Shadow of the Evil God

"Are you all right, Teacher?" Altinia asked him from the edge. "I think we can wait until tonight and ask Annie to bring us here. Shouldn't we take any risks now?"

Chapter 194: Ritual Blood

"I'm satisfying some greedy little creatures," Cesar said, waving his hand to drive away the red mist that was clinging to him like a maggot. "I won't go in too deep. Just wait a little longer."

......

It was already evening, and Cesar, perched on his saddle, watched the soldiers, carrying a larger caravan and more supplies than when they set out, march through the moonlit woods, finally approaching their previously agreed-upon campsite. Their faces were weary, their steps weary, but they refused to abandon their bundles laden with possessions, carrying their burdens for the entire journey. As he watched them return to camp, he savored the ghostly residue that seeped into his body.

Most of it was a chaotic mix of emotions: fear, desire, and curses, with a few fragmented memories mixed in. He discovered two distinct kinds of memories and impressions: some were filled with darkness and fear, endless pain and despair, while others were beautiful like dreams, with azure lakes and woodlands brimming with flowers, filled with warmth and comfort, making one unable to help but indulge in them.

Cesar didn't come to his senses until the caravan passed by with the stubborn bull-headed beast on its back. Compared to the other failed Beastmen hybrids, this one wasn't anything special—just as foolish and frenzied. But its life force was incredibly tenacious, lingering even after its chest had been blasted by a shell.

When the key to the night's journey came to him, Cesar asked:

"what do you think?"

Diana glanced sideways, gazing at the cloak covering his armor until he released his hand and placed it on Fils's shoulder. Cesar had been lost in thought ever since realizing that only Diana and he could see Fils. Just now, he had lifted Fils to the saddle, thrown the cloak over her, and gently rubbed her breasts through her sweaty undergarments, inhaling the scent of her sweat after a day of meditation, barely registering what he was doing.

"You've been becoming more and more indifferent lately," Diana said.

"I just cherish the time I spend with her," Cesar said, hugging the blushing girl to his chest, though the blush had nothing to do with shyness. "Did Aya tell you about the giant pit?" he asked. "I think a large-scale sacrificial ceremony took place there. Even ordinary soldiers can feel the traces of the magic left behind."

"Before we discuss anything else, don't you think that Firth's scent is so pungent that I can smell it? I was going to take her to the river to wash her, but you returned to camp early."

For some reason, Cesar felt like this guy was indirectly insulting him. He pondered for a moment and found a justification. "She and I spent almost a month in a dog pound downtown, enduring an even more pungent smell. We slept huddled together, feet on top of each other. Our only way to wash was to wipe our faces and pretend we'd washed ourselves," he said slowly. "To be honest, I still miss those days because..."

"I don't know if this counts as nostalgia, Cesar. But the pungent smell of your blood mixed with the pungent smell of her sweat has me almost fainting. I'm going to use a teleportation spell with both of you later, and I need physical contact with you. With this in mind, could you please understand my feelings instead of holding her and sniffing her all the time?"

"Is it really that pungent?" Firth muttered. "He was almost lifting my arm to kiss it..."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "This place is different from Neuen. The further north you go, the more humid and hot it gets. Honestly, it's time to change your thick, dark, and stuffy cloak and lining. It's just that they're... a little special now. If I want to change your clothes, I need to do something with them."

Cesar shrugged. "Why don't we just go to the river and talk while we walk?" He carried Firth off the horse and, like they had done in the mines of Neuen, held her in his arms, letting her lean against his shoulder. "Speaking of which, do you know anything about hallucinations?" he asked.

"Of course I do. But do you know the difference between a god and his statue?" Diana asked.

Cesar yawned, feeling a little tired. Normally, he would have collapsed in the tent. He'd been wandering the wasteland at night lately, and his energy wasn't quite up to par. He looked at Firth, who was also yawning, and remembered the story she'd told him that day, the lost demon Xiel and the goddess of pleasure Xiel.

