Shadow of the Evil God

Cesar felt he should say something, give her a proper explanation; it would be easy enough. But then, he saw a blood-red flame emerge from the man's heart and rise into the air. The fire held a strong allure, making his mouth dry and tempting to lunge forward and devour it. He didn't even realize how he'd gotten there. He simply stood by the bed, slowly reaching out his hand until the shadow of his palm obscured the flame's brilliance and fell on the patient's withered face.

This curse truly cannot be transferred, as its function is to absorb a person's life, transforming it into a fire, waiting for the person who planted the seed to reclaim it, and then devour it in one gulp, swallowing up that person's entire life.

It really fits the meaning of flesh and blood desire.

It seemed as if there were always moments like this demanding acceptance, telling him the deeper meaning of his path. Ever since he'd stepped down from the altar beneath the castle, he'd known such moments would come again and again. Back then, despite delaying for so long, he'd submitted to Firth's ritual, transforming his dreams into a journey into the Crimson Realm. What would this time be like? Would it teach him that he must also accept the devouring of life, soul, and flesh?

So Cesar seized the fire, pried open the man's teeth, and thrust it into his mouth.

It's hard to describe what happened so suddenly. It was as if some unimaginable force suddenly appeared, abruptly distorting the order of reality between the smallest units of time. The patient didn't just slowly recover. Instead, he instantly transformed from gaunt and emaciated to as strong as an ox, his muscles plump and powerful, his complexion flushed, as if he were someone who had never been injured and was simply sleeping.

Brother Kallen glanced at the cloth-wrapped paw in her hand, then back at him. "Because your nature has nothing to do with profit or authority, you sometimes do unexpected things."

"Is that a good thing to say?"

"I tried my best to be nice," she said, trying to return the wolf's claw. "It just occurred to me that some of the things we admire in others might come from things we can neither see nor imagine. Sometimes these things grow sharp thorns that prick people, and sometimes they ooze juices that give hope to those dying of thirst."

"You can take it until the war is over, maybe it can save a lot of people," said Cesar.

"Is it something used to save others?"

"I guess not, but it's not like its original owner dictated how you want to use it."

"Then you should keep it," Kallen said, and unexpectedly, she smiled. She took his hand, lifted it, and placed the wolf claw in his palm. "As I was thinking, an object that saved someone's life might have been created for something terrible that people can't imagine. People always think of using a sword to kill people, but you use it for something different. So it's better for you to keep it than for someone else."

Chapter 73 There is always a way to survive

......

"What's going on?" Ajiehe looked at him in the darkness of the tent. "You look as if you were dead."

"I just want to find a quiet place for a while." Musali said in the shadow of another tent. This seemed to mean that where Ajiehe was was quiet enough, but in fact there was another meaning, implying that no one would come where she was, and usually Musali would not come either.

"How dare you mock me?" she said, always perceptive. "The attack won't last long. Many tribes can't afford the losses. After a few exploratory feints, the full-scale assault will begin. The decision now is to mobilize all internal forces to cooperate with Sfora to complete the siege in one fell swoop. No tribe wants even a moment's delay."

"When did you become so concerned about the Sasule tribe?"

"I don't understand you," said Ajeh.

"Of course you understand that you are a ghost, wandering outside, and you have no emotional connection with the tribe at all," said Musali.

Of course, Musali had always believed that Ajeh had come for the beast, Sfrah. In the past, she had never interacted with the tribesmen, and during the march, she simply huddled under Sfrah's protection, reading a book she had brought from somewhere. If someone else exhibited similar behavior, Musali would try to intervene and reassure the straying tribesman, but Ajeh was not like them.

However, over the past few days, he had noticed that some sword dancers treated her with respect, even calling her Princess. Has the term "Princess" ever appeared among the Sasule people in history? Musali knew it had never happened. Therefore, the sword dancers were referring to the Kuna Princess, after all, her father was Iskrig, the last descendant of the royal family.

Although in her own opinion, Iskrig was just an old man who couldn't remember anything and once wanted to kill her.

