Shadow of the Evil God

The light gradually dimmed, eventually fading away completely. Everything that had happened before seemed like a dream. Cesar felt the air was dead and silent, a stagnant feeling pressing against his shoulders, squeezing his body and making it impossible to move. At one moment he felt like he was still falling, and at another, he felt like he was buried countless miles underground, even his breathing was impeded.

The vast abyss enveloped him, like a tiny insect enveloped by the boundless ocean. He tentatively called out, and heard countless echoes, layer upon layer. These echoes quickly spread outward, and soon, only a heavier silence remained.

Cesar closed his eyes and thought, trying to figure out where he was and where Ajeh was - was she hiding in the dark observing him, or was she searching for him in the endless abyss?

Thoughts led nowhere, silence seemed endless. Just when he felt his thoughts were meaningless, someone suddenly pushed him. He hadn't expected it. He fell forward, reaching out to grab something, but there was nothing. Then, something struck the back of his head, causing a sharp pain, followed by a strong dizziness. Yes, there were others, just like the Yestren School mage who had gnawed at his soul and memories like a book. There were others.

Something violent grabbed him by the neck, lifted him up, and swung his body down. It first slammed him onto the uneven ground, then grabbed him and dragged him across the rolling debris, scraping against his scarred body. He felt the surroundings gradually grow hotter, and the debris on the ground seemed to move, like something alive.

Cesar couldn't open his eyes. He felt a strong dizziness enveloping his consciousness, as if he had drunk too much alcohol. He couldn't maintain his balance and couldn't do anything.

The rough debris on the ground continued to scrape at him, and the thing dragged him forward, turning around the winding road, climbing up, and then climbing up again - a spiral staircase?

The burning sensation grew stronger, reaching its peak when the thing stopped moving. He found himself being pulled forward, toward a bright light so bright that even with his eyes closed, he couldn't block it out. A kind of flame seared through his hair and skin, bringing intense pain and... an abnormal, perverse pleasure.

Soon the thing lifted Cesar up again, and then dragged him into the fire again.

"You are unworthy of the Crucible, human," the voice said, "but you may enjoy the most excruciating torment at its edge."

The Holmunk from Fort Gonzales? Cesar twisted his head, trying to discern the outlines of the artificial creature. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the Holmunk wasn't human. A craggy, grotesque mass in the glaring light, its body incomplete and its head elongated. Its limbs were missing, save for two stout arms, and it floated in mid-air like a ghost. Beneath the veneer the temple had crafted for them, was this what they truly were?

Cesar didn't feel any torture, but maybe he should go along with the show...Holmonks are just furnace slag, some defective products, it's not difficult to deceive these things.

Chapter 201 Listen carefully, Uncle Cesar

Or maybe it's not necessary at all.

Cesar found that the numbness in his soul was fading. It seemed that the mental protection that Phils had constructed for him was indeed effective. Although it could not block the spells of the Hisai School or the monk Sagaros, it could gradually remove the curse and allow him to resume walking in the wilderness.

"Who are you?" he asked in a very awkward tone, like a half-drunk person mumbling, "I don't know you! Do I have a grudge against you?"

"Gonzales's Fortress, don't say you forgot."

"So many people died in Gonzales' fortress!" Cesar's tone became more anxious, with a sense of fear that came from excessive exertion, "Who knows which one you are talking about? I can't remember it at all!" Of course, he didn't lie, he really didn't remember the names of the dead, and he hadn't even touched Holmonks' remains.

Holmunks was enraged. People who take hatred as the meaning and direction of their lives, when they discover that the object of their hatred doesn't remember them, or even the people who died at their hands, their hatred will intensify. There are many ways to make someone lose control, but the remedy must be tailored to the specific situation. The Templars he encountered in Neuen were too arrogant, suited to skillfully displaying humility and weakness. This Holmunks was filled with hatred, and by cleverly using words to provoke it, he could control his subsequent actions.

The unknown Holmonks grabbed him by the throat, lifted him higher, and slammed him down into the furnace.

Cesar calculated his trajectory and immediately swung his legs backward, one foot slamming into the opponent's chest and the other delivering a solid kick to his narrow face, knocking his fingers loose. If he were still human, he wouldn't be able to pull off this maneuver. His joints were practically bent backward, and the force was being transmitted to his feet through his intertwined and splintered limbs.

He fell to the ground by inertia and rolled. Darkness enveloped him, so he reached out to a sparse source of light beside him and felt a sharp pain. He felt what seemed to be an extremely hot firewood stick in his hand, but he didn't care. He held it tightly in his hand, enduring the charred and shattered skin, and thrust forward with all his might.

