Shadow of the Evil God

"I suppose you taught Ajeh that, dear?"

"She sometimes calls me dad."

"You can indeed be considered her father," said Ferriers. "After all, it was your flesh and blood that raised her."

"I'm going to tell her this later."

Ferris cast a spell to raise a full moon, casting a path like a river of starlight for them to follow, heading towards the crypt where the Firstborn's young were sealed deep in the darkness. On both sides was still bottomless void, looking like the abyss itself.

"How could I possibly be on the same level as you?" Milava suddenly said, seemingly addressing Ajeh. Father and teacher—these two identities were indeed similar. "Can you tell me why this happened, Beast?" he asked.

"Oh, the former emperor is now comparing his status with a beast? No, that's not right. You just dreamed that you were the emperor, right? The Frank Empire was clearly created and destroyed by old Milava."

"As you are and will be, beast," Milava whispered.

Cesar realized that the memories of everyone present stopped at the time of the excavation of the Fran Empire.

Only Mirava and Alranti, sealed within the longsword, knew of the events beyond the tomb era. He was certain that Sevra lacked a thirst for bloodshed; after all, she only wanted to kill him. But Ajeh was different. Her thirst for bloodshed was indiscriminate. She must have caused immense slaughter in the wars that followed, perhaps even leaving her own horrific story in the history of the empire.

Thinking of this, he passed through a dark stone door, walked along a path that looked like a galaxy, and finally stepped into a damp depression. At his feet was a peeling animal skin, emitting a rotten smell.

"The cubs have already shed their skins," Firiel said with a frown, "but there's no sign of life here. Has it been taken away?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of metal and scales rubbing against each other suddenly came from the darkness.

"Who?" Miraval shouted loudly.

"The King of Snake Walkers sent me to greet you, young emperor. I am his firstborn child." The voice was low and hoarse, and did not sound like that of a child.

Milava's fingers twitched slightly, his emotions already starting to rise. "Are you here to find me, creeping beast?"

"The First Ancestor asked me to bring up a question," the voice seemed to sigh. "Since you have returned to your youth, is there any hope that the war we missed due to the seal can continue in the future?"

"It sounds like your population has nothing left."

"You have nothing now, Emperor."

Chapter 456 Your Blood is Poison

"My knights still wait for me in every corner of the world," hissed Milava.

The sound of metal rubbing against scales continued to echo. Cesar stared into the dark chamber and threatened, "I don't want to use my third vision carelessly, Beastman, but you have been hiding in the shadows for too long, and my patience has its limits."

Shortly after the words fell, a figure emerged from the wall. A nearly translucent turquoise ghost, clad in armor, passed through the tomb wall. Only after completely crossing the boundary did it materialize. Its body was clearly visible, draped in rusted Frankish armor. The body beneath the black armor was barely a shadow, yet the rusting sound of scales rustled from the contact with the armor.

Cesar couldn't tell whether it was a snake or a lizard, but most beastmen had complex features, and Ajeh was rare.

The guy was wearing the armor of a dead man, but his face was not completely covered. You could vaguely see a snake's tongue sliding through the gaps in the armor, savoring the stale taste of the tomb.

"You also have the air of a true prophet of God." It leaned forward a little, "even closer than the prophet the corpse eater promised. You have another ancestor with you. Why are you standing beside Emperor Farran?"

It was floating. Its rusted armor had disintegrated below its hips, breaking into fragments of metal that formed the shape of a war skirt. Beneath its skirt lay not legs but a massive, lizard-like tail. Though barely discernible, the tip of the tail occasionally swept the ground, kicking up clouds of dust. The rest of the time, it was floating and skittering through the air, its tail curling upward in an arc, its end dangling from several metal pieces that trembled and scraped with a sound.

"Even human tribes have their differences, and so do beastmen," Cesar said with the tone of a deceitful prophet. "Someone once said that I could wear your crown, and now I have indeed come to the tomb where the Firstborn are sealed, but I arrived a step too late."

