Count Rekar crawled out of his grave once more. This time, his movements were gentle, lacking the recklessness of his first emergence. Perhaps the first time had felt like checking out of a hotel, whereas this second time made him realize this was his eternal home—his level of cherishing it was bound to be different.
"Just down there, I was pondering which posture I should lie in to die. Strange thing is, when I died the first time, I never gave that question any thought at all."
Karen did not waste words on pleasantries and cut straight to the point: "Lord Count, can you use your own power to freeze this body of yours?"
"Uh... um... huh?"
Though Count Rekar had a habit of overthinking and had previously jumped to wildly incorrect conclusions, it was undeniable that he was a being of vast experience and profound intellect. After all, a reckless brute could never have become the Pirate King; the sea was certainly no place where mere brutes survived.
At the "uh...", Count Rekar was simply baffled as to why the young master had called him back out just to ask such a question.
At the "um...", his thoughts followed the logic of that question, and he astonishingly found it truly feasible. Since his mastery over the path of water had reached such an extreme that he could freeze death itself... even taken purely literally, wouldn't that mean freezing "death" in its tracks?
And at the "huh...", Count Rekar realized that if he could halt his body's irreversible state of spiritual dissipation, then the purpose, naturally, was to wait. And what would be the outcome of waiting?
When someone who had experienced death once faced death again, the probability was not that they would look upon it with detached indifference, but rather that they would cherish the opportunity to stay alive all the more.
Just like Karen... and naturally, Count Rekar was no different.
In that moment, without waiting for Karen to speak another word, the Pirate King dropped straight to one knee before him once more:
"I am willing to follow your will and freeze myself!"
While consenting, he lowered his posture even further. In short, he took it straight to the limit in one fell swoop.
Having learned from Purr how extraordinary this young man was, and having personally experienced being awakened by him while he held only the status of a God's Servant, Count Rekar inevitably harbored even greater expectations for the future.
"Good. Give it a try."
"Yes."
Count Rekar stood beside his burial crypt, spreading both hands wide. A surging mist of ice began to swirl above his palms.
His gaze bore directly into Karen's as he spoke with utter solemnity:
"If this succeeds, the day of my revival shall be the moment I offer you all my loyalty!"
With that, Count Rekar slammed both palms directly against his own chest. Frost began to form there, and ice spread rapidly outwards, swiftly encasing his entire body until he was turned into a human ice sculpture.
Karen stepped forward and began examining it closely, subconsciously reaching out a hand.
"Young Master..." Alfred hurried forward to warn him against frostbite.
Karen shook his head, signaling that he was fine. His palm did not touch Count Rekar's frozen body directly, but instead probed the air just outside the surface.
Alfred blinked, his Succubus Eye igniting as he too began scrutinizing the ice sculpture.
Purr padded over and began inspecting it carefully as well.
Left on its own, the golden retriever trotted over as well so as not to seem out of place, and sniffed carefully beside the ice sculpture.
The scene resembled people inspecting a dish sealed with plastic wrap and placed in the refrigerator, checking whether it had spoiled.
"It seems to be sealed," Karen said. "What do you all feel?"
"Young Master, I cannot see through it."
"I can't sense anything either."
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"
The golden retriever barked three times in succession, then drew two lines on the ground with its paw—one with its pad and the other with a claw. The first was thick, the second very thin.
Seeing this, Karen said thoughtfully, "In truth, spiritual power is still leaking out, but compared to before, it's already negligible."
The retriever nodded.
After all, an absolute seal did not exist in this world. Much like placing food in a freezer, it merely delayed spoilage; in reality, the decay continued.
Count Rekar was an exceptional test subject—one might not even find a second like him, because only he could wield this power of absolute freezing. Observing him was therefore particularly crucial.
Alfred spoke up. "We could have someone trustworthy come here at regular intervals to infuse water-attribute power into this ice, just like maintaining a formation."
"Boge alone might not be enough," Purr said at once. "I suggest adding another person. Judia was actually brought along in a trunk by the Queen as a supplementary sacrifice, but Rekar saved her and she is sound asleep right now. She is exceptionally gifted and was personally recognized as a 'daughter' by Rekar. She certainly cannot return to the Gloria family now, and the official announcement will surely declare that she perished as well. Therefore, I propose she remain at Allen Manor. She and Boge can maintain Rekar's ice sculpture together. Her power is intimately attuned to Rekar's, and she will deeply cherish and protect her father. She is sure to carry out the task with meticulous care."
Alfred, who had originally intended to pin Boge down with another task, was somewhat taken aback. But after hearing Purr's explanation, he understood: Purr was driving in a stake of its own!
Fine, excellent. Regardless, when it came to core personnel around the young master, whenever one could be pinned down elsewhere, they should be. The contest for a place on the mural was eternally ruthless.
Karen truly failed to notice the petty workplace maneuvering between Alfred and Purr. Even now, he had not developed the self-awareness of a "boss." Although the cat, dog, and radio around him already regarded him as one, in his own heart, he still viewed himself primarily as a "frontline researcher."
"Alright, let's do as you suggested."
***
Mr. Bede helped his second brother, Mike—who had likewise been hurled away—back to his feet, and retrieved his wheelchair. It was slightly bent and damaged, but still barely usable.
Sitting in his wheelchair, Mike felt somewhat dejected. "We descendants are simply too useless. Ancestor was so displeased with us that he even revoked our right to kowtow to him."
"I rather suspect Ancestor simply didn't want us to see him kowtowing..."
Mr. Bede paused, then continued, "Ancestor didn't have much time left, so he dispensed with those formalities."
"Yes, that must be it." Mike accepted his younger brother's explanation.
