Shadow of the Evil God

Ferriers was watching from the side of the carriage, frowning, some distance away from them. Cesar

She hoped she hadn't heard Milava's outburst in this place, but she seemed to notice some subtle changes and looked over at them.

Before Cesar could think of how to answer, a blue rune line floated out from her fingertips, drawing an arc as curved as a river and landing on his wrist, entangled with the faint blue line in his wrist.

It looked like this was the keepsake left by the Ferriers in the library. She trotted over to him, then took his hand and placed it against her forehead.

To be honest, when he first fell in love, it was with Firth. Later, he fell in love with Diana because she had a shadow of Firth. Later, he slept with Alante, knowing she was evil, because she had a shadow of Diana. And now, he falls in love again and again with each of the Firths of the past because Alante had taken him away from her, leaving him with an irresistible desire to make up for what she had lost.

The moment Ferriers raised her head, Cesar realized that Milava had sealed Alranti's consciousness at the forehead, and Ferriers had awakened her own memories at the forehead as well. Was it because the relevant spells all acted on the forehead?

"So, I've always kept you inside that knight," Fieris whispered. "I never realized it."

"Can I kiss you? It's been a long time..."

"No, no!" She stretched out her hand and shook her head. "I haven't had any water for a long time. My mouth is so dry that it's about to crack. I'm also a little dizzy. If the carriage hadn't come, I would have wanted to find some psychiatric drugs..."

"Okay, then I'll kiss somewhere else."

"Hey?"

Cesar embraced her slender waist without hesitation, and just as he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, he heard her scream and looked at him with frightened eyes. She closed her eyes halfway, not daring to look. He bit her earlobe again, and she began to talk to herself unconsciously.

"I, I just got the remnants of other Ferriers' memories!" Her heart was beating so hard that it seemed like it was going to jump out of her throat. "Those are just a few books! I haven't had time to read them yet! I've never experienced anything like this before. Ah! Don't hold me so tight! And don't lick my ears here..."

He looked up and saw her messy hair hanging down to her forehead, her eyes dazed, obviously she hadn't slept for a long time and was confused by love, she was already unconscious. Now her lips were slightly open, her cheeks were oozing with sweat, and she was breathing out a stream of foul air, obviously ready for a kiss.

Cesar caressed Ferrieres' cheek, lowered his head, and kissed her thin, dry lips. He then pressed her lips against his own, savoring and sucking them carefully. He didn't release them until his saliva had smeared them with a lustrous, slightly crimson hue. Aarlandia's flushed cheeks would have made her skin appear even whiter, but this guy's flushed cheeks only made the dark circles around her eyes appear even darker, like they were covered in soot.

"Your mouth smells very strong, my master, like medicine." He hugged her from behind and put his nose to the back of her neck and sniffed. "You also have a smell. Can you tell me why?"

"There's no place to wash on the battlefield..." Fioriels's eyes wandered. "Since I eat potions like they're my meals, there's no need to clean my mouth. Let's not talk about that!" She shook her head vigorously and looked at Milava, who was frowning at Cesar's reckless behavior. "Is this the carrier you prepared for my sister? I saw the spells on their foreheads that resonated with each other."

"what?"

"Isn't that a technique for sealing consciousness?" Milava suddenly realized.

"Didn't you let her injured consciousness in?" Ferris looked him up and down, as if judging his identity. "Who are you? I just noticed you don't have an Adam's apple. After I told you about it, you got it back. Now it's gone again, no, it's back again... What's going on? Do you have two genders?"

Cesar let go of Ferris and bent down to observe the guy's throat. He saw an Adam's apple very clearly. He reached out his hand and the Adam's apple disappeared again, becoming smooth and white.

"Your sexuality has become more fluid," Cesar said. "Have you noticed anything else about your sexuality?"

"I understand." Milava fell silent after saying this, staring at Arlante in the carriage. "This guy is desperate. After suffering a serious injury, he wants to assimilate me. This should have been done quietly and imperceptibly, but her heritage is entirely female, and the conflict will be reflected in my gender change. If I resist her assimilation and take a step forward, I will be closer to male. If she pulls me back, I will be closer to female."

"That means the details of the other Milava's remnant have been tampered with," Cesar said. He felt this was the trick of the deceitful prophet. "That spell..."

Chapter 430: Cutting off the teacher's hands and feet

"Are you tracing the secret of my bloodline?" Ferriers suddenly realized, "How far have you traced it?"

