Shadow of the Evil God

Before the dawn broke, she saw headless corpses thrown out of the dark city of Noien and floating down the dirty ditch.

Ever since escaping the city of Noien, where she didn't know what to do with herself, and then escaping the Sassulai camp, where she didn't know what to do with herself, she had wandered this icy wasteland for dozens of days, like a foolish beast. The war was over, but she was still filled with confusion, constantly looking back at the gloomy sky and the huge city. After digging up plant roots until her hands were full of dirt, she looked at the clothes and face of the dead man with a strange expression of curiosity—a noble.

It was the first time in so many days that she saw nobles drifting from the ditches of Noien City into the wasteland.

"Help me..." the man who had struggled to the riverbank pleaded with her under his breath. She was surprised he was still alive—she was a cursed creature, but he was just a city noble with an arrow in his back, drifting along the icy river for so long. She watched him drag his dying body for many meters, trying to reach the bushes where she was digging for roots, but he soon gave up.

It won't be long before his body heat takes her life.

Recognizing him as a noble was a memory from her life in Noien, but surviving in the wilderness was a memory from the Sassulai people, particularly the memory of a so-called sword dancer who had killed her father. Yet, sometimes she felt that she had killed her own father—because, lately, they seemed to be becoming the same person. Their memories would become confused, their experiences blurred, and in the end, who could tell which action was due to whom?

At that moment, the sound of horse hooves reached her, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of fear. An unexpected escape would indeed be followed by a pursuit, ensuring the perpetrator's death. Although she didn't know what had happened in Noien, it seemed that the slaughter would not end until all the people were dead.

There was not much clattering of hooves; it sounded like only two horses were charging down the gentle slope, kicking up dusty snow and dead branches as they went. Since there were only two cavalrymen, it seemed likely that many more were scattered and galloping in various directions, searching for more escapees. Seeing the noble she suspected of being nearing death on the ground, the two were startled and quickly reined in their horses, drawing their swords.

"Have you heard of the wandering beastmen in the wilderness who disguise themselves as humans and trick people into coming to eat them?" a cavalryman asked nervously.

"Isn't that the story of the North?" Another cavalryman responded calmly.

"She doesn't look like a hunter or woodcutter who would wander the wilderness! Don't you find her thin arms and legs strange? And that young, inexplicable face. Who would wander around in the wilderness like that? Look at her! I wouldn't dare go over there. Would you?"

"We must bring back the head," the calm cavalryman said. "That's an order. Besides, what's wrong with stray beastmen? You're wearing armor and carrying a sword, so why would you be afraid of such a thing?"

"I'm not......"

She crouched silently on the ground, silently gnawing on a plant root, watching as a cavalryman dismounted, sword drawn, and approached. The dying noble gasped for breath as the sword-wielding cavalryman positioned himself two meters away. He exuded the scent of inferior wine, stoking his excess courage. She certainly didn't know the difference between different wines, but a highly respected Sassuleiman knew, and soon, she would know the truth herself.

The dying noble continued to wriggle towards her feet, like a giant, twisted maggot. The cavalryman grew increasingly impatient, his sword searching for the gaps in her gaze. He took the first step, then the second, and then, out of her sight, he raised his one-handed sword. Was this kind of killing necessary to ensure his own safety in the wilderness? Indeed, she remembered more than one person who had said it was normal.

Yes, that's normal...

The horse suddenly startled, neighing in terror. She swung her fist, wiped her bloodied face, and watched the cavalryman's visored head dangle from its broken neck, toppling backward with the force of the blow. She could see fragments of vertebrae shattered from the cracks in his neck. She also spotted the other cavalryman, his face drenched in sweat. Although he didn't approach, she decided to kill him to ensure her concealment in the wilderness.

One moment she was about to leap forward, leap upon the horse, and strike his mount to death, when she heard a noise close at hand. She turned with startle, and saw a masked face staring back at her.

"I've been trying to figure out where he threw the curse from that ritual." The man didn't sound like he was asking a question, but rather like he was mumbling to himself. "This guy is so haphazard... Can you speak?"

Chapter 96: Of course a mute can't speak

Of course the dumb cannot speak, even those who are dead

Memory made her understand what it felt like to speak, but she was still powerless.

Thinking carefully, that person saved her life when she was on the verge of death, gave her a new life, and healed all her injuries and illnesses.

