Shadow of the Evil God

Sfrah's destructive pace seemed to have slowed, Musali concluded after gazing into the distance for a moment. It looked like Ajeh was stabilizing the situation; soon, she would resolve this unfortunate incident.

Their army was advancing towards Upper Noien in an orderly manner. It would not be long before they could completely occupy all the blocks of Lower Noien and form a siege around Upper Noien. He knew that his worries had been resolved. Although the number of tribal warriors sacrificed exceeded expectations, it would not affect the overall situation. And the opportunity that the Sasule people would gain

Compared to other situations, this kind of casualties will not cause serious damage.

After all, this was the war he had called for, and he was responsible for it. Apart from this incident, which had been resolved, there was still one thing he had to do, which was to find the target who might still be fleeing in the lower city. The matter would not be over until the little Borgia was found.

Chapter 82: Choice

Musali looked up again at the traces of magic streaking across the night sky. Sharp golden beams, but not dazzling, for they only appeared to be light; in reality, they did not radiate light, nor even cast shadows. They were ethereal and eerie, like a few abrupt smears of paint on a canvas depicting the world.

He ordered the warriors of his tribe to occupy the buildings near Upper Noien, build fortifications along the edge, and set up lookouts on high ground where they could overlook the towers and embrasures of the inner wall. Then he left the street and took a group of people to inspect the other tribes.

As the situation in Sfrahla gradually stabilized, the frenzy subsided. The Franks of Noien ceased their stubborn resistance and instead flocked to the port area, scrambling to seize the departing ships. The Sassulai warriors also began to regain their composure, realizing that the inhabitants of Lower Noien were impoverished and that they would not be able to reap much spoils. They would rather return to the steppes than plunder. However, some did manage to snatch unexpected wealth from the slums.

Musali approached the caravan, where the treasures were piled. He poked the sacks with his sword, ripping them open and revealing silver vessels. The source of the vessels was clearly deep within the pit. These were likely stolen goods from local gangs. Nearby, kneeling, were several strong men, begging for mercy. Judging by their hands and muscular features, they were gang thugs. This war had seen many casualties. While these thugs were hardly peaceful slaves, unsuitable for serving the tribesmen, they would be perfect as slave warriors.

He called two chiefs and after a brief communication, he divided the silver with the tribes that participated in finding the goods, and then divided the thugs on the ground according to their needs, and each of them tied up a part of them and took them away.

Musali continued forward, following the collapsed road to the mining area that had made Noien prosperous. There were no densely packed houses or streets here, but instead the ground was filled with coal slag and slag. An oil lamp hung at the entrance, but it still looked very dark.

He came here because he knew that in this city, the mines were the most important facilities. Every step the Franks took forward was directly or indirectly connected to the coal mines beneath their feet. In peacetime, the frigid Neuen needed the coal mines for warmth, needless to say. And in times of war, the demand for metal smelting and gunpowder production also led to a significant increase in demand for coal. No matter what happened above ground, the underground work of digging and transporting coal could never stop.

That's why, even after the city was breached, miners covered in coal dust continued to emerge from the mine entrance, kneeling one by one and begging for their forgiveness.

Coal isn't something that just appears out of thin air on a caravan's wagon, nor is it something you can just plunder or buy. It's an irreplaceable resource today, and controlling its source means controlling your own lifeline to a significant degree.

In a sense, it is this huge coal and iron mine that has brought Neuen to its current prosperity.

Musali knew the history of Noien. He knew that several centuries ago, Noien was a mining settlement built around a coal mine. As mining deepened, the land gradually sank, forming the present-day Dog Pit. Noien gradually evolved from a village into a town. Due to its large population, the area was gradually established as a frontier city, with the Borgia family guarding the Dominican border. Later, they discovered vast mineral veins extending further into the depths of the mines, and this bitterly cold city gradually developed into the trade hub and major commercial port it is today.

"Bring some water to flush the coal dust out of the miners' throats and nostrils before taking them away," Musali ordered. "The tribe is short of manpower, and there's no one to mine the newly discovered mines. I don't want them to die too early."

Of course, for the Sasoulai people, who had never experienced large-scale mining operations, witnessing hundreds of miners streaming out of the tunnels at the end of their shifts was a rare sight. They looked like monsters emerging from the earth, their faces sunken and dark, their wrinkles thick with coal dust. Because of their constant exposure to the coal dust rising from the mine floor, much of it had seeped into their skin, leaving permanent, mottled marks that resembled a tangled tattoo.