"I've heard her talk," he said, "but I can't remember how to put it. Why don't you ask her to come..."

"Personally, I'd rather you tell the story yourself, Cesar," Diana denied. "After all, it was you who told me you wanted to remember her, everything she said. But... forget it today. You look even more tired than before, and you still have to inspect the ruins later. Why don't you go to the river to relax first?"

Tonight's camp was at the edge of a river valley. The road stretched along the narrow, deep valley, passing a series of tents. Admittedly, the area near the camp felt dark and stuffy, reeking of excrement. The road was originally quiet, but the camp echoed loudly. The mercenaries spoke and cursed in their own language, some boasting about their day's exploits, others showing off their newly acquired treasures.

They searched all the way but couldn't find a quiet place, and they also ran into a

There were a lot of washerwomen in the army. Finally, there was no other way. Diana took them to the other side and cast a spell to isolate them from the outside world. Only then did Cesar breathe a sigh of relief.

It was silent here, with no one in sight, only the gurgling river. A crescent moon hung high above the tranquil hills, casting a brilliant white hue through the woods. Mottled shadows swayed along the riverbank, creating a rustling sound. Although the night was still as hot and muggy as ever, at least it didn't bother him as much in this place.

Cesar took off his clothes, carried the girl in his arms into the water, kissed her sweaty breasts in the bright moonlight, put his lips on the pear-shaped curve, breathed softly, and gently caressed it.

As Fils slowly straddled him, he felt alive again. Her slender body was almost weightless, fitting perfectly against his every move, completely containing him. "Speaking of gods and idols," Cesar finally said, "did you foresee what I was going to say?"

Diana leaned against the old tree behind them. "There are many records of similar incidents. I recognized it the moment you mentioned it," she said. "What's worth exploring isn't the illusions they fabricated during their rituals, but the purpose of their sacrifices. If the scale of the rituals is indeed as Aya described, then I believe the shamans' purpose must be more than just creating hybrid beastmen."

Cesar held Phils's delicate body in his right hand, tilted his head back, and stretched his left hand behind him. "Can you feel this?" he said, "Use the third vision."

"I'm not a fool. Don't act like you're the wizard."

Diana bent down as she spoke, pressing her fingers to his wrist, pressing down as if to pierce his flesh, digging all the way to the palm of his hand, finally drawing out a wisp of red mist that lingered at her fingertips.

"This is ritual blood!" Firth suddenly cried out. She hadn't even bothered to speak, content with the pleasure brought by the friction between their bodies. "How did you get it? I've always wanted to use this to advance your path."

Chapter 195 Oh My God

"Ritual blood?" Cesar was quite surprised. "It sounds a bit ambiguous. What kind of ritual is it?"

"Listen," Firth corrected him. "When I spoke of ritual blood, you should have realized that only one ritual could be called an unnamed ritual; the others needed their own names. If you understand, that's great! Let me first say one thing: the mages of this land have inherited the knowledge of the Kunar priests and, like them, believe that Analik is closer to the source than other beings called gods."

"Can we find a more serious place to discuss the ancient rituals?" Diana finally couldn't help it.

"I don't think it's anything special," Cesar said. "No matter how serious or solemn it is, it can't heal a weak and dead body. Many of the young knights and officers at your father's meeting looked to be in their twenties, observing the precepts with all their honor, but I think they were bald and toothless, prematurely aged by the disciplines of their predecessors. Ancient culture, past history, the changes of the times, and modern ideological revolutions—all of these are enshrined on the altar as sacred and unspeakable, which may not be a form of escape and fear. You see, why don't we treat them as part of life?"

Diana covered her forehead and remained silent, seemingly unable to find a way to answer. Phils unscrewed the rosemary wine produced in the empire that Cesar had found in the town, and immediately a fragrant aroma came from it.

