Shadow of the Evil God

No matter what, there must be something to hope for.

"From the eastern coastal area to the central mountains, there's a vast desert buffer zone," Milawa suddenly said. "Although the Corpse Eaters want you to go to Noien to worship the Prophet, I believe the Frost Plains aren't suitable for your kind to survive. Staying in Noien will only lead to oppression by other Beastmen. In my opinion, this vast, arid desert is sparsely visited and lacks attention. Apart from the refugees traveling north and south, it holds nothing. This is the best place for you to originate."

"But it's only the origin." The Snake Walker examined Milava. "To be frank, this place is useless to anyone. It won't be useful to future nations, and it won't be useful to you either. Even we can only barely reproduce a sizable population before we have to find another place. Aside from refugees fleeing north and south during wartime, no one wants to approach a place like this."

Cesar found the scene bizarre. Two leaders, embroiled in racial hatred, were discussing the rise and revival of their respective factions. However, considering the desert lay between the Domini and Kasar Empires, and the potential for the Snake Walkers to establish themselves there, they could significantly disrupt the rule of both sides. He hoped their plans would be as detailed as possible.

Ajehe, bored by the political negotiations, yawned. Ferrieres, on the other hand, was intrigued, revealing the aura of a later Grandmaster. This guy wavered between the Grandmaster and the Ferrieres of the past, possessing the charm of both, a truly curious combination.

Then again, this snake-walker claimed to be conveying the will of the Firstborn on behalf of the First Ancestor. Could he be seeking a private meeting with them? Could the Corpse Eaters really want him to learn these untaught political negotiations? Since the Corpse Eaters have already defected to Noyen, could they be seeking the Firstborn in the Tomb of the Wise to sow the seeds of civil unrest among the Beastmen?

The desert was so far away from Neuen, and had almost no interest in it. Considering this, it couldn't possibly be for Neuen's benefit. Was there a longer-term decision? Cesar couldn't figure it out.

At this moment, a huge shadow suddenly crashed into the wall of the tomb - a giant lizard head that was much larger than the snake-walker, with much thicker upper limbs and sharper claws than the snake-walker, and a body that was much broader and stronger than the snake-walker. Not only did it walk on all fours, it also had a thick tail more than two or three meters long with a row of curved barbs.

Over a dozen bright yellow eyes dotted across the lizard's head, staring intently at the snake-walker, its massive jaws hissing. A half-human figure sat sideways on the lizard's back, also clad in rusted Flan knight armor and holding a Flan rapier. A pureblood riding an ignorant hybrid...

"You made a decision you shouldn't have made, elder sister."

So that's how it is. While some individuals are still thinking about dedicating themselves to the true God's prophet, others are already saying one thing and doing another, ostensibly wanting to be God's tools while secretly considering their own and their own interests. Disputes are everywhere, Cesar thought, and so are opportunities to exploit.

The two beastmen, born from the same parents, looked at each other in silence.

Chapter 458: The obedient little bird

The monitor lizard blocked the tomb's exit, seemingly leaving them no chance of escape. Cesar surveyed the scene, feeling bewildered. Why would it dare to do this? He watched as the snake walker descended from the monitor lizard, slowly but surely approaching, as if it had them all surrounded.

The fact that Ferriers had created the Casar Empire was enough to make it retreat. Why...

The Snake Walker raised its armored arm, as if about to perform some ritual. Cesar stared at the old, rusted armor, and in a trance, he saw the Frankish knights exploring the Tomb of the Wise in his memories, their new, magnificent black armor. The two images of armor overlapped, and he suddenly understood. It could move freely in the memories, it could freely take those new armors, yet it wore the rusted armor of reality.

This comparison proves many, many things.

Perhaps a fleeting dream must eventually come to an end, perhaps he must return to reality. No matter how reluctant he was to leave, no matter how attached he was, he shouldn't continue to dwell on it. He just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

Cesar held Ferrier's hand tightly. "I once thought that Ferrier would stay in her most ignorant age forever," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Now I will take everything you have given me and let her grow up with the years we will experience. Of course," he added, "if she can keep her youth..."

Ferris raised her hand and poked him hard in the face. "You're killing the sentimentality, idiot."

An invisible surge emanated from the Snake Walker's palm, wiping out the illusions in his remnant. Firils and little Ajeh vanished in the blink of an eye, as if they had never existed in the first place. Milava's looming figure took a large step back, biting her lip so hard that blood flowed from her jaw and seeped into her clothes.