For these people, who made their living from mining wherever they went, working for the Borgia family of Neuen or the Sassulai made no difference. Because the environment of the steppes was far superior to the crowded slums of Lower Neuen, their migration from the Franks' territory to the Endless Steppes would even offer them a better life than before.

This is why their slaves from the Sassulai rarely revolted. If they could work hard in a place like the dog pit in Noyen, why wouldn't they serve the Sassulai on the prairie? At least as miners for them, they could wash themselves comfortably after working, instead of being forced to go home to eat with soot on their faces.

Mussari is good at observing and summarizing the operations of other nations, thinking about their historical development and civilization changes, and these are the conclusions he came to himself.

That's it... He walked through the crowd and came to the entrance of the mine. He carefully looked at the large mine in Noien and their

He leaned over and touched the ground covered with cinders and ashes with his fingers, then twisted it between his fingers. This feeling made him feel very comfortable, and things were also unusual.

Everything went smoothly, except for the rude request of the Dominican royal family.

Yes, they still hadn't found Cesar. The various tribes' searches had yielded no results, and Monuk, the only known figure, had vanished. In the midst of such a crucial mission as capturing the city, they were actually going to provoke a war over someone's personal grudge? It was absurd, but he had to do it.

Musali had assumed that this man would remain in the open, perhaps even lead the main force to guard the breach in the city wall and resist their attack. After all, that was his duty. He would then give him an honorable death. He would let Cesar die with the reputation of a valiant resistance, as a modest apology.

But he was not there, not anywhere. He had obviously fled, perhaps to Upper Neuen, perhaps to the port, perhaps to the mines, or even now was hiding like a rat in the tunnels of Lower Neuen.

This was a cumbersome matter, and it made him extremely unhappy. Because if the city lord's illegitimate son really escaped, the Domini royal family would have something to bargain with them. The imagined battle between two armies to behead the enemy had become a ridiculous rat-catching in the gutter. Why did he do such a thing? Why couldn't the rats in the gutter jump out, swords in hand, and demand a life-or-death duel with the enemy leader who had captured their city? Just like he and his father...

Musali shook his head, pushing the sudden thought out of his mind. He and his personal guards stood quietly at the mine entrance for a while, gazing into the deep, dark tunnel and pondering the next situation.

He saw more people running out of the mine, so he ordered the warriors of the tribe to go forward and be on guard, disarm them one by one and take them away.

No matter what the situation is, necessary vigilance must not be lacking. Historical records show that many people died due to their own negligence.

Dozens of infantrymen scattered, swords drawn, marching silently through the mines. Suddenly, a black torrent shot out from the depths of the mines, piercing the air and dust with a sharp, piercing whistle. It swept through a group of infantrymen, and before Musali could hear a scream, they were dead, disintegrating like blocks of salt under the spell, transforming into writhing shadows before disintegrating and melting.

He was stunned for a moment, and then he saw several soldiers who were touched by the aftermath suddenly went crazy, dancing with their swords in their hands and stabbing themselves in the chest, shouting victory and salvation.

The cursed spell erupted once more from the mine tunnel, sweeping across the other side without warning. Thousands of distorted faces crowded together, forming a cursed spell barely thicker than an arm, tearing at the boundary between reality and another dimension. Musali quickly retreated, and the shaman immediately erected an invisible shield. However, he knew that the shaman beside him was only a military shaman and could not withstand a spell of this magnitude for long.

The torrent slammed into the shaman's barrier, curved, split into four, circling the invisible sphere in front of them and shooting off along a tangent. Then Musali saw the man, none other than Cesar from the portrait: stained with blood and soot, he clutched a white demon's throat and howled furiously. He howled as he slashed his sharp claws into the demon's hollow, black maw, sending black blood splattering across its face and leaving scars everywhere.

Beast claw?

As if in response to the pressure, spells erupted from the demon's surroundings. Crowded masses of dead souls screamed in search of victims, chasing after any living individuals at the mine entrance in arcs, piercing their bodies. His soldiers and miners who hadn't had time to escape were instantly shattered, turning into bloody fragments that drifted in mid-air before converging towards the white demon. The flesh, blood, and souls of the people were completely absorbed by it, becoming nourishment for the demon.

"What are you looking at, Mussari?"

Ajeh? Musali was stunned to discover that Cesar's howl was actually a wolf's howl, and his voice was also Ajeh's, just as clear as the one he had heard in the tent that year.

"Are you going to stay there and stare blankly? Or are you going to help me drive it out of reality?" Ajiehe began to howl again.

"What's wrong with this guy? You know we are going to kill him!" Musari shouted.

