightly enveloping buttocks and pressed against the tender, red opening. Compared to the incredibly round buttocks, this area was incredibly delicate, tightly contracted like a soft, closed petal.

Arlandi bent down with the support of his arm, her belly slightly bulging, her slender waist curved like a crescent, gradually tapering downwards until her hips suddenly rose, revealing a more perfect round curve. The lining of her clothes clung to her hips, making her white and perky buttocks stand out even more, as if it was about to burst out of the fabric.

Cesar slid his snake-like body under her hips, wedging into the tightly enveloping cleft of her buttocks. The skin there was smooth and translucent, and the friction and pressure were more intense than ordinary intercourse. She twisted her waist slightly, and her plump buttocks twisted around it, its amazing elasticity making it even larger. In amazement, she hugged her full breasts and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"There's no difference between lies and truth." She looked up at him, a hint of ancient terror in her eyes. "If you follow its path, you'll reach hope. There's no need to doubt anything."

Cesar watched the crowd in the dark room calling out for the prophet. He slid slowly across her buttocks, and in a moment of distraction, his penis had already spread all over her smooth back. He took a breath, lowered the snake's head, and thrust hard into her closed small hole. Milava was clearly not used to using this area, and he immediately felt her delicate hole being stretched open, and the more it stretched, the stronger the pressure.

Arlandi couldn't help but close her eyes, a charming blush on her face. By the time he reached the depths, the closed petals had become a thin red thread, wrapping around him as he explored inside, squeezing and sending waves of pleasure.

This ancient scene gradually faded, and Cesar found himself standing in a bedroom. A woman who looked very similar to Alante was standing at the window, looking at Solaire and Milava riding in. She was pregnant and looked like Alante's mother.

He exploited the beauty of Arlandi's backside, lifting her body and turning her delicate face. He kissed her lips, capturing her soft moans and gasps. She moved her hips, the soft red line expanding and contracting with his thrusts, her buttocks flexing with his thrusts, revealing an alluring elasticity. She extended her soft tongue, letting him suck on it, savoring her saliva. Her breasts tightened around his left arm, the friction nearly numbing his hand to the point of numbness.

Alanti could no longer speak, but the mother in her memory turned around, as if there was no difference between them.

"Just as believers see what they want, Milava sees in me what he wants and should see." She walked slowly towards him. "I gave him faith, gave him the strength to live, and brushed away the dust in his eyes. Do you think I deceived him? Since this is what he needs, I will use deception and temptation to give it to him. Solaire gave him the power of reality, but I gave him the power of thought and spirit."

"No." Cesar frowned, parted his lips, held Arlandi on his lap, put his fingers between her lips, and asked her to suck gently.

There was affection in it, like love, and she was completely intoxicated by it. "You said so much, showed so much, but you only mentioned Milava and not yourself," he said.

"Of course, I gave everything for Milava. Why would I need to find myself?" Alante said, impersonating her mother. Her consciousness seemed to be divided into many strands, some of which were immersed in love, while others were fully lucid and able to speak. Cesar put his ear to Alante's lips, felt her soft breath, heard her whispered breaths.

He looked up. "You didn't tell Milawa that the so-called mother was actually a real dragon that never grew up."

"Hmm..." Allandi's mother frowned slightly, "Where did you get this idea? Isn't that just a myth of the Kuna people? There are so many myths..."

"I've seen Zaburon," Cesar said.

Chapter 426 What have you done to the Holy Father?

"Zavulon... I don't know who this is."

"I've already mentioned the existence of immature dragons," Cesar said. "At the time, I deliberately changed my tone and voice, hiding my words in a questioning of false beliefs. You were busy denying my questioning and ignored the existence of real dragons. Now you tell me you don't know who Zavulon is?"

"I seem to have heard of it, but I..." Arlandi's mother murmured to herself, shaking her head slowly, "No, I can't remember it. My memory becomes increasingly blurry as I go back further, and then it completely stops at the Tomb of the Wise. I..."

"Trace back!" Cesar raised his voice. As soon as he finished speaking, Arlante, in his arms, suddenly vanished, like a puff of mist on a windy day. Her mother, standing at the window, clutched her stomach and fell backward, first lowering her head. The moment she looked up, she had transformed into the ancient trickster prophet.

The prophet who brought the faith of gods to the Franks had snow-white hair and bright red eyes, and was clearly a Kuna.

Cesar stepped forward and grasped the deceitful prophet's shoulders. He saw the darkroom reappear. Someone was applying black dye to her snow-white hair, and someone else was applying a blue film to her bright red eyes. Soon, a Kuna had disguised himself as the dark-haired, blue-eyed Flan. He was frail, his face pale, and he had lost most of his school's magic. It seemed that the destruction of her school in the Tomb of the Wise had forced her to seek another path.

