Shadow of the Evil God

This kind of fear is different from the fear of the unknown, nor is it a simple physiological instinct, but a philosophical fear - the breakdown of order is not just those broad social relations, but the order and constraints that make living things living and exist.

Not only that, he also realized one thing: if he felt that he was going to fall, he might really fall into this endless rocky field and fall into a boiling abyss.

Cesar covered his face with Ajeh's tangled hair to prevent himself from going mad, then slowly fell into deep thought, imagining the world in Kuna mythology where the real world and the wasteland were still connected. The myth of dragons without meaning within time, and creatures without meaning outside of time—this myth was too metaphysical, but from the wasteland itself, he truly experienced many incomprehensible feelings. In that boundless nothingness, no matter how mad the human heart fell, it could only be a way to comfort the soul, because compared to the nothingness itself, it was nothing.

Should he return to the wasteland, separated from the world? He definitely shouldn't. This thought was incredibly strong, filling his mind, growing stronger as the alternation of day and night above him grew increasingly chaotic and the sense of confusion grew heavier.

After a long wait, the god's gaze vanished, and all the sense of dislocation suddenly faded. Cesar pushed aside the gray hair that covered his head, looked up, and found that the blood-red sky was gone, returning to the usual dark clouds that obscured everything.

The tops of the rocky mountains reached straight into the clouds, and their huge and majestic outlines appeared and disappeared before his eyes. When they came, they looked very strong, like towering giants stretching their limbs in the clouds. Now they seemed to have been eroded by thousands of years, becoming withered and haggard. Some of them had collapsed and turned into rubble on the ground.

......

When he woke up, the moon had not yet set. Cesar went to the top of the fortress and looked out, seeing the vast forest in the distance swaying in the evening breeze. The temperature was very suitable this night, but perhaps it was because he had just experienced the alternating cold and heat among the rocks, so he felt that the actual climate was suitable no matter what.

He wandered into the woods, gathered some branches and piled them together. Just as he was about to light a fire, he remembered that he hadn't brought any flint. But Gouzi always brought all sorts of odd little things she'd picked up from every nook and cranny, and soon she found the flint and tinder, leaving him lost in thought over a bonfire.

Cesar watched the sparks dance in the wind and drift into the air, and he couldn't help but wonder what the fire would do in the wilderness. The dog sang him a ballad he had never heard before, about an old man who followed a trail of footprints through the winter woods, searching for his lost love—but found only a grave and felt lonely.

The footprints were naturally also imagined by the old man.

This guy has to come over and imitate every song he hears recently, some of which are really inappropriate for the occasion.

Cesar waited for the dawn, and soon Phils joined him. She looked sober and more energetic, and it seemed that their journey into the horror of the wasteland had been successful. He held her on his knees and kissed away the tears on her face. He felt her clothes lose their support and

Her shoulders slipped down, revealing the girl's snow-white, slender shoulders and collarbones.

"So many days and nights..." she whispered, letting her clothes continue to slide down, revealing her snow-white upper body, then buried his face in her chest and hugged him tightly. Then he hugged her waist tightly.

Cesar exhaled slightly, feeling the delicate mound of Phils rubbing gently against his lips. The touch was warm and pleasant, soft as a feather. As he slowly licked and kissed, the flexible beads gradually swelled up, as hard as a cherry. She hugged him tighter and tighter until her face turned red, her body trembled slightly, and a trace of water seeped out from under her.

He reached down with his index finger, picked up a strand of silk, and twisted it between his fingers. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know. Maybe it feels terrible. Aren't you afraid of that?" Fils muttered. "I've never really seen God."

Cesar pressed his finger to her lips and watched as she opened her mouth, took his finger in her mouth, and began to lick it gently. Her soft tongue slid across the tip of her finger, circling it several times, a thrilling sensation. He breathed a long sigh, admiring the slight pout of her lips. He watched as she bent down, sucking on his gradually lowered finger, her flushed cheek pressed against his belt. He pulled his finger from her lips with a soft click, and saw a string of saliva fall from the pink tip of her tongue onto it, soaking it thoroughly.

He stroked Fils's head, watching in the orange-red glow of the campfire as she parted her lips and, with great effort, eased it in little by little. It took a long time before she reached the end of the snake's head. Even then, her mouth was almost closed. She raised her smooth, radiant face, and Cesar stroked her cheeks, feeling her skin burning hot, just like his own. She cupped them in her small hands, gently kneading them, the touch of her fingertips causing them to tighten involuntarily.

"It's a little different from what I imagined..." she said vaguely, "Am I too young?"