"Don't worry about who this body belonged to before. He accepted the power I gave him, so now his body is mine! You should be thankful that I didn't occupy your body in the first place!"

"Where's the other Ajiehe?"

"Do you want to help that indifferent idiot, or do you want to help me, who can help you achieve everything? She promised this guy to use Sfora to force a truce between you. Only I can wrest Sfora's will from her!"

There seemed to be an unusually complex chain of causes and effects involved, but Musali didn't have time to dwell on it. He knew the other Ajiehe's habits, and he knew that this wasn't unusual for her. If she chose one side, it meant he could choose the other, too.

So Musali pressed the rune on his body and drew his sword.

Chapter 83: Exactly the same as before

......

Cesar felt himself swaying in mid-air, spinning around in the dark and lightless world, like a bird that had lost its direction and was fluttering around aimlessly. However, the one soaring in the air was not actually himself, but a white nightmare, and he was almost hanging on it.

Bumping around everywhere.

He saw the miners who had no time to escape, and also saw the black smoke moving through their bodies - those were the vengeful spirits that had been imprisoned in the White Nightmare for countless years. They had long lost their former sanity and could only scream and help the evildoer, bringing disaster to the devil.

To more living souls.

As they fought, White Nightmare's blood splattered in their path. It didn't adhere to any surface, but rather condensed into flocs like black dye dropped into a lake, hovering in mid-air. He also saw that shortly after leaving the body, it would burst into flames, dissolving into nothingness in balls of black flames, a strange and psychedelic sight.

He couldn't see the outside world clearly, and his consciousness seemed to be leaving his body...

He was half dead, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of ​​distant memories, sinking to the dark depths. He wanted to find a way out, but the memories were too vague, unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't make any sense of them. These strange memories formed hundreds of webs that completely occupied his vision.

Trapped in the web of memory, he struggled with all his might but was unable to move his body. He could only feel his limbs being entangled tighter and tighter by the tentacles of memory, and he was sinking lower and lower.

In the darkness, he felt something different. It wasn't the tentacles of his own memories, but a human hand. When he touched that hand, it immediately grabbed him. It tightened its grip, pulling him upwards. As he was about to surface, he couldn't help but glance behind him. He saw his memories carrying him away, seemingly parting forever. But it seemed like a trivial matter.

The man bent over in the blood-red moonlight, dragging him all the way, dragging him through the scarlet forest, and dragging him into their makeshift shelter. He heard the sound of quarreling coming from the direction, but he could not see the surrounding objects clearly, only the hazy figures in the darkness.

"He can't go back, but even if he climbs up, he can't pass through that door. All those who can't turn back will be trapped there forever, becoming a relief as immortal as time. You can't keep the guy you found, not even a little bit, no matter how deep you think your feelings are."

"But I promised." The cry was very low, like a sob, "He also promised..."

"You always like to treat deceiving each other as a meaningful commitment."

"Why, is it possible that..."

"Because no one can do it. Everyone who sees the reliefs on the door will go back, unless they can't, or they believe that true knowledge will make their ending different from others." The voice paused, then said, "For this guy, perhaps love should be added to it?"

Gradually, he regained consciousness. He, Cesar, felt a soft hand brush against his face, and a concerned, low voice called out to him to wake up. He saw that face, hanging in the darkness like a pale mask. Though it was tinged with tears, it was lonely and quiet, possessing an indescribable beauty. He watched her brush a strand of flaxen hair away from his eyes.

"This guy can actually find himself?"

"Although you thought he was beyond saving, not only did you not tell me, but you also tricked me away before he left." Firth seemed to be talking to the wolf, "But I also didn't tell you that he didn't accept the gift of the beast's claw."

"Okay, okay, then pull your soul back first. Don't linger in his consciousness anymore, or you might not be able to come back."

Cesar discovered he could see the outside world—not the dark sea of ​​memories, but the real outside world. He could breathe again, gasping through waves of excruciating pain. He knew the wolf from the Crimson Realm had used his body to defeat the White Nightmare, leaving him wounded and drained of strength. He had thought he had broken free and been reborn, but he was rescued and driven into a new cage of her choosing.

He glanced to his side and saw a shaman supporting him. A Sasule man, seemingly the leader, stood before him, explaining the situation to several nearby chiefs, all of whom were filled with doubt. Eyes surrounded him, scrutinizing him, and at the same time, he noticed the shaman's face crack slightly, then closed again, almost imperceptible, like a crack in porcelain.

This is certainly not a problem with his eyesight, but when no one is paying attention, the shaman is no longer the original shaman, but just a replaced dummy.

