Shadow of the Evil God

"What about metaphors?" Ajeh asked. "You should at least give some feeling and imagination, right?"

"Death and pain," he said, "endless death and pain, completely contrary to the peace and kindness I have cultivated over so many years. The spell spreads endless branches of terror in another land, and each branch will bring great trauma and destruction to that land, until the earth sinks and the sea floods everything, and everything ends. However, it is only the land itself that ends. The trauma it once experienced still exists, drifting farther and farther, and finally..."

Ajiehe shrugged. "I learned this information from the princess of the Kasar Empire. Can you tell me something different?"

"Those immature true dragons are only responsible for raising the newborns, then letting them kill each other and teaching them forbidden knowledge they shouldn't have!" The wise man roared, "If we don't seal the true dragons outside of time, our land will suffer the same fate. Not every kind of knowledge should be passed on to everyone without reservation!"

Sephora thought of Zavulon, and how it had taught him in another land. The magic of the Kuna people was indeed vastly different from the magic of the Kasar Empire.

“But you don’t look very peaceful either,” Sevra said.

"I am cursed too," the mentally impaired

The wielder said, "I am cursed by the wounds of another land. All the kindness I have accumulated, the wall of life that brings together the wisdom of all the Kuna people, everything I have is cursed. I thought sealing away the true dragon of this land was enough, but there are other true dragons walking in other lands."

The library owner, Zawulong...

The wise man became sad again. "That immature true dragon cursed the children it had personally guided. It watched as they used the knowledge it taught them to kill each other, causing not only endless suffering but also destroying their homeland. After the destruction, they crossed the ocean and brought this evil to my country..."

"So," Sevra rubbed his jaw, "you sealed that 'mother' in the tomb because you wanted to prevent something like this from happening?"

The old Kuna sighed, "I wasn't destroyed by myself. I was destroyed by another true dragon that failed to grow. My failure was that I didn't have another me to seal it in a second tomb."

"It seems you all think you're right," Sevra said. "But I usually don't care about right or wrong, I only look at the results. So, how will things turn out in the end? Please handle it yourselves and tell me your conclusion after it's over. For now, I just want to know how far the road is. What will you do with the sealed real dragon? And how will you deal with the corpse eaters suspected of being infected by the thought plague?"

"I have my knights." Milava said solemnly.

"Really?" Ajeh asked. "Why do I feel like the young emperor is more popular? Just like when you fulfilled the wise man's promise and then abandoned these knights here? Now you are still hiding in the dark, aren't you, old emperor? Missing one battle is not a big deal, but one after another, it will inevitably become countless, right?

The old emperor didn't care at all. "My knights aren't ancient relics sealed in a box. They're brave warriors I hand-picked and trained myself. As long as I'm around, there will be an endless supply of knights born from commoners, slaves, and nobles. As for that little fellow, let him treat the knights as ancient relics in a box. I hope he remembers to wipe the dust and clean the rust off them."

"That's a really interesting concept," Ajiehe commented. "In other words, you are the Frank Empire?"

“I created it.”

Chapter 472 My Respected Prophet Master

......

Cesar watched the movements of the Snake Walker, slowing down his pace from time to time, but never retreating. After crawling several times, he finally approached the other end of the rift.

He knew that once he broke through the drawbridge, he would face even more swarms of Beastmen. Those unable to support themselves due to the drawbridge's narrowness would all join the fight. However, someone had to clear the way. No one knew how quickly things would end after the Kuna Wall tore through. If Bloodbone and the Snake Walkers got ahead, and they were still blocked on the other side of the abyss, it would be nothing to him.

The world spiraled into chaos, filled with heart-wrenching roars and screams. The blood beneath his feet had soaked the bridge, and the fragrant scent of blood in the air felt like a substance, caressing his skin with a damp, gentle touch. A crimson mist enveloped the world, stirring the souls of both man and beast. A step away, two unarmed men clashed with a beast. The beast tore at the knight's throat, and the knight gouged his gauntlet into the beast's eyeball, until they finally fell, tangled, into the abyss.