Despite this, this person still has the ability to deceive people. Even without using spells, she can portray herself as a prophet who has suffered trauma due to premonition and divine revelation.

"You've been to the Tomb of the Wise more than once, and you've failed more than once, isn't that right?" Cesar gripped her shoulders tighter. "The Yesterlen bloodline began with you, but the Ancient Will existed far earlier than you, isn't that right? What exactly are you trying to retrieve by going to the Tomb of the Wise?"

"Don't hold on so tightly, my dear," she sighed, her voice sweet. "My generation will soon pass away. I have no sons or daughters. The one who passed on my magic and thoughts was actually the child of a tribal warrior."

Cesar looked down and saw a young warrior in armor kneeling before her, his cheek pressed against her bare feet. The charcoal in the incense burner glowed a deep crimson, while curls of white smoke rose toward her cheek, veiling it in an ethereal veil. The smoke and flames blended together, seeming to glow with the blush of life, a scene of divine devotion deliberately crafted.

"Is this the first screening of the Yesterlen School's bloodline?" he asked. "You chose a tribal leader, then a woman, and had them combine to give birth to your next self?"

"But I also gave them a way to reach the Age of Gods and encouraged them to find an opportunity to rebel against the Kuna people," said the deceitful prophet. "Who can say this is a bad thing?"

She dissipated again, drifting like mist toward the window. Cesar took two steps forward, leaning against the window to peer out, only to find that Milava and Solaire had vanished. Beyond the window, instead of the castle gardens, stood a forest of spires and drifting clouds. The stone walls on either side were covered in relief carvings of extinct fey and plants from his time, as well as various monsters found only in the wastelands. High above, carvings of ferocious white nightmares bared their fangs and claws, signaling the difference between eras and civilizations.

Looking out into the distance, the fields stretched endlessly, the steep peaks of the mountains, capped with snow, gleaming silver in the morning light. The mountaintops were almost a hundred meters outside the window, level with it.

This place is not the ancient castle of the Yesterlen School, but a giant city of the Kuna people hanging high in the sky.

Cesar looked back and saw the room was incredibly tall, its walls shimmering with silver mirrors, reflecting each other. Numerous women of varying heights gathered around a central bed, their bodies bare, their clothing wrapped only in simple white strips. The air stank of blood. In the center, a woman in elegant attire, sitting in a chair, towered taller than he was standing. But her face, like Soler's, was veiled in the mist, completely indistinct.

He glanced around and saw that the servant-like women in the room were all picturesquely beautiful, seemingly perfect at first glance, yet each possessed unusual features. Some had vertical pupils, some had feline and dog-like features, some had webbed hands and feet, some were covered in scales, and their hair was a variety of colors. He couldn't help but suspect that these women were distorted creations of magic, because the scent of blood wafted from the cloths they were wrapped in.

While he was watching intently, the person in the center slowly stood up and walked in front of Cesar. He was more than twice as tall as Cesar, and was completely a Kuna noblewoman. His head could only reach her lower abdomen.

"I remember part of it..." Her voice trembled slightly, "The deeper I explore the Tomb of the Wise, the more I remember. But it's not enough, my dear, it's not enough. My origins are deeper, to a place that even pilgrims cannot enter. You have to take me there..."

The Kuna noblewoman bent down toward Cesar, cradling him to her chest like a child, murmuring to him, leaving him unable to move. Before Cesar could react, she transformed into the young girl Arlanti, hung around his neck, kissed his lips, then transformed into Queen Arlanti, caressing his chest, and then into Arlanti's mother, smiling slowly at him.

Flashing between reality and illusion

A series of strange women, culminating in the deceptive prophet with wild hair, cupped his face and whispered to him.

Then she grew immense again, embracing him like a baby, cradling him against her chest, which was much larger than his head. Through the hazy mist, he could see the darkness of her face, empty and vacant, like a nightmare. This scene reminded him of what Giralo had said about the death of the wise—the emptiness of the wise man's face when he died.

Where on earth did this thing come from?

Just as Cesar was wondering what was going on with this person, Gouzi suddenly pulled him out of her arms, and then out the window, standing a thousand meters in the air without falling. He hugged the Faceless Man's waist, who was completely unaffected by the residual memory, and watched as the residual memory shifted, and a baby crawled out of the dying pregnant woman's belly.

"Your mind has been corroded, Master," Gouzi whispered to him.

Cesar was stunned for a moment, then he realized that the huge city had turned into a wasteland with corpses everywhere. It was night and the moon had almost hidden behind the mountains.