Milava stared at him for a long moment, as if he were realizing for the first time that the false prophet had said they were of the same ilk.

"You want to tell me not to be prejudiced?" The Snake Walker's tail swung again, making a friction sound. "The one who arrives first doesn't necessarily mean he is right, nor does he necessarily mean you are wrong."

"You already know that."

"But I heard that you are deliberately suppressing the birth of new tribes. This ancestor has spent nearly a thousand years in vain."

Cesar cut his finger open, sending a few drops of blood skimming across the tip of Ajehe's wolf-headed nose. Her ears quivered and her eyes narrowed almost instantly. He withdrew his finger and saw Ajehe baring her teeth in dissatisfaction, but a faint smile still clung to her face.

"The breath of life, can you feel it, Snake Walker? She spent nearly a thousand years doing nothing, but she came to me recently, and things have become different. A new life is about to be born from her belly. That is my child," he said.

"A prophet who has sex with a wild beast?" the voice asked faintly.

"Is this surprising?"

"Why do you have sex with wild beasts? For what? To get tools for war?"

"No." Cesar shook his head slightly. "Although I never considered myself a prophet, I am at least similar to the prophets in the story in one respect - I love my poor child. I used my flesh and blood to feed her hunger, her desires, and her expectations, and I would fight beside her on the battlefield. Today, this unborn child is proof of many things."

Milava's gaze seemed to have remained there for a long time, while the snake-walker rhythmically swung its tail, and a translucent shadow swept across the ground.

"As a prophet, you do have a strange difference from the prophets of Noiin," the serpent said. "Perhaps I should examine both of you more fairly."

"Navzog also nodded his approval to me after the First War," Cesar said methodically. "After that, I was the one who told him to go to the city of Noyen at the southern end of the world to find the prophet who summoned the White Nightmare. I never call myself a prophet because I often tell lies out of necessity. It's just that some ancient White Nightmares and beastmen call me that."

Cesar dared to lie openly because this so-called snake-walker had never been to the outside world. Since he had never been there, he had no idea of ​​the real world, let alone his position or actions. Taking advantage of the intelligence gap in this closed environment, he could use many deceptive tactics, using half-truths and half-false hints to mislead the snake-walker.

Even if the beastman who came to the tomb said these things, they were just his words, not the facts that the beastman saw with his own eyes.

Since both sides are speaking empty words, who is true and who is false does not depend on the facts, but on who can make the words sound more appealing.

Even if he was exposed after leaving the tomb, Cesar didn't care. All he needed was to get some information from the other party. If he could make those unknown Firstborns and their descendants waver in the tomb, that would be a windfall.

"There's a hint of weakness in your words," the Snake Walker pondered. "What kind of decision is it to hand over a warrior remembered by the True God to someone else?"

Milava stared at the Snake Walker for a while, as if wanting to say something to the deceived person who had suffered a huge misunderstanding, but in the end she remained silent.

"I admit it," Cesar sighed, "but I just think

Navzog would be better off there. Different species, different individuals, are suited to different environments. I have no intention of letting go of Ajeh, but I won't try to keep Navzog, saying he'd be better off with me. We maintain mutual respect and can still talk normally, just like now. Where do you think you belong, Snake Walker?

The true outline of the tail, which was not sure whether it was a snake or a lizard, gradually emerged. It looked indigo blue and was curling and stretching under several pieces of rusted armor, gently twisting it like a finger.

"As long as the war continues, my people and I will remain tools of war," it hissed. "I can ignore your existence, but that doesn't mean I will allow you to disrupt our people's hopes."

"It seems you're somewhat hostile to me. Why?" Cesar said with a smile. "Did someone tell you in advance that my existence, and that of those around me, is a threat and needs to be eliminated? Actually, I don't even know who they are—and I rarely ask. I just do trivial things from my grave for the people I care about, things that don't even have anything to do with war."

