Here I Come, Baby!

When Karen finished chanting, the chains that rose beneath his feet began deliberately circling the pirate-ship tombstone. They were greater in number and far more orderly than before. During their last encounter, Count Rekar had told Karen that while the Church of Order excelled in arts of Awakening, reviving an entity of his stature would require an Archbishop of York City at the very least—and even then, at immense cost. That was why Count Rekar used honorifics with Karen, and why he believed the Allen family was currently enjoying such tremendous momentum. After all, orthodox churches, particularly the grand orthodox churches, genuinely looked down upon family faith systems. The stature of the Church of Order went without saying; if a Church of Order figure on par with an Archbishop of York City had become a son-in-law to their family, wasn't that the finest proof of the family's burgeoning prosperity? Only when you were strong enough would those who fancied themselves noble and aloof hold their noses and willingly associate with you. Karen had also gleaned plenty of useful insight from that previous conversation. He had always known he possessed a peculiar knack for rousing corpses, something unrelated to his cultivation realm, since he had not yet undergone purification at the time. So, if the Church of Order's Awakening was a high-tier transformation of power—using spells as a medium to resonate with the spiritual energy dormant within a corpse... Then he, having returned from the dead, had no need for such a medium; he could directly resonate with the corpse's residual spiritual energy. To make a crude analogy, a corpse was a cage, and the spiritual energy was locked inside. The Church of Order possessed the means to open the cage, but the cost was steep, for the cage varied in sturdiness depending on the rank of the corpse. Karen was unburdened by any cage. He could step straight inside. However, kindling the spiritual energy within still required sufficient torches and fuel. Even if he could bypass the greatest expense, he could hardly pay nothing at all. Fortunately, he had now passed through purification. As for God's Revelation... Karen honestly didn't know whether he truly counted as having attained God's Revelation. Because he had rejected the divine revelation, and because his purification had been extraordinarily thorough and his foundation laid so exceptionally well, the dividing line between God's Revelation and purification had blurred. Yet one thing was certain: having reached the point where he could cast the Spear of Punishment, the kindling and fuel he carried within him were vastly richer than before. Most importantly, Count Rekar was outrageously arrogant and domineering. Last time, it had been the count himself who took the initiative to drag Karen down into the grave. In Karen's estimation, Count Rekar possessed what one might call an easily ignitable constitution. This time was no exception. Not long after Karen completed his summons, that familiar pulling force reemerged beneath the tombstone, drawing every black chain encircling the monument down into the earth below. "Is it to be... a complete awakening... Lord Archbishop?" Count Rekar's voice echoed in Karen's sea of consciousness, still addressing him as "Lord Archbishop." This meant their previous meeting had been etched into the spiritual energy of the corpse, becoming part of the count's memory. Taking a deep breath, Karen responded firmly in his mind, "Yes." "Very... well..." Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Karen watched the black chains rising from his feet get yanked beneath the tombstone at an alarming speed. At that moment, he felt like a silkworm whose silk was being frantically unspooled by an unseen hand. Anxiety swiftly welled in his heart. He genuinely feared that a fully awakened Count Rekar might suck him entirely dry. Yet stopping now was clearly impossible; he could only pray his reserves were deep enough. Beside him, Alfred, who was sustaining the rendering array, felt the exact same way. His array fundamentally ran on his own power. Right now, he could feel his inner energy being violently siphoned away, converted through the array as the price of shouldering his young master's burden. The golden retriever sat on its haunches nearby, watching the scene intently, glancing between Karen and the base of the tombstone. Mike continued pinching his wound, letting blood drip down before the stone. Karen had no spare breath to tell him to stop, so Mike resolutely pressed on. The impending awakening of a once-mighty ancestor carried a thrill powerful enough to set the blood of any descendant boiling. Even Mr. Bede's eyes shone with raw excitement. He deeply regretted not bringing his easel. Overcome with the urge to paint, his hands moved involuntarily in the air, as if gripping a brush and palette before a blank canvas, caught in the throes of creation. Finally, that familiar sensation of having his brain fluid drawn out struck again, and Karen swayed, struggling to maintain his footing. Just then, the chains at his feet ceased their transfer, shifting from black to red. A vague sensation surfaced in his mind: A threshold had been reached. It was a strange feeling, difficult to put into words, yet vivid enough to grant the distinct illusion that he held absolute mastery over the process. Red signified that the conditions for Count Rekar's awakening had been satisfied, though more power could still be funneled in. Karen simply lacked the capacity to give any more. He recalled how his grandfather, when awakening Mr. Hoffen, had voluntarily infused extra power to keep him as lucid as possible for the nearly three days that