Shadow of the Evil God

I'll swing it like a sword, relying entirely on intuition.

然而塞萨尔也不认为自己能在近身搏斗中胜过对方。群'6#999四;:9三!6壹!999

At this moment, except for him and the Faceless One,

In addition, the people present were divided into three types:

There were the ignorant ones who could do nothing, the servants of the tax collectors, who had either died trying to escape or had been killed by Cesar, and only a few who were still trembling behind the trees were still alive, but they could not affect anything.

Another possibility was that they were part of a conspiracy that had planned to collude with the outside world. The Earl's nephew and the steppe sword dancer who protected him were among them. The identity of the sword-bearing guards was unclear, but since they were already dead, it didn't matter.

The last type is the locals who have no idea what's happening but have the ability to make choices and influence the status quo. The young wizard who suddenly stopped casting spells is one of them. She hesitated, switching from entanglement with the Faceless One to a silent confrontation, because she was still thinking and judging, trying to figure out what had happened.

Cesar knew that his fate in Noyen was being played out according to two absurd gambles. Would he be captured by Count Thane, his body bound to a stone platform and presented to Analik, or would he die in the chaos of the steppe people's attack on the city many days later? What difference would there be between the two outcomes?

It was difficult to escape. What he had to do might not only be to deal with the current situation, but also the future situation. To do this, it was very necessary to shake the wizard apprentice who was still thinking and judging. Perhaps, he would have to rely on her to escape from the city.

He had only glimpsed the other person's outline and knew nothing else. But the Faceless One was different. She had been entangled with him for a long time and had even taken on the familiar identity of Baiyan. You have to know that to her, Baiyan's words carried more weight than anyone else present—she was the witch's child, and Baiyan was the witch's servant.

No one had known her longer than Baiyan, except the witch Corini herself.

"Talk to her about the past and ask her if she wants to save her life!" Cesar shouted, raising his voice. "Tell her I saw the signs of the fortress's fall, that the steppe people are about to lay siege. If you want to save yourself, you must first cooperate and escape!"

He claimed to have seen the signs of the fortress's fall, which was of course nonsense, a false prophet. He also claimed that the steppe people were already besieging the city, which was also nonsense, pretending to know everything. Of course, his nonsense was nonsense, but the steppe people had already appeared in the count's castle, working together from within and without, so the situation of the fortress was very questionable.

Mere suspicion is not enough, at least not enough to make people change their minds, so Cesar has to turn his worries into unquestionable beliefs, making the other party think that he really knows something.

Just like he made the Faceless One think that Count Thane would really abandon her in the basement of the castle.

If it weren't for the language barrier, he would have already been able to sway the young wizard apprentice with his words. It was nothing more than using more guiding words, which was not difficult. He was able to change the Faceless One's mind because he was very good at using similar words with his fellow humans.

As for now, Cesar could only hope that Fake Eyes's eloquence was better than the Count's nephew's, and that he could gain the upper hand in the test of trust.

Seeing his opponent's lack of focus, the sword dancer glared at him, as if insulted. He shuddered. As if insulting the sacred ritual, the steppe man roared and charged forward, pushing a cart, intent on slamming him against the wall. Cesar followed suit, adopting the same stance.

Although their muscle structures were very different, the strength provided by the massive blood loss allowed him to stop the opponent's momentum. Cesar exerted all his strength, veins bulged, and blood began to spurt out of the wound again.

The sword dancer's throat moved, and he let out a roar. He lowered his arms, pressing Cesar's legs and feet, and then raised his strong arms directly upward. This time, he found his weak lower body and flung him out like a discus, almost throwing him into the air.

Cesar tumbled awkwardly through a pile of bushes, finally regaining his balance. He kicked the ground hard, trying to stand up. However, as soon as he stretched out his foot, he saw the grassland man kick with great force.

He barely blocked a kick with his arm and felt his bones shatter with a miserable cracking sound. Then another kick came.

The sword dancer was planning to kill him. Apparently, in grassland competitions, the first person to fall is considered the loser. Since he'd already lost, there was no need to adhere to the rules. Or perhaps, in grassland tradition, such a death was simply an unfortunate accident, a common occurrence in their fights.