Soon, the knight rushed out from behind them again, older than the one who had just fallen into the abyss, and his armor was more rusted. Other knights were almost zombies among the wreckage of armor, their faces withered and their limbs decayed, but they still had the will to respond to the call of charge.

Cesar found that the path within him was being stimulated. Although the rune line left by Ferriers on his wrist restrained the changes in his body, his spirit was still excited. Amidst the smell of blood, he could feel the calls of every dead and dying person.

In this intersection of life and death, amidst the roar that symbolized the burst of vitality, he saw soul and flesh vibrating steadily, like ripples caused by a stone falling into a lake. Ripples spread along the front of the suspension bridge, intertwining and disturbing each other, and the point where the ripples were generated was precisely those who issued the dying call.

Cesar's satisfaction wasn't death itself, but the intense vitality that erupted from these people and beasts in the moment of death. The thought that only at this moment could people fully release their souls and flesh, creating ripples of joy, filled him with a surge of ecstasy. This was exactly what Analik had intended, and indeed, it was this moment of ecstasy that the beastmen longed for.

Perhaps the more blood sacrifices the beastmen made while they were alive, the more ecstatic they would be at the moment of death, at the moment of life bursting forth, and they might even be remembered by their true gods. The warriors of those true gods would return to the world again and again, and experience the ecstasy that burst forth on the eve of death again and again.

The beastmen at the front suddenly paused, as if the enemy they were facing was no longer an enemy, but an acolyte of the true god Analik, a shaman they needed to respect. But Cesar simply strode forward, absorbing the ripples of death that erupted from both man and beast into his chest, filling his soul and body.

In this moment of sensory confusion, Cesar couldn't see clearly, so he distinguished friend from foe by tearing away all the shadows before him and continuing forward. He treated both the hapless knight and the bewildered beast alike. Relying on the legacy of Firiels, he exploited Analik's path without hesitation. As for what to do afterward, he would, of course, return and find a way to admit his mistake.

He exhaled a blood mist towards the longsword in his hand, forcibly staining its frost-covered blade with his own color. The moment his nerves and senses extended to the blade, Alanti's buzzing sound became more intense.

Cesar strode forward, crossing the corpses of people and beasts on the ground. Although he could not see clearly who was in front of him, the different ripples that fell into his soul would give him insight.

He couldn't see the beasts' claws and deadly weapons, but as he moved through the ripples, the threat of death hadn't even landed before he was already halfway there, making blades, spears, and claws miss. He continued forward, passing through the ripples of countless creatures, piercing the center with his sword and extinguishing them with a single stroke. Wherever he walked, the creatures there would burst forth with the most intense life force they had ever known, then vanish into thin air.

He could feel the deadly temptation and pleasure of the path. As long as he gave up his form and turned into a deadly blood mist that enveloped the abyss, he could extinguish all the shadows here in an instant.

He could cause them to erupt in the most beautiful ripples under his influence. This accumulation, layer upon layer, would create an incredible ecstasy that no single soul could endure. That ecstasy would cause the soul to disintegrate and the personality to shatter, but it wasn't the final ecstasy. As the ripples grew in size, the ecstasy would intensify. This ecstasy would be boundless, for the promises of the true God were also boundless...

The world suddenly shook violently.

Cesar's body swayed as he felt a terrifying shockwave sweep through him, calming everything, sweeping away every emotion and every ripple of his soul. He felt as if the entire world had fallen silent, not just in reality, but also in his mind and every feeling. He cried out, releasing the emotions he had just absorbed in a roar, and only then did he reluctantly raise his sword.

But all the men and beastmen did not move.

"What's going on..." Cesar looked around and found that everything was still.

"The giant wall has been torn apart." Milawa suddenly spoke, his voice surprisingly soft.

.

