Shadow of the Evil God

If her soldiers hadn't defected so quickly, and the Hisai School hadn't paid a huge price to stop the beastmen, her charge would have been enough to cause him a huge defeat. If old Cleface were to be the judge, this incident alone would be enough to make him return home and reflect.

Altinia hadn't expected victory in the first place. She had come here simply to put an end to everything and eliminate any problematic individuals along the way. But seeing herself defeated by her troops, so close to delivering a fatal blow to Trisius, she felt a deep sense of disappointment. Or rather, regret. She truly regretted it. She hadn't expected such a significant victory, and even less had she expected the corpse-eaters to cooperate so well with her charge. On the battlefield alone, they seemed more like her tactical allies than Brother Keith's reinforcements.

If Trisius could be defeated on the battlefield, she would accept it even if she was joined by a swarm of corpse-eaters and hybrid beastmen. This would prevent the invasion of the Abyss, and with the support of the school's mages and the Grand Temple, they would have enough to deal with the corpse-eaters and the Imperial army after the battle.

However, now that things have come to this, these thoughts are meaningless.

In her destiny, choice and situation are equally important. Due to the situation, she may not be able to avoid some choices, no matter what.

Altinya looked up and watched as the elderly Brother Keith walked past the tent. He took a towel, dipped it in warm water, and wiped her blood- and dust-covered face. It was a scene she knew well, a scene she had witnessed many years before, when she was a child and many of her relatives were being guided by the Holy Church.

Every royal bloodline receives guidance from a monk. Some call them mentors, while others call them overseers. It all depends on the princes and princesses' opinions of the monks. Currently, Artinia feels he's even worse than an overseer. He's Clefas's brother.

The tents were not plain, and the armor and furnishings around the tables and camp chairs were extravagant, with helmets inlaid with gold. Although Artinia had lived no more simply than Trisius in the past, she could now argue with a builder about scaffolding and plaster, and naturally she wanted to insult him.

While Brother Case was preparing her appearance like a girl getting married, Trisius walked into the military tent and sat down leisurely on the camp chair.

"Good tactics, my sister," he said. "Ironically, local tactics have become insignificant. What truly determines the outcome of a battlefield is the overall situation and layout, not local victories. You think you have the upper hand over me tactically, but you don't know that the outcome is already determined. People know to side with those who are destined to win, don't they?" He shook his head. "But I believe that struggle itself is a valuable quality."

"Isn't it because you abandoned old Cliface that you dare to sit here and brag about yourself?" Artinya asked him back.

"The process is not important," Trisius continued, "He will see the result, and that is what I present.

Now give him the results.”

"The old man would beat you for any mistake you made, leaving you curled up in your bed crying, and you wouldn't dare resist him in the slightest. Even now, you're still as afraid of him as a child, and your high spirits are like those of a child who has escaped parental control. Do you know how many people like this I've met?"

Trisius frowned. "So even you," he said, "have succumbed to his intimidation? I thought you were different from Laelius." He poured himself a glass of wine. "You know, sister, I thought you would support me in resisting his strict constraints. I even considered teaching you a lot of political knowledge. I could make you more than just a prisoner, and more than a royal family forced to marry a relative."

"Because of what? Because you're alone and you don't dare to stand up to Cleface's baby?"

"It's prudence, you understand? Prudence!" Trisius denied. "Your flaw is that you always act too rashly. When you left the palace of Heanria to the south, you had nothing and left everything behind. When you left the south to Olidan in the west, you had nothing and left everything behind again. Now you've rushed out of the city without any prudence to fight me! But it doesn't matter. All of this can be made up for. I don't care about the old man's marriage requirements, but you are indeed an outstanding battlefield commander. Therefore, even if you are a reckless wild boar, I hope you will support me. With your support, we can even force old Clephas to retreat to the background."

Chapter 329 They All Escaped

Altinya laughed. "What else does this prove except that you alone wouldn't dare oppose Clefas? Do you have to curl up in someone's arms before you dare to say you have a problem with the old man?"