Chapter 182: True God Acolyte Cesar

Cesar breathed softly, feeling Phils's moist lips forced apart. He swallowed with great effort, trying in vain for a long time, until even his breathing became erratic. After a while, she began to pant uncontrollably, her back bent so tightly that she couldn't straighten it, and her cheeks seemed to ache uncomfortably. As she panted, a sticky stream of saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, running down her jaw, impossible to lick.

He picked the girl up, placed her back against him, and then lifted her chin and kissed her. "It feels so bad..." she whispered, leaning closer to his chest, almost shrinking into him. "It's been a long time since I've wanted to bury myself in the ground."

"You don't have to force yourself to do this," he said.

Cesar draped his cloak over Phils and caressed her in the warmth of the campfire, gently touching her with his fingers. He heard her breathing and felt the soft bulge of her lips beneath her, incredibly soft, like a peeled egg, oozing with strands of hot, moist fluid. She twisted her legs, gripping his fingertips and rubbing them, her soft lips parting and closing, gradually sucking his fingertip in.

"Is it impossible for me to grow up?" She breathed tremblingly in his ear.

"At least you don't have to worry about getting old."

"But aren't you taller and bigger than before? I feel like I've become smaller. Even your fingers are rough..."

"illusion?"

"I'll know if it works if I try," Firth insisted. She rose slightly, pressing her fingers against her lower abdomen. It took her a long time to find the right spot. She pursed her lips, supported by his arm, and slowly lowered herself down. She watched with him as her lips struggled to open, almost forming two thin red lines, before they arced tightly around it, taking it in a little.

Cesar let out a long breath, feeling like he could barely squeeze in, just stuck there. Just as he was about to ask if Phils wanted to slow down, she slipped and sat all the way down. Her eyes widened, and she clutched her mouth tightly, unable to utter a word for a long time. She was about to scream. Her two white legs were raised, her feet stretched straight.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"You... wait a minute, I can't move."

Fils bent down, her slender waist completely exhausted, and she looked at him manipulating her. Cesar hugged her tightly from behind, one hand holding her breast, twisting her small beads between his fingers and kneading them. With the other hand, he held her pretty face and pulled out her tongue, teasing the tip of her tongue with his fingers, listening to her breathing become longer and longer.

Her cheeks gradually flushed, her belly rose and fell with her panting, her voice became sweet, and her eyes were covered with a layer of mist. He bit her ear and blew softly, and her body trembled and suddenly became softer.

"Is it okay now?" Cesar whispered to her.

Phils leaned forward, her back arched. She glanced back, her round, white buttocks lifted toward his abdomen, arching gently against his lowered palm. She twisted her body, responding to his gentle movements, and soon brought intense satisfaction. He held her body, gently patting and kneading her buttocks, hearing her suppressed gasps and feeling her waist, as soft as a willow branch in his hands.

Soon, another wave of orgasm arrived. She was unconscious, her lips slightly parted as he thrust his fingers into her little mouth, pinching and kneading that lovely tongue. His fingers pressed her tongue lower and lower, her mouth opening and closing, letting out a series of inarticulate murmurs. As her body trembled slightly, she closed her misty eyes, taking it all in, the excess spilling onto the floor.

Cesar brushed her hair away from her forehead. "Do you really think you can't have a child without using magic?"

"Maybe," Firth said, "but I think it doesn't matter anymore." Seeing him lower his head, she bit out the tip of his tongue again and sucked on it with him, lips entangled, saliva dripping down from the corners of her mouth, from her shoulder to her collarbone. "But I still think I'm too young... Wait a few years, if I'm still here, all of you will look completely different from now, and I..."

"That's exactly what will happen," Cesar said. "What do you think I'll say then?"

"I don't know." She poked his face with her finger. "But what you say will definitely be different from everyone else."

"I'll find a way to become as small as you."

He said as he pushed her down on the grass.

......

After a morning-long physical struggle with Firth, Diana seized the two of them for an afternoon of academic discussion, during which she proposed a plan for Firth's cycles of passion, reason, and contemplation. This, she explained, was a preliminary conclusion drawn from her research into Firth's mode of existence. César had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded reasonable, so he accepted the proposal.

"Her passion and rationality aren't as stable as ours," Diana said. "The passion you give her and the rationality I give her need to maintain a balance. Neither can be excessive. Otherwise, her emotions and thoughts will deviate, and the foundation of her existence will be distorted."

"Do I have to wait a week?"

"If you were human, you wouldn't need such a long time." She frowned slightly, "But you... let me put it this way, the passion that humans can give is different from the passion you will give.

