Shadow of the Evil God

Cesar really thought he was going crazy because of this guy. "You've already talked to Milava?" His brows furrowed tighter and tighter. "What do you want to do now that you suddenly appear? Are you going to let Milava fight Alanti to decide who will come out and when?"

"Oh, my, why are you being so heated? Of course, they should discuss this matter on their own," she said with a smile, "but right now, your matter is more important."

"You mean you've been observing me for a long time?" he asked.

She nodded nonchalantly. "It all started when Alanthi turned you into two people," she said. "At the time, that spell was just a concept, but Alanthi executed it. It made me realize there are things only she can do. After generations of screening and testing by Yestren's lineage, she finally possessed the qualities our school hopes for. Although she unfortunately became an evil creature, it doesn't affect her gifts and talents."

"You people..."

The deceitful prophet leaned against the wall, his chin lifted by his fingers. "First, to split a single soul into two. This was the final achievement of my school—I mean, the Kuna school whose entirety perished in the Tomb of the Wise. To this day, this spell remains only in the memories of my ancestors, and only Alanti has successfully mastered it. In this sense, although you were the result of her unintentional act, you are also the result of the research of an ancient school."

"for what?"

"Of course, it's about exploring the boundaries." She said, "The two of your souls coexist all the time. No matter where you are, even in reality or the wilderness, you can appear in her, and she

It can also happen to you. Based on this theory, I'll send you across the border, let you walk through that door, and then see what kind of response Sephora will give us. This is my expectation of you based on a combination of factors."

"Is death every two years also what you expect?"

"I didn't interfere in this matter," the deceitful prophet said, spreading his hands. "It was just natural for you to become like this. After your first death, Alanti kept you in a rag doll for a few days, then found you a new body. After that, you were the one who recklessly appeared near her, wondering what had happened to her. At first, the two of you could get along peacefully, but one day, your soul completely assimilated that unfortunate knight, turning him completely into Cesar, and Sevra couldn't help but kill you."

"What's the point of this?"

"Of course," she said, "this behavior can deepen the connection between the two of you. Every time you do it, your thoughts and hers become a little closer. When you were in the castle, you were completely isolated from her, completely two different people. But by the time we sent you across the boundary, you often unconsciously became her, and she often unconsciously became you. Even if one person is in the Crimson Realm and the other is in reality, this will still happen unaffected. Do you think this was achieved from the beginning? Of course not."

It's more than just the scarlet realm and reality?

"So what did you get from this weird experiment?" Cesar asked her.

"I asked Alanti to persuade Ferriers to send you through the door, and then we began to observe Sevra. But unfortunately, you didn't appear on her, and of course there was no way for you to tell me what you saw. At the time, I thought my idea had failed, and that the connection between the two of you could not cross the line after all. But later, I found that you still had some connection. You are one end of the rope, and she is the other end of the rope. As long as I grab her, I can pull you back. You are indeed the one who came back from the other side of the door."

Cesar was speechless for a long time after hearing this. Although the deceitful prophet still couldn't figure it out, he had seen a side of her through this incident. "And then?" he finally asked, "What did you pull back?"

"Unfortunately, when I pulled you back, you had already turned into a seed. I guess I pulled you back too late." The trickster prophet sighed and said, "What do we need to make the seed sprout again? Long years and perfect soil. For many reasons, we placed you, the seed, in Noien, before it became Noien, waiting for the prophet of Anarlik to awaken you when the era changes again."

Cesar felt his throat go dry. "Sean," he said.

"So, this person is Analik's prophet," she continued. "Your return, Cesar, signifies the emergence of perfect soil. The emergence of perfect soil means Analik has once again reached the critical point of the present world. Do you have a Faceless One following you? If she is still there, then I can tell you that it is the soil."

"But she wanted to eat me."