It was an almost automatic movement. He felt as if he had pierced something, and heard a painful gasp—a gasp indicating that the other person still had the ability to express pain, indicating that he hadn't hit a vital point. At this time, he couldn't let go of the other person's even a breath.

He pulled out the iron rod and swung it forward. He first heard a furious roar, and then the roar stopped abruptly. He heard the sound of metal smashing coal and smashing some stone sculpture into pieces. "You really should have listened to the monk's advice." Cesar said as he stood up and swung the fire stick down even harder, followed by a second blow, and a third blow, until Holmonks was completely smashed into a pile of furnace slag on the ground.

Afterward, Cesar pinned the poker to the side of the stove. As his vision gradually returned in the darkness, the object was indistinguishable from the cinders on the ground. There was no trace of blood, not even a trace of a human presence. The ground was not only littered with debris, but also with numerous winding metal lines extending in all directions. The lines were very thin. He couldn't be sure where they started, but their endpoints all pointed behind him. They climbed up a black stone wall, forming a series of nested black metal rings on the surface.

Cesar examined them carefully, finding that the metal rings resembled the orbits of planets. Each ring rotated in a different direction and at subtly different speeds. At the center, where the star was, there was an exceptionally dazzling ring, just wide enough for a person to fit inside. The closer one got, the hotter it felt. Not only were they spinning against the stone wall, but the coal-like debris on the ground was also rising, forming one giant ring after another like an asteroid belt.

He recalled how Holmonks had dragged him up, realizing he was on a very high platform. But neither the black stone wall nor the black platform covered in debris reflected any light; it was pure darkness. He could discern black metal lines on the surface because they at least reflected a faint light, not because they were completely invisible.

At this moment, Cesar heard a knocking sound. He looked and realized that someone was looking for him. Considering the situation, it must be Ajeh. The caster had separated the two of them from each other, isolating them at opposite ends of the wall.

This should be some kind of cage, and a cage must have an entrance. He felt that as long as he followed the sound and reunited with Ajiehe, and reached the place where she knocked on the door, he would be able to get out.

He groped his way to the spiral staircase that Holmonks had ascended and began to descend. Although there were no railings on either side, he could tell where to place his feet from the black metal lines that stretched out in all directions. Before long, he had reached the surface, where debris was scattered everywhere, slowly rolling along the direction of the metal lines, as if it would eventually converge into the rings and then be thrown into the entrance of the furnace.

Come to think of it, the furnace entrance was also an exit, but there were differences between them. His experience with Analik had already distorted him considerably; if he truly leaped through the furnace's entrance, there was no guarantee of what he would ultimately become. He continued following the sound, finding himself in a grand, ancient stone hall, its construction clad in a completely opaque black. Only the curved metal lines that stretched to the far end of his vision allowed him to discern the hall's outline.

Cesar reached the finish line and pushed against the wall, hearing the sound of knocking, but nothing happened. He pushed harder, but still nothing. The stone wall even began to loosen, and some debris fell off, revealing the dark, empty void behind it.

This door is not a door in the physical sense, there is nothing behind it.

"How was your journey?" a voice suddenly came.

"Who?"

"How does it feel to see a door right in front of you and not be able to open it?"

She was a young woman, speaking in a tone common to aristocrats. "Who are you?" Cesar continued to ask.

"If you're still determined to do this, you can go back and pull out that stick, then come back here and hit the wall with it," the voice said casually. "Would you like to try? Once you've chipped away at the entire wall and leaned out, we can discuss your feelings."

Cesar turned, his eyes fixed on the source of the voice—short black hair, light gray eyes. Her figure was unclear in the darkness, but he seemed to remember her face. Her slightly upturned eyes held a hint of playfulness, and the corners of her mouth were more than playful, but uncontrollably raised with a cruel satisfaction.

"Are you Izri, Iset's sister?" he asked.

"That's remarkable, Uncle Cesar," Isley applauded. "Even though we've never met before, you recognized me right away. Perhaps I should say this to you: Hello?"

"You should say," Cesar replied indifferently, "who is the jailer, you or that Holmonks?"

"He was just a poor volunteer," she said. "Although they're just scraps and useless without the monks, he died a little too soon. You're a monk too, aren't you, Uncle Cesar? An ancient, forgotten beast-god. What a wonderful heroic story. The wolf is anxiously looking for you on the other side of the door. Do you want to knock on the wall to let her know you're still alive?"

"I'm afraid I'm not in a wall-bashing mood, my dear niece," he said.

"What do you want?"

"Open the door and go out." Cesar said, "There should be a door here."

Isley yawned. "Yes, there should be a door here, Uncle. It could allow you to go back and save the ones you love, but guess what? It's not for you."