It seems that this guy Milava is not only a part of the old Milava's soul, but also has many components from the residual memories, each occupying half. It is a strange existence created by Alanti using a variety of different materials.

The Snakewalker brandished its rapier and stared at him through the visor of its helmet. "The world's memory has deceived you and me for too long, Prophet," it said. "Why should you also indulge in its illusions?"

Cesar grasped the Alante. Though he didn't know what the sword had been called before, he decided to call it Alante. He'd often heard Diana nag about this, but only now did he fully grasp the profound meaning of her words.

What could he say? He didn't have time to grieve, and there was no point in complaining. At the very least, he wanted to bring the knowledge and testimony left by Ferriers to Firth, allowing her to redeem herself, bit by bit. He also wanted Ajeh to remember what it felt like to face the truth when she was still young, before she fell into madness. If there was no hope, he would make up his own. Even if these fragments of memories would fade away meaninglessly, he could still bring them to those who were still alive.

The first snake walker to arrive admired the scenes happening with a hint of curiosity. Cesar thought its attitude was still unclear, so he didn't say much, just remained silent and confronted the later snake walker. The two of them circled in the tomb blocked by the giant lizard.

"Illusions have their own meanings." Cesar said in a deep voice.

"These things have weakened you," the Snake Walker hissed. "You have forsaken your true purpose."

"Why do I have to have an innate mission that dictates what I should do? Why can't we create our own mission?"

The Snake Walker showed no sign of wavering, instead raising his sword against him. Its attitude wasn't surprising; after all, it wasn't practical to convince someone who followed a different set of beliefs with just a few words. The Snake Walker who had arrived earlier had listened to him because it had a different plan, wanting to compare the two prophets. But it was different—it fully believed in what the Corpse Eater wanted it to believe.

The two swords clashed, the opponent's rapier spitting like a venomous snake, silently and with a flash of light, it sliced ​​through his shoulder bone, splattering blood. If Cesar hadn't practiced with the dog so much that he had an instinctive reaction, he would have been pierced straight through the chest. Cesar dodged, but the dog sheathed the sword to his chest.

"Why do you challenge me in human form?" the Snake Walker asked again. "Our prophet is the source of life, representing the will of the true God, guiding our path. You should possess a more perfect and astonishing appearance! Are you running away? Why do you wield a sword like us? Why do you still cling to mundane arts?"

Of course, Cesar wouldn't listen. Analik's life force within the Tomb of the Wise was terrifyingly abundant. If he allowed himself to break free, he would quickly lose control, just like the distorted, proliferating flesh and blood. By then, regaining his human form and sanity would be a struggle, far more difficult than when he faced Nauzog.

Without Phils or Diana by his side, he had to be careful about many things.

Besides, Cesar did not want to use that crazy gesture as a handy tool, because it was not a tool - how could a tool assimilate and erode its owner?

"Why do you want to fight with me?" Cesar asked, "A first-generation beastman like you would need to fight like a human?"

"

"Nauzog, the true God's warrior, once used a human body to duel with humans." The Snake Walker gracefully swung his sword in a flower pattern. "In my opinion, only by defeating you in your strongest areas can I completely crush you, both physically and mentally, and earn my proper respect and admiration. As for you, Prophet, I can see you're not particularly interested in swordsmanship. Why don't you let the person who truly deserves to face me step out from behind you?"

Does the Snake Walker really think of himself as an old prophet who can guide future generations with just words?

"You really..."

The hissing voice of the Snake Walker gradually rose in volume: "Young Emperor, - how long will you continue to curl up behind your father like a fledgling?"

Cesar stood still, but Milava had already taken a step forward. Blood still seeped from his lips, leaving two thin scarlet lines that flowed down his jaw and down his neck, staining his clothes red. He swayed, his steps unsteady. He reached for support and ended up grabbing Cesar's wrist.

"It says that you are the source of life." The young Emperor Fran whispered, "Please... make up for my life, teacher, I will never forget this..." Milava threw herself into his arms like a lost soul, trying to support herself with her arms, but she had no strength.

Cesar was speechless for a moment and could only hand over his shoulder that was cut by the rapier.

Then, he felt a pair of soft lips kissing his shoulder. The young emperor seemed to want to bite greedily, but he exhaled with difficulty and, with much forced restraint, switched to a slow lick. He patted the fellow's back, and for a moment, he felt like he was holding a well-behaved little bird in his arms. Although his breath was hot and his chest was heaving, he was soothing his wounds with a gentle and soft kiss.

A soft tongue tip brushed across the skin, delicately licking the blood beads that flowed out.