For a moment, Trisius remained silent, while Brother Case coughed instead. "Your Highness," he said gravely, "those caught in a difficult situation are bound to harbor resentment. When the war is over, when you have resurrected the Empire and brought the southern kingdoms and the steppe barbarians to their knees, all of the past will be a mere joke. Your prudence—"

"Prudent?" Altinia's eyes widened. "Are your eyesight failing, old man? He's considered prudent? Look at him, his mind is as impetuous as an ape, his soul as mediocre as a child. To gain credit, he allowed the Hisai School to attack both sides, and as a result, the Corpse Eaters all joined me in the fight. He can only see what's in front of him and ignores what's to his sides. He uses old Cliface's tactics without any of his own understanding, like a child copying answers provided by their parents but failing to copy them completely. And you tell me he can revive the empire?"

"His Highness Trisius simply hasn't experienced much actual combat," Brother Keith argued. "To achieve such feats on his first major battlefield is truly remarkable, Your Highness. You shouldn't be so harsh. Remember, he will be your husband in the future. If anyone with ulterior motives heard this, it would undoubtedly destabilize the court."

"Is this why you turned against me just when I was about to win?" Altinia asked him back. "You've more than disappointed me, Brother Keith. You scooped up a pile of sand and said he could revive the empire. And his so-called prudence is that he gets carried away by his achievements. When faced with difficulties, he lacks the decisiveness and ruthlessness we should have. He's clearly so terrified of Clefas that he dares not even speak, yet he thinks he can gain courage by getting under someone's skirt?"

"You should be more careful, Your Highness, especially when you speak." Brother Keith frowned and said, "This is the general's decision. No matter what, you should obey it."

"You will never have another chance to obey him, Brother." Altinia shook her head at him. "In your final moments, you can grieve that you didn't die in the old man's arms. I mean it."

Trisius said nothing, but Artinia knew he wasn't just unhappy, he was utterly irritated. This was the blood reunion he'd hoped for, but his blood relative hadn't offered him a single positive assessment, instead resorting to wanton derogatory comments. Brother Keith understood and ordered the guards into the tent to escort her to a private cell, where they would slowly discipline her. But she immediately crushed a piece of crystal hidden between her teeth.

Then the world went dark.

The world slumped towards her, creating a vast, invisible gap. While the people's bodies remained intact, their souls felt shaky. Even the soldiers behind her lost their balance, reaching out to hold onto their tents to avoid falling.

A huge sense of oppression and terror enveloped everyone and became increasingly imminent.

......

Trisius rubbed his heart, trying hard to overcome the sudden discomfort.

"She certainly needs to learn respect," he said to Brother Keith, who looked displeased. "But the war continues. We can discipline her later, until she becomes my queen." He patted the monk's shoulder. The man looked uneasy, no doubt frightened by Altinia's threats. "Brother Keith, I'm not bothered by what just happened. So please tell me, in your opinion, was I prudent?"

The monk rubbed his throat, as if having difficulty swallowing. "Constant caution is the nature of us old men, Your Highness. My change of sides in battle was the result of this prudence. But I believe that when people are still young, they still need a courage that borders on foolishness to achieve success."

Trisius nodded in agreement, satisfied. He tried to spur his horse forward, but found it panicking, presumably frightened by the clash of spells. He had no choice but to walk to the top of the hill, overlooking the battlefield ahead. The battle line was gradually stabilizing. Although molten fire and foul blood still clashed overhead, they no longer threatened the rear positions. The Beastmen appeared numerous, but the flesh golems and corpse eaters were few in number. The larger numbers were simply hybrids transformed from the humans along the way. Essentially, they were just a bunch of deformed farmers who feared no death, and he didn't even bother to worry about them.

His cavalry had already formed into formations, deploying on both sides, ready to flank the Beastmen horde. This was little different from suppressing a local peasant uprising, except these peasants were much larger and more hideous. The infantry legions were also advancing in an orderly fashion, pressing down on the Beastmen, whose only real merit lay in the initial charge. In every sense, the timing and conditions of this battle were perfect, and the chaos caused by Altinia was merely a minor incident.