Passion has fallen far short of that. You may not have noticed, but normally, Fils wouldn't have been able to spend an entire morning with you and still enjoy it. Do you remember how you first felt about the Faceless One? She only fascinated people physically, but you might later lose them in spirit and consciousness. Some weak-willed people, upon accepting your embrace, would worship you like a god.

Perhaps because what she said was too academic, Cesar felt a little embarrassed. "Uh, is this a curse?"

"No," Diana denied, not surprised by his reaction. "It's not a curse. It's the same divinity you received as all the monks in the temple. It's just that some temples don't conform to secular morality."

When Cesar woke up the next day, he looked at the innocent-looking dog beside his bed. Diana's research reminded him of the Faceless One's words. He couldn't remember the specifics, but the Faceless One's message was that she would wait patiently until his presence grew closer to her and more like her.

Just like a mother waits for her ignorant child to grow up.

He had always thought she was the one who was ignorant, as if he were looking at an ignorant child, but on another level, could it be that he was actually the one who was ignorant? There were so many things in this world that were worth questioning, even his already fixed opinions.

Today's journey through the wilderness wasn't as long or agonizing; it ended quickly. Diana's conclusion had become the only thing troubling him. He pondered a great deal, but nothing came to mind. Looking out the window, the moon was obscured by the rising horizon in the west. Its light streamed into the fortress, casting a shimmering blue hue on everything.

Cesar beckoned Gouzi over, staring into her red eyes, hoping to see something different. She had played the roles of the Imperial nobleman, including the sword-wielding guards of Thane, the thugs of the Lower City, the retired mercenaries of the Black Sword, the shamans of the Sassulai, and the noble officers of Olidan. There were also many others whose memories she had regained but who she had never played.

Then he remembered the White Nightmare, the only creature that the Faceless One had eaten but failed to gain any memories from.

Ancient mage texts claim that these monsters can zip through the clouds at high speeds, crossing half a continent in a single night. Once a human gathering place is discovered, swarms of White Nightmares descend from every corner of the world like a swarm of locusts. They are followers of Analik, harbingers of doom, and collectors of souls. Each of these titles has a clear meaning. The title "Collectors of Souls" clearly conveys their most defining characteristic as a creature native to the wasteland: White Nightmares do not feed on flesh and blood, nor do they require it.

They are fundamentally different from creatures in the real world.

Cesar reached out and flicked the dog's long, soft golden eyelashes. He felt that this creature was different from both reality and the creatures of the wasteland. He wondered where it came from. He stroked her cheek, felt her elven body, watched her skin grow whiter in the gradually fading moonlight, and watched a faint blush in the areas illuminated by the oil lamp. In a trance, he felt the desire in his heart rise again, as if it would never end.

His experience was indeed getting closer and closer to ecstasy. This drunken love was different from the feeling he had when he held Firth in his arms in the lower city of Neuen; different from the passion and desire when he and Ceshia's swords crossed; different from his fantasy of kissing Brother Kallen with curiosity and exploration; and even different from the desire he had when he first touched the Faceless One.

He didn't simply desire Firth, seeking the Faceless One after failing to obtain her. They had recently fulfilled their love, and he completely trusted their love, so there was no need to seek redress. He didn't simply desire the Faceless One, even though he harbored unspoken feelings for her. He wanted everything: the human and the inhuman, lust and hunger, flesh and soul, everything from the first ray of sunlight a person had seen at birth to everything she had until now.

He thought of his swordsmanship teacher, whom he had not seen for a long time. He wanted not only to know everything she had experienced in the past, but also to grasp everything she had experienced in the past year, and everything she would have in the future. Of course, he also longed for the unpredictable young monk, and everything he was trying his best to maintain now...

This omnipresent frenzy can only be limited by his thinking and reason.

"You are the only true acolyte of God who has walked on the right path in the past thousand years."

Cesar suddenly looked up, drew his sword, and leaped, shadows surging beneath his feet. The sound and feeling just now were not only familiar to him, but also terrifying. He was glad he hadn't started anything yet, even though the White Nightmare, a creature born from the wasteland, had no gender or desire for flesh and blood.

"Where are you, Legotius?" he whispered.

Chapter 183: The Terror and Beauty of the White Nightmare

"Sean sent me to consult with you, Cesar."

The voice of the White Nightmare is quite deep, with the voices of men and women mixed together, and you can also hear children and the elderly. It seems that it is not itself speaking human language, but the souls of the human world that it collects speaking human language.