Milava's breathing gradually calmed, and her once pale, frail face now radiated a gentle glow, smooth as white jade. Her hands, however, remained firmly clasped around his shoulders. Despite this, his figure softened under the strain of his emotions. A subtle blush crept across his face, and his lips and eyes moistened. This scene was truly delicate. Fortunately, the Snake Walker was unaware of the customs of this era and simply assumed he was encouraging her.

Cesar wanted to ask how he was doing, if the part of his soul that held the remnant of his memory was stable, but he slowly straightened his back, his cheek lifted, his hair falling, and his blood-stained lips brushing against his ear. "Do you feel any pain, my teacher?" he whispered. "I know this is the behavior of a beast, so I will do my best to do this gently."

The content and tone of this promise were consistent with the young knight's promise to the girl, but the situation on both sides was not right.

"No," Cesar said.

"Very good," Milava said, her voice as calm as possible. "Very good. I hope we will both remember this moment, and I hope you will remember the weight of my words."

"Your Adam's apple is totally..."

"Never mind that," the young emperor said, his fingers slightly loosening as he gripped his shoulders even tighter. "If possible, I hope that no matter what I become in the future, you can still address me as a man. This will determine whether I can still raise my sword."

Self-deception? Or a search for a support point? Cesar couldn't tell, and could only nod slightly. He felt Milava bend even lower, her hands resting on his chest, her narrow shoulders trembling slightly, as if she were still trying to establish a support point for his will. This guy...

"My patience is running out," the Snake Walker suddenly said. "If I didn't think you were worthy enough to be the Frankish Emperor of past history, I wouldn't wait any longer."

It took a step forward, then grunted—the longsword ripped through its rusted armor, slicing through its feathers and splashing a large pool of blood on its shoulder. Feathers? Was one of the ancestors a bird? Milava clearly didn't care. He even took a small hop on the ground with a nonchalant smile. Clearly, by the time he whispered these words in a weak voice, he had fully recovered and was simply biding his time.

Cesar felt that this guy deserved a beating. Although he often acted like this, he felt embarrassed when he thought about being taken in as well.

For a moment, Snake Walker and Milava exchanged a silent gaze. The next instant, the clash unfolded, leaping past tentative steps into a frenzy of slashing and thrusting. Milava, though slender, delivered each strike with immense force. Meanwhile, Snake Walker, clad in rusted armor, moved with the grace of a bird, his movements swift and agile, his thrusts comprising the vast majority of his attack.

Cesar couldn't tell who would win, but he saw another snake-walker watching the sword fight with interest, so he moved closer.

"The two ancestors you mentioned, could they be the snake and the bird?" he asked.

"It's normal for snakes to eat birds, isn't it?" The snake walker said nonchalantly, "One of them has to sacrifice itself, so of course the mother eats the father, the snake eats the bird."

"I don't think your opposite species thinks so," Cesar said, "especially that feathered one over there. I guess it wants the birds to eat the snakes."

"I will not take part in this struggle, Prophet," it smiled, "or rather, I will not

Getting involved in unnecessary fights at unnecessary times."

"I think Milava will win." Cesar also smiled. "Not only that, I also think that if he wins, I can borrow the giant lizard to carry us out and return it to you when the matter is over."

"Is it done?"

"The matter of the wise man's tomb is over."

"Is this a threat? The outcome over there hasn't been decided yet."

"No, this is a negotiation that suits both of our needs," Cesar said. "On the way forward, I can no longer rely on my remnants of memory. Who knows, one of your compatriots might come and dispel everything. I ask you to lend me a favor, and I will definitely repay you when this is done."

There is also a meaning to owing a favor, which is that it will always remember that Cesar still owes it something and has not repaid it. This incident will serve as an opportunity for further dialogue in the future.

Chapter 459: Tight Hug

While they were talking, Cesar was also observing the fencing competition. He could sense that the feathered snake walker was quite proud, like a master lowering himself to test the skills of a slave, hoping to use the slave's most proud skills to crush the slave's pride.

At present, it seems that the snake walkers who arrived first care more about reality than promises, and discussed with them in a serious manner the development of the tribe and the development of the land. However, the snake walkers who came later care more about promises than reality, and all they have in their minds are either warriors of the true God or some so-called honor.

In addition, he also realized that neither Milava nor Snake Walker were fanatical about swordsmanship. As the confrontation became increasingly intense, the two of them gradually lost interest in the sword fight itself.