Is there any dignity in the title of royal family? Musali didn't feel much. He had met several princes and princesses of the Kasar Empire, and also met the king of Dominion.

Most of them are not unusual, and the king of Dominion is an old fool who obeys the queen's orders.

During his travels, if he had to say who impressed him the most, it would have to be the Grand Master of the Orvera School - the court mage school that was a school of magic but defected to the Casar Empire and created anti-spell runes.

How long had their Grandmaster lived? A hundred years? Two hundred? Or was she even still alive? She looked like a perfectly preserved corpse.

If Ajeh was a cursed creature born from within, then the Grand Master of the Orvera School was a demon transformed by self-perfection. Whether it was the ash-like whites of his eyes or the colorless mouth, they were all merely appearances. The difference between that no longer-human being and humans was like that between paint and water. Simply by standing there, it permeated its surroundings, causing the formless and intangible to wither and blacken, like a pile of burning charcoal next to a piece of straw paper.

Musali thought that if a mage could not die of old age like a human, he would turn into something like a demon.

But then again, why would that demon serve the empire, and what is the bond between her and the Casar Empire?

“It’s hard for me to tell you what binds me to my tribe,” Ajeh said.

"The only thing you said to other tribe members was to stay away from me..." Musali looked at the hood covering her face. "The tribe is everyone in it, Ajiehe. I've invited people to trade animal bones and tendons with you before, but why did you always run away? Why did you always disappear?"

"Where I go is none of your business, or theirs," Ajeh said casually, fiddling with a short knife in a hand clad in a thick felt glove. "You need others to maintain your connection with the tribe, but I need nothing."

Musali frowned. What kind of nonsense is this?

"That's why I don't talk to you often, Ajeh. You're so—"

"Don't worry about what happened between us," Ajiehe said. "Did you know that the leaders of the tribes held a meeting to discuss the earl's illegitimate son?"

"Discuss him?"

"We're discussing whether that person is a useless bastard who's been paralyzed in the castle for over a decade, forced into the army by the old earl to gain merit, or whether he's like you, who's been traveling for many years and is a key figure who will influence the entire battlefield situation."

Musali shook his head. "No spies or agents have discovered his past. However, at most, he can only influence minor situations, not the overall situation."

"Yes," Ajeh said. "No matter what, you asked me to summon Sfera, and there's also a deal with the Domini royal family behind the scenes. But I'm leading a confused, sleepwalking creature from there to here. You'd better cooperate with it and ensure its emotional stability, rather than relying on it to cooperate with you and ensure your successful capture of the city."

"We've been so busy and made so many sacrifices, aren't we just trying to cooperate with it?"

"I find that you often overthink things and then ignore factors that seem impossible."

Musali fought back the urge to curse. "I see your questions are full of paranoia. You assume too much, Ajeh. If I have to consider every seemingly impossible factor, I might as well do nothing. Most of the time, we're working on something with an uncertain outcome. As for me, I just make sure it's done as smoothly as possible."

"Perhaps," Ajiehe seemed to sigh, "Perhaps not... You've clearly already been to the Kasar Empire to meet their court mage and the Grand Master. Can't you still consider her and what she represents?"

He had seen the Grandmaster before, but seeing him didn't mean he understood what he was. He only knew that he represented the darkest side of the world, the cruel truth of what it meant to be a mage.

If people get too deeply involved in something, they tend to go crazy.

"I've already communicated with the spy from the north," Musali said. "He'll coordinate with the sword dancers lurking within the city to launch a surprise attack, diverting the defenders' attention to the gates and towers in vulnerable locations within the city walls. The city's forces will then converge on those locations."

"Sfra's target is the area with the thickest walls and the most stringent defenses?"

"What difference does it make to it which section of the wall it is? I don't care what you think it is. Now it is a tool for breaking the city. The shamans have been preparing sacrifices for it for so long, waiting for this moment."

"Well, there is no difference."

"So, no matter what kind of person that illegitimate child is, it makes no difference to me," Musari asserted.

......