Judging by the origin marked on the wooden plaque on the neck of the bottle, and considering the current state of war in the empire, this bottle of wine is over a hundred years old. Fils took a sip and then held the emerald green frosted glass bottle up to Diana. Diana wanted to refuse, but the strange aroma emanating from the bottle made her want to take a sip as well.

Diana sipped the wine slowly, savoring it for a long time before swallowing it. Then, she sighed deeply. "Your words have been giving me a headache lately, Cesar," she said. "I've almost forgotten what I was going to say. How could Lord Thane have found someone like you, tied to the altar, and forgotten to gag you?"

"He should have done more than just gagged me. He should have at least cut out my tongue," Cesar said.

"I can't say anything else," Diana said, returning the rosemary wine to Fils. "But if I wasn't paying attention, you would escalate the conversation to this level. Especially in this kind of situation, anyone would be speechless for a long time."

"Should I enshrine it as something sacred that can only be discussed on solemn occasions?" Cesar asked her with interest.

"It's up to you," Diana said. "But I recently discovered that our Royal Highness the Princess has thrown away the lifestyle she has followed for more than ten years into the archives. Do you have any idea, Teacher Cesar?" She emphasized the title of teacher.

Cesar stroked Fils's hair, his fingers trailing down her tapering back to rest on the delicate curve of her waist, gently gripping it. Fils pursed her lips, panting softly as he filled his open mouth with wine. In the space of a few words, the treasurer's cellar of fine wine had been reduced by half.

He leaned back against the riverbank, gulping down the fragrant wine and letting out a breath. "I just did things my way," he said. "She must have her own balance of opinion about which method suits her best. There are two possibilities for someone leaving the imperial court and traveling far away. One is that she was persecuted and forced to flee, but her soul is still trapped in the court, obsessed with the past. The other is that she has been assessing the situation and decided to give up the power struggle in the court and choose another path. She will definitely assess the situation more than once, and the path can also change depending on the situation. In either case, it is not surprising."

"That'll definitely come in handy when she throws you into the archives," Diana said.

"It'd be better if this actually happened," Cesar said sincerely. "You know what I gave her. It wasn't a power struggle or a conspiracy, but how to master fire and sword in one's own hands and unleash their maximum power. If she thinks she can just consign me to the dustbin of history, then this self-selected student of hers must have surpassed me."

During their conversation, Fils finally let out a long breath, slightly tipsy, and leaned over him, her wet hair falling onto his shoulders. She wrapped it tightly inside her, pursed her lips, and as he thrust into her, a faint blush spread across her face, then another, and after a while, it completely transformed into rising and falling panting.

"Have you finished discussing those unimportant matters?" She raised her head. "Speaking of the ceremony..."

Diana motioned her to hold back, "Are you serious? Are you going to discuss this now?"

"Oh, maybe I need to slow down a bit," Firth said, her eyes hazy. "But I also think the location doesn't matter, as long as there aren't any irrelevant people around. The atmosphere is determined by what you say, so it doesn't matter where you say it."

"Tsk, alright." Diana rubbed her brow. "You two are both ridiculous in your own way. How on earth did I end up..."

"To explore the unknown face of our ancestors?" Cesar said to her, "I can swear that I have not done anything to affect her character. She has never changed since we met.

How do you imagine your ancestor, Ferriers, Diana? Do you think she adhered to the precepts and diligently studied magic, gradually reaching where she is today?

Phillis held out the wine again. Diana hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take it and sat down on the rocks beside them. "That's pretty much it," she said. "In fact, before I actually saw Phillis and nearly died at her hands along with you, I was doubting whether she was really Phillis."

"What are you doubting?" Cesar stroked Phils's smooth back, feeling the hazy intoxication on her body.