followed. Though Mr. Hoffen still perished afterward, the quality of that awakening had been entirely different. So if the chains turning red represented a distinct phase, could other phases be unlocked in the future? A longer period of wakefulness? Greater awakened power? Or perhaps... shattering the time limit of an Awakening altogether by replenishing it a second time? The mythological overview in *Light of Order* mentioned that the God of Order had once awakened twelve powerful beings who had perished, known as the Twelve Order Knights. Yet in the murals, their depictions were eerie, leaning closer to death knights. Those twelve knights had served as the God of Order's sharpest blade throughout his conquests, leaving behind a trail of glorious feats and legends. What, then, had bound their loyalty to the God of Order? Could it be that they depended entirely upon the God of Order to remain alive? Karen couldn't help pondering these thoughts, for he was keen to compare his own path against the details described in *Light of Order*. Crack! A crisp fracture shattered Karen's train of thought. A massive fissure opened down the center of the pirate-ship tombstone. The stone hull split in two and collapsed to either side. Beneath lay a burial chamber. The Allen family did not pursue lavish opulence in their burials. They adhered to the straightforward format of a single chamber underground topped by a single tombstone above; otherwise, they could never have interred so many ancestors within the manor cemetery. Thud... Thud... Thud... A series of dull, resounding strikes sounded from deep within the chamber, like someone pounding their way upward with bare fists. Protruding fist marks began to bulge upward against the stone, and the ground beneath their feet began to shudder. The burial chamber's construction had been a little too sturdy. Karen suddenly realized an oversight: this world possessed formations and extraordinary materials. While the burial chambers of the Allen ancestors were modest in scale—strikingly austere and compact compared to the grand aristocratic or imperial mausoleums he was familiar with—families sometimes built them with reinforced materials to deter grave robbers, engraving arrays inside to ward off moisture and decay. Next time he planned to use Awakening, he must never be foolish enough to stand directly over the tombstone. It would be absurd if the summon succeeded and the target revived, only to end up stuck inside the tomb! Count Rekar surely wouldn't suffer such an embarrassing predicament, would he? Bang! As if answering Karen's concern—or perhaps venting fury and shame over failing to breach the surface after so many punches—a jet of water erupted straight through the earth, blasting a hole through the ground. Immediately after, a hand reached out from the fissure, followed by a figure crawling into the open air. Black vapor rose continuously from his skin. What had been plump flesh rapidly shriveled into a withered husk, and the meat beneath the surface darkened to a dull, lifeless hue—the inevitable oxidation of a corpse sealed away for years upon meeting the open air. Karen couldn't help recalling his visit to the Terracotta Army in his past life; when first unearthed, those clay figures had been vividly painted. So, in future summons, not only would he need to unseal the tomb beforehand, but he would also have to apply some sort of anti-oxidation treatment to the body? After all, both the corpse and its living descendants would surely prefer to see something resembling a living human. Finally, a hulking figure clad in a pirate coat hauled himself fully onto the ground. It seemed this ancestor, known in Allen family history for his unyielding arrogance, had even been buried in his pirate attire. His skin was black, stretched taut and withered over his bones. A heavy stench of death radiated from every pore, though he was in slightly better shape than a dried mummy. He opened his eyes. At first, his sunken sockets were a ghastly, pupil-less white. Then, a blue sheen ignited within the hollows as he began to survey the world. Mike had finally bound his bleeding palm. He looked upon the figure with boundless reverence. "Great Ancestor!" Mike slid from his wheelchair to his knees on the ground, offering his respect in the most devout manner he could muster. Hiss... Hiss... Count Rekar's nose twitched, as if drawing in a breath. Karen noticed a faint trace of red beneath the tip of his nose; it seemed he had indeed absorbed the blood Mike had offered earlier. Evidently, using a descendant's blood as a primer truly provided a positive boost to the summons. "Ah..." Count Rekar parted his lips, seemingly attempting to speak, but only a dry rasp scraped from his throat. Just like the eyes, after being buried for so many centuries, many bodily organs could no longer function normally and required supernatural substitutes. Soon, a clear voice issued from his mouth: "A useless little brat from a collateral branch?" With that, Count Rekar took a stride forward, his knee casually knocking over Mike, who was bowed before him. Tumbled to the dirt, Mike immediately pushed himself up with both hands, offering his respects anew despite his missing legs. *A collateral waste?