"why?"

"Because I'm the jailer." She blinked. "Why else could it be? I have the final say here. I'll chat with you here until everything outside is over. Aren't you very good at reading people's minds and using rhetoric? You can analyze my expression and tone to your heart's content, and analyze when everything will end for you. Let's guess: who will be beheaded, their body torn to pieces; who will become a prisoner of the Xisai School, thrown into a secret prison, and endure endless torture; who will make peace with their cousin and conceive a child more in line with the imperial bloodline requirements."

"I thought you would consider the greater good, Isri."

"You and Saino are birds of a feather."

"Maybe," Cesar said. "I don't know where the hatred between us comes from. Can you tell me? I have too much blood on my hands."

"It's simple. You and your father killed the only blood relative who still treated me as a human being."

"Okay," Cesar frowned. Were all Borgias a bit off? "But he was the one who was rude to old Thane," he explained. "And then, he was the one who went to Blade's Edge Mountains without knowing the consequences. Didn't he deserve his death?"

"You don't even remember his name?"

"Really? It's been so long, and you still want me to remember his name? I only met him once, and there was a sword dancer standing next to him who wanted to tear me apart."

"So you really don't remember."

"I didn't even kill him."

Isley nodded. "Of course not," she said. "And I'm not surprised you'd say that. You should listen carefully, Uncle Cesar, listen to me. If old Thane had many children, I would find them all, crush them to death, and send their heads to his castle. But he only has one. Since he only has you, I will destroy you in the most meticulous way possible, severing all the ties that old Thane sent to Olidan, and then watch how he reacts."

Chapter 202: Don’t Scream Too Miserably

Cesar thought the man was hysterical, but she was not as easy to see through as Holmonks; her mind was much more complicated.

"My dream in Anglan was also because of you?" he asked.

"Why not?" Yisli said nonchalantly. "To be honest, I suffered a lot because of that failure. All my limbs were broken, and it took a long time for them to grow back. I was also scolded a lot by Uncle Saino for this matter, and my freedom of movement is still restricted. I have to say, you are really good at escaping, Uncle Cesar. How long have you been running away in the wilderness?"

"Then why are you here, Isri? Shouldn't you be following Sayno to the war? Do you still think you're a rebellious child?"

She was smiling. "I don't like the puppet house you people have created," she said. "No matter how lifelike the puppets are, they're just dummies dressed up in random costumes. You're talking about considering the greater good? Aren't you just putting everyone in their proper place on the stage, forcing them to conform and assimilate into the puppet troupe?"

"I feel like you're just a little extra prop from the puppet troupe," Cesar said. "You're more like a skeleton ornament in the basement than a beautiful little puppet. You seem to want to portray yourself as terrifying, but don't you think you're more like a wax toy, no taller than a hand? The temple is pulling your strings, throwing this five-centimeter-tall skeleton back and forth, and yet you think everything is your own doing, your own decision?"

Isley's smile faltered slightly. "Given your current situation," she said, "it's not wise for you to speak like that."

"Really?" Cesar raised his eyebrows. "Then tell me what my situation is. Should I kneel down and beg you to give me the key, not daring to show any disrespect to you? I don't think so. You're just a little skeleton ornament, pretending to be intimidating and acting like a bully, but in fact you can't do anything."

"You seem to have no idea who would have humiliated you in the tourney," Isley said.

"Knightly Tournament? You?"

Before he finished speaking, Yisili had already thrust out with his sword.

Cesar thought of his fake cousin Garcia, and how Garcia had once told him that if he left Neuen, he would be subjected to the Dominican knightly tournaments, one of which was swordsmanship. To this end, he hired his beloved swordsmanship instructor, Cecia, and invited her to join him in tournaments across the country to earn prizes. However, life is unpredictable. After the Neuen incident, he unexpectedly followed Archduke Urbino to Auridan, and Neuen also changed its king.

Isley was a battle-tested knight with a masterful swordsmanship, having won numerous fencing tournaments and held numerous honors. From the moment she thrust her first sword, Cesar realized her skill was far superior to his own.

Not only that, her hatred and anger did not affect her sword.

However, she truly believed she was in a knightly tournament, a sword-fighting duel under the gaze of an audience. This misunderstanding was enough to lead his lengthy speech to a staged tactical victory, making up for all his shortcomings in swordsmanship. Sometimes, misjudgment lies not only in the loss of action, but also in the failure to observe key information.