"You have arrived at the sealed tomb of the ancestors," said the snake walker. "The ancestors were tools of the true god, just as we are tools of war."

"I just want to save Ajeh's compatriots who are still sealed in the tomb," said Cesar.

"The Corpse Eaters brought us unimaginable amounts of blood food, replenishing everything we need. What can you bring us? Asking us to be patient with your empty words?"

"Empty words?" Cesar frowned. He deliberately triggered the Tao in his soul, his eyes turning blood red before suddenly converging, directing the bloody scent towards his gradually torn left hand. "You don't understand the meaning of my words, do you?" he asked. "The blood food is right here. Isn't this rising scent the bloody fragrance you crave most?"

"No, it's..."

"People often don't know what true sweetness feels like until they've truly experienced it." Cesar took a step forward. "The flesh and blood that grows from the grave must taste bland, right? It doesn't even have a soul, just empty memories, weightless but devoid of joy, like eating dirt. Judging from your expression, I suspect you don't know what sweetness is because you've only ever eaten dirt. This girl next to me has been fascinated by this for a long time, and since then, she's never craved anyone else's flesh and blood again. Why do you think I'm asking her to be patient?"

"Your blood is poison, it corrupts," it hissed.

Cesar took another step forward. "From what I know, corpse eaters are best at utilizing flesh and blood corpses, but the methods they use are mostly filled with corruption and filth. There are actually quite a few differences between different beast races, just like werewolves. They all scorn the taste of corpse eaters."

"Have you ever seen a werewolf?"

"I have participated in the ceremony of worshiping the real dragon with them," he said with a smile. "Do you feel the breath of the real dragon? It is the gift they left me at that time. Come here, take a step forward, come to my side. Even if you don't accept my words, why don't you come and experience the difference between the werewolf tribe and the corpse-eater tribe?"

Cesar took another step forward, extending his torn left hand toward the snake. It seemed to want to resist, but it was completely unable to resist, watching them with fascination, like a person dying of thirst in the desert. Its body curled up, and its tail curved in a long arc, climbing up from behind the snake, draping over its shoulder and hanging down, swaying back and forth, finally carefully placing it on the end of one of his split tentacles and wrapping it around.

The scaly indigo tail gradually wriggled forward, wrapping itself tighter and tighter like a snake strangling its prey. Its helmet was torn open, and the mouth beneath it was also torn open, the opening so large that it seemed it could swallow a person whole, tightly gripping the splintered blood-red branches.

Before long, it was swallowing with an almost lustful hunger, without chewing at all. Even as it swallowed, saliva slowly seeped out from between its cleft lips.

I have to say, the way this guy ate was like a poor citizen who had just arrived at the palace and was feasting on candy and cakes, even swallowing his own tail.

Cesar watched its throat swell, extending all the way to its entire neck. He moved from her slimy mouth to her upper jaw, then slid down from there to her esophagus, squeezing it bit by bit, wriggling downwards, squeezing through the dense folds and slimy fluids, and finally piercing into her corrosive stomach. The indigo snake's tongue coiled around his arm again and again, the pointed end even probing his arm's armpits, hissing.

He calmly cut off his split left arm, then held its slimy tail with his right hand, and pulled its tail out little by little from its mouth along the split arm.

"You are such a greedy guy." Cesar grabbed the snake's tail that was swinging back and forth, watching it switch back and forth between shadow and entity, covered with oily and shiny green scales.

It couldn't speak, still swallowing, and its shadowy neck took shape. Intricate patterns coiled up along its incredibly swollen neck, expanding into sharp thorn-like patterns at its lower jaw, and then suddenly disappeared.

A slender head that could not be identified as a lizard, a dragon or a snake was unconsciously revealing a human face.

Just like Ajeh.

"My face..." Slither muttered.

“That just goes to show your Kuna origins,” Cesar said in a low voice.