* Count Rekar's mindset was easy enough to understand if one looked at Purr. Only descendants with strong family faith systems were truly embraced and treated as genuine kin. It was the same in the present day: Boge had spent his childhood neglected in a brothel, but the moment testing revealed his awakened bloodline talent, he had gained the right to live and train in Allen Manor. In Count Rekar's eyes, how could a mere Tier 3 descendant belong to the direct line? He could only be some collateral throwaway dragged out to serve as blood fodder. Yet... Mike truly was part of the main branch. Karen hesitated, not daring to correct the count. Still, there was no avoiding him. Count Rekar reached a hand toward Karen, and a sudden gust whipped violently past Karen's ear. In the next breath, Karen realized Mr. Bede, who had been standing beside him, was now clutched in the count's grip. Count Rekar opened his mouth, ran his tongue along Bede's cheek, and licked it. Karen suspected the count had sensed the aura of the Church of the Mural God on Mr. Bede. Caught up in the emotional whirlwind of his ancestor's revival, Bede had made no effort to conceal his aura. Even Karen had felt it clearly, let alone Count Rekar. Having tasted Mr. Bede, Count Rekar gripped his throat and held him at arm's length, his blue-lit eyes raking up and down the man. Karen worried the count might throttle Mr. Bede on the spot, for Bede's choice of faith bordered on outright apostasy. Yet to everyone's surprise, Count Rekar suddenly burst into booming laughter: "Hahahahaha!" His laughter was rough and hearty, lent a harsh rasp by the condition of his vocal cords. "The Allen family is already trying to infiltrate church factions?" With that, Count Rekar released his grip, letting Mr. Bede drop to the ground. "Good, very good! This is how a family at the pinnacle of the faith system ought to carry itself! Sooner or later, we will trample every one of those lofty churches beneath our boots!" Count Rekar's gaze swept over to the golden retriever, who had been sitting calmly by, watching the spectacle. The blue light in the count's eyes swirled into a vortex, and an identical swirl manifested beneath the dog's paws. "Woof!" Undaunted, the golden retriever stood up and barked at Count Rekar. "This dog is far from ordinary. Something seems sealed within it... something powerful enough that even I find it formidable." The vortex beneath the dog's feet vanished. Count Rekar nodded with immense satisfaction. "Good, very good! The family has grown so mighty that even a hound is extraordinary!" Saying so, Count Rekar reached out again. A beam of blue radiance shattered Alfred's guard, pinning him firmly in place. Though Alfred had depleted much of his strength sharing his young master's burden, he knew all too well that even at his peak, he would be no match for the count. "I am quite fond of your eyes," Count Rekar remarked, "and as it happens, I am in need of a pair myself." He extended another hand. Simultaneously, a pair of hands formed from mist materialized before Alfred, their fingertips jutting out as they crept steadily toward his eye sockets. Karen spoke up, "Rekar. He is my servant." Karen was certain that from the moment this count crawled from the tomb, his attention had never truly left him. His previous antics with Mike, Bede, and the golden retriever were merely delays bought to give himself time to think. At present, Karen's body was nearly hollowed out. Under the premise of deliberately concealing his aura and leaving his servant powers dormant, it was difficult for any outsider to recognize him as a clergyman. Thus, in Count Rekar's eyes, he likely appeared to be an ordinary person. That was fine. It was far better than letting the count realize he was a God's Servant or had attained God's Revelation; at least this way, the man would imagine him to be some unassuming master who concealed his depths. And indeed, that was precisely what happened. Count Rekar laughed, "Hahaha, I was merely playing a little joke on him." The moment the words left his mouth, the restraint binding Alfred vanished completely, restoring his freedom. Count Rekar strode over to Karen, bringing with him a heavy stench of decay. Karen held his breath slightly, keeping his expression as composed as possible. Then, he raised a hand and pointed toward the distant castle, its windows ablaze with light. Rekar turned to look, the blue light in his eyes softening noticeably. "To welcome your return, Her Majesty the Queen is currently waiting for you in the patriarch's bedchamber." "The Queen?" Count Rekar asked, puzzled. "Gloria IX." "Heheh..." Count Rekar stroked his chin with the back of his hand. "After all these years, the Gloria royal house remains as sensible as ever." "This is a gift your descendants specially prepared for your awakening today." "What... thoughtful descendants." "Go, Rekar. I trust that the young, beautiful Queen has already shed her garments, lying in bed, awaiting the favor of the former Pirate King!" Count Rekar turned back toward the castle. He took a step forward with his right foot, then abruptly froze. Karen's eyelid twitched. He hadn't truly intended to deceive Count Rekar, but ever since waking, the count had been filling in the blanks entirely on his own, leaving Karen in a rather awkward corner. Most importantly, the man was an unmitigated scoundrel. "Lord Archbishop, if I go straight there like this, wouldn't it be somewhat improper?" "Heheheh." Karen chuckled softly and countered, "Since when does a pirate concern himself with propriety?" Count Rekar nodded at the remark. "Indeed." Karen added, "Keeping a young, beautiful Queen waiting too long would be the true impropriety." "You speak truly, Lord Archbishop." "Please, indulge yourself to your heart's content. Once you have finished, your kinsmen will stand in formation, awaiting your review." "Then... I shall take my leave." Plumes of mist enveloped Count Rekar's frame. In the next instant, his body was hoisted aloft, hurtling directly toward the castle ahead—straight for the master bedroom on the third floor. A brazen, ringing roar ripped through the quiet night: "Here I come, my sweet little Gloria baby!"