Trisius believed everything he saw, especially the victory he witnessed. The front against the vast majority of the Beastmen was secure, and he had no need to fear the fortress defenders still struggling to hold off the few remaining Beastmen. The ragtag army of mercenaries and peasants was still struggling within the inner city. Watching the Beastmen ravage the burning streets of the outer city with nothing to stop them was beyond devastation.

The old sorcerer of the Xisai School was either alarmist or overstating the threat posed by the other school of magic and the Grand Temple. If the secular army was pinned down within the city walls, what good would they do? Sending a single squad of invisible assassins would kill them, let alone so many artillery pieces and such a massive army. Without a doubt, the Xisai School's best choice was to join them.

As for Artinia's desperate threats and forced composure, he paid no heed. What could a caged canary possibly do? By the time Old Clefas and the ensuing troops arrived at the fortress, he would have already done everything he needed to do. By then, it would be too late for his ulterior motives to question her, nor would it be the Old Man's turn to make any decisions about her whereabouts.

Trisius breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the pressure he'd endured at Clifas's side finally lifted. Time would tell, proving he no longer needed the old man's strict discipline, nor did he need anyone else's questioning or accusations.

He looked down at the battlefield, observing the clash of spells. He noticed that the slowly advancing molten cloud suddenly shrank, leaving only a smoking husk on the ground, allowing the hybrid beastmen to charge into the front lines without stopping them. Were they out of spell materials again? But he didn't see any mages leading the school's slaves towards the logistics camp.

The crimson molten cloud was no longer shrinking, but dissipating, and the long line tearing the earth had vanished. Trisius felt a heavy pressure descend upon his soul. Brother Keith's steps were unsteady, and the soldier who was supposed to be taking Altinia to the prison had even collapsed to the ground. What had happened?

"The mages of the Hisaeus school are fleeing - they all fled! They left everyone and all the slaves behind and disappeared!" Laelius suddenly spurred his horse towards him, but before it reached him, the horse stumbled and fell, rolling Laelius several times in the mud. Laelius was a templar, and Trisius had seen him fall off the horse many times and then land steadily on the ground.

Why is he so flustered?

Trisius instinctively glanced behind him, seeing Artinia pressing her boot against the neck of the soldier who was about to take her away, having drawn his longsword from his waist. With one blow, the head and body were severed, blood splattering across her smiling face. She walked across the hills, past soldiers who had collapsed or stumbled for unknown reasons, her eyes thick with the smell of blood.

"It's time to end it all, little Trisius," she said. "Or should I kill your playmate first?"

The prince instinctively rushed towards Laelius, trying to help him up from the ground. Strangely enough, at this strange moment, the first person he thought of was Laelius, not anything else, not even himself.

But a vast darkness had already engulfed everything, like a tsunami, swallowing up the blood-red curse and crimson molten fire, tainting every color. Trisius heard short screams echoing from across the battlefield, then quickly extinguished, like candles snuffed by the wind. Silence suddenly enveloped the battlefield, which had been pounding with artillery fire only moments before. Absolute silence.

"Your Highness, I might be dying..." Laelius raised his dissolving face, and the voice penetrated his ears like a gust of cold wind. "Please..."

Before Laelius could finish a complete sentence, he disintegrated, falling from his arms to the ground, transforming into a shapeless black slime that squirmed across the hills. Trisius watched as it rose to its feet, like a black sack supported by a pile of worms, collapsing and reforming in a cycle, wandering aimlessly in its original place. He felt his heart tighten, almost bleeding.

Altinia now stood before Trisius, gazing down at him, her silver hair dancing in a dark tidal wave, her face devoid of emotion. Brother Keith retreated, still fending off the onslaught of something terrifying. The princess glanced at him, then swung her sword, cleaving the monk's already shaky barrier. Then, Brother Keith melted and disintegrated, a mass of suspended black goo drifting in mid-air, shifting back and forth among various amorphous contours.