Curse, in fact, no matter what. Because of this, she also accepted one thing, that is, congenital aphasia cannot be cured, just like people cannot ask others to return something they don’t have.

As for the person before her, a dead Sassulei knew who this person was, and a vague impression of him entered her mind, as if beckoning her to look, to observe, but she didn't care. Even though she couldn't remember her own name or identity now, she clearly remembered the Sassulei invading Noien and brutally slaughtering her entire family, including her father, whose half of his face was severely burned.

Yes, her father had committed many sins, a cruel and ruthless man driven by a desire to survive, but why should she care? Those who accused him of his sins wouldn't give them coins or feed them, they would only beat them with sticks and tell them to get out of their sight. She didn't care whether her father had finally protected Noien, whether he had atonement for his sins, because she didn't care about those who shouted about protecting Noien while driving her away with sticks, nor did she care about Noien herself.

However, the Sasule people killed him and also cut off all her past hopes... This was the only thing she was familiar with, much easier to understand than any ethnic hatred or national disputes.

She shook her head, stepped back, and gathered her strength, trying to recall how the sword dancer who had a grudge against her had fought. Those who didn't have the courage to fight were often forced to go down into the mines. Upon emerging, they'd cough incessantly, as if their lungs were about to burst. Furthermore, the ore they dug up was often insufficient, and they often went hungry. Such people couldn't survive. Even if they made it through the first day, they wouldn't survive the second, just like her mother, who had gone down into the mines with her father...

But she wouldn't do that. She would do anything, whether it was stealing or fighting with others for food.

She threw the first punch.

Even if she didn't strive to absorb the Sword Dancer's memories, she could still hunt down blind, senseless beasts, and certainly kill cowering soldiers. This person was not only close to her, but the hazy memories of the deceased told her that he was acting almost entirely on instinct. As long as she could force this guy into retreat, she wouldn't fail.

Something unexpected happened. Contrary to expectations, the man grabbed her swinging arm with one hand, kicked her in the ankle, and then easily knocked her to the ground. She didn't flinch, but stood up and lunged at him, but he swung his body sideways, grabbed her by the back of the neck with one hand and her belt with the other, and flung her head and feet forward. This time, she had barely risen, barely standing when he lunged at her, first striking her chest with the back of his hand, knocking the wind out of her, then hooking his foot in her knee and pushing her down, forcing her forward to her knees.

Could it be that the memory of the dead is wrong?

"You're really restless." The voice said above her head, "No wonder you rushed towards Monuk without caring about your life."

She was speechless. She didn't want to understand what the man was saying, but every attempt at resistance was thwarted. She continued to struggle, launching repeated attacks, trying to free herself. She dug her hands into the ground, throwing snow and dirt into the man's face. She reached out to strangle the legs that were so close, even trying to bite with her teeth, but all was in vain.

This person is like dealing with the play of kittens and puppies.

"That's not necessary," the voice said. "I'm not saying that to the man lying on the ground. Do you understand, soldier?"

The soldiers of Noien rode away on their horses, not even turning back. But this person didn't care, and just spoke to her in her usual calm voice.

"I almost understand the hatred in your heart," the voice said, "but you probably can't understand what I want."

She was still struggling, accusing herself of powerlessness and the absurdity of reality, until the other person shocked her with a word. The man said to her in a calm tone:

"You rely on them to survive, and you take on their lives, inheriting the paths they can no longer walk, and the things they can no longer do."

She looked up, her eyes wide open, at the mask—a basket made of woven wicker. She couldn't speak, but her expression said, "Who are you? What are you?"

"It's funny how you seem to not care at all about what's happening to you," the man replied. "But unfortunately, I do care. Do you know why? Because the curse originates from my other face. If you lose control, a sealed prison will gradually crack, and someone I made a promise to will suffer."

She just shook her head, indicating that she had no idea what the man was saying.

"Really?" the man remained nonchalant. "But this matter is very complicated, and I can't explain it to you in a few words...How about this? I've found it's quite inconvenient to travel alone lately. You come and help me, and I'll tell you what's going on. I can also teach you how to suppress your abnormal hunger and thirst, and how to be a human being instead of continuing to be a beast, exiled in the wilderness. How do you say that?"

She wanted to curse back, but all she could come out of her throat was a low roar.

"What? You

Do you think I'm a cursed beast too?"

The other person seemed a little troubled, but for some reason she didn't understand, he smiled. She felt a hand grab her throat, lift her from the ground, and push her against the pile of

On a snow-covered, dead tree. The face then moved closer, a short knife held between their faces, motionless, so still that she could even see her own distorted reflection reflected in the blade.