Please——

Shouldn't he have let the Faceless Man start the negotiations by reminiscing about the past?

A blinding burst of light suddenly erupted, and Cesar almost thought he'd been hit by a flashbang. In a blink, the vast area they were in was bathed in the white light of a summer noon. He heard the sword dancer roar, as if rebuking the sinister wizard. He knew it was meant to confuse the sword dancer, because the most glaring light came from behind him, directly into the sword dancer's eyes.

Can I take this opportunity to kill this guy?

"Run!" Fake White Eyes shouted loudly.

It seemed that this idea was a mistake. Cesar immediately rolled to the side and ran in the opposite direction, following the direction he remembered, fleeing towards the gap in the garden.

At this moment, he heard the foot dancers of the grasslands

He stomped his foot on the ground with a loud bang. Large pieces of dirt and ash flew outwards, hitting his back like a mudslide, shaking his body. He was almost blown away, but he still stumbled forward, maintaining his balance while using his hands and feet to climb up and run.

The leg injury didn't seem to affect his movements much. What was the reason?

Also, does this guy really use a sword?

Fortunately, he hadn't bled to death and was able to ignore his own weakness and continue moving.

Amidst the chaos, a hand suddenly lifted him up. "Run!" Cesar didn't have time to think. He took off running, leaping over the corpses on the ground. He stumbled on the slope, but he continued to slide down as fast as he could. The Faceless One used his arms to block the whip-like branches that whipped at him. The sword dancer's roar intensified, as if it was right behind him. Cesar ran even faster, followed by a witch who was shouting at someone in the air.

Although he couldn't make out what she was yelling, it certainly wasn't anything nice; perhaps it was just a curse word. The earl's nephew was cursing her loudly, his tone akin to the frenzy of someone who had just let a pigeon fly. Did this mean he'd successfully kidnapped her? He had no idea.

Cesar couldn't see much in the swirling dust, only the biting white frost and the rich smell of blood filling his lungs. He still ran as fast as he could. If he could just get to the streets outside the castle, he doubted the sword dancer would dare to openly wreak havoc on the crowd and ruin the grassland people's plans.

So will Noyen really be besieged by a barbarian army? What will happen if the evil creatures beneath the fortress castle burst forth in full force?

Please, we have to wait until he successfully saves himself.

Chapter 6 My men have no loyalty

......

The Count's castle stood at the highest point of Upper Neuen, towering like a giant dog crouching on the mountaintop. The slope was steeper than he had imagined, so high that it reminded him of his own hikes up snowy mountains. Halfway up, Cesar felt like he was almost flying.

Dense conifers covered every inch of land, making it impossible to see a clear path. Cesar could only use them as a cushion to fall. Despite the protection of the Faceless, his clothes were torn to shreds by the branches, and the scraps of cloth slapped against his wounds, causing waves of sharp pain.

He could no longer tell the direction, only feeling the cold wind brushing against his cheeks and whistling in his ears. He saw the gloomy gray sky above him, the black castle tower standing on the mountaintop behind him, the gray-black rocks quickly passing by under his feet, and the dark green holly trees on both sides - everything was so fast that it seemed like a revolving lantern flashing through a person's mind before death.

Cesar felt the inexplicable feeling filling his body slipping away. His vision blurred, his body gradually lost control, and he couldn't move at all. He felt that the trees around him were intimidating him, emitting an extremely unfriendly rejection of him. The sky, covered with dark clouds, hung very low, like an endless lead-gray boulder about to collapse.

As he fell through a pile of broken branches, he felt like a rock falling off a cliff and hitting the ice and snow-covered mud.

Cesar survived the fall simply because the Faceless Ones, tireless and tireless, dragged him along like an antelope across the mountain stream, mitigating much of the impact. She fell into a ditch, then scrambled back up, tumbling down the slope. The witch behind her screamed and stumbled after her, suddenly floating like a feather, but the cushion of her movement was short-lived. A moment later, she crashed facefirst into the snow.

As expected of an apprentice and assistant, his spell casting is quite clumsy.

"Go grab her..." Cesar said with a cough.

The Faceless One pulled the witch, whose face was covered in frost, out of the mud as if he were pulling a carrot. However, her arm never left his side, like a rope fixing his position and bringing him back from the brink of death time and time again.