"Her?" The deceitful prophet's eyes widened slightly. "Well, you're also someone with a spirit of exploration and research, aren't you? Giving souls to the empty Faceless Ones is indeed a good academic topic. Want to start by treating the Faceless Ones as human beings? Whatever you want. But it doesn't matter. Even if she bites you into pieces and lets her eat you, she'll still give birth to you eventually. However, in that case, you'll have to start over as an ignorant baby."

"Can Thane's castle accommodate a baby that appears out of nowhere?"

"The remaining memories of Ferriers will raise you as her own brother." She spread her hands and said, "After all, this isn't the first time she's picked you up."

"If the Faceless Ones tear me apart and eat me, I'll lose all my memories!" Cesar grabbed her shoulders. "From the beginning, you wanted me to grow up from an ignorant baby so you could find another chance to trick me, right?"

"You're being a bit delusional."

"No, if things are going as you expected, then I'm only two or three years old now, still staying in the castle, being held and fed by a teenaged Ferriers. After the war, Sevra will go to the Tomb of the Wise and be eroded by ancient memories. Once eroded, she will accept the curse of that year and go to the castle of Sen with you. Then, the Yesterlen School, the Flame of the Fran Empire, and the Prophet of Analik will meet in Noien, is that right?"

They stared at each other for a moment. "Well," she said, "the irony is that you seem to have found something remarkable, and you've come out of it inspired. I don't know what it is yet, but..."

"Who knows?" Cesar let go of her shoulders. "Maybe it's another god, a god whispering to me..."

"Oh, my God." The Liar Prophet's eyes widened and he covered his mouth. "When you lie, do you not care how easy it is to be exposed? Or are you just trying to make me laugh?"

"Guess what you want," Cesar said. "But now, I'm not an ignorant baby. It's not luck that keeps me from being an ignorant baby, it's my brain."

"There's really no difference. In fact, those who are supposed to love you will still love you. Even though Yesterlen's generation is more than ten years older than you, it's only a difference of more than ten years.

It's just a matter of distance. As expected, she will first meet Ferriers, chasing the figure of her ancestor with an irrepressible desire, and then she will naturally come into contact with you. You should be over five years old at that time, and you just need a...it's also quite interesting, isn't it? "

Cesar didn't know how to answer her. First, he had to sort out his entanglement with Sevra, because it was the Sevra of the Milava era, let's call it Sevra's shadow. He couldn't recall his own experiences in that era. No matter what Alranti and her ancestors said, he didn't have much personal experience. Now it seemed that his memories were probably lost when he passed through that door, and he could never recover them.

It was absolutely impossible for him to accept his fate of being killed like he had done back then. He had to subdue the shadow of Sevra, and if necessary, he had to call on Ajeh and the current Sevra to deal with her together.

Cesar had no qualms about this sort of thing. He would call as many people as he could, and he would never face the shadow of Sevra alone, because that would be suicidal and pointless.

Then there was Milava, cursed by the memories of his ancestors. He had to admit that Milava was the first male to appear in the memory inheritance of the Yesterlen School. Although Milava, influenced by the memories of his ancestors and Allandi, had become gender-fluid, he was indeed a special individual.

Milava was able to confront the ancestral memories because he wasn't part of them in the first place. He even had the ability to challenge the deceitful prophet, forcing her to negotiate privately. Although it sounded selfish, Cesar now not only hoped that he could lock the blood curse of the Yesterlen School within his soul, but also that he could take Dong Ye with him, so that Diana would no longer be troubled.

Finally, there was the Tomb of the Wise. This original source of ancestral memory seemed to date back to the beginning of time and was inextricably linked to the True Dragon. As long as they could break through each barrier one by one, this matter would be resolved. Of course, the rest would be discussed after they left. If necessary, he could even consider meeting with Zawulong.

Of course, they have to deal with the troubles left by the real dragon themselves.

Cesar stood up and paced a few steps under the watchful gaze of the Trickster Prophet. Meanwhile, in the Crimson Realm, Ferriers was still arguing with Allandi. He wasn't sure the difference between this memory and a residual one, but remembering the blue rune thread wrapped around his wrist, he stepped forward and grasped Ferriers' hand.