Cesar ignored Isli's blade and stepped forward, his shoulder blade buckling against her thrust. Just as Isli's face flickered with surprise, Cesar's fist pierced her chest, sending a trail of blood and shattered bone piercing her back. He pulled his fist away, watching as Isli stumbled forward, clutching at his clothes and leaning against him. The bloody, fleshy hole burned right in the middle of her chest, revealing the dark ground and the winding metal wires behind her.

Isli opened her mouth, but could not speak because of her broken spine and severed throat, and her sword fell out of her hand.

He instinctively wanted to make a comment, perhaps a bitter irony, but found himself speechless. He lowered his head, reached out to touch his chest, and felt a bloody, empty hole.

Isley looked up and smiled at him. If the situation hadn't been so different, her smile would have been unusual for the knights at the forefront of a victorious army. "Guess, did I ever consider that I might not be able to defeat you, Uncle Cesar?" The bloody hole in her chest was closing. "It's terrifying, truly terrifying. Even in reality, I'd be dead. But do you think we went through all the trouble of throwing you into this cage just to challenge you to a meaningless sword fight?"

Cesar frowned.

"How pathetic," she said. "You are so pathetic. Have you ever imagined that you are powerless to do anything?" She brushed the hair that fell from her eyes and laughed even more happily. "Since you hurt me just now, now it's time for me to hurt you well. Listen, Uncle Cesar, I will not die here, and everything you do to me will actually reflect on you."

He twitched the tentacles that had formed a throat. "What about the door?"

"Are you still thinking about the door?" Yi Sili took a step back and spread his hands. "Let me be frank. Only with my approval can you get out of here. No other means will work. You are taller than me, better at talking and inducing than me, and much stronger than me, but you are still trapped here. This is not brute force.

"It's a problem that can't be solved, so stop dreaming. Even if you twist my head off, you'll just be staring into the darkness with your own fallen head as your companion."

Cesar hadn't encountered such exhausting and irritating people and situations in a long time. The last time was in Neuen. Once you experience something like this, it's hard to let it go, and it makes you want to do something extreme.

"Very good," he nodded, "You teased me well."

Isley clapped her hands joyfully like a little girl. "Really?" Then she stopped smiling, her expression suddenly turning grim. "But I don't want you to use such a scary tone. Start by kneeling down and begging me to release you, Uncle Cesar. Maybe I'll bring you some of your lover's remains."

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"Yes, I can go about my business freely, but you can only stay here and pray that your lover dies a quick death. What a pitiful story. It has come to this point, what else can you do?"

"I don't want you to go out, Isley." Cesar raised his eyebrows and took a step closer to her. "I have to negotiate with you until you agree to take me out."

"You said negotiate?" Isley couldn't help laughing. "Can you first take a closer look at the situation? Are you mentally ill?"

Cesar grasped her right arm, tightening his fingers like a piece of rotten wood, crushing it from the elbow. As her brow furrowed in pain, his own right arm also broke into pieces, then suddenly opened up, turning into black branches extending in all directions, like the legs of a giant spider in the dark hall.

"I'm really getting impatient, my dear niece." He used his blood-stained left arm to gently embrace her frozen smile. The shattered branches of his right arm spread out behind her, the tips piercing her skin, causing him considerable tearing pain. He placed his lips against her ear and whispered, "But it's all good. We have a long time to discuss whether you should voluntarily let me out. Before that, you have to promise me not to scream too miserably."

Chapter 203 Kill Him Now

......

The blood-red curtain gradually descended. Cesar watched the headless body in his hands dissipate like smoke, bewildered. Where was this creature's head? The rubble beneath his feet was splattered with their blood, as was the black wall. The winding metal wires were soaked through, like veins revealed after skin is peeled. The misty moonlight outside the door illuminated his decapitated, blood-soaked body.

He bent down and picked up the head from the ground, only to find Isley's head hanging underneath. Their blood-soaked hair was tangled together, and no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't separate. After the neck was broken, the two heads were twisted together and rolled on the ground, but he hadn't noticed it.

However, the door was already open. The flickering light and shadows made Isri blink hard, tears streaming down her face, unable to form complete words. Her face still etched a tangled tapestry of pain and ecstasy. As she convulsed and screamed, blood and saliva from both of them soaked her jaws. Cesar carried their entangled heads out the door, but after taking a step, he saw her head dissipate like smoke. He realized that what had just happened was not real after all. He would have to wait for a better time to catch this guy.

Ajeh was laughing on the other side of the door, a strange laugh. She wasn't the child with long, trailing hair he'd imagined, welcoming him out. She was a blood-red, monstrous figure, like a crimson mist, hovering in mid-air, tangling and spinning around him. From the shadows, she extended sharp, curved claws, her narrow, wolf-like mouth baring a crisscross of fangs. Her head, a precarious presence, hung beside him, almost as large as his body.