A massive wall of countless Kuna men tore apart. Hundreds of meters away, a wall of weeping, blood-soaked people, mouths gaping in chanting holy words, rose outward. Countless broken human bricks flew toward the abyss and the suspension bridge, leaving a trail of pale, bloody trails. A wave of silence surged from the shattered wall. A large number of Beastmen and Imperial Knights had just regained consciousness and were about to speak, and then another wave.

Is this the way to seal the real dragon?

Cesar watched as the breath overflowing from the giant wall caused everything to fall into silence, and all the ups and downs of the soul and body ceased to exist. Even the beastman who had just bitten the human throat had to sit down and begin to meditate with a peaceful expression.

The scene was indescribable. The massive wall continued to rise, the aura that had brought everything to a state of silence still emanating. More and more Kuna bricks shattered, falling into the abyss, along the sides of the chasm, and across the suspension bridge. A naked, upper body, unidentifiable as male or female, passed overhead, hanging from a hinge on the side of the suspension bridge. Five human faces, lined up, dangling from its tentacle-like, ripped waist and abdomen. Each one, shedding tears of blood, chanted holy words, accusing the intruder of his sins.

"Your expectation is a sin!" Milawa shouted and slashed with his sword, cutting the Kuna brick in half from the forehead to the five faces lined up side by side.

Starting with Helgast's chosen one, numerous Beastman shamans and Imperial Knights began chanting incantations, attempting to wield the will of Anarik and the other gods against the terrifying silence. Most humans and beasts remained silent, like sheep weeping on their knees. Those who had just stood up were gasping for breath. However, seeing Bloodbone and the Snake-Crawler Progenitor continue their advance toward the torn side of the wall, those who had finally regained consciousness also rushed forward.

Another terrifying silence swept across the world. Cesar covered his forehead with one hand and grabbed the chain of the drawbridge with the other, almost falling into the abyss. Milava pulled him hard, allowing him to stand up and continue forward.

As they pushed through the kneeling beasts and reached the end of the drawbridge, another surge sent Milava falling to his knees, mumbling to himself as he grasped the corpse. This time, it was Cesar who pulled him up, dragging him stumbling forward. His pupils dilated, his consciousness swept away, and he seemed to have no idea who he was or where he was.

Time and again, waves of turbulence forced all things into silence. Mortal souls and wills were powerless to resist, relying only on the terrifying will of the Outer Realm gods to fight poison with poison. Even so, the men and beasts rising from the flocks repeatedly fell to their knees and rose again, coughing and growling, struggling relentlessly towards the hole left by the tear in the wall.

The earth was filled with men and beasts crouching in silence, like ears of wheat in a field blown by a storm, the waves rising and falling, lower and lower as the wind of silence blew.

The gaping maw in the Kuna wall grew wider, and the wind of silence blew with increasing terror. Beastmen, their hands covered in blood, began to wail. Even the flesh puppets, which Cesar had thought were unconscious, began to wail. Their sounds were like the sobs of helpless children, choking and whispering like confessions.

As Cesar struggled to push aside the beast blocking his path, he glanced to the side and saw the snake-walker he had met not far away. This creature seemed to care little for the beastmen's true god, Analik. At this moment, many shamans were calling on the true god and struggling forward, wanting to end the sins of the Kuna people, but it had already collapsed to the ground with its pupils dilated, even its tail and body were curled up.

Caesar pulled the stumbling Milava closer, slashed his own hand with Milava's sword, and as blood spurted, he bent down and thrust his hand directly into the snake's slit mouth. Seeing that the creature had lost even the instinct to swallow and bite, he frowned, opened its throat, and shoved his arm in. It waited until its fangs pressed against his shoulder, then its throat moved, its pupils contracted and erected, and its tongue wrapped around his upper arm, reaching his cheek.

"You..." This guy was half-conscious, with an arm stuck in his esophagus, but he was still able to speak, "Are you a god?"