"Who is talking?" Cesar couldn't help but ask.

As he finished speaking, a lone male voice came over, "We speak for it."

Cesar recalled the tower of Noyen, where he had held Chieftain Musali hostage. Askrid had come to negotiate with Musali, and a crucial piece of evidence was the White Nightmare Legosius. Throughout the entire process, Legosius ignored everyone else but was able to communicate normally with Askrid, suggesting that it shared a common language with Askrid, likely some ancient and unknown tongue.

At that time, Legosius paid some attention to him, but was unable to communicate with him. Now, its language has been changed to the most common language of the Franks of this era.

It was ridiculous to think that the White Nightmare would learn like humans. Cesar had considered that it would absorb knowledge like the Faceless Ones, but he really didn't expect this scene.

"Are you humans from this era?" Cesar asked thoughtfully.

"Which era are you from?" the man asked, then his voice changed to a woman's. "We know that we are in the bodies of the messengers of our gods. We live here, just like moving from a village to a town."

Cesar had to admit, he was a little surprised, but he also suspected it was a trick, some kind of rhetoric to lure the victim. Regardless, he remembered the brutal scene of another White Nightmare absorbing soul and flesh as if it were right before his eyes.

"Do you know how you died?"

"Die with the comfort of relief and release," the man said.

"comfort?"

"I am free from suffering," the man said. "More than that, I have shared everything I have with my wife, children, and parents. My love for them compels me to do so. I can certainly share this with you as well—everything, without reservation."

"You didn't just let it eat your wife and children?"

"Why not?" the man said. "I want to share the path of hope, freedom from hunger, freedom from toil, a step out of the mire of this world, and all the hardships we are forced to endure. I hope that all I meet will join us, just as I joined them at some point. One day, you too will pass away—and so you too will join us. It is not a vague promise like the temple; it is here."

"Don't be afraid," the male voice changed to a female one. "There's no pain here. If you want to be as joyful as we are, you should come. When you come, we will share with you the secret that everyone in the world desires but cannot obtain. We will tell you about the pain of this world and the joy that lies beyond it. As brothers and sisters, and bride and groom, we can live forever in this joy beyond this world, while those who cannot understand it will be trapped in eternal pain."

This didn't seem like a trick or deception, at least not the kind of trickery Cesar had initially suspected. These souls were immersed in a profoundly blissful experience, like a journey into the afterlife they imagined.

"Come to me." The man said in a solemn voice.

"What do you want to say, Legosius? Is this what Thane sent you here for?" Cesar paced the bedroom, sword in hand. He came to the fireplace, grabbed a wooden chair, crushed it, and threw it into the fireplace, which had not been used for a long time. Gouzi lit the fireplace, and the fire burned, illuminating the entire bedroom. "What era are you from? No, let me ask this, what is the name of your king?"

"Efred IV, who else could it be?" the woman said. "In these times of endless hardship, what better way than to join us? The darkness is drawing nearer, and it will surely fall sooner or later. Rather than struggling and wandering, why not join us?"

"Do your children think so too?"

The voice changed to that of a little girl, "Come here, uncle, I can't hear you. Can you come closer?"

Cesar didn't answer. The room fell silent, a stillness that was all the more eerie in the flickering firelight. Legosius simply watched, unresponsive. He couldn't guess what the Nightmare was thinking. He had seen the Nightmare die, and he knew that there were indeed an endless supply of dead souls trapped within their soul vessels. Unlike the Faceless Ones' victims, they were still alive in some sense, trapped within, yet believing themselves to be in a perfect afterlife, and that the Nightmare was the messenger leading them there.

So what was the life of these dead souls like? What were they experiencing, and what desires were they satisfying to bring them pleasure? Of course, Cesar had no way of knowing unless he got into it himself.

"I'm standing right here," Cesar said. "If you want to talk, just come closer."

The moonlight streaming in through the window, already as white as jade, grew even brighter and clearer, forming a stark contrast with the glow of the fireplace. Cesar frowned as he watched, his senses shifting from caution to appreciation of the artistic beauty. If it weren't for reason and memory reminding him of the horror wrought by the white nightmare in the mines, he might have thought a moon spirit was being born in the night.

Only the wall

The moonlight gradually gathered, forming a pair of huge wings that almost covered the room. In the center of the wings, a bright white outline slowly took shape, as if condensed from the moonlight.