He released its unconsciously trembling tail and reached out to touch its slender cheek, still covered in scales. He brushed its lips, cleft to its ears, and placed his index finger against its fangs, oozing with cyan venom. A long, forked tongue darted out and then retracted. Its indigo eyes gleamed, struggling between unconsciousness and lucidity, like dark gemstones, their pupils pierced by two spiky, feathery pupils.

"What are you struggling with?" Cesar asked again with feigned concern. "Aren't your desires and hopes gifts from the true God? If you resist this desire, you are restraining yourself with morality and doing what humans are doing. - Whose side are you on?"

"I don't stand for..."

"Don't ask that of yourself," he sighed, trying to stop himself from crossing the line immediately. "And don't answer me. You'll have many opportunities to question yourself in your later life, so put this question back, deep in your heart. When you are able to answer it, you can think about it and answer it. Now, can we talk for a few words?"

"......go ahead."

"You know, the Corpse Eaters have conflicts with many tribes, and I'm just one of them," Cesar explained. "Although I don't want to hurt you, I want to know what kind of threats I might face."

"The leader of the Corpse Eaters has been battling a terrifying thought for decades, right here in this tomb. He's been struggling for over twenty years, since I was born, and perhaps even longer than that."

This group of beastmen has been wandering around the Tomb of the Wise and the surrounding area for decades? Is this the result of not having the Kuna to lead the way?

"He's holding something extremely dangerous," Cesar hinted. "The leader of the Corpse Eaters isn't capable of controlling it."

"He truly doesn't have the ability," the Snake Walker agreed, "but some philosophers claim through him that they do. They seem to be the dead he's eaten, their souls and flesh gone, but their thoughts lingering. They argue with him day and night about life, soul, and thought, plunging him into endless confusion and pain."

What on earth was this corpse eater who had been infected with the plague of thought? This was what Cesar couldn't figure out the most.

Chapter 457: The Snake Walker's Battle

"I roughly understand," Cesar said. "However, you don't seem to have the bloodline characteristics of a corpse-eater. Is it that the bloodline of the ancestor will not be affected by the other party in intercourse?"

The Snake's chest heaved as it devoured the arm. "We have nothing to do with the Corpse Eaters," it hissed. "Two ancestors clashed, one of them sacrificed himself. Our father was devoured, and our mother gave birth to two pure races and many more mixed. We stand together now, but whether we will split or walk together in the future is unsure."

One of the origins of the hybrid beastmen? Cesar felt he had deciphered the developmental trajectory of the beastmen population. He continued with a few casual inquiries, but it seemed the Snake Walker's knowledge was limited. Having already grasped the most important information, there was no need to inquire further. As long as they remained within the Tomb of the Wise, there was a chance they could reach a consensus. There was no need to push too hard.

"Is there anything else you want to say to Milava?" Cesar asked it finally.

"Can you represent the Emperor of Farran?" The Snake-Walker turned its gaze, its mouth slightly stretched beneath its visor, a long string of saliva hanging from its side fissure. "Oh, it seems you can, Prophet. So, will you represent him in rejecting the continuation of past wars into future generations?" it asked.

"This is the emperor's own business," Cesar said. "I can only help him when he is in danger. I won't force him to do anything else."

How Milava would continue the war, when and where it would begin, he didn't know, and for now, he didn't want to ask. The world was descending into chaos, and all he did was hold on to the territories he occupied. Honestly, he had faced only a few wars in recent years. While the war raged on his territory, other powers could watch from the sidelines, interfering freely in his own conflicts without suffering any consequences.

If Cesar doesn't let them suffer a little, he really can't bear it.

The truth is, no matter where Milava causes war and unrest, it will ease Cesar's current situation. If Milava can steal some generals whose memories have awakened from the Kasar Empire and the Domini Kingdom, his situation will be even better. Even if Milava eventually clashes with Altinia, it's better than anything else. After all, facing an enemy who is both a friend and a foe is no worse than facing an enemy who wants to skin him alive.