"Ferriels has been helpless her entire life," Diana said. "Of course, I understand why you two came together. It's easy to understand. A girl has spent more than ten years in a dark castle and unexpectedly met someone who could lead her out. He, uh, okay, I admit that you are indeed charming. It means that you unexpectedly met an extremely charming man. He was originally just a sacrificial offering, but soon after waking up, he instigated the rebellion of the city lord's evil creature, cleverly killed the guards, and even rescued you from the crowd of people who were bothering you, and took you out of the castle. This is very unusual, but considering the course of Ferriels' life, how could similar situations have never happened once?"

"There's none?"

"There's no record of her anywhere," Diana said. "Our understanding of her is based on inferences from her previous life, when she had nothing—a narcissist, an ascetic, a seeker of truth, who refused to let anyone get close to her. Hmm..." She glanced at Fils. "No matter what I see now, none of those inferences fits."

"Maybe there was an innocent love that died prematurely," Cesar shrugged. He stretched, tilted his head toward Diana, and spread out his left hand. "If you die too early, there will be no record left. What do you think of this idea?"

"You look like you'll die young, Cesar." Diana glared at him. "Why don't you go die a thousand years ago and fill in this chapter of history for her."

He yawned. "It's a nice thought, but I guess if that were to happen, you'd be calling me an ancestor now, Diana. Not ancestor, but ancestor, because we gave birth to a generation before you."

She sighed, "I've always wanted to meet my ancestor when she was young and ask her how she achieved what she has today, but when I finally met her, I felt like I was the one taking care of her."

Cesar felt Phils shrink a little into his arms, probably because she felt ashamed.

"How much do you miss it?" he asked Diana.

"Well, I've always felt that if the Temple were to examine us mages, they'd say, 'Your existence serves only to make the world more miserable, but that's all you are. You're insignificant pests, serving only to harass the mortals. If we could only take a moment out of the eternal struggle, we could crush you and wipe you from the face of the earth.'"

"This idea is really subtle..."

"At this point," Diana continued, "even if she is the cause of the mages' current predicament, we can still point the finger at Firiel, and the temples will immediately apologize, saying they had seriously misjudged the situation."

"What is the reality?" Cesar took the wine she had just sipped and took a small sip himself.

"The reality is," she closed her eyes and recalled the past, "I hurried there with great anticipation and finally arrived at Gonzales's fortress. I immediately noticed the changes in the cipher manuscript and realized I had found the right person. I couldn't wait to pass it inside and saw a girl curled up on the bed with the bedding in a mess, one hand just reaching into her pants. Seeing me suddenly appear, she was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly pulled her hand out."

This scene made Cesar cough uncontrollably, and he covered his mouth to prevent himself from coughing out the wine.

"I realized no one could see me," Firth muttered, "so I locked myself in the room and did my own thing. I was used to being with him every day, and without him I felt empty inside. I had to, well..."

"How did you start?" Cesar asked.

"Like, 'Oh, God, I'm so sorry, maybe I should step aside?'" Diana said.

"You are very polite, young lady."

Chapter 196 Intoxicating Blood

"Let me put it this way," Diana continued rubbing her brow. "That was just my initial impression. Back then, I could barely convince myself it was an accident. After that, I tried to discuss the cipher manuscript with Fils, and for every ten words we spoke, at least five were about you—and I swear I didn't bring up any of them on my own initiative."

Cesar gave Phils, whose cheeks were flushed, some wine so that she could use the blush of drunkenness to cover up the blush of shame. "So?" he continued to ask.

"This is a very serious matter. I simply cannot believe what I am seeing and hearing."

"why?"

"As for my ancestor, Ferriers, the theory I personally support is the one that seems most positive. I believe she was a researcher dedicated to true knowledge and a diligent seeker of truth."

"Firs really only cares about knowledge," Cesar said for her. "On the way with her to Gonzales, I didn't see her pay attention to any worldly things."

Although Diana's expression remained unchanged, he felt she was a little tipsy. "This means she doesn't care about worldly love either," she muttered, looking at the dark and deep river.