"You can kill yourself by raising the sword to your neck, Trisius," said Artinia. "If you lack the courage, I will do it for you. Your bloody head will be the first gift I send to Clefas."

"I want to return to you, Your Highness..." Laelius's increasingly dark and gentle voice seeped into his ears. Those black veins, like blood vessels, lingered at Trisius' feet, hesitating to move forward, as if waiting for his permission. "We were once in love, Your Highness. Please allow me to return to you. Please don't refuse. I beg you..."

The sound was so moving, lingering in his ears, wandering on his skin, and resounding in his bones.

Chapter 330: The Evil Dragon and the Cage

"The voice of evil," Artinia said, wiping the blood from her face. "If you're going to tell me you believe that, you're pathetic, Trisius."

But Trisius could already feel Laelius's breath, so close he could kiss his face. His scent was as strong as ever, making his heart race. He even heard Clefas's insults in a trance. Shame and regret seeped from his fingertips, flowing over the skin they had touched and kissed, bringing back painful memories of his childhood. Nothing but the comfort of Laelius's caresses was unbearable.

Things became even more painful after Clefas took Laelius away.

"I'm dying, Terry." The voice was getting closer and closer, penetrating his eardrums. "I need your hug..."

"An obscene voice," he thought. "Laelius wouldn't speak like that." But what did obscenity matter now? The war had ended in such an inconceivable way, a way he could neither comprehend nor accept. Trisius knew only that everyone was dead. He had no idea what had happened, or how things had come to this. His only thought was what he should do—what else could he do?

Trisius raised his hands, only to see them slick with blood. He was overcome with confusion, a sense of dread that he could no longer do anything. Was he already dead? Had Artinia already cut off his head?

No, it couldn't happen to him. His mind shifted, and he shook the blood off his hands. It wasn't his blood, it was Brother Case's blood—the old fool who had made a god out of Cleaves. Did Case really think he was a fool? Couldn't he see that he had no respect for him, only for Cleaves?

Suddenly, Trisius felt it, he felt the darkness that enveloped the world, felt the fact that only his royal bloodline could survive. He had come so far, if he did not come here to win, then he must have come here to accept this voice.

Fate had not brought him here to fail.

The sword he was holding tightly fell from his fingers and tumbled to the ground, quickly soaking the black veins like blood vessels. His face twisted, and he felt as if his skin was wrapped around a wriggling worm. As his thoughts became more active, the dark goo moved closer to him as if it had spotted its master.

Laelius came over and embraced him. In his childhood, he had healed the scars and wounds inflicted by Clefas in this way. At this moment, as always, he healed his confusion and helplessness, and showed him where to go next.

Trisius saw Artinia raising her sword behind him, her face filled with indifferent murderous intent. Her violet eyes should have been beautiful and bright, but in fact they were even crueler than the darkness.

It was the sword that severed his head, but he had already accepted Laelius's embrace, so the incident no longer mattered. He felt his kiss, felt the dark breath seep into his mouth, down his throat into his lungs, and spread through his veins, like a swarm of snakes seeping, entwining, and exploring his body and soul. He felt ecstasy.

Laelius's embrace kept him alive.

Although in Artinia's eyes, Laelius was nothing more than a ball of evil darkness, in his eyes, he still carried a familiar warmth and voice. Although he had changed greatly, he still provided him with the same protection as before, allowing him to strengthen his faith and determine his path forward.

Trisius took a deep breath, feeling the surging darkness flow down his exposed throat, permeating his flesh, blood, and soul. The darkness that had formed Laelius wriggled around his neck, reshaping his body. For a moment, Trisius saw, through Artinia's eyes, a purposeless, pitch-black dragon head. Sharp, tangled black horns extended from its forehead, cheeks, and jaw, more than a dozen in total. Segments of scorpion carapace extended from the back of its head, transforming into a scorpion-like tail that twisted and thrashed.

How dare you think I'm going to die here?

Then he raised his hands, unfurling the wings attached to his forearms. He gazed down at the princess at his feet, his mind swirling with wild desire. And Laelius? He was with him, wandering with him in this mad world. He said to him, "Go and devour every one of your kindred, starting with her."