Cesar pondered the pros and cons, leaving the rest to Milava. Just as he was about to casually work on his left arm, Ferrieres reached out. Pressing her fingers against the bleeding cut, she whispered something as she rubbed upwards. She narrowed her eyes, watching him grimace in sudden pain.

It was indeed painful. Some kind of magic blocked the path of flesh and blood desires, threw the perception of pain and desire transforming into each other far away, and then made him feel the pain of human beings themselves.

He was certain he was gritting his teeth in agony, and he was also certain Ferrieres knew his condition. She still narrowed her eyes, pressing against his wound with a faint smile. Although a strange aura was helping him recover naturally, it was also followed by an intense tingling and itching, and even more kinds of pain.

Ferris's smile grew softer. "Remember to bring this memory and this spell to my future self," she said. "Otherwise, I will have to find other ways to punish you for your reckless behavior."

Soon after, she finally completed the spell, pressing her hand against his closed wound. "If you're talking about spells that obscure the path," Cesar said after a breath, "I've already received many."

"I guess they only masked the curse of the Path, but didn't stop the transformation of pain and desire," said Ferriers.

"Is it necessary?"

"Of course," she said, "to keep you from getting too proud."

"I'm not very proud, really."

Ferris couldn't help laughing: "When you get out, you'll know if you've been too proud."

Cesar tasted some of the little Firth of Neuen in her, and could not help feeling a little intoxicated. "I still have to say," he whispered, "I..."

"Say one more word and I'll cast a spell that only I can break, rendering your thing useless. Once you've made the me of that era learn my spell, she'll be able to restore you," said Ferriers.

"No, this thing is my crutch. I can't move without it."

"Then find a wooden stick and stick it between your legs," said Ferriers.

By the time Cesar had grown new arms like a broken-tailed lizard, Milava had already finished part of the conversation and was staring at the snake walker in deep thought.

Cesar observed the two of them and found that Milava and the Snake Walker were discussing the rise of the Snake Walker race and the revival of the Fran Empire with uncanny persistence. One of them wanted to experience the war and glory his own race had never experienced, to overwhelm the remaining beastmen who survived the ancient wars, while the other wanted to deny the mistakes he had made in the Fran Empire. In a sense, he was rebuilding the empire of the dead.

It has to be said that the ideas of these two guys are unrealistic in themselves, but their thinking and their decisions are very realistic, without any emotion, cold and terrifying, and they even start by hindering their own kind.

Cesar is

I'm very curious. These two people have made recreating the glory of history their top priority. If this can really be accomplished, will they torture themselves afterwards and reflect on how terrible an enemy they have created in order to reshape history?

Would he? Cesar certainly wouldn't. After all, he didn't have a clear racial affiliation. As long as they were on his side, whether they were fey, White Nightmares, beastmen, or any other race of humans, he would accept them all. As long as they weren't on his side, whether they were beastmen or humans, he would fight and scheme against them all. Besides, he had already spoken with the White Nightmares. What difference did the Sassulai, the Farans, the Imperials, the Kuna, or even the Beastmen make?

Good thing, he thought, making excuses was always the easiest thing to do. If it was so easy for him, it must be even easier for Milava and the snake walker.

Thinking of this, Cesar wanted to kiss Ferriers, but the sidelong glance she gave him seemed to imply that if he dared to act recklessly again, he would be in trouble, so he had to give up.

Ajehe was stroking her belly, mumbling softly, perhaps sensing Ajehe's memories on the other side of reality. "Child..." she muttered, then looked back at the Snake Walker, as if wondering what was different about the Firstborn's first child.

Although Cesar didn't want to say much about the decisions of Snake Walker and Milawa, when it came to his and Ajeh's child, things were different. The war would intensify, become more and more shocking, and last longer and longer. How to prevent his child from shouting that he wanted to be a tool of the True God was also a problem.

Otherwise, even if a miracle happens one day and the war ends, he will only cultivate more mentally deranged beasts and butchers.