"Why do I have to suffer the cold every day in the watchtower on the outer wall?" Cesar muttered to himself as he leaned against the city defense gun. Because the firing holes were uncovered, the cold wind kept pouring in from outside the city, blowing on his cheeks and freezing his breath into white mist.

He had been patrolling for the entire day, and hadn't seen any formal siege. Apart from watching the grassland people digging trenches like moles, he also watched the artillery plow through the earth and stone fortress from time to time, creating a mess. Sometimes he could see a few dead people, and sometimes...

No. After all these years, the number of people killed on the battlefield is not as many as the number of miners killed in a mining accident, but a lot of artillery shells have been wasted.

Phils was beside him, curled up against him. The weather was getting colder, but she insisted on following him, shivering slightly from the cold.

"Since the beginning of the month," she exhaled, "and I heard from people from the north that we can't just watch others dig trenches."

"Of course not, but we have no other options," Cesar said. "Ever since most of the cavalry died last time, there's been no other options. Ascled hasn't returned, so I can only take charge of the defenses within the city... I suspect he's been killed by the steppe people."

"You said Askrid... I don't think anything could happen to him, usually."

"The current situation is unusual," Cesar sighed. "The Beastmen of the Crimson Realm, the invisible assassins of the Kasar Empire, and the sword dancers who disguised themselves as guards and followed the Count's nephew. All I can consider are mundane factors. Beyond that, everything I see is just an incredible and absurd story."

"Where are those things at the bottom of the old man's castle?"

"Even though it's unpleasant to say, I have to say this. If the city falls, at least we can escape and live a different life in another city. If those things come out, we'll be finished with them. Even if we can escape, we'll be exiled to the wilderness and never be able to mingle in the human world again."

"So what preparations have you made?"

"You can pretend you're unprepared." Cesar accepted a bowl of wine from the dog, who was completely oblivious to the heat. The wine was strong, but it warmed him up. "I'm completely ignorant of military command in this era. I was thrust into power based on my own impressions. Ceshia handles almost everything—from defending the streets to manning the watchtowers, preparing for surprise attacks from within to the street fighting after the city falls. But if the city does fall, the street fighting will only buy time for the fleeing residents."

"If the city falls..." Firth took a sip of her wine and whispered, "We can jump into the river, or leave the city through the secret passage under the mine." She raised her face, her eyes still bright. "As long as I'm with you, there will always be a way to survive."

"You talk like you're going to die without me."

Firth's cheeks flushed slightly from the alcohol. "I won't die, but I might continue down the path I've imagined, becoming a terrifying person you can't even imagine. Before I heard your story, I didn't care about a lot of terrible things, and I probably still don't care now. It's only because I think you do that I care a little, but it's only because of you..."

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t understand what you were saying,” Cesar said.

Chapter 74: The Out-of-Control Rudder

"We have a visitor, not someone who's been here recently. I can smell blood," Gouzi suddenly said, glancing at Cesar. Within a heartbeat, he realized that the grassland people's previous feints and probing attempts were all attempts to await information and cooperation from the city's spies.

Ever since the failed assassination attempt on him in the military camp, the spies lurking in Noien hadn't made any further moves, and no further activity had been detected. Cesar had always suspected they were waiting for a more opportune moment, and it looked like today was it. The Domini royal family and the Sassulai had conspired to orchestrate a campaign they believed would lead to Noien's defeat, at the cost of the entire city.

Many times, people who are already living a miserable life die like dirt, simply because of similar struggles for power and profit.

What role did he play in this? Actually, none. He was simply forced into this position, guarding the outer city for Count Thayne, who was beset by internal and external troubles. He had no power to make decisions about the battles outside the city walls, nor did he have the authority to defend Upper Neuen, further inland. He could only stay here, do what he could, and then resign himself to his fate.

Cesar ordered the artillerymen on duty to come in and stand by to prepare for the defense of the city, and he led his men out to the city wall overlooking the city. As soon as they climbed the stairs and reached the top, a noisy sound hit them, as if the silent watchtower during the shift was just an illusion.