"It's hard to say," Cesar said. "The one with the greatest influence was probably a trickster prophet. This person lived in the previous era and seemed to have been the leader of a Kuna school of thought. Later, all her school members perished in the Tomb of the Wise, and no one survived, including her. After that, a baby was suddenly born from the womb of a dying pregnant woman. With every step she took, she grew a year older, until she finally became a teenage girl and stopped growing."

"I've heard that story before," she muttered. "I thought it was just some old-fashioned, uh, false myth, and so what?"

"This young girl walked alone out of the wilderness strewn with corpses, gathering many followers along the way. She led them to the Frankish tribe and became a prophet. She was called a prophet, but not only could she not see the future, she had also lost many of her magic. Everything she used could be summed up as a sophisticated deception."

"What kind of trick?" she asked. "Worldly trickery? Or is it mixed with magic?"

Cesar recalled what he saw at that time and said:

"In a darkened room, glittering scales are pasted on the ceiling, and people believe they are stars fallen from the sky. Bone frames are made of animal skins and solidified wax, and bone microphones are hidden inside. People skilled in speaking with pinched voices are then assigned to chant underground, pretending that the spirits of the ancestors are speaking. When these ancestors are no longer needed, a brazier is carried around in a circle, and the wax melts, disintegrating the skeletons. There are also those who use firelight to shine through colored gems, casting images on the white smoke from incense and candles, and people believe that the apparitions of the gods have appeared along with the prophet's prophecy. And so on and so forth."

"The origin of evil," murmured Firiels. It seemed her dissatisfaction with the Pantheon was consistent, unchanging through the ages.

"She is your earliest ancestor." Cesar looked at her.

"Well, she's very intelligent," Ferriers amended.

"I don't know if the Franks had any predecessors of the faith in the gods before her," Cesar pondered. "But from what I've seen, it was she who used deception to invent the earliest images and names of the gods. It was she who created the faith in the gods that was closest to that of later generations. Not only that, she also passed down the methods of the Gods' Age of Patrol. After that, the Pantheon and the Chosen Ones ascribed her fabricated images and names to the gods."

"The Age of Gods Patrol..." She looked dazed. "Did my sister ever tell me the method for the Age of Gods Patrol? When we were little, she kept telling me about the Tomb of the Wise and the Age of Gods, but when Mirava showed up, she..."

"In my opinion, Alanti died before he could do this. You learned the method of the God's Patrol from a Kuna priest," said Cesar.

"Have I seen the gods too?" Firiels muttered to herself, holding the book in her arms. "It's so hard to imagine what they are. What do they look like?"

"I can't quite define what the gods are," Milava suddenly said. "Emotionally, I think of them as paintings, their every movement imbued with a sense of eternal stillness. Helgast, for example, looks like a series of rust-colored dust clouds, barely discernible in its vague outlines. If I simply stare at it, it remains motionless. But if I observe it with shifting emotions, every subtle shift in my mood causes its parts—like its head, limbs, and torso—to shift moment by moment, instantly adopting new postures and shapes."

"You are..." Ferris opened her eyes wide, and she finally realized something was wrong.

"He was the Emperor of Farran many years ago," Cesar explained, "back when you weren't even born yet and Alante was still a fetus. Of course, I understand that you harbor hatred towards Milava for Alante's sudden departure, but he's also a victim now, so please..."

"So you're the only beneficiary now? You've done it with me at every age in the remnant memories, as well as with my sister when she was a young girl and my sister now the queen?" Ferriers questioned him. "Not just in every era in the remnant memories, but also in the eras beyond?"

"This...can we continue talking about the gods and your bloodline heritage?"

Cesar looked at Milava as he spoke, only to find an ambiguous smile on the guy's thin lips, as if he had caught him with Ferrieres's words.

"Conversing with Helgast," Milava began methodically, "is like reading an endless chapter. My own infinite emotional shifts elicit infinite responses from Helgast, and I see it assume an infinite number of postures and forms. Each of these gestures and forms is an eternal and unchanging symbol, or perhaps an enigmatic divine text, containing unfathomable insights."

"Don't you have any other feelings?" Cesar asked him.

"No," Milava said. "At first I was afraid of it, terrified of its silence and eternity. Then I realized it had no good or bad intentions at all, like a silent stone. But it wasn't stone. It picked up on my emotions and responded to them. The closer I got to certain emotions, the more pronounced their response became."

"War and conflict?" muttered Ferriers.