Cesar stared at it. "If you think only God can save you, then I am your God. Listen, Snake Walker, this place is not your hibernation nest. The giant wall built by the Kuna has been torn apart. Do you want to curl up here and return to silence, or do you want to carry your desire to the end?"

"We are tearing the Wall of the Ancients," it closed its eyes in pain, "the impact..."

The Wall of the Ancients, that's what Bloodbone calls it. There weren't many Snake Walkers hurling metal spears at the drawbridge just now, at least not a whole tribe. It seems most of the Snake Walkers were doing their utmost to tear down the Wall of the Ancients. And now, the task is finally complete.

"That is the silence of the ancestors," Cesar said. "It seems that your will is not strong enough to resist the silence of the ancestors. Where is the true God in your heart?"

"I want something different... I don't want to give, I want that... greater knowledge..."

"So you," he raised his eyebrows, "are actually a greedy fellow. Not only have you abandoned the innate mission of your tribe, but you have also succumbed to the madness of mortals." He pulled out his arm and watched its snake tongue linger around the wound on his palm, stretching all the way to

He didn't let go of his mouth for more than an arm's length. "You know, Snake Walker, even if you plunge into the world of the Flan, you won't be able to gain their secret knowledge." There was a hint of malice in his laughter. "But if you can guide a group to realize this, you will represent something far greater than yourself."

"No...you're not a god, you're a prophet?"

Cesar smiled. "You just need something to support you in fighting against your bloodline instincts—those dedication, sacrifice, and mission. And I'm the best at this. I'm so close to the true God, yet I still support you in doing this. So what does it matter if I'm a prophet or a god?"

"A blasphemous prophet!"

"Don't let fear take over your mind!" He leaned over and growled at it. "Think practically first! What are you doing? What do you want to do now?"

Its eyes widened. "Bloodbone! It's tearing through the Wall, leaving us, the laborers tearing it apart, behind! No one is faster than it!"

"So, you're also tearing the Wall of the Ancients." Cesar nodded, "But I think too many people and too many beasts are paying attention to the biggest crack." He grasped its face, stroking the smooth snake scales, and pulled its side-split mouth open. "What do you need, Snake Walker? Since the Wall of the Ancients has been torn, I think I can support you in tearing a smaller crack. We can sneak in through that smaller crack and see what Blood Bone and your ancestor are doing."

"this......."

"Don't you want to stand in the dark and spy on what they are doing?"

"I......."

"Your ancestor is destined to die! When that happens, only Bloodbone, the corpse-eater with unknown intentions, will know the secrets behind the Wall of the Ancients! Don't you want to master it? Do you want such great knowledge to be sealed and buried because of your faith in the True God?"

The Snake Walker's pupils began to shrink, like needles, and desire began to reveal itself. "You are truly a terrible prophet," it hissed, "but that's fine. Since I've already abandoned my faith, I don't mind abandoning a few more things. I have a nearly finished crack in the wall, and it's very narrow. I'll lead you through it, but you'll have to give me more blood before I can tear it open."

"You should change your name first," Cesar said.

"Very well," it said, bowing its head. "My respected prophet master, I declare my allegiance to you, at least for now."

A snake that's good at betraying anything, Cesar thought, but not now.

Chapter 473: Two Ideological Plagues

......

The journey through the Abyssal Rift had been a torment. If it had been just Sephora, it would have been fine, even if Cesar hadn't been reckless. But not only was he incredibly heavy, he was also recklessly exercising his power, relying on the legacy of Firiels. His actions, reflected in his lingering memories, were reflected in his flesh and blood, spreading to her, causing her to also feel a surge of longing.

Being carried away by success had always been Cesar's defining characteristic. At best, it meant he took life lightly in life-or-death situations; at worst, it meant he would repeatedly test the limits of things. She was certain that when Cesar saw the abyss and didn't jump, it was usually because he didn't have a rope tied around his waist. If he had a rope, he would use it to jump into the abyss again and again, just to experience the feeling of that moment.