They had tried hard to escape, but was it enough?

Finally, they broke through the slope and reached the streets of Upper Neuen, squeezing through a narrow gap between buildings. Cesar felt himself being lowered against a wall. The bricks behind him, stained with soot, felt surprisingly warm. Leaning against them and dying would be better than freezing. He tried to shake his head, but he was too weak to do anything. His hair was matted with slush, and the faces of the two men beside him were barely discernible amidst the shredded leaves, snow, and mud.

Cesar saw something, heard a dog barking nearby, and a shadowy figure flashed across the narrow alley. The Faceless One lunged forward, and a moment later, the man's curled body crashed before Cesar, shattered into pieces, blood spurting out like a shower. The patrolling hound vanished within her face, gaping like a Venus flytrap.

The witch was so frightened that she almost screamed and wanted to step back, but she took a step back halfway.

The Faceless One returned to him, her skin, stained with blood, white and flawless, without a trace of frost or dirt, like a vision of a goddess seen by a believer before death. The light in her eyes was incomprehensible, and her new golden hair emerged from the morning mist, covering her cheeks and jaw, as if he were still staring at the girl in the countryside.

Cesar watched the dog lean over him, its wild hair caressing its face. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt several warm limbs crawl up his neck, caressing his cheeks like a young girl's fingers, prying open his mouth and reaching inside, thick blood pouring down his throat...

Just like birds feeding.

but that

The witch still didn't flee. Could it be that she knew the identity of the Faceless One?

Cesar couldn't figure it out, but he was already unconscious and everything he felt was like a dream. He didn't have time to think or think too much. If he just fainted, the whole street might be in chaos.

Even if we set aside moral considerations, the senseless slaughter would not improve his situation in any way.

"First, follow... this witch." He said with his last bit of strength as those soft limbs stretched out, "Listen to her orders."

The dog stretched his neck and turned his face towards the witch, revealing bird-like curiosity. The latter seemed to struggle for a long time whether to take a big step back, but finally stopped.

"Yes, Master," she said, "I will obey her until you die."

......

The dusky hues of sunset gradually faded, blending into the twilight. Finally, the sun set, its last remaining rays fading into the distant haze. Sean leaned silently on the living room bench, watching servants moving back and forth across the courtyard, carrying the bodies strewn across the grounds. The night was lit by the flickering glow of oil lamps.

As all the events of the day piled up on his desk, Sean sat in silence for a long time, flipping through the records handed to him by the clerk, while his knuckles unconsciously tapped the table. He tried to reconstruct the true situation from the various fragmented information, but so far he had found nothing.

In the end, it was Corini who broke the silence. She was the only one who dared to interrupt his deep thoughts at this moment. Although he was actually thinking about nothing.

"The tax collector is writing a letter, my Lord," the witch said slowly. "First, he accuses you of attempting to murder your own blood relatives and damaging the tax collector's reputation. Then, he accuses you of refusing to allow the castle to be searched after the incident, most likely harboring a criminal. Finally, your nephew insists that it was my little girl who used her beauty and seductiveness to lure him into the depths of the courtyard, where he was nearly killed by your guards who had been lying in ambush for a long time."

A herd of sheep who only dared to exploit the laws of the kingdom, Sean thought. Their molasses-soaked brains could only come up with this kind of frame-up, like flies buzzing around.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Thane replied. "It doesn't matter if I chop them up and feed them to the dogs, Corinne. The tide will soon sweep them out to sea and drown them all."

Corini smiled. "Oh, I knew you'd use the grassland people, my Lord. But who knows when they'll come here for a horseback tour and take some lives and property. If you kill someone now, you can't shift the blame onto the outsiders."

Of course, he wouldn't be so impatient. He would first use restraint and forbearance to entertain them for a while, and when the tax collectors returned, he would have the appropriate means to put an end to everything.

Sean sent his servants out and called the urgently summoned commander of the border guards to his side. The thought of taking another risk for an unexpected disaster made his brain throb.

But now he is calm, calmer than ever.