It seemed that his battle with White Nightmare had spread over a wide area, causing some people to lose their protection and even lose the attention of others.

Cesar exchanged glances with Gouzi, confirming she would cooperate with his actions. Then he lowered his head and continued breathing calmly. Although he was completely exhausted, he was still able to observe his surroundings and saw that the grassland army had completely occupied Lower Noien and the disaster at the breach in the city wall had been resolved.

The difference was that the terrifying vision had vanished, and now the two-headed serpent loomed over the army, hissing at them with its head lowered. Up close, it was a nightmare; one had to look up to see its massive, cloud-like body, like a tower collapsing overhead, making one want to retreat. A blizzard swirled and howled around it, and the warhorses neighed and stamped their hooves, barely able to hold back.

The situation was in a strange stalemate, so the few remaining soldiers who retreated from the city wall to the gate of Upper Noyen were also given a suspended sentence instead of a death sentence. Perhaps because of the scattered red hair, Cesar saw Ceshia who was retreating with his troops, and he went to the dog pit mining area.

The situation is that there is really no way to escape from there.

A tribe tried to pursue them, but the two-headed snake suddenly crushed them with its body, tearing a large area of ​​houses into pieces, crushing the streets and raising a large amount of choking ashes.

Large swathes of the steppe army were unsteady on their feet, coughing and looking around in the midst of the noise, and were forced to retreat.

The chiefs shouted and argued, seemingly questioning what was happening. Cesar noticed the young chief staring at the dog-like shaman, so she led him forward, approaching the two-headed snake, which had lowered its head. A figure in a thick felt coat sat astride the snake's head, and behind him was a smaller figure also draped in a thick Sasulean felt coat. Both wore masks, their faces hidden.

......

"What are you thinking about, Ajeh?" Musali asked the figure on the snake head. "What you are about to do is over."

The man shook his head.

"If you had come to drive away that evil creature, I might be thinking about how to help you conquer Upper Noyen now. Even if I won't ask Sfrahla again, I will sneak into the city myself and cooperate with your operation."

"But I also drove away the evil," Musali said. He gripped his sword tightly, trying to stop his numb fingers from trembling. Although he was only helping another Ajeh deal with the evil, not facing the demon alone, the task itself was still too difficult. He had nearly died on the spot, and now just standing was a struggle. "Why, is there a first come, first served rule in this matter?" he asked.

"You know why you are dealing with Bai Yan, brother," she replied.

The shaman finally came over, supporting the possessed person. Musali held Cesar's shoulders and glanced at Ajeh. "I do know this, and I also know that we can't reach any agreement. Even if we do, it will only be temporary."

"That's a good choice," Ajeh said. "It's exactly the same as it was back then. Do you think she can still help you like she did then?"

"She can snatch Sfrah's consciousness from you," Musali retorted. "And you know what, Ajeh? She doesn't mind using Sfrah, so you don't have to worry about sneaking into Upper Noyen. Do you know the difference between 'request' and 'use', huh? You always put your footing in the wrong place."

Chapter 84: Hostage

Musali turned his head, intending to check on the possessed person, but instead saw the snake head, long dormant at Sfrah's tail, stretch out. Its entire body formed a ring, attempting to encircle them. The black snake's jaws slowly opened, seemingly capable of swallowing a house whole. The lines of its masseter muscles stretched beside its fangs reminded him of tree rings. Snow clung to its dark scales, reflecting a strange red light: the burning buildings and piles of corpses.

When it brought its head closer, Musali thought it was the possessed Ajeh driving it, competing with the other Ajeh for the beast's mind. However, when the person he thought was Ajeh turned her head and looked at him with a strange expression, he suddenly realized that he hadn't heard her speak for some time.

If he didn't know Ajiehe, he would think she just didn't want to talk, but he knew that one of the habits of this Ajiehe was endless chattering, which was completely different from her taciturn twin sister.

Something is wrong.

"I suppose you understand the language of the Franks," the man suddenly said in his own voice. "If you don't, that's fine." Musali retreated, but the shaman blocked his way. The shaman, whom he trusted deeply, leaned over and patted his shoulder affectionately, pressing the sharp dagger hidden in his sleeve against his lower back.

The tip of the blade was sharp and cold, and it stabbed with extreme precision, just against his old wound. Just a slight push could pierce his spine and turn him into a paralyzed cripple.

"I'm sorry, Musa," the shaman whispered in his most familiar voice.