Just as Cesar thought it was about to reveal the horror of the White Nightmare beneath the mines, it suddenly shattered, disintegrating into scattered specks of light, then reforming again, like shattered porcelain brimming back together. Its hollow, dark face remained eerie, a dark void swirling within it, like a vortex of otherworldly darkness, its edges ringed with neatly arranged, sharp teeth. Around its face, a wisp of black smoke rose into the air like a dark flame, like a dancing, ethereal strand of hair.

"I have lived longer in the temple of the Kunar than the lifetime of the White Nightmares you see in the mines," said Legotius, and there was that mingled voice again.

As it spoke, it lifted its perfect chin, its form gradually emerging, as if it had been submerged in water, just barely covered, and now slowly emerging. First, a radiant white neck and throat, then slender, white arms. Moonlight caressed its cold, chaste collarbone like ripples, gradually falling downward, as if stripping away the garment woven by moonlight, revealing a form devoid of any sexual characteristics yet more flawless than any other, male or female. From its pristine jade feet suspended in mid-air to its long, swirling hair like wisps of smoke, the entire thing was a perfect artistic composition, naked yet free of defilement and profanity, one might even say imbued with eternal tranquility.

"I saw you in the tower in Neuen, and you were different then," said Cesar.

"The more we receive veneration, as the Kuna do, the closer we become to your imaginary gods, or, if we do not, to the monstrous fey," said Legosius. "Do you think the Kuna worship monstrous symbols? No, within the temple we are all symbols of perfect form, as they firmly believe, and the closer we are to the sexless androgynous, the closer we are to the gods, whether male or female."

Chapter 184 I Have No Crown to Wear

Cesar thought of the dark-haired Ajeh, whose father was Iskrig, the last prince of the Kuna. His soul had aged, his memory faded, yet his face remained youthful and androgynous. He had first captivated Musali's mother, who bore him the cursed Ajeh. Then, Musali herself fell in love, captivated by his perfect features and form.

As for who was responsible in the front and who was responsible in the back between Iskerig and Mussari, Cesar did not want to delve into the matter.

Combining Bai Yan's self-proclaimed name and Ajehe's neutral face, it is hard to say whether the entire Kuna ethnic group is Cesar, but their royal family and nobles may be very neutral.

Legosius said its current appearance reflected the Kuna people's perception of beauty. In other words, it was shaped by the Kuna people's worship and reverence. Unlike the newly born White Nightmare, it resembled both a human-made statue and a real god, but also a primitive, ignorant predator and a seducer who had gained insight into religious order.

It had to be said that this creature reminded Cesar of the Allegory of the Cave, whose physical form shifted according to the worshiper's perception. So, if the worshiper believed that the ultimate expression of beauty lay in nature, and that the ultimate expression of natural beauty lay in geometry and mathematics, would Legosius become a sacred equilateral triangle encircled by enormous wings?

Cesar said, "Why did you come here? I don't think I'm worthy of your attention right now."

"You have attracted the attention of the worgs," Legotius said. "They were the first beastmen to arrive in Noien. We learned of this and sought you out, Cesar. As you said, after you left Noien, the Thane no longer paid attention to you, believing that your fate would be destruction. We all believed so at the time, but fate brought you to the wasteland where true dragons dwell. The world is silent and desolate because of their existence, and from their slumber, nature and life were born. You received that breath, and with it, you have the foundation to stabilize your soul."

"What do you want from me?"

"Your helping hand."

As he spoke, Legosius extended his right hand, fingers spread apart, palm facing upward, as if inviting the faithful to accept his invitation. This abomination, clad in white jade, truly achieved the pinnacle of simulating a sacred atmosphere. It was more suited to a temple than a military camp, but regardless of location, or whether it was naked or not, it mattered little. At night, it resembled the bright white of moonlight, by day, the azure blue of the sky. It had transcended the boundaries of human beauty, reaching a point beyond sensual comprehension.

At first, Cesar didn't understand how anyone could be drawn to a White Nightmare, a terrifying creature that sucked souls away. But now he understood. Those with weak wills were drawn to it, wanting to follow it away, just like a drowning person longing for air in this age of war and peril.

If people fully believed in its holiness and its promises, at that moment they would abandon everything and plunge into its dark void, because death itself would become peaceful and quiet.

As long as the seduced person accepts its invitation, grasps its right hand, approaches it, gazes upon it, and is then sheltered by its folded wings...

"Have I lost more Franks than you have lost my own kind?" said Lygotius. "I always see their joy and contentment after death. What of their fellow nobles, those parasitic creatures, can do the same?"

"I will not argue with you," Cesar said. "What kind of aid do you seek, White Nightmare? You know I want nothing to do with your sacrifices, nor with the Noyen."