At this time she was kneeling on the ground crying.

After about two breaths, Firiels raised her head and looked at the Trickster Prophet, who immediately took a step back. The memories of the Crimson Realm instantly dissipated, revealing the true nature of this remnant: a dark cavern, the outer perimeter of the Tomb of the Wise. The Tomb of the Wise in the remnant memory finally overlapped with the real Tomb of the Wise.

The Alanti in the memory disappeared, but Ferriers was still standing here.

"Ancestor," she said slowly, "and sister. I feel very uncomfortable now, very, very uncomfortable."

"All this is in the past, child," the deceiver prophet said with a smile. "We are not ourselves. We are just memories, part of this world."

Cesar felt that something was wrong with this Ferrieres, but she was still Ferrieres after all. Since he had brought his accumulated memories to her, he had to continue to support her.

"Of course," Ferriers clutched his hand tightly. "But what defines us? Is it our personality and memories, or our soul itself? I've been thinking about this a lot lately, but I can't come to a conclusion. I toss and turn at night."

"Questions about the soul and self are questions that plague every mage," she said.

"I saw you in a dream, ancestor," said Ferriers. "At that time, I asked you why my mother was afraid of my sister and me and never taught us any knowledge. You said it was because she was a foolish woman, because everyone in our bloodline is our own child and mother, so I don't need to care about it. Were you testing my character at that time? Were you wondering whether I was more worthy of accepting the mission, or my sister?"

"I don't deny it," the deceived prophet said, "but I just want to know if you resist. After I understood your thoughts, I never appeared again, and since then, only Arlanti has been teaching you knowledge. Back then, I asked you three questions, but you said you didn't accept the most important one."

Chapter 448: Mother in the Dream

"No, I later discovered that those three questions were just an illusion. It wasn't even you who was speaking at the time, Ancestor," Ferrieres denied. Cesar noticed that the fraudulent prophet's smile paused for a moment, as if he didn't know how to respond. He suddenly realized that she had thrown out an answer that even the fraudulent prophet was confused.

The man held his chin in his hand and pondered. "You said it wasn't me who was talking..."

"The dream told me that it could be my new mother. It also said that it was the mother of all of us."

“I don’t remember this happening,” the deceitful prophet said, and then added, “No one, from me to Arlanti, remembers this happening.”

"I don't remember either," said Ferriers, "but my soul does, the soul that existed without me—or rather, without Ferriers—does remember."

"Your attempts to dissect yourself have come this far?"

Ferris shook her head slightly. "A dream told me that in an era before the ancients, it met a fish in a nearly dried-up mud pit. It said, 'You are about to die, come out of the mud pit.' But the fish said it couldn't get out because it had no legs to stand up. So the dream said, 'I am your mother. I know you have simply forgotten that you can walk, so come out quickly.' So the fish did as it was told, walked out, bent its knees and knelt before it, becoming its first servant. These servants still worship it in the lake of our school to this day."

"You mean those fishmen at the bottom of the lake..."

"The dream said it met a pale, eyeless spirit, and told it to open its eyes. It did, and then it recognized it as its mother. The dream said it met an ancient ape with pitch-black fur, and told it to shed its dirty fur and put on clothes. It did, and then it recognized it as its mother. The dream said it met a tangled mass of vines, and told it to come down from the tree. It did, and then it recognized it as its mother. The dream said there were Faran people, Kuna people, and us here."

"It's a primitive mythological narrative," Cesar said, speaking with a rigorous academic attitude. "Given the existence of real dragons, it's certainly plausible to a certain extent, but it's too primitive, so it's not entirely believable."

Ferris poked his cheek with her finger, which immediately made his cheek numb and he couldn't speak.