Cesar gradually realized that the snake-walker had abandoned the defensive maneuvers of human swordplay, relying instead on the agility and speed of its beastly kin. Its thrusts became increasingly frequent, its wingspan growing astonishingly long, making it difficult for the young Milava to approach. It claimed to be using slave skills, but ultimately, it drew upon its beastman bloodline, using its breathtaking attack frequency to suppress Milava's footsteps and counterattacks.

It seemed that it cared more about crushing the opponent's body and spirit than the sword fight itself. Now it had not completely torn off its disguise, but it was just because it had just made a statement and could not bring itself to do it.

As for Milava, this guy was not someone who focused on sword fighting. Almost at the same time when the Snake Walker took advantage of his bloodline advantage, he no longer cared about the swordsmanship itself, nor did he judge the trajectory of the sword and the technique of exerting force.

He was relying on instinct to dodge and block.

There were too many thoughtless movements in there, which neither helped to turn the tide of the battle nor relieved the burden on the muscles. Even Cesar could see that.

In a duel based on instinct, the Snake Walker relied on the blood of the beast, while Milava relied on the battlefield experience accumulated over the years. However, compared to the overwhelming attack, simply defending was clearly too passive. He could hold off for a while, protecting himself impenetrably, but he couldn't hold off forever. Moreover, he was also slightly weakened by the impact of the disappearance of his residual memory, so a test of endurance between the two was not a wise decision.

Now, the duel had become a complete contest of endurance. While Cesar was thinking, the snake walker's rapier suddenly drew a broken trajectory, pretending to swipe diagonally, and then his arm, carrying the rapier, thrust forward, slashing across Milava's cheek, almost piercing through.

Milava forced his sword up, blocking first the thrust, then the slash. Because the blade was so close to his cheek, he pressed his hand against the blade, even the breath from his lips fell on it. As the two swords clashed, the snake-walker held the absolute upper hand, pressing him forward step by step. Milava was forced to retreat in a position unsuitable for exerting force.

At the same time, both swords scraped against each other. One, held in Milava's hand, looked like a frosted glass work, delicate and beautiful yet incredibly fragile, as if ready to break at any moment. The other, a heavy rapier in keeping with Imperial tradition, was undeniably heavy and substantial, though wielded with dexterity by the Snake Walker. It bore no nicks, only a few minute scratches, stained with a faint hint of frost.

This is really...

It was obvious that Zablong's sword could not break. Cesar thought that since it did not break on the frost breath of Alanti that would make the metal brittle, it would not break on the heavy rapier made by the Frank Empire.

The two swords clashed and separated. Milava launched a fierce counterattack, but the Snake Walker retreated swiftly, retreating to a safe distance in the blink of an eye. Leveraging its length and agility, it completely abandoned its parry. Without waiting for Milava to recover, it leaped forward, spinning in a massive circle. The Snake Walker, sensing Milava's weakness, shifted its thrusts to slashes, one circle after another, the blades clashing and separating like the tusks of wild beasts.

The sound of swords striking grew harsher, Milava's footsteps became increasingly unsteady, his power becoming increasingly chaotic. After a fierce slash from Gekai, he quickly retreated, seemingly trying to buy time, a chance to breathe, but the Snake Walker immediately thrust forward and struck back.

This was a swift and deadly thrust, carried by the sword's center of gravity, extending beyond arm's reach. The goal was to penetrate the opponent's vitals with the tip of the blade. Milava feigned a counterattack, but still didn't. Rather than being unable to strike back, it seemed she had no intention of doing so. The snake walker remained methodical, but the clash of blades grew harsher, and the marks on the blades intensified. Cracks appeared on both ends of the heavy rapier, stained with a hint of white frost.

Cesar thought again. Milava, like everyone else, was unfamiliar with these unprecedented snake-walkers, but he was certainly familiar with the weapons forged by the Frank Empire. Perhaps he had even personally supervised and observed the casting process, examining their durability and potential for damage.

With more ferocious blows and blocks, Milava's face showed signs of fatigue, but his gaze was frantic, like a dying beast making a final stand. The snake-walker received the signal he had released and reacted immediately. With a skillful counterattack, it slashed his shoulder and pierced his side. It mocked his last-ditch effort as it penetrated his weakening defense, inflicting more and more tiny wounds.

Finally, Milawa completely gave up the defense he had been holding on to. His eyes were bloodshot, and the long sword in his hand drew a deadly arc and swept towards the snake walker.

Seeing this, the Snake Walker slowed down his pace and stopped retreating. He simply raised his heavy rapier lightly, intending to use the opponent's most skilled blocking move to cut off his last hope.