The newborn girl crawled forward, fell to the ground, and instantly grew a year older. Then she began to walk. With each step, she grew a little bigger. By the time she reached him, she had transformed into an elf-like young girl, her pure white body completely exposed to the bloody night air.

She is the newly born trickster prophet.

"Why are you retreating?" The girl slowly stepped forward, her pale skin appearing even whiter under the moonlight. Her voice became increasingly sweet and charming. "Why would you retreat?"

"Tell me what you are first!" Cesar shouted, backing away regardless.

"Stop!" the trickster prophet shouted. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. Instead of his own control, his legs obeyed the man's command. Fortunately, this had no effect on the dog. She continued to pull him back, into the seemingly impenetrable mountains behind them, weaving through the rocky terrain.

"What's pulling you from behind? Tell me!" the liar prophet shouted.

Cesar opened his mouth to tell her everything she had asked, but Gouzi immediately covered his mouth. Now she was holding his waist and pulling him back.

Everything in his field of vision shifted rapidly in response to his footsteps, like the revolving lantern before death. Rocks shattered, turning into a sandstorm of dust, which then swirled into vibrant beasts. Before they could shed the dust, the vibrant beasts collapsed to the ground, becoming nothing more than piles of bones.

The dust connected, forming the bones of wild beasts, which shone a dark silver light under the moonlight, creating a field of white bones. More and more beasts fell and disappeared, and more and more people rose from the bones, beginning to build the ancient city. He saw black rocks piled into mountains, saw ash-like wood stuck into the ground, saw the traces of the abyss crisscrossing the land like spider webs, and saw people huddled on the edge like zombies drifting with the current.

Then Cesar broke through it all, his dog dragging him down from the Yestren School's castle, landing in front of a startled and confused Milava and an unresponsive Soler. Cesar wanted to ignore them, but he saw a crystal bow pendant hanging from Soler's chest, and instinctively took out his crystal arrow and pressed it.

At this moment, Cesar saw the closed pendant burst out with strong light, and the next moment he saw Solaire in his residual memory drawing his longbow, turning into a star-like phantom, pouring all himself into a dazzling arrow and shooting towards the room of Allandi's mother.

This arrow seemed to infuse everything Solaire had left in her remnant, tearing the entire remnant apart. From where she stood to the castle of the Yestren School, she had carved out a vast expanse of dark, empty nothingness.

As Soler vanished, the young Milava was stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening. Cesar felt he couldn't leave the Faran emperor there, so he tucked him under his arm and fled. Mirava could finally subdue Alante. He had not only rescued her from the Tomb of the Wise, but had also dealt her a fatal blow, even in death, and he could obscure her memories. To uncover the final secret, neither of them was necessary.

Some time ago, Cesar was helping Alante fight against Milava, digging up past events he didn't want to talk about. Now Cesar has to help Milava fight against Alante, suppressing the strange past deep in her memory. This must be what it means to be a fence-sitter.

However, as the remnants of his memories deepened, they were getting closer to the answer. Currently, all clues converged on the bloody past of the wise man and the true dragon. Even if this ancient will wasn't a dead dragon, it was something very close to one. If he could speak frankly with Milava about what he had seen so far, reaching a consensus shouldn't be difficult.

"Who are you?" Milava screamed. "Let me go! What have you done to the Holy Father?"

Cesar covered his mouth and ran back, not knowing where to go. At this time, he saw the water surge in the lake, and then the entire lake water tilted towards him.

Chapter 427 I Dreamed of You

The Yestren School's castle was surrounded by a lake, nestled deep in the mountains. A frozen river ran through the road on the right, and ahead lay a corner of a bottomless lake. The water was surging, fish leaping, and more than a dozen mermen with red fins on their backs leaped from the water's depths and swooped onto the shore. As soon as they landed not far from him, they knelt down in front of the turbulent water, daring not to resist.

Cesar had never known such species existed within the territory of the Yestren School, but he had seen their webbed-handed ancestors in the room of the Kuna noblewoman. Since Diana had never mentioned it, this unknown group likely migrated to the depths of the wilderness during the change of dynasties.

Several dark blue-scaled water snakes swam out of the lake. Their sharp eyes seemed to speak. When they reached them, they suddenly looked back, exhaled a few puffs of cold mist, and then quickly left. These snakes ranged from small ones as thick as a human arm to large ones that looked like they could swallow an adult whole. A thin layer of ice formed wherever they passed.

The river was already covered in a thin layer of ice, the surface of the lake white, the bottom an unfathomable deep blue, now growing even whiter, as if covered in layer after layer of hoarfrost. Huge waves rose forward, almost drowning them, but hovering high above their heads, they did not fall, like a giant dragon suspended in mid-air, overlooking the earth.