Milava nodded slightly. "War and conflict, these are the things we've figured out that are most likely to elicit a response from Helgast. Unlike me, believers can't directly witness Helgast's presence. I can see all its changes and gain all the insights it offers, but for other believers, they must perform rituals in a way that best aligns with Helgast's expectations, in order to receive its response at the moment of its most drastic transformation."

Ferriers looked toward the distant military camp, then back again. She listened attentively. Although she had little interest in the mortal world, she was eager to learn about everything beyond it.

"You mean," she said, "all those stupid rituals in the temple, like smearing one's limbs and cheeks with the blood of wild beasts; releasing captives to fight and kill each other while chanting to dedicate oneself to the god of war, until the ground is completely stained red with blood; and standing by the altar all night holding a bloody sword, all this and that, are all to deepen one's emotional changes?"

"That's roughly it," Milawa said. "Many rituals and sacrifices may seem barbaric and absurd, but they are the result of the diligent exploration of successive high priests. The so-called Great Temple is actually where high-ranking believers gather. They study their gods day and night, determine their will, write theories about their gods, and explore what kind of prayers and doctrines can better weave the believers' beliefs and make their prayers more likely to be answered. As for what you think are foolish rituals..."

"Use the power of the environment to infect everyone and trigger a frenzy in the entire group." Cesar pondered and said, "A large amount of frenzied emotions are released from the entire group, penetrating the fog, reaching the Age of Gods, falling into Helgast's will, and then triggering its changes and receiving its response. So many responses merge in the crowd's frenzy, which will cause everyone in the group to fall into an even greater frenzy, so great that it can penetrate reality, such as causing the Temple of Sagaros to summon the Eye of the Furnace..."

"Why did you suddenly mention Sagaros?" Milava narrowed her eyes. "Do you have any connection with the Sagaros Temple?"

Cesar sighed. "Another student of mine stared at me like that when he expressed dissatisfaction, as if he were considering how to remove me, his teacher, and chop me off with someone more to his liking." He looked at him and said, "Do all of you who want to be emperor have this problem?"

"It's not a problem, but sometimes I want to correct the mistakes of my teacher, lest he become unqualified. That's all. If wrong ideas could be cut off and thrown away like human limbs, I would definitely try it on you," said Milava. "So, what's the matter with the Temple of Sagaros?"

"Let's get on the carriage first," Cesar shook his head, grabbed Milava's shoulders and pushed him onto the carriage. "I have to go back and explain the situation to the others. The Remnant Memory has changed so much, we have to think carefully about how to deal with the Beastmen."

One moment, the boy had a prominent Adam's apple, and his chest beneath his shirt was fair yet firm. The next, his throat was smooth, and beneath his shirt, a small mound bulged out, like the young Arlandi of the past. He looked delicate and graceful, as soft as jade. The rough fabric stretched slightly against his chest, and when it brushed against that sensitive spot, he drew a long breath, his face flushing.

César took advantage of Milava's weakened arms to push him into the carriage, placing him in the vanished Arlandi's seat. He clenched his fists and pressed them against his chest. He suddenly exhaled, forcing himself back to his natural sexuality. His Adam's apple emerged from his neck, and his chest returned to its original shape.

"I suggest you find a piece of soft cloth to wrap your chest," Cesar returned to the carriage entrance. "This rough clothing can show your masculinity, but its texture is not very friendly to the way you just looked."

"I don't need this weak thing," he said flatly. "Weak and pathetic!"

"Well, I hope you can get used to this sooner rather than panicking when you're about to draw your sword and fight someone."

"Don't talk about this anymore. Once you get on the carriage, tell me what's going on with the Temple of Sagaros!" Milava pressed the issue, "The matter of the Temple of the Gods is of vital importance. We can't let go of any clues!"

After finally getting the overreacting Milava onto the carriage, Cesar finally breathed a sigh of relief. He had initially assumed it was just Altinia's peculiar personality that had tempered his will so much, but it turned out Milava was no pushover either. Not only were these two students seeking their guidance, but they were also two students who were desperately trying to get their way.

He remembered how, during his time paralyzed in bed, Altinya had tried several times to chain him up and strictly control his every move, every action. By the time of the young Milava, he'd gone even further, wanting to cut off his teacher's limbs. And not just his physical limbs, but the misguided notion in his head—discipline? It was indeed discipline.

"How is Sephora now?" Cesar got off the carriage and looked at Ferriers. "I remember that her condition was already very bad in the early years. Has her condition improved after your school's treatment?"