As they climbed the cliffs on the other side of the rift, Sephora's fingers twitched, and more than once he imagined himself gripping the dagger and pressing the blade against Cesar's throat.

This is the first step of her imagination, seemingly harmless. Yet, its very purpose is to allow her to complete this seemingly harmless first attempt. Similarly, this is a test of her bottom line. Once she completes this first attempt and experiences the sensation of that moment, the bottom line will advance, calling her to take another step forward. For example, gently slicing a blood vessel and tasting the blood. This progression, layer by layer, will ultimately lead to the point of no return: death.

So, what if there's no end? In this forked maze of time, nothing ends, nothing can be reversed. No matter how complete a death is, it won't lead to true death. No matter how extreme a feeling is, it can still be more extreme. If they were trapped in this predicament, sex, cruelty, murder, abnormal love, the desire for blood, the contradictions of another self—all the hidden desires that reason dares not express—would spiral out of control.

What is left in the end? Two evil creatures, only the shells of their bodies or human beings?

Sevra rubbed her throat, her breath tinged with the scent of blood. She paused and looked back, gazing for a moment at the surging undercurrent. Then, lowering her head, she saw Ajehe, supporting Aya, half a step behind her. This girl was quite picky, or perhaps she simply felt there was no point in provoking a child?

"Your eyes are getting redder, Sevra," Ajeh said. "We're not in the Time Maze now, so you better be careful."

Milava paused upon hearing this. "The contradiction of the self is the greatest in the world. If you don't want to die, and you don't want him to die, then the time maze is a way to resolve this contradiction. After all, in this matter, escape is meaningless. As a soul in two bodies, those unspeakable things will always draw you to the same land—no matter how far apart, even on opposite sides of a door."

Sevra was powerless to answer. A moment later, Jiralo's condition worsened. He began to stagger, leaning against the wall. After a few steps, he slid down and sat down on the steps. His face was pale, his eyes unfocused, and his breathing was weak. They all stood around him, watching him, realizing that something was wrong with the place where the wise man resided.

"The walls of our lives have been torn apart by those mad beasts..." the old man said, speaking with the voice of both the wise man and Jiralo. "The ultimate good... the ultimate comfort. Is there no other group that can understand our pursuit? As long as goodness becomes the main body of all consciousness, as long as we complete our spell, all living beings can achieve the most perfect goodness in the ultimate consciousness! We can all obtain the most perfect comfort!"

"You care too much about the afterlife." Ajiehe looked down at him. "I pursue my desires in this world and don't need the promise of an afterlife."

"What can you short-sighted beasts understand!" The old man kept coughing as if he was sick. "I really shouldn't have allowed you to be born with the evil demons from outside the world. Why didn't I discover the truth in time? Why couldn't I control my desire for beauty and kindness? Why did such kindness and beauty give birth to someone like you? Why does Musali protect you so much..."

This guy has become Iskrig again, Sephora thought. So this guy thinks she and Musali's mother are symbols of goodness and beauty? It's incredible.

"Because those who care about the afterlife will always be trapped in the fear of the afterlife." Ajiehe smiled. "When the afterlife is the only thing on your mind, your life in this world is over."

"If the world continues to operate like this, if the final consciousness is tainted by endless pain, desire and torture, then in the end, we will all live in eternal purgatory!" The wise man roared.

Sevra glanced at him and continued to climb up with Cesar on her back. "If you don't want to leave, you can wait here to die, wise man. I don't have time to wait for you to come over," she said.

Ajiehe shrugged and followed, seemingly unconcerned about the outcome. This guy only cared about the process. As she said, she cared more about the desires of this world than the promises of the afterlife.

Milawa sighed. "Kuna people, if your fear is that all consciousness will become one and eternal, then isn't it the purgatory after death that you fear? Transforming purgatory into a paradise of goodness and beauty is certainly one solution, but there may be other options."