The blond commander of the border guards, Askrid, entered the room and sat down in a chair, coming up to Sean's side. He glanced sideways at the smiling witch. Although both he and Sean's nephew were from the capital, Askrid was far more straightforward. With a burly build and a wild beard, he looked more like a Norn citizen than the clean-shaven nobles of the capital.

It had taken Sean a lot of effort to persuade Askrid to join his camp and become a brother in following the True God. Now, they were both beneficiaries of the True God's ritual, even if the benefits were not exactly the same, they were still on the same boat.

Sean lowered his voice and instructed him, "Take the religious paintings I have packaged to the tax collector, old friend, and say they are gifts from you on my behalf. You know when to take them back."

Askrid nodded, fully understanding. He said, "I'll have my men prepare the weapons and equipment seized from the Steppe people's bodies and disguise themselves as their raiding party. When this is over, I can't guarantee that the bodies will be intact, but I guarantee that the ancient paintings will be recovered intact."

Very good... His annoying nephew would be left dead in the wilderness alongside the capital's tax collector. Sean could already picture it, as well as those ridiculous letters. Every few years, the grassland people would come to the border of the Domini Kingdom to poop and piss. This year was the perfect time, a perfect opportunity to get rid of some of these annoying guys. He would incorporate this insignificant murder into a larger-scale looting.

If you dare to come to this freezing shithole of Neuen to beg for money, you should be prepared to die without a complete corpse.

Whether it was the nomadic people who were raiding on horseback or the tax collectors who wanted to go to the capital to sue him, compared with the real test that Sean had to face, they were all trivial matters that were not worth mentioning and did not need to be taken to heart.

As for why they were so desperately sought after, it was because they were annoying, no other reason was needed. There was so much hatred and conflict in the world, and it only took a moment of impulse for people to commit murder.

Nothing is easier than murder.

By now, Sean had invested too much in the True God Ceremony, and every day he invested more. He had treated the sacrificial ritual that ordinary cultists only had once in their lifetime as a gambling activity that had to be carried out every now and then. This way, he could carefully read the literature and carefully select from a large number of different sacrificial rewards to find the ones that were useful to him.

Those ones.

Now, the demons summoned by Thane have filled the castle's basement, forcing him to dig deeper and wider caverns. The catalysts he has never used and will never use have piled up in various niches.

Let it gather dust.

Selling them would be fine if he could restore his financial resources, but these things were simply not meant to be seen by others. They could imbue people with immensely sinister powers, but they could only be piled up like ornaments. Sometimes, he could single out a few to persuade political figures like Askrid, but most of the time, letting these evil items circulate would only bring further disaster to his situation and his city.

Finances—every problem stemmed from finances. He'd tried every possible means to remedy the financial problems, but he still couldn't fill the bottomless pit of the sacrificial rituals. The problem of military budget cuts was becoming apparent, and his brother, who'd been spying on the situation in Noien for years, had exaggerated the situation and reported it to the incompetent old king. It was hard not to suspect that the bastard was behind Noien's increasing special war taxes.

Thinking of this, Thane turned to the witch Corini: "Let's continue our discussion, Corini. Your daughter and your sword-bearing guards escaped the castle and have not returned yet. The Faceless Ones are nowhere to be found. The drifter I spent so much money to bring here from the Outlands is also missing. What do these things mean? Can you tell me one by one, hm?"

"It doesn't mean anything, Lord Earl." The witch said wearily.

"I need an explanation."

"Hmm, explanation? Well, then I suggest you start by guessing which of these people was replaced by the Faceless One. Alternatively, you could skip the wild guessing and bring the offenders before you, then torture and interrogate them yourself. How about that?"

"Fault?" Sean demanded sharply. "You're telling me now that they might make a mistake? I always thought that Ferriers was your inseparable daughter and student, and that Baiyan was your loyal servant."

"Unlike you, my men have no loyalty, Count," Corinne said sarcastically. "Your choice of words is rather rosy."

Sean opened his eyes wide, trying to get a clear look at the arrogant bastard, but Askrid stood up and blocked his way. The commander coughed, reminding Sean to stay calm, so he could only shake his head and say, "When I take the man to the interrogation room, you'd better not rush over to plead for mercy."