Looking into the city, one could see Goukeng, a slum whose ground had sunk due to years of mining. Its shanty houses were densely packed like a beehive or anthill. Outside the city lay a frozen landscape, the traces of yesterday's artillery fire now completely covered by snow.

It was clearly dusk, but the world was shrouded in a blanket of white by the blizzard, making it impossible to tell how far the steppe people had dug their trenches, or how deep they had gone. Large numbers of soldiers, one to two thousand in grimy conscript armor, were gathered near the various watchtowers and city gates, keeping watch and patrolling near the city gates.

Many of these men were gang members. When Cesar first recruited them, most of them were imprisoned in Noyen's prison awaiting trial, and their fate was often either death or mutilation. However, after this battle, many of their fates would not be much different.

Captain Ceshia was observing the situation. "Is there a problem?" she asked sideways.

"It smells of blood," he replied.

"Are you sensitive to this?"

Cesar shrugged. "You know, I'm a bit special when it comes to sensing the smell of blood. But sometimes, it can be helpful. I think the insider's actions have already begun, so we need to be prepared to fight tonight."

"Okay." The mercenary captain nodded.

"If we really can't resist and even the road to the inner city is blocked, just take your people to the mine. There is an underground river where I fell before, and we can escape from the city." Cesar said again.

Saixia sighed, "From the perspective of city defense,

It's not a good idea, Commander, to plan your escape before even starting the battle. But from my perspective, mercenaries should always have a way out. Why didn't you flee the city through the hidden river?

"There's someone I can't let go of," Cesar said. He took the pendant from Fils and handed it to her. "This thing protects against spellcasters, but it's actually a hindrance to us. Maybe it would be better if you hold it."

He had to admit that ever since he underwent the Crimson Realm ritual, it had begun to make him feel uncomfortable. Since both he and Gouzi were feeling uncomfortable, and Firth was still a mage, there was no need to keep the Overa School's Ritual Stone; it would be better to give it to the right person.

"Are these the stones from the Overa School? How did you get them?" the mercenary captain was surprised.

"Heirloom." Fields declared.

"Then your ancestors might have had a close relationship with the Kasar Empire," Ceshia said with certainty. "The stones made by the court wizards are only owned by the nobles of the empire and are rarely circulated outside."

"It doesn't matter at all," muttered Phils.

After listening to Cecilia's insights, Cesar found that Phils's life experience was becoming more and more confusing. Perhaps only Corinne knew the truth, but he couldn't really ask her.

"In short, make all preparations," he said. "This battle to defend the city may not be a long-term stalemate."

.......

Ajeh stepped over the corpses of patrolling sentries, stroking the pitch-black dagger in her hand. A strange feeling of longing washed over her. Indeed, she thought, hunger and thirst can consume a host, leaving them in a trance, their fingertips aching, their consciousness sinking into an abyss. Faced with the erosion of the Crimson Realm, the discomfort of cannibalism was like a window paper, easily pierced.

She bent down, holding the dagger in front of her, and silently climbed the old wall of the dark alley, climbing to the watchtower on the outer wall under the cover of the night blizzard. She was Sfrah's guide, and it was necessary to carve a mark at its target and lead it there.

Once she found the section of wall and completed the task, and the shamans saw Sfrah awaken, the full assault would begin. She would then have to leave the spot where she had carved the mark, lest she be swept away by its devastating attack. At that point, her role in the siege would be complete. Once the most heavily defended section collapsed, Noien would inevitably fall.

The thick felt coat and bandaged hands didn't hinder her movements. She gripped the damp stones high above, gouged claw marks, and in two or three leaps, she reached the higher ground. The blizzard howled, obscuring her view above and the layers of buildings below. It was a strange feeling, like scaling a giant tower towering into the abyss.

A hand was placed on her shoulder. Ajiehe did not turn around because she knew it was her twin sister. In the wind and snow, the tall wolf face was looking towards the place where there were living creatures in the watchtower.