"The dream told me many, many similar stories," Firiels said, looking at the deceitful prophet. "It concluded by saying that it was she who taught the Kuna people to open their eyes, and it was she who taught the Fran people to shed their beastly skins. It was she who inspired our ancestors from a clump of spiritual vines. It said it was the mother of all people, and that it could teach me everything."

"But all your knowledge was researched and passed down by me," said the trickster prophet.

"I asked it what it wanted to teach me, but it said that first, I had to acknowledge that it was my real mother. Then it asked me three times, and each time I had to promise the same thing."

"You want to say these are the three issues I think..."

"The first question the dream asked me, ancestor," said Ferrieres, "was whether I accepted it. Although I was confused, I accepted it."

"The second question is, do you want me to say it again?"

"I still accepted it."

"The third question requires you to confirm one last time?"

"I asked its sister if she had accepted the same thing. She replied, 'Don't you want to say to Sevra, as in the story, 'You should stand up and talk to me?' Yes, her throat is injured and she can't speak, and her body has many corrosive injuries. But if I agree to accept her and recognize her as my mother, I can make her speak and make her as healthy as when she was just born. It said this would be the first miracle it would grant me."

"The first miracle?" the deceitful prophet pondered. "I still remember that I was born from a dying woman. With every step I took, I grew a year older. I never questioned how this happened, simply thinking it was a spell prepared by the school."

"Are you trying to say that every generation of ours has experienced a miracle like this, but we've never realized it. Including you?" Ferriers asked her, "This is true for everyone, even my sister, but for you, ancestor, I think it's different. I feel that you are very similar to the one in my dream, too similar, unbelievably similar. Even the story it told me is exactly the same as the story you created when you created the faith of the Temple of the Gods."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"I guess you don't understand either, ancestor. But it doesn't matter, because I also know that you are the only one in our ancestors' memories who has never been in love with anyone. The closest others can get to you is to kneel on the ground and kiss your feet. Over these dozen generations, every ancestor has curled up in the memories of their descendants, allowing them to observe their memories and feel their personalities. Only you stand high above like an observer."

The deceitful prophet spread his hands. "Your suspicion is a bit excessive, dear. Isn't everything you say now just pure conjecture? I didn't even know such a thing existed."

"I think so," said Ferriers, "but I think you are something that is being completed bit by bit. Every exploration of the tomb of the wise man in every era is not in vain, and a small part of you is taken out at a great sacrifice.

It's like Cesar taking out a small part of me. By gradually accumulating it, I can bypass the seal of the Tomb of the Wise and take my mother out.

The trickster prophet twisted his face but said nothing.

"I often think about this," Ferriers said. "I think about the generation of the Yestren School, the generation of the Kuna people who came before us, and the Kuna noblewoman with the dark, hollow face. I think such sacrifices have been made many times, for many generations. As time passes, you are becoming more and more complete."

"It's fascinating," the trickster prophet said. "You, like your Cesar, are both adept at painting stories from your own imagination, isn't that right? But I must say, I'm deeply impressed by my three questions. First, think about it: your people, your school, your sister, and everyone you see—they're all trying to do what they believe is right, aren't they?"

"I think there's a basic concept behind these things, which is the moral obligation of mutual assistance within the tribe." Cesar continued, "Are you deliberately asking this question here to distort the meaning of a certain word?"

The trickster prophet stared at him for a long moment. "The second problem," she said, "is that your people and nation are slaughtering beasts and wiping out the fey without mercy, yet your school is hiding them, allowing them to escape into the wilderness. Your sister punishes disobedient servants by killing them and burying them in the garden. Soon, she will surely turn this disobedient servant of yours into fertilizer."

At this point, she spread her arms, as if expressing frustration. "Your school offers a chance for survival to those of other races, yet turns a blind eye to the deaths of slaves. Compare this to your own people and your nation: they all believe they are righteous, yet they contradict each other. Who do you think is right, my dear, or is it that no one is wrong?" she asked.