Of course, judging by the conditions of both sides, or even the swordplay itself, the duel was already decided: Snake Walker's victory was flawless, and Milava's defeat was pitiful. This was assuming both sides were wielding weapons that would not wear out or break. Cesar was skeptical about whether Zavulon's sword would break, but Milava must have been well-versed in the quality and usage records of various Imperial weapons, including records of damage and breakage, as well as suggestions for improvement. He had likely read and memorized them all.

So it broke.

This blow was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Even the sound of the blades striking each other was eerily quiet—a mere touch of force at the frosted cracks before the sword snapped and flung along the cracks on either side. Milava's strike was already weak, easily blocked, and would have posed no threat had she been able to block it. However, the sword was already broken.

"An intellectual humiliation carried out through a duel of swords," the snake walker beside Cesar commented. "It's wonderful, but I must remind you, Prophet, that piercing our chests with swords means little."

"You make me a little angry, Emperor Fran." The Snake Walker Shen said, holding the broken sword, "I——"

Its body suddenly convulsed, its throat gurgling but no sound emanating. All the physical substance beneath its armor was transforming into an intangible form, yet it could not break free and instead sank deeper and deeper into the blade. Milava gripped her sword tighter, watching as the intangible form beneath the Serpent Walker's armor rapidly collapsed towards the blade, disappearing bit by bit.

Then, right in front of the giant lizard that had suddenly risen, Milava drew his sword like a frost-stained glass work and dropped the empty pile of rusted armor to the ground. The snake walker was gone, and Cesar thought he heard Alanti's breathing, the sound of the sword.

"What is this?" The snake walker beside Cesar gasped.

"The blade of a true dragon," he said.

"Where did the real dragon come from?"

"An immature dragon does not fall into eternal sleep. It existed at the beginning of time. As long as it does not continue to grow, it will exist until the end of time."

"How could you have access to something like this?"

"I meet it every year." Cesar nonchalantly drew a large pie. "It's an endless library, extending endlessly in every direction, destined to house endless knowledge. As far as I know, the library contains all the knowledge it has been recording since the beginning of time. Even a great wizard can only read a small part of the library in his entire life. Then he would put everything he knew in a small library to supplement the library's collection. You can't imagine the insights it has brought me."

"So this sword..."

"A parting gift," Cesar said in a mysterious tone. Although he did not ask for Zablong's consent when he took the sword, Zablong did not refuse it and did not ask for it back afterwards, so this was not robbery.

Witnessing his bloodline's immediate death didn't faze the Snake Walker, nor did it cause him any distress or grief. Whether this was due to the Snake Walker's cold-blooded nature or the uniqueness of its own individual, Cesar wasn't sure. But when he reached out to the monitor lizard and commanded it to kneel before them, he knew the encounter was successfully concluded. The loss of his residual memories was irreversible, but at least he could take back the blue rune thread inscribed on his body.

"I'll leave the giant lizard to you as a reward for your victory," said the Snake Walker. "I'm going back, Prophet. This is the last leg of the journey. I hope we can meet again in the northern desert."

“Is this the last section of the road?”

"When the Tomb of the Wise in my lingering memories overlaps with the Tomb of the Wise in reality, we'll be able to reach our destination in one step, stepping on the corpses of the Frank Empire." The Snake Walker flicked its tongue. "They were only one step away back then. If we can take this step by stepping on their corpses, we can save ourselves many years and avoid many sacrifices."

"What will happen if we go further back to the residual memory?"

"Unless you want to leave on your own," said the Snake Walker. "Once you miss this opportunity... I'd like to ask, do you want to spend hundreds or thousands of years in the tomb? You'd better think it over carefully."

......

The last stretch...

Thinking of this, Cesar felt a bit lost. He still had so much ignorance and confusion about the past. Even after such a long journey, all he saw were fragments, unable to restore the original picture of history. Solaire's experience was still nowhere to be found, and the Pantheon was still hidden in the fog. Even if the origin was found, the Pantheon of the past would be completely different from the Pantheon of later generations.

"You can ask me," Milawa said. "Perhaps you can only ask me, what do you think, teacher? If you ask me seriously, I will naturally tell you everything I know."

Cesar patted the monitor lizard's back, stepped onto it, and held out his hand to him. "Can you still get on, Your Majesty?"

Milawa was very pleased with the title, but Cesar

You could see that there was still a hint of childishness in his emotions. After all, he was the young Milava. The Fran Empire was not forged in his hands, and he had never become a true emperor. Because of this, everything about the old Milava was a dreamlike memory to him, something that had happened but had not yet happened, and therefore would never happen again.