"How do you feel about the true nature of your path, Cesar?"

Cesar threw his head into her wolf's mouth, gagging Ajeh's irritating jaws. Shadows rose from the torn surface of his neck, layer upon layer, crisscrossing and accumulating into a blurry outline. He narrowed his eyes, which darted around in the gaps between them, observing his surroundings in every direction. His senses were acute, but his mind was dull. Rational thought repelled him, and the more he thought, the more uncomfortable it became. His body expanded relentlessly, constrained by rune-encrusted metal armor. Every breath made him tremble, and he exhaled blood mist with a hissing sound.

Something was shouting nearby, a variety of words spreading and intertwined, but he couldn't hear a single one. He wanted to be free, wanted to break free from the restraints, but the iron shell was oppressing him and making him miserable. Everything was becoming more and more unbearable.

"How do you feel about not being able to satisfy the little hunger you just released?"

"If I were you, I would stay inside that door until she's completely subservient to you."

"You are the embodiment of desire, but it's definitely not a beautiful desire. Once your true self is revealed, it will be difficult to return to the lie."

"The path has no end, and the hunger is endless. How can satisfying the thirst in just one person be enough?"

"Lust, lust. To you, love is of course the shadow of desire. If desire cannot be satisfied, then there is only pain. In that case, what is love?"

"Ajeh, you fucking bastard..." Cesar opened his mouth to roar, but found himself unable to produce a human voice, only a hoarse wolf's howl. He bent his back, crouching on the ground like a beast. The misty shadow of the blood wolf no longer clung to him. She was a part of him, etched into his soul and flesh, emitting a stronger hunger.

The steel armor squeezed his expanding flesh, causing his skin to shatter, forming another layer, which then stretched and expanded further. His gauntlets stretched, becoming sharp and curved, piercing the cracks in the pit of flesh like scimitars, piercing deeply. His back arched higher and higher, and his head, made of shadows, could no longer maintain a human form. Many blood-red eyes swiveled in the cracks, rapidly scanning everything around him. An elusive assassin, a rune-carved swordsman, a Holmonk, a temple monk, a mage, people, people, people.

"What an ugly beast." The figure holding a huge sword looked down at him in front of his motionless body, and swung it down at him with all his strength, almost splitting a house in half.

Cesar wanted to laugh, but could only howl like a wolf. He suddenly raised his claws, swept past with shattered gravel and blood, and tore off the mask that symbolized the slaves of the Xisai School.

He felt a warm touch at his fingertips—the split cheek blossomed like a flower, four blood-soaked petals falling neatly in four directions. The two tongues in the middle danced back and forth, splattering large amounts of hot blood. The warm plasma splattered onto his armor, dripping down, but because it was blocked by the steel engraved with sigils, it couldn't penetrate his body, instantly making him even more frantic.

He caught the sword and slashed down with his backhand, the greatsword slicing down the man's tongue with a low whistle that ripped the air. The blade first sliced ​​through his upper body, crushing his spine, then slashed diagonally down his hips, cleanly severing one of his thighs, leaving a bloody, mangled section. The remains of the corpse sprayed blood everywhere, but he found nothing. Only the tangled remains of his internal organs on the blade provided some comfort.

Cesar felt something pierce through the gap in his armor. It was a poisoned dagger, and he immediately felt a sharp pain. However, it was not pain, but pain, a subtle language that told him where to go next. He straightened his hunched body and felt that he could almost overlook a house. He raised his greatsword.

He raised it high in his hand and chopped it down, leaving an unstoppable trail with the blood and internal organs of the dead body.

His shadow loomed over the figure ahead, like a tower collapsing, its powerful strike creating a massive dent in the deep pit, sending up a whistling cloud of dust. The man dodged, but not far enough. Cesar tilted his wrist, blade level with the ground, his legs and feet tensing, twisting his body. The greatsword instantly slashed with him, arcing across the opponent's stomach, clenching it in two and sending the legless figure soaring high into the air.

Another poisoned dagger whizzed towards him, arcing in an inconceivable way, bypassing his sword, piercing through the gap in his armor, and piercing deep into his shoulder blade, bringing increasingly intense pain. The figure of the person holding the dagger was blurred, shuttling around the periphery of the deep pit, and Cesar was completely unable to recognize it.

Cesar discovered that the man who had lost his lower body was still alive. Although scalding blood continued to flow from his mouth and nose, gushing out from his severed waist, he was not dead. An endless stream of vitality flowed into his body from another distant dimension, nourishing his soul and maintaining the fragile balance between life and death.

Cesar could almost touch the vitality.

It’s some kind of path.