"You are absolutely right, Lord Count," Corini shrugged. "Everything in Noyen should be decided by you."

"Very good...very good! Before you leave the city, give the sheriff a message for me, Askrid. Tell him that no matter whether they are in good health or not, I want to see every one of them in the underground prison."

......

Ferris watched as the Faceless One carried the sacrifice all the way to the shabby inn room, where it set it down. It stretched the face and chest of the city guard, coiling like snakes around a long spine, then closed into the female form they had briefly seen as they descended the hillside.

Its skin was as white as porcelain, without a single blemish, like a meticulously crafted doll. Its rosy red eyes reflected the moonlight streaming through the window, like shimmering red crystals. Ferrieres recognized these features, for they came from the exiled nobles of the Kasar Empire whom the Count had purchased at a high price. However, they were not intended as a plaything, but to be used in her womb to nurture the newborn Faceless One, including the perfectly golden hair that obscured her cheeks and jawline...

Ferrieres shook her head, thinking that the Faceless One's current appearance differed somewhat from the exiled noble who had spawned it, more like a composite of the two. However, she didn't know where the other part came from. None of the sacrifices the Count had offered looked like it.

There are so many things that cannot be explained.

After placing the sacrifice, it crouched over him like a dog, licking the dried blood and dirty dust from his wounds with affection. The Faceless Ones never complained. Despite their extreme cruelty and insatiable hunger, they were generally trustworthy servants, like loyal dogs who would never eat meat from a stranger.

Since it is still carefully caring for and protecting the sacrifice, it means that the sacrifice is not dead yet. Because if the sacrifice is dead, it will start from the head and eat the sacrifice piece by piece until the sacrifice is completely gone from this world and the soul is absorbed into its body. Until the sacrifice dies, it will always stay by the side of its recognized master, carefully guarding his life.

Ferriers took off her gloves and touched the man's messy beard with her fingertips. She opened his mouth and pinched his tongue. She found that he was still breathing hot air, but his skin had turned deathly gray. The heavy blood loss made his face haggard and lifeless. It looked like he would not live for more than a few days.

It didn't matter if he died, but once he died, where would she find another Faceless One to serve her? By then, she would have no way forward or backward, so she might as well dig a hole and bury herself.

Firiels muttered, thinking she'd have to get some herbs and some freshly-dead animals from the hunters who worshipped the wild hunter Kelhurst, hoping to save this fellow's life. The path Analik had set before her was not an easy one. If she lost her balance between hunger and reason, a blood-drained corpse would be the end.

Once he regained his composure, they could discuss leaving the city.

Chapter 7 She Will Eat Me Eventually

......

After initially mastering the local language, Cesar learned a lot of things. The first thing he learned was how they had escaped to the downtown hotel.

From the lower city to the upper city, the inner city wall separates the city gate.

It seemed heavily guarded, but in reality it was a defense against the lowly who dared to trespass into Upper Noien. For those who wished to leave the Upper City without permission, there were always a few hidden paths available. The witch knew one of them, and she led them out of Upper Noien with ease.

However, she had no idea how to get out of the outer walls of Noien Fortress, so she could only place them in the theoretically worst area of ​​Noien.

The house they were hiding in was located in Lower Neuen, a four-story building. Like the other houses nearby, it was ramshackle and extremely dim. According to Gouzi, the witch had spent a long time choosing a basement where moonlight could reach, which was the prerequisite for her to perform some simple spells.

It was a small room, but the walls were actually made of wooden planks, almost finger-thin. The landlord had applied layers of grimy wallpaper to hide the cracks in the boards, much of which had peeled and been held together with wood glue, harboring patches of black mold and the larvae of some unknown insect. Cesar could often hear them rustling inside, and at night, he wondered how many of them would march across his body in procession.

Contrary to what he had imagined at the time, he was unable to go to the clinic. The wounds on his body were patched up with some rotten herbs that smelled worse than shit over several days. There were also suspicious animal carcasses packed in sacks in the corner, and the smell of smoke, grease and decay was everywhere.

Cesar now lay slumped on his sickbed, like an old man whose days were numbered. His limbs were withered, his skin the dead grey of a serious illness, and a foul odor filled the air, making it unattractive to even step foot inside.