Trisius found his path ahead, clearer than ever before. He no longer needed to think or worry. He only needed to begin his mission with her, and the empire would undoubtedly be reforged within his body, for then, all the royal blood would belong to him alone.

He swung his aimless dragon head, hovering in the air, searching for his fleeing kin. His roar echoed through the endless darkness, filling every field and hill. Laelius, clinging to his neck, accompanied him in his search for Artinia.

That was his prey, his trophy.

.......

Artinia, sword in hand, charged through the boundless darkness, running in this world with no visible edge. She could see countless black veins on the ground. She knew they were the marks left by the invasion of the abyss. She could also hear the voice of temptation, tempting her to accept the darkness, so that she could fight and win.

Gain the upper hand, rather than simply being chased and driven away by the aimless evil dragon behind it as prey.

The black matter suspended throughout the hills cycled through collapse and reorganization, occasionally transforming into twisted, entangled humanoid forms, uttering the voices of those who had spoken in their lifetimes. If it weren't for her unique existence, these things would have chased her down and disintegrated her on the spot.

However, Trisius, who had accepted the evil, was still looking for her.

The guy wanted to eat her.

Altinya rushed to where she'd predicted the edge of darkness, then took a step forward. She'd thought she'd passed through the fog and reached the fortress's wall, but instead, she stumbled over a massive fault line. She thrust her sword to her side, only to find herself facing a faceted vertical rock face, smooth as a mirror. Based on this height difference alone, and her knowledge of the fortress's geography, she guessed she'd crossed from the dark southernmost rim to the northernmost rim in one single step.

This place is a closed cage.

As she struggled to her feet, she coughed up blood. Her hands, gripping the rock face, were bloody and mangled, and her sword was broken in half. Even so, she nearly fell to her death. She gasped, spewing blood and dust through her teeth. She forced her eyes open and looked around, spotting the fortifications at the northernmost edge of the Imperial camp.

What is this? A gladiatorial arena?

Chapter 331 How can I spank her?

The library owner was right. The abyss's invasion posed no threat to her. Only if Altinia actively accepted it could it erode and assimilate her. However, this statement lacked a crucial follow-up: what would happen if someone else accepted it? She subconsciously assumed that accepting the invasion would mean death, the loss of the soul and the shattering of the mind. But the loss of the soul and the shattering of the mind did not necessarily mean death.

They are a dream of the true dragon, as many complex fragments. If one of them accepts the darkness of the abyss, it will want to drag all the other fragments into the abyss...

Dragged into a state where all the fragments merged into one. When the darkness of the abyss completely eroded the Dragon's Dream and gave birth to a foul monster from it, what would it look like? What consequences would it bring? The depth of this matter was beyond the scope of Altinia's current understanding.

Did the library owner deceive her? Yes and no, because if only selectively telling some truths and leaving the rest to the listener to interpret, it might also be a form of deception. However, it did tell the truth.

......

Diana chanted a spell, creating a barrier that blocked out the darkness, barely revealing the edge of the abyss. Although they had been chasing Cesar at the edge for days, this was the first time he had witnessed the effects of the invasion. At the very edge lay a trembling soldier, his armor drenched in veins that stretched like vines, his skin crawling as if infested with parasites.

He frowned as he observed this thing, not sure if it was still human, and saw a bruise gradually appearing on the soldier's body. Although it was unbelievable, his subconscious reaction was that a bruise had appeared on the surface of reality. It could even be said that this scene was like blood oozing out from under the surface of the world.

Cesar sensed a strong, bitter odor and watched as blood seeped through the world's surface, coalescing into an amorphous mass of goo. Initially barely the size of a finger, its outline vague, it quickly wriggled and expanded, transforming into a solid mass of slime suspended in mid-air, ultimately taking on the contours of a human body. Its outer layer continued to wriggle, its form still resembling that of decaying slime, but it possessed a semblance of limbs and a head, collapsing into a mass of slime only to reform again, seemingly observing them through Diana's barrier.