Cesar met her gaze. "This is because mages have always been close to the fey beasts, with a considerable degree of exchange of interests and symbiotic relationship. Even when they side with the Franks against the Beastmen, they will privately show leniency to their former allies. In the disaster of their own demise, the Franks chose the most easily understood and unifying slogan, using it as their banner, and it continued into the later Frank Empire."

Seeing the false prophet's gaze growing sharper, he shook his head and continued, "These are contradictions left over from history. They are issues of survival and ethnic interests, not questions of justice and fairness. If you insist on using this term to frame your remarks, I think you're trying to trick children."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then she said, "Finally, let me ask you, Ferrieres. Since you believe they are all wrong, if I give you a chance to achieve what you believe is right, would you accept it? Even if no one thinks you are right, you can still achieve it and complete it with your conviction, because you have accepted the great knowledge I have given you."

Cesar tried to argue, but Ferris poked him in the cheek, numbness returning to his mouth and rendering him speechless. "I did refuse your third question, Ancestor, because I thought my sister must have agreed. But I didn't want to be like her, so I never received the Ancestor's memories," she said.

"Your reasons are truly childish," commented the Trickster Prophet.

"But I agreed to the dream," Firielsi continued. "I agreed three times and acknowledged it as my mother. Then Sevra fully recovered. Not only that, she could speak again. I didn't accept your ancestral memories, but after that, I often felt the call of the Tomb of the Wise."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"As I gradually peeled back the layers of myself, I discovered that the memories of my ancestors were actually there. Whether I agreed to you or not only determined whether I could see it. I agreed to the mother in my dream, and that's when I exchanged a miracle for my destination. You and it, one on the surface, the other on the inside. One engraved the call of the soul, the other engraved the guidance of the personality. I don't think you have no connection to it; you're just responsible for different levels."

“You think the Tomb of the Wise Men is the end for us all,” said the Trickster Prophet.

"It's the end for all of us, ancestor, but not for you," said Ferriers. "The previous generation, that Kuna school, all perished in the Tomb of the Wise, leaving no memories behind. Only you managed to escape, opening up the destiny of the next generation. If our generation, the people of the Yesterlen school, all perish without even a memory, you will be the only one who will continue to escape and open up the destiny of the next generation. By then, who do you think will open it?"

The Trickster Prophet subconsciously glanced at Cesar, and Ferriers glanced at him as well. He blinked and couldn't help but point at himself. "What? Me?"

"Last time," Firilsi nodded, "my beloved ancestor came to a Frank tribal chieftain and used his daughter to start the first generation of the Yesterlen School's memory inheritance. This time, my beloved ancestor has come to you. After you conclude this generation's exploration of the Tomb of the Wise and sever the Yesterlen School's memory inheritance, it will be your child who will start the next generation's inheritance."

Cesar hesitated, "This..."

"I feel very, very bad," Ferriers said again, "My sister and I are not

"No matter what, I love my family: my father, mother, sister, my Sephora, Cesar, who branched out from her, my Ajeh, and my descendant, the girl who has been chasing me for millennia. When I think of these people, shrouded in a vast shadow, recklessly exploring the Tomb of the Wise, I feel a sense of emptiness. Whether they believe they will sever the legacy of memory or continue it, whatever their purpose, the end result is only to bring a small part of you from the tomb. Thinking of this, I feel abnormal..."

Chapter 449: Subdue Her and Your Sister

"Love is indeed a beautiful thing." The Trickster Prophet made a sad face. "But think about it another way. It's precisely because it makes you feel so good that it causes you so much pain. If you think about it this way, it's actually the most terrifying thing. If it wants to sting you, nothing can be more piercing than it."

Ferriers's grip on his wrist suddenly tightened. Cesar glanced sideways and saw the blue rune line running down her neck flicker, as if in response to her ancestor's accusation.

The prophet is very good at managing emotions.