Chapter 431: Changes Brought by Sagaros

"Since my sister took you from Sephora, Sephora has changed a lot." Phiriers whispered, "But at that time, I didn't know anything. Maybe until just now, I also..."

Cesar had to get close to her to hear her. "Would you like to join me in whipping the coachman? It seems to me that you haven't seen the sun in ages," he asked.

Ferriers gazed at the gradually brightening morning light, her eyes hesitant. "I feel like I'll melt in the sun..." she whispered, as if she hadn't spoken normally to anyone in a long time. "Many years from now, will I, now named Ferriers, go out often?"

"After so many years, you still refuse to come out from under the castle, but I will pick you up and take you out."

Cesar came up behind her, holding her waist and legs, and lifted her up from the ground, carrying her through the intertwined shadows under the trees.

Ferrieres squinted against the sunlight that gradually fell on her face, her hair matted across her forehead, her eyes bleary. The moment the golden morning light fell into her eyes, tears welled up in her eyes. Cesar lowered his head and kissed her eyelid, gently licking away the tear. Suddenly, she screamed again.

"You call others Master so nicely, but isn't it just to give me more satisfaction when you offend me? What you're doing now is calling me Master and offending me at the same time, isn't that right?"

"So you're going to convict me, Master? And punish me?"

She clutched his collar. "Yes, I should punish you to stop you from being so reckless. But if I punish you during the day, you'll turn against me at night..."

"Are you watching those wonderful things in the other remnant memory?"

"I saw myself having sex with an invisible being, just like the priestess in mythology having sex with the gods... and in front of so many people!"

Cesar turned his head and bit her flushed cheek, just as Fils had bitten herself. "It seems your sense of shame has grown a little," he said. Then he placed her in the coachman's seat, one arm around her waist, the other wielding the whip. "Sit tight, Your Majesty!" He raised his voice to Milava in the carriage behind him. "Your coachman will drive you to your camp!"

"Is being emperor also considered a master-servant relationship?" Phiriers muttered again. "I've heard that people with their own ideas won't lower themselves too low, but you always do. Do you often lower yourself too low because you've never cared about these worldly orders, so it doesn't matter what you call yourself? Or is it because you find it more pleasurable to offend others this way? Like Mistress, His Majesty, Your Highness, Teacher, and so on..."

Cesar whipped the horse, and the carriage slowly began to move. "Perhaps both," he said, "but your tone is much more subdued and subdued than it was back then. Forget about our childhood, when the capital was attacked and you took me to the library to search for books from the Empire, you were actually quite calm and composed back then. I thought that as your memories progressed, you would become more and more like the Grand Master Ferriers I remembered."

"I was forced to deal with many things in the capital, but once we were on the battlefield and the academy returned Sevra to me, I pushed everything onto her. When I followed my sister into the palace, everyone thought the war was almost over. Now it seems the war has only just begun."

As she spoke, Ferriers leaned her head to the right, gradually leaning against his shoulder. She carried with her a strong body odor, a mixture of sweat, paper, ink, and a strong herbal scent. As if sensing something was wrong, she retreated again.

"Do I smell too bad?" she asked.

Cesar followed Ferrier's movements and lowered his head. He put his lips to her ear, bit her ear and blew a breath. She suddenly clenched her folded hands.

"We spent a lot of time in the slums of Neuen, and the smell was much stronger back then than it is now," he whispered. "If neither of us had any memories and hadn't just met, our days would have been spent trying to find our way around during the day and making love at night."

She turned her eyes towards him, the blush on her face still lingering, "But the taste..."

"If you've ever been in the slums, you'll understand. For people with nothing to do, the only entertainment at night is physical intimacy. Nothing else matters, like smell or body dirt. These are not worth worrying about..."

"I can't understand it!" Her eyes suddenly opened wide, and then closed tightly under his kiss, "You licked too deep! My ears are itchy and my head is dizzy..."

By the time Cesar lifted her face with a kiss, she was already panting, practically slumped against the backrest of the carriage. Her chin was tucked into her chest, her hands clasped on her stomach, her legs tightly crossed, and her eyes were misty beneath her long lashes. When they were open, she looked dazed, and when they were closed, tears seemed to overflow.

"Would it be your turn to kiss me?" Cesar asked her.

Ferriers pursed her lips. Her lips were no longer dry, but rather rosy from the saliva flowing out. She managed to stand up and kissed him on the lips. Their soft lips touched briefly.