She saw the dagger sway gently as it fell, first poking her forehead, causing intense pain, and then cutting open the mask, revealing a pair of eyes.

Eyes like these—white eyeballs with pitch-black pupils in the center, so dark that they make people uncomfortable, reminding people of the lightless deep sea. They are not only cold, but also seem to be able to absorb and cover up all emotional colors.

"I still wear this thing, not necessarily because I'm still a cursed beast, but maybe because I'm just used to wearing it."

The mask was off. She had to admit, the man's smile reminded her of a prince from a fairy tale. Even his eyes, once unpleasant, had become kind. His short, unkempt black hair gave him an exceptionally handsome demeanor. His face was softly contoured, possessing a delicate, almost feminine beauty. Even his voice seemed to have become softer and more pleasant.

He took off one of his gloves. His hand was very slender, with long, thin fingers, like the hand of a female noble who had never experienced any hard labor, but the way she held the knife was very powerful.

But she still took a step back. Even if someone was beautiful beyond compare, a slave was still a slave. She had seen the fate of many such people, and she knew that the purpose of slaves was to be sold cheaply to even worse places years later, no matter how lovable they were in their youth. Just as the sworn defenders of Noien mostly spent their time beating and driving out the poor from the lower city. Noien was just a city, and only a fool would think its prosperity had anything to do with them.

This step caused the blade to move a little further into her throat.

"It's really hard to convince you right now. I could use his memories, but I don't want to. Let me put it this way. You can choose to run away and see if I can cut you open faster or you can escape faster. Or, you can choose to help me and see if you can strike faster when I'm off guard or if I can be more prepared."

Chapter 97: Miss Fran

She felt numb, the scene reminiscent of herself, paralyzed in a collapsing house, quietly awaiting death, only to be greeted by a rebirth filled with chaos and terror. Suddenly, the figure before her overlapped with the smiling figure. When that person had saved her life, their expression seemed to reveal unexpected joy. Who could be sure that the same joy wasn't present in her words just now?

It's as if they were the same person.

She nodded, though she had no idea what she was agreeing to.

......

"Let the governors of all districts, commanders of fortresses, military governors, and clergy know that the bearer of this document, Césia de Flan, who assisted the son of Count Thayne and made great contributions to the country's aid to Neuen and the establishment of friendship with the Sassulais, must be treated with hospitality when he passes through Olidan, and no old grudges should be taken against him. He and all those accompanying him will be granted duty-free passage, and their belongings will be exempt from inspection at the fortresses as promised. If he needs assistance, he should be given every possible help and care.

This document is signed by this Duke in Upper Neuen, in the year one hundred and two of the New Sun, and witnessed by Count Sein and the Commander-in-Chief of the Sassulais. Duke Urbino of Livaren.

Kallen had just finished praying and was emerging from the side room of the temple when she saw the mercenary captain who had come to fetch her accept a document.

But there was more to it than that. Though he hadn't introduced himself, she could tell the man delivering the document was no soldier delivering a message. He clearly had the demeanor of a military aristocrat. His calm demeanor, the ornately decorated helmet tucked under his arm, and the way he stood as he unfolded the document and read from it all betrayed his pride in his noble status.

After the announcement, the man bowed slightly to Ceshia, and then, in a delicate atmosphere, concluded the formalities of military service. Why did he think so? Of course, it was because the expressions of both men had changed. Combined with the document's mention of "returning to old grudges," Kallen could roughly guess the reason.

Why, then, send someone with an old grudge? Perhaps it was some subtle pleasure, Kallen thought, not at all surprising, no more surprising than the pleasure Cesar found in her.

"Unfortunately, things are no longer the same, Miss Fran." The nobleman who delivered the message spoke gently. "Unlike your father, you don't have sons to kill or farms to burn. Otherwise, I would like to know how long you can hide behind this document from now on."

"I have no plans to return to Auridan, Ferrazer," Cecia said in a tone that was almost bored. "Never will I. If you're looking for trouble with me in Auridan, you'll be disappointed."

The nobleman named Ferrazer clearly hadn't expected Ceshia's response. Of course, her answer was indeed quite unexpected. Mercenaries eventually had to retire, and the best outcome was a manor to retire in. Even better was having a manor to live in while also enjoying the protection of a powerful noble.