For a long time, it was his tribe's shaman who healed his injuries and examined his illnesses. No one knew his body structure and old ailments better than him, so no one knew how to kill him better than him. Musali couldn't figure out what made him make such a decision, but he did betray.

Incomprehensible things happened one after another, and he almost lost the ability to think.

"Later," the man named Cesar patted his shoulder, "your blood relatives will declare that you have different ideas. Therefore, people will think that it was you who gave the order to block the other tribes' path, and it was you who made the decision to ask the other tribes to temporarily rest. You will agree with her, right?"

Musali found this man to be extremely cunning, no Ajeh could be as cunning as him. This man used the machine to subdue him, not to threaten other chiefs with his life, but to use his name to do things.

As long as the truth remained, whatever he decided next would be done under Musali's name and authority. The Sasule had achieved such a degree of victory, completely occupying Lower Noyen, that the other chiefs would offer him a degree of patience, no matter what he did.

"I suppose you're a wise man," the man whispered in his ear again. "When we announce the resolution, you don't want to struggle and shout, turning what could have been a successful agreement into a disaster, do you?"

Previously, Musali wanted to bring this person into the scene, but he had to spend a lot of time to convince the other tribal chiefs.

With Sfra blocking the way, the various tribes began to hesitate and wait and see. In their view, Musali's decision was certainly difficult to understand, but it had its reasons. After all, his ideas were always so different.

It can be said that he brought himself into the pit

However, before this, who could have imagined that such an incredible turn of events would occur?

He couldn't imagine that Ajeh had failed. The demon who had shown him a viable path, a path to legally murder his father in public and inherit the leadership, had failed so silently? The original owner of this body didn't even struggle, as if he had simply woken up, and then Ajeh was dragged away.

Not only that, this person also bewitched the shaman of his tribe, as if this Cesar was more in line with the definition of a devil than Ajeh and was better at bewitching people.

There must be some unconventional method that he has not yet discovered. What is it?

Musali tried to remain calm. "The siege is complete," he said in their language. "Whatever you try to do in my name, you will not be able to relieve Noi'en. But if you simply want to escape, I can..."

"It's not time for you to make a decision yet," Cesar interrupted him. "You don't have to weigh which decision will convince the other tribes it's you and which will arouse suspicion. But thank you for your cooperation. Follow me forward, until we're near the remaining soldiers. Do you understand?"

He had no objection, no one around him was his own.

.......

The situation had stabilized temporarily, but only temporarily. The cursed two-headed snake could be incredibly effective in breaching the city, but once it stabilized, it would be no match for Noyen and the shamans waiting outside. Cesar now knew that the shamans had spent over two weeks preparing a massive sacrifice to build up its strength in order to successfully breach the city. Now that the effects of the sacrifice had faded, it was nothing more than a massive target.

In other words, Sfrah was now a psychological deterrent, not the key to determining the outcome of the war. Its presence would strengthen their purported authority, preventing other tribes from questioning Musali's decisions. After all, in the eyes of the other steppe tribes, the snake now obeyed Musali—and what difference was there between obeying his blood relative and obeying him personally?

The distinction between a Sfrah in the hands of an ally and a threat in the hands of an enemy is crucial. The former inspires fear, while the latter only invites death in the face of weakness.

Entering the inner city was unlikely, as the gates were tightly closed and heavily guarded, requiring negotiation. Doing so would be too noisy and obvious, and from Musali's perspective, anything too obvious would arouse serious suspicion. So, retreating to the mines or the port? Choosing either of these routes would force the soldiers present to abandon their plans, as leading so many people toward an evacuation point would also draw suspicion.

These soldiers were trapped in a small, unfavorable tower, surrounded by the grassland people, with no hope of escape. If he tried to evacuate under Musali's authority, the best outcome would be to take away Seshia and several of her trusted veteran mercenaries.

This was easier said than done. The annihilation of Lower Noien had been averted, but its capture by the grassland people was a foregone conclusion. Their actions would receive no reward, nor would anyone know about them. They couldn't exchange them for anything, but they had done it, and there was nothing more to say. The immediate priority was to use Musali's name to feign persuasion, rendezvous with the trapped mercenary captain at the tower, and see if they could reach a resolution.

Cesar endured the discomfort and moved. Though Chief Musali beside him struggled, his movements clumsily and sluggishly, it was even harder for him to move. The demon possessing him used his body like he was wielding a newly acquired longsword, leaving it covered in scuffs and scars. Even if the wounds healed quickly, the damage to the body itself could not be repaired. After all, it was this person who had helped him expel the White Nightmare, so they were temporary allies of a kind.

This statement is quite black humor.