The Deceitful Prophet smiled faintly as he spoke. "Many years later, you would rather be replaced by your own soul and willingly allow your personality to disappear. Doesn't this incident prove that you also know that the feelings of a loved one are far more terrifying than those of the two of them? As long as you live, it will continue to hurt you."

"You always..." Ferris hissed. She looked half-conscious, perhaps because her personality had become severely corrupted. "Even at this point, you still have so much to say. Between you and my sister, who is more evil? Her or you?"

The prophet's pupils contracted slightly, becoming as thin as a cicada's wing for a moment, then widened again, as if the entire eyeball had become a crystal-clear ruby. These pupils made her skin even whiter, already as white as porcelain, take on a somewhat unreal hue.

"The tenderness of a loved one, the touch of a child," the prophet said methodically. "These feelings gradually accumulate, but so do the filth they carry. The former always decays with the loss of the loved one, but the pain and fear born of them remain forever. They overwhelm everything like rotting filth, leading to your current situation. My dear, the pain you feel is precisely because of the things you love and cherish the most. Am I correct?"

The prophet took a step forward, and Ferriers gripped his wrist tighter, her eyes widening.

"In other words, this is true of all matters of love," the prophet continued. "These flaws exist in our very nature. They will not disappear just because we are immortal, nor can they be avoided or overcome just because we think we are strong."

The ancestor of Ferriers came to her, first raised his pointed chin to look at her, turned his face sideways to meet her eyes, then the prophet closed his eyes and blinked away a tear.

"I have always felt sympathy for you," the prophet said. "Like the last generation of the cursed Guna, they wished for death but could not, watching helplessly as immense pain and fear overwhelmed them. Even with their memories shattered and their personalities decayed, they could only wander the endless steppe like zombies. In your eternal life, the things that bring you the most pain are precisely the most beautiful things in your hearts. If you understand the remnants of the Guna, you will understand yourself."

Cesar found that the guy's sympathy was real, but, like Alante's love, there was a huge difference between sympathy and sympathy, and there was also a huge difference between love and love. They were just words, and there were many ways to interpret and express them.

"That's what drives you mad," the prophet said. "It's not so much that I took them away as that the passage of time itself has carved scars into you. Even without me, something else would have taken away the people and things you loved, leaving you with endless regret. Do you understand? I haven't changed your eternal destiny, I've simply added a few more strokes to it, giving you a greater meaning and more vivid colors."

"You can't keep getting away with it!" Ferris shouted.

The trickster prophet blinked. "I am only a fragment of a memory," she said. "Perhaps I am that so-called mother, or perhaps I am only a small part of her. But either way, you should look here, at the Tomb of the Wise. The valley rocks you see here once covered the cracks of the abyss, spread across the shattered earth like spiderwebs."

She sighed as she spoke, a look of pity in her eyes. "There are blind demons here. They are the origin of the earliest Kuna people. Their fossils are buried at the bottom of the valley. There are also foolish ancient apes here who have been fighting with the demons for territory. Later, they became the Flan people and were enslaved by the Kuna people for many epochs. Perhaps that vine was also taken from the trees here..."

The prophet turned sideways and stretched out his arm toward the river valley where Cesar had once walked. "Think about it, my dear. All of this gradually dissipated with the passage of time, just like the embers of a bonfire dissipated into the night sky in the evening breeze. The Kuna people were eventually reduced to a group of frantic remnants, living like zombies under the protection of the Sasule people on the grasslands. The Frank empire was torn apart, divided into the north and south with another group of humans who came across the sea, barely surviving. In the passage of time and the progress of history, the story I wrote is so insignificant, completely forgotten by future generations, let alone others?"

Ferrieres stared ahead, tears streaming down her face, like a little girl weeping in regret at her mother's teachings. Cesar, too, felt an indescribable sense of powerlessness in his trance. The Tomb of the Wise, once dark and silent, evoking a sense of terror and danger everywhere he went, now offered only a sense of peace and tranquility, filled with a desolate and profound emptiness.

"All this," whispered the prophet, "is not