He shrugged. "Why don't you just say you've been using this method on yourself since you were little, and you've always imagined yourself becoming like Ferriers."

"Why not?" She frowned and glared at me. "Do you have any objections?" Then she sighed. "Besides, everyone in my bloodline, with the exception of Ferriers, is forced to accept the manipulation of fate, forced to accept the prophecies of the school, forced to give birth to chosen children with the chosen ones, just to reach a distant destination. It's not that no one has tried to change like me, but no one has ever succeeded. In the end, they will still return to where they are supposed to go."

"You don't want to be a tool for future generations?" Cesar thought, "That's not wrong. Then why did you drink the wine I drank? In theory, shouldn't you keep your distance from anyone suspicious?"

Diana took a sip of her wine and looked at him with a calm expression. "I don't think," she said, "this world is so absurd as to drag someone who fits the prophecy from a distant foreign land just to fulfill our school's prophecy. Moreover, someone like you who acts so absurdly and unorthodoxly..."

"You question the school's approach, yet you accuse me of being a heretic. Don't you think that's contradictory?"

She shook her head, her long, curly hair swaying in the moonlight. "I don't want to slide to the bottom of this slope," she said. "Your doubts are no longer just doubts; you're questioning everything that exists in the world. Besides, I have to say, you're drinking the wine I drank, not me drinking the wine you drank. Please sort out the order of things."

"But you drank it anyway," Cesar pointed out.

Diana smiled at him, and in an instant she seemed to be back to her usual self. "If you want to argue with me, Cesar," she said, "we can play Castalli again and keep you running for the whole day."

Cesar opened his mouth to retort, but then he remembered how, trapped in the wilderness, he and she had played Castalli for what seemed like five months or five years, only to find himself forced to repeatedly overturn the rules of the board and start over. It was the unique nature of Castalli that allowed him to use such unethical methods to circumvent defeat.

"So, let's get back to the ritual blood," Diana said, seemingly unnoticed, accepting something she'd only recently questioned. "May I add this for now," she continued, "the Origin Society, having synthesized the perspectives of the Kunar and humans, believes that the god Analik is both light and darkness, the darkness before dawn and the light before dusk. He is cruel, dividing the wasteland and the living world to create the world humans inhabit, but he also reconnects them, creating a world more suitable for beastmen."

"It sounds like it doesn't care about the existence of humans and beastmen. It's just changing the structure of the world, and its actions themselves have nothing to do with the creatures in it." Cesar said.

"I don't deny that its good and evil are values ​​imposed on it by living beings, but it does affect our survival. The Guna people believe that it divides the wilderness and the real world, giving rise to time and history, so they revere it. Humans have witnessed the destruction of the Guna people and experienced the boundless terror it caused, so we fear it."

"so?"

"The beastman shamans who worship Analik extracted the essence of all living things during their rituals, obtaining a pure and perfect liquid they learned to call ritual blood." Diana looked at him from the side. "One of the prayers says, 'Intoxicating blood brings haziness to the dead and perfection to the living. The true God has left many sensual desires in all things in the world as eternal revelations. We seek them, extract them, and then taste them. Let this blood of revelation intoxicate us, just as we accept its love. We share it and give it to all our compatriots and brothers and sisters in order to pass on its selfless grace.'"

"I can tell this thing has extraordinary significance," Cesar frowned and said, "What about those hybrid beastmen whose transformation failed? Are they also passing on its selfless grace?"

"The ritual blood is not prepared for all creatures." Firth said, she seemed to have heard the ritual blood prayer, "The beastman shaman believes that perfect faith is perfect knowledge, as silent as the true god himself, and also higher than human beings.

They do not need miracles, nor do they need salvation or being saved. All they need is to understand the secrets of the true God and share them, allowing those limited creatures to transcend all boundaries and give them complete freedom.