Then he shrank back.

"Let's get back to Sevra." She managed to come back to her senses. "Did I just say that the war had just begun? To this day, I still don't know how to describe what I saw, or how to express my feelings. So I often mutter to myself at night, sporadic thoughts to Sevra, like hiding in the shadows and cursing someone. Over time, speaking becomes..."

"Will she respond?" Cesar asked her.

"She had no thoughts, just like me, and just sat there. Sometimes she listened in silence, and sometimes she'd suddenly say a few words, though they had no beginning or end, but at least they were there. But as I became more profound in my path, she spoke less and less..." Phyriels said, looking at him. "What my sister took from you was definitely not love. There are many things I can't explain."

"I remember the path is the desire for flesh and blood, right? Doesn't she show any special performance?" Cesar asked.

"No, she didn't show any emotion. Even though she was using her Dao abilities, her emotions were like a rock. It was incredible."

"Theoretically, if her emotions were like a rock, she shouldn't have been able to accept this path from the beginning," Cesar said.

"I'm thinking she might have transferred all the emotional side effects onto you. After all, you're one soul in two bodies. Longing grew stronger, filling your soul, while normal emotions dwindled, dissipating in her soul, leaving her feeling increasingly cold. Maybe that's the case, but I'm just guessing, because you were always held captive by your sister. What she did to you afterwards, only she knows."

Cesar thought for a moment and turned back to the carriage. "Do you have any information, Your Majesty?"

There seemed to be a pause. "Don't call me Your Majesty," Milava said.

"Why?" Cesar blinked. "Because you know what the words Master, Majesty, and Your Highness mean to me?"

"You also know what the word teacher means to me." Milawa replied.

"Yes," said Cesar, "another student of mine who was going to be emperor once wanted to tie me up in chains and control my every move and every word. I guess you people have little respect for the position of teacher, so I will do the same for the positions of Your Majesty, Your Highness, and Master. It's only fair, isn't it?"

"I hear in your words the conviction of Sagaros," Milava added, "—the perpetual recasting and transformation."

"Does a change in identity count?"

"The gods' expectations are very broad, and the Pantheon is merely exploring the labyrinth, searching for the few words they have left behind. Your beliefs may not necessarily be rejected by Sagaros. Of course, the premise is that you have nothing to do with Anarik."

"I know that, but why are you so obsessed with Sagaros?"

"The shattering of the Empire was also a change," said Milava. "And the siege of the Pantheon and the death of the Emperor..."

Only then did Cesar realize that it was most likely the Great Temple of Sagaros that led to the destruction of the Frank Empire from within.

In his time, it was the followers of Sagaros who supported the nobles in overthrowing the monarchy and establishing a parliament. In the time of Milava, it was also the followers of Sagaros who pushed for the fall of the empire and the death of the emperor.

If Milava had blocked the threat of the Kasar Empire and had a chance to breathe, if the Pantheon had not determined its direction based on the belief given by Sagaros and dismembered the Fran Empire, then when he woke up on the altar, it is very likely that the two empires were confronting each other from north to south, with the north in the shadow of the temple and the south living under the harsh rule of the Chosen Emperor.

"But you didn't truly experience it," Cesar said. "You simply saw what would happen in the future. You gained another version of your own memories, memories altered by Alante. Since you didn't truly experience it, there's no question of regret or pain."

"Another Milawa experience is my aide-mémoire," he said. "I'm on guard against every mistake he makes."

"But you can't go back. Everything that was supposed to happen has already happened. Even if you escape, you'll only face a chaotic era where empires and kingships are crumbling. Back then, humans hoped for a unified empire, and the Beastmen were ignorant. But by my time, people had begun to yearn for a different order, and the Beastmen had developed their own theories, becoming different from before."

"That's exactly what I need," Milava said calmly. "I'll be able to find my own way when the time comes, so you won't have to worry about me, teacher. Go and protect the student who's hiding under your wings and afraid to fly. I hope she can grow feathers."

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing." Cesar sighed. He saw that Ferriers was becoming less and less conscious, so he picked her up and placed her on his lap. The guy was drowsy, but afraid that the residual memory would end soon, so he bit his tongue and lips, wanting to feel more of the warmth he brought. "Do you want to do it, Master?" He whispered to her, "I remember we did it inside a carriage once, but I haven't tried it outside a moving carriage yet."

"How can we do this?" she exclaimed.