Although they were twins, two souls in one body, she disliked her and did not trust her. Not only were their personalities extremely different, but their racial origins were also distinct: one was a completely black-haired Sasule, the other a completely silver-haired Kuna. Once they were together, they would undergo catastrophic alienation, becoming this horrible appearance.

"I knew you were better at killing than Musali." The wolf head nodded, his voice high and proud. "What do you think?"

"I don't feel anything, I'm just pulling out the nails from the road."

The other woman grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Don't you notice that your eyes are shining?" she asked.

"Any living person's eyes would sparkle." Ajeh continued climbing. She couldn't escape her lookalike. Ever since she could understand, this guy had observed with her eyes and spoken with her mouth. Ever since Musali listened to her instigation, things had escalated.

But what could she do? Her brother had believed her words, successfully murdered his father and became chieftain, then traveled abroad and brought opportunities to the Sasule people. Musali only cared about the outcome now. Everything else, whether it was the battles or his wife and children in the tent, was just a tool to be used. After all, he only loved Iskrig, her father with Alzheimer's disease. But no matter what, since she still lived among this tribe, she had to do something.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wolf's head move. "There's a trap on this floor. They've definitely prepared for it," said the other Ajeh.

Ajeh skirted the traps they'd spotted, scrambling along the jagged watchtower to the other side. Slowing her breath, she slid along the stone wall into a dark corridor, silently slitting the guard's throat. She glanced back at the throng of soldiers on the street, then slipped into the darkness, down corridors and steps.

It didn't take long to reach the city defense artillery room. Aside from soldiers lying in pools of blood on the floor, she left no trace in the corridor. Her informant had already given them the architectural structure of the outer city and various sections of the outer wall, and she knew every detail by heart. Ajeh paused in front of the door, breathing lightly. She could hear the artillerymen preparing for battle as instructed—it seemed someone had noticed something was amiss and passed the order down.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

"I'm looking forward to it," her twin sister said suddenly.

"It's better if your words don't have any other meaning." Ajiehe glanced back.

"It's unfortunate that my words always have other meanings."

This guy must have done something. Ajiehe was sure of it. She had never been willing to be controlled by herself.

Not far below the watchtower, a patrolling soldier exclaimed in surprise. This wasn't surprising; after all, she hadn't considered hiding. Her purpose this time was, first, to quickly dispose of the artillerymen near the city's defenses, second, to leave a mark for Sforza, and finally, to create a noise to draw people in, thereby causing maximum casualties and panic when the city was breached.

The moment she pushed open the door, two spears thrust at her chest. Ajeh dodged them delicately, ducking under them and darting past them like a cat. She twisted her body and severed two bloody legs at the knees. Throughout the room, she heard the heavy breathing of thirty-nine men, smelled the smoke of loaded muskets, felt the ground trembling beneath pairs of metal boots, and saw faces illuminated by torches and sharp swords. Shadow and light intertwined, forming a complex series of outlines.

Despite the vast array of disparate things, they were all distinct in Ajeh's mind, like abstract lines painted on a canvas, converged into countless deadly intersections. She flew through the ambushed crowd, shattered limbs falling to the ground, and screaming people kept spinning in circles, trying to find the source of the death threat, but no one could see her clearly, let alone touch her and send their blades into the circle she had drawn for herself.

Since she is standing here, she is the owner of this space.

The tower echoed with howls and roars, a startling volume that might have carried them to the other towers. Only the dead could miss the sound, guess what was happening, but it wasn't worth worrying about. Not only was it not worth worrying about, it saved her the trouble of making a noise.

A few thoughts flashed through Ajeh's mind, but they didn't affect her movements. Finally, the shield-bearing soldier roared and lunged at her, slamming his long shield down fiercely to protect the musketeers behind him. She stepped back and hurled her dagger through the throat of a distant musketeer who had just reloaded his ammunition. His first shot had killed one of his own in a panic, but that wasn't his fault. Then, she swept her leg, glancing off the sharp edge of the shield's upper edge and twisting the soldier's cervical vertebrae, causing his head to twist backward with a crunching sound.