"What else can we do?" the wise man sighed.

"Why should people living in this world be

"Trapped by the world?" Milawa said solemnly, "Shackles are still shackles. Even if you pluck out the spikes and cover them with soft fur, they'll still feel heavy on our shoulders. Instead of making the shackles more comfortable, why not make them disappear completely?"

"You said disappear..." The wise man opened his old and dim eyes wide.

"You are a wise man. You have gathered the consciousness of your entire tribe. Why couldn't you think of it?" Milava asked him.

Sevra turned midway. The old man was still panting, huddled against the wall with his back. His face was like a wax figure, lifeless and expressionless. "I... I shouldn't have thought of it," the old man muttered to himself. "If this method fails, I should have considered other avenues. I've considered many spells, many paths, for our ultimate outcome. Although I've chosen this path, it doesn't necessarily mean..."

"Why didn't you think of it?" Milawa continued to question him, pressing him step by step.

Sevra frowned. "The old man is mentally impaired," she said. "He's not aware of things he could be aware of. It's like a piece of the puzzle is missing. Do you understand what I mean, old Emperor?"

"I understand," said Miraval, lifting the old man and stalking after her and Ajeh. "Let's discuss this as we go. I don't think this wise man should have been unable to think of this solution, nor should he have remained trapped in the tomb for so long without achieving anything. Rather than thinking that he was missing a small part, I'm more inclined to believe that he was the missing small part."

Sephora pondered, "He is..."

"I am guessing," the old emperor said solemnly, "but the old man's mental impairment is so alarming that I have to guess. Moreover, there are precedents for this—you and the guy on your back, and me and the shadow of my childhood."

"Could this be the same thing?"

Old Milawa shook his head. "According to my understanding of the Kuna people and the Northern Empire, first of all, the so-called ideological plague is essentially the same as the Kuna people's path. I believe that the boundless Kuna wall is another expression of the ideological plague. The difference is that when the wise man built this wall, every Kuna brick accepted his discipline. They will express the greatest good when they are integrated into the collective."

Sevra and Ajeh exchanged a glance. "You mean the Thought Plague simply lacks this discipline?" she asked.

"No, what I want to say is that it is the intellectual plague of the wise that has caused this discipline." Milawa emphasized.

"Two ideological plagues..."

"The thought plague in another land was utter chaos and disorder. Those mage groups launched their experiments with a completely technological mindset, like setting a fire without any control, watching it spread through the forest. The wise, on the other hand, carefully controlled its temperature, range, and composition, hoping to create a sacred fire that would purify everything in the world. The former created the greatest chaos, spreading boundless pain, desire, fear, and torment everywhere, while the latter, tempered by countless years, became incomparably pure, waiting only for the fire to devour and assimilate everything. Then, the two thought plagues met."

"Something has happened that we cannot yet articulate," Sevra said thoughtfully.

Milava carried the dwindling old man on his shoulders, climbing step by step. "I believe the plague of thought has reached a new stage. It's something neither the mages of another land nor the Kuna of this land anticipated. If someone who has influenced the Kuna people for all their years and history saw this possibility, wouldn't he be able to see the direction it points to?"

"That sounds really interesting." Ajiehe said with great interest, "It's a pity I didn't see it."

Sevra glared at Ajeh. "The merging of two ideological plagues could reveal new directions, or it could produce even more terrible chaos and disorder," she said indifferently.

"The former brings revelation, while the latter requires overcoming," Milawa said. Sephora noticed a flicker of excitement in his eyes. What was wrong with this man? "As long as we overcome the worries brought by the latter, the revelation of the former will lead us to a magnificent destination. The one who truly holds the revelation is no longer in the Tomb of the Wise. The remaining fellow," he glanced at the old man on his shoulder, "is merely obsessed with the ultimate good, and knows only the ultimate good..."

"Remnants," Sevra said for him, "what remains from the onslaught of two ideological plagues..."