When Ceshia got this document, in the eyes of everyone else, she had found the retreat that the mercenaries longed for most. Next,

Of course, she would not follow Black Sword to the battlefield again, and would just follow the child of the nobleman.

In the current situation, in order to ensure the loyalty of Earl Thane, it is a foregone conclusion that his children will be sent to the capital of Olidan as hostages.

Although Cesar couldn't refuse this, in order to win over Noien and show his sincerity, Olidan would definitely give him the best treatment. If he could go with him, the wealth and status he would enjoy would naturally be incomparable to being a mercenary captain.

This was a common thought, but everyone had their own choices, and Kallen didn't want to get too involved. Furthermore, with Ceshia's contributions, her status would actually rise if she stayed with Black Sword.

"What's that?" Ferrazer said, looking quite intelligent. "Your patron asked the Archduke for a pass just as a farewell gift?"

"Yes," Ceshia stared at him, her tone steady. "Now you understand, that's what's going on. I'm still a member of the Black Sword, employed by the Grand Temple of Xiel and Domini Commander Garcia. Neither side cares about any personal grudges we have against the noble families of Olidan. The Grand Temple simply doesn't care, but if it were Garcia, guess what? If I beheaded promising young nobles like you on the spot and impaled your heads on stakes, would he give me an extra salary just because he's in a good mood?"

Kallen found the smile on Ceshia's face eerie. Now she understood the fear and rumors among the wounded mercenaries about her smile. Most people would find it difficult to feel at ease when seeing such an expression.

"Everyone has heard of the tragedy that befell that city," said Ferraz. "It seems you have learned a lot from the butchers of the borderland, Miss Fran. If it were you who was in charge of dealing with the Fran family back then, you might do a better job than we did—I sincerely think so."

"Actually, I've always felt that," Cecia's tone calmed down again, as if she was just chatting casually, "that it was you who conspired to help the queen poison her back then."

Kallen saw Ferraz frown, his expression changing. He had obviously not expected Ceshia to dare to bring up such a topic. Although Kallen did not know about Olidan's court history, this sentence alone was enough to make people think about it.

"You would never dare say that near the capital," he said finally.

"Indeed," Ceshia's voice became softer, "but we're not near the capital. Why are you making unnecessary assumptions?"

"So you think you can slander anyone you want as long as you stay somewhere remote enough?"

"I have no interest in slandering anyone, except you. Even if I spread it, what would it matter? I know many poets whose hearts are with the courts of various kingdoms. They can make anything sound catchy and easy to recite."

"The document Duke Urbino gave you is no excuse for you to spread rumors."

"I would say that even without the document, Ferrazelle. If you're in a bad mood, you can challenge me for the sake of your honor."

"If I hadn't been entrusted with the Grand Duke's mission, I..."

"Really? But I don't believe it." Ceshia's voice and expression remained gentle. "Now draw your sword and say you want to fight for your honor, or else humbly admit to me that you and the queen poisoned the house, and that you delivered the poison yourself."

Ferrazer didn't answer, merely twitching his fingers, and they remained in a silent standoff. According to the laws of Auridan, nobles were not to be offended unless they initiated a duel. In that case, their fate in the duel was entirely their own, and the laws of the kingdom were not to be considered.

Suddenly, the standoff escalated. Seshia averted her gaze, first looking up at the temple's dome, then turning to the attendants behind Ferrazer. "Which one?" Her smile suddenly faded, her face drained of all expression. "I hope everyone here still remembers the rules and consequences of using spells to deceive people in the temple. As a hired guard of the Grand Temple, I have the obligation and authority to enforce them."

Ferrazer's face froze, and Kallen recalled the details of his finger movements. If what Cecilia said was true, then he wasn't simply moving his fingers, but was using hints to signal the accompanying mage to confuse Cecilia's mind and make her make the choice he desired.

So why did the mind-confusion spell not only fail, but was also noticed as abnormal?

Kallen saw Ceshia reach into her clothes and pull something out. It looked like a strange round ornament with many indecipherable characters engraved on its surface. Ceshia turned her head to look at a middle-aged servant beside Ferrazer. He was thin, with an ordinary face and an unremarkable appearance. Even his back was slightly hunched.