By the time it had fully transformed into the outline of a human figure, the soldiers on the ground had already disintegrated. It unfolded its amorphous limbs and drifted forward in an endless process of collapse and wriggling. It seemed to be suspended on invisible threads, as if being pulled by a hand.

It's getting closer.

It approached the curved barrier Diana had erected, pressing its smoky face against it. It stretched its limbs along the barrier's curved surface, looping them around and around like ropes, stretching them thin and long. It tried to penetrate the barrier. It pursued the thoughts of the living. Even through the magical barrier, Cesar could sense its unconscious assimilation.

Diana continued chanting, and a beam shot from her palm, piercing its shell and shattering the rocks and fortifications behind it. But it seemed already dead, undeterred by the destruction of its shell. The beam seared its amorphous form, creating a lingering hole in its human-like chest. However, as black goo oozed out, it quickly obscured the gaping hole.

She frowned, tracing a series of symbols, which quickly formed an intricate series of geometric shapes and arcs on her fingertips. Her magic formed a cone of shimmering blue light, enveloping it and squeezing it inward, leaving no opening for struggle or escape. As the space it could fit into gradually collapsed, squeezing it from human size to the size of a hand, it suddenly disappeared. Then it emerged from another place, collapsing into a pile of slime, and then once again formed the outline of a human body.

There is nothing inside the cone.

"Perhaps we can only protect ourselves," Diana told him. "It would be difficult to develop spells to target these creatures, and obtaining a single individual for study would be almost impossible."

"You actually think this thing can be studied?" Cesar asked her.

"As long as we can make a special container and capture one, we can find a way to study it." She said nonchalantly.

"Give me a protection spell, Diana." Cesar shook his head and said, "Just like the hunt not long ago, I will go find her with your spell. You go and finish the task of defending the city first, and then come back here to meet me."

"You're always like this, Cesar," she accused softly.

“Do what we have to do.”

"I don't mean to blame you or stop you, it's just..."

"Once recent events are over, we can have peace for a long time, Diana. We can continue to travel the wasteland, leaving our footprints everywhere, kissing each place for a long time, and then engraving it all into your spell."

Diana stared into his steel-clad face. "I think one day, you'll disappear for a long time because of something like this, Cesar. Although this hunt has been long enough, the long ones to come may be even longer."

“But it always comes back,” he said.

"You only speak better than anyone else when you make a promise.

listen. "

"Diana—"

He was interrupted by a low growl, sharp and terrible, and they both looked at each other, puzzled by this new sound.

Cesar carried her to the top of the hill, where they stood at the highest point, at the edge of the abyss. She leaned over his shoulder to gaze into the distance, and soon saw the same sight he did—a strange, eyeless black dragon. A black mist enveloped the dragon's body, and it floated in the sky like a human mage, gazing out over the dark battlefield from afar. Its body was slender, its limbs slender yet powerful. Two massive black wings clung to its forearms, dangling upside down from its lowered arms, dangling from the sky. Its head was covered in twisted horns, and insect-like growths sprouted from the back of its head.

Around it, tens of thousands of humanoid slimes spun, and Cesar could almost conclude that they were all soldiers of the Empire. At this moment, they swirled around it like rotting autumn leaves, seemingly swirling around their former master.

Is it Clephas, or Trisius, or Artinia?

"It seems that this is what Zablon is hiding." Diana seemed to suddenly realize something and whispered to Cesar, "It's definitely impossible for Clefas. Although he is a Templar, he is not as powerful as that person. If he ends up here, he can only flee. His fate will be no different from those soldiers."

"So that black dragon must be of royal blood."

"A true dragon's dream..." Diana pondered. "Although it's broken into many fragments, it's still a true dragon's dream. After the abyss invaded, this creature mysteriously awakened from its eternal slumber, dreaming of humans, and became a mutilated dream dragon with an evil head. It seems to be searching for something. Since the amorphous matter transformed from its victims is circling around it, I believe it must be searching for someone who hasn't been harmed yet, and that person is extremely important."