Diana lifted her chin, gazing at the dark river ahead. "So-called complete freedom should mean trampling over all laws, neither becoming noble through good deeds nor degrading through sin, transcending all established order like wings," she pondered. "As for those failures who can't cross the line, well... I guess they're just weak insects who can't accept freedom. That's what most Beastman shamans believe: since they're just insects, there's no need to worry about them, just toss them into the ruins after the ritual."

Cesar pondered the meaning of their words and felt that he had some understanding of the beastmen with high wisdom. When they first arrived in the wilderness, they encountered a group of wolf packs. Diana quickly expressed that his path was recognized, and he also gained a deeper understanding of the reason behind this.

"That ritual blood..."

"Based on the residue and quality of the ritual blood," Diana said, "we can infer the scale and general purpose of the sacrifice. For some very special rituals... hybrid beastmen are definitely not the purpose itself."

Chapter 197 Are you sure they are all here?

......

"Are you here looking for bodies, too?" a refugee with a festering neck asked him. "The army just cleared this area, and all dangers are gone. You look big and strong. If you join us, you'll definitely find a lot of good stuff."

Nauzog walked straight through the refugee group, knocking the man to pieces. He ran away cursing and swearing. He wore clothes he had just stripped from the dead, walked through towns and wilderness, observing the people and things in each area, and savoring the difference between the era when the Franks were the majority race and the previous era.

Compared to the Kuna, who were obsessed with the art of ruling and self-sacrifice, the Franks, despite occupying the world for over a thousand years, were still plagued by war and death. Nauzog knew that while the Franks still wore animal skins and offered human sacrifices to the Kuna, the Kuna had already been studying the sacred script for over a thousand years, creating countless martial arts, magic, philosophy, mathematics, theology, and linguistic theories based on the sacred script.

By the end of the last era, every Guna was immersed in exploring their inner selves. As for the outside world, apart from maintaining their increasingly rigid rule, they were indifferent to everything. Even accepting human sacrifices from the Frank tribes became less of a concern, viewing it as merely an ancient custom.

In fact, it was during that era that the animal-skinned Frank tribes secretly learned the magic of the temple priests. The reason was simple: some priests explored their inner selves too much and felt sympathy for the Franks who sacrificed their loved ones on the altar. In their increasingly rigid rule, this was just a trivial matter that did not attract any attention and was not properly handled.

If a tribe mastered magic, it would not really matter, but if similar things happened too many times, the small signs would gradually accumulate and lead to a qualitative change.

Nauzog believed the Kuna's demise was inevitable. The rebellion of the Frank tribes, the world changes triggered by the approach of the wasteland, and the frenzy unleashed by the various Beastmen ancestors all combined to cause their society to completely collapse. By the time the White Nightmare emerged from the wasteland and swept the world, the Kuna were practically extinct. Only a dozen or so great cities, symbols of civilization, remained, struggling in their final moments.

The entire war that followed actually had nothing to do with the Kuna people. It was the exiled Frank tribes who were hindering the coming of the true God.

The Fran tribes, enslaved for millennia, were powerless to shake the situation. Their magic was incomplete, their culture was ignorant and backward, their weapons, barely evolved from stone to bronze, posed no threat, and the presence of a few mages was insignificant. The Frans were powerless to resist the onset of the epoch. However, the world shifts triggered by the desert's near-realization, prompting several tribes to gather warriors and stage a divine tour. And that was when everything changed.

Gods, false gods, demons, ancient entities from the outside world, it doesn't matter what they are called, but Nauzog is used to calling them gods.

The gods long resided in an outer realm, where all cognition was meaningless. Unable to interfere with the world, nor to understand it, they even remained completely stagnant relative to it, their influence unconsidered. However, the Franks, during their Divine Age Tour, reached the outer realm, isolated from time and history. Thereafter, they discovered several beings who were otherwise unable to interfere with the world, allowing them to manifest within their bodies, establishing a connection with the world within time.

Then everything changed.