As she took a step, a thin servant suddenly rushed out of the line, completely unlike the hunched middle-aged servant. Then a long sword was thrown from her hand, the blade cutting through the suffocating air and hurling towards the man's back with a sharp sound. Just as it was about to pierce his body, the long sword suddenly collided with an invisible barrier. Although the sword failed to cause any damage, it knocked him off balance and staggered his steps. He shouted words in the mage language, which turned into a terrifying scream, confusing his mind, blurring his vision, and making him want to collapse backwards.

Then the sound was interrupted, it came to an abrupt end.

Ceshia was not affected at all, and just lifted him up from the ground. When the spell ended, she still did not loosen her hand that was tightly holding the man's neck, but just held the ornaments in her palm and his

Kallen saw that the mage's skin had turned black after touching it, and it was still spreading all over his body, as if it had been scorched by an invisible fire. She held the mage's body, which was gradually emitting a pungent smell, in her hand and stopped there.

, looking at Ferrazer.

"Perhaps you're curious about how I recognized him." Ceshia said bluntly, "To be honest, I remember it very clearly. After so many years, the mages raised by your family have only grown from young to a little older. Why do you think I can't recognize him?"

"Ornaments from the Northern Empire... You sold your body in exchange for so many goodies from your master." Ferrazelle remained motionless. "I've already delivered Grand Duke Urbino's pass. I hope our next meeting will be at the palace in Olidan, Ceshia. Your master is there anyway, so you'll be able to get there eventually."

"I'd prefer our next meeting be on a battlefield at the border, to discuss what kind of wood to pin one's head on that would be most appropriate for a noble," Ceshia said emotionlessly. "The battlefield is there, and you'll eventually get there."

How intriguing, Kallen thought as she watched the man leave. Though they were close teacher and student, one had a grudge against Olidan, the other against Domini. One was destined for Olidan's capital as a hostage, while the other was expected to work for Domini's most famous military commander. The web of hatreds and relationships was truly intricate, and taken together, it was quite insane.

Chapter 98: Pour a Can of Salt into Your Mouth

After leaving the temple, Seshia invited Kallen to mount, explaining that their camp was too far away and that walking would take them well into the night. She knew that once they reached the camp outside the city, they would never return to Noien. The battlefield was unlike any other place, and mercenaries were unlike landed military nobles. Years of traveling through various lands were common, and they rarely stayed in any one place for long.

As for the Great Temple of Xiel, her reason for not going was ultimately her own. If she had vowed to abandon everything else, there might have been room for recovery, but she didn't. Perhaps the reason was still influenced by her mother.

"If my faith isn't real, then there's no point in defending it. If I could find a true faith, I would gladly die for it."

Ultimately, this statement was Kallen's most profound impression of her mother. She was not only a long-time wanderer, but also a pilgrim monk, experiencing various faiths without accepting any of them. In her final years, she experienced both the orthodox church of Hiel and the offshoot sect of the temple of Noien, but she passed away from illness before she could transition from one offshoot to the next.

After her mother's death, Kallen served under Brother Vitelli at the temple, primarily handling medical care. She often thought of his words during her prayers. Kallen had no plans to follow her mother's example, but since Ceshia had invited her there, offering her the opportunity to witness a land she had never seen before, she wouldn't choose the Great Temple over the other options.

Kallen held Ceshia's hand and mounted the horse. "Are you sure you want me to go to your war camp to treat injuries? In fact, I have said many times that I am not qualified. It won't be difficult to recruit a secular doctor."

"Trained secular doctors all graduated from universities in various kingdoms. They're all eagerly awaiting promotion, let alone declining invitations from nobles," the mercenary captain stated firmly. "As for those who changed careers midway through dissecting corpses, we wouldn't dare recruit them to treat patients. I think you're a good doctor, much more reliable than Black Sword's former self who later ran away."

Kallen jumped over the horse and sat behind Cecia, holding her waist. "Are there many cadaver dissectors who have switched careers to become doctors these days?" she asked.

"As the war gets bigger and bigger, there are fewer and fewer trained doctors, so naturally there are more and more people filling in the gaps."

"Where are the monks in the various temples who master medical skills?"

Seshia shook her head. "After all, they're fighting a civil war for the Empire. How can they have such a high-sounding reason to instruct the major temples? Furthermore, the refugee tides from the north have been increasing recently, and the various temples are busy maintaining order, so they've provided less aid to the northern battlefield."

"It sounds like the kingdoms are paying the price for their choices," Kallen said.

"Perhaps." Seshia looked at the distant mountains. "But in order to keep the Kasar Empire divided, they might be willing to pay this price."

This is crazy, she thought.