The two waited in the distance for a long time, only daring to cast cautious glances toward the cemetery without daring to draw any closer.
At last, someone approached... or more precisely, a cat approached, riding atop a dog's back.
Upon seeing the cat, both Bede and Mike instinctively lowered their heads in reverence.
Earlier, the two of them and their father, Anderson, had believed in an instant that an ancestor of the family would awaken tonight to resolve the crisis. The reason was simply that another ancestor had already awakened and appeared before their eyes.
Once Purr had put on that era's hat, donned that era's jewelry, assumed that era's posture, and projected that era's demeanor—and above all, once it spoke—no matter how preposterous things were, father and sons could believe them with absolute composure.
"Count Rekar's tomb needs to be repaired. Mike, you will oversee it."
"Yes, Ancestor," Mike promptly agreed with deep respect.
Then, Purr turned to Bede and said with utmost gravity:
"The Queen has died all over the floor."
Bede froze for a moment, processing Purr's combination of verb and description.
"So, moving forward, what do you think the family should do?"
"I... I don't know," Mr. Bede answered out of habit.
"Young Master Karen means that he is tired and does not wish to deal with these trivial matters any further. Thus, he hopes you, our artist, can bear the burden."
Mr. Bede gave an awkward smile and asked, "Was the Queen dismembered?"
"Thoroughly separated," Purr replied.
"Then find a trunk, put all of the Queen inside, and send it straight back to the royal palace. The Gloria royal family has probably already drafted a press release stating that the Queen and our Allen Manor suffered a tragedy together; they can put it to good use right about now."
"Is that appropriate?" Purr tilted its head. "Count Rekar cannot awaken again."
"We can act as though Count Rekar remains awake. The Gloria royal family will only feel more guilty and apprehensive than we do, provided our confidence is unshakeable."
"Very good. Who will deliver it?"
"Since Young Master Karen is unavailable, I shall deliver it in person. I will go and warn the Gloria royal family of the catastrophic price they will pay if they dare cross the line again."
"Good, I leave these matters to you. In addition, your father is currently unconscious beneath the dining table, and three people are lying atop it."
"I will handle that," Mike said. "Bede will handle the matters regarding the Gloria royal family, while I will take charge of internal affairs. Furthermore, please rest assured that the servants and guards the Queen brought with her will cause no trouble. I will mobilize the family members and bodyguards within the manor to watch over them first, awaiting the royal palace's orders to recall them."
"Acceptable." Purr looked meaningfully at Bede. "Young Master Karen once said something that I found very reasonable. I would like to offer that phrase to you, so we might encourage each other with it."
"Please bestow your guidance, Ancestor."
"Karen said that an artist not only requires high aesthetic pursuits, but most importantly, he needs to absorb the breath of the earth."
"The breath of the earth?"
"Oh, not that you should go believe in the Church of the Earth, but the pure, grounded breath of the earth."
"I seem to... understand a little."
"Then that is good." Purr nodded. In truth, it hadn't understood the phrase either, because Karen always seemed fond of speaking short sentences with strange tones and odd phrasing—so strange that it felt as though he had translated them stiffly from another nation's language.
"In any case, the greatest crisis has been resolved. What the two of you need to do now is clean up properly. I hope you handle it well, for the young master has far more important matters to attend to."
"Yes."
"Yes."
Purr patted the dog's head with its paw, and the dog immediately turned and sprinted toward the castle.
Karen indeed had more important things to do. First, he went to check on Eunice, who was still sound asleep.
Afterward, he went to the room on the third floor that had originally belonged to Alfred, located right next to Karen's master bedroom. Though not as luxurious or versatile as the master suite, it at least came with its own private bathroom.
The only blemish was that the shared wall with his master bedroom was covered in dense cracks. While it wouldn't compromise the building's structural integrity, it was enough to make an ordinary person's scalp tingle.
Fortunately, Karen was entirely unfazed by it.
After taking a bath, Karen lay down on the bed.
At this moment, the sounds of cleaning drifted from the master bedroom next door. It wasn't poor soundproofing; rather, after gathering up the Queen from all over the floor, the family servants had begun repairing the damaged master bedroom on the spot.
Outside, shouts rang out again as the Allen family members and a team of bodyguards herded all the servants and guards the Queen had brought yesterday into an open area to keep watch over them.
Alfred drew the curtains and asked in a low voice, "Young Master, would you like to move to a quieter room?"
Karen shook his head. "When you're exhausted enough, you can sleep soundly even lying on the side of the road."
"Then please rest well, Young Master. Mr. Bede has already set out for the royal palace in York City. I believe that by the time you wake, Allen Manor will have returned to peace."
"Hand me my notebook. I want to write a few things down before sleeping."
"Right away, Young Master."
Earlier, to vacate the master bedroom for the Queen, all of Karen's belongings had been moved into Alfred's room in advance.
Lying in bed, Karen opened his notebook and picked up a pen.
Alfred brought over a glass of ice water, set it on the nightstand, and then retreated to a distance, his hands folded before him as he stood quietly.
Karen began writing in the notebook:
*"A red color appeared on the chains of the awakening ritual. This makes me believe that in the future, other color variations will likely emerge, and they will very probably correspond to other functions.*"
*"Count Rekar's awakening lasted for a very short time. After Grandfather awakened Mr. Hoffen, he remained conscious for several days; Miss Mandila also maintained intermittent consciousness for several days. Yet Count Rekar's clarity lasted only half a night.*"
*"This should be related to the chains turning red. Red likely signifies the lowest input threshold, meaning the charge was finally sufficient to boot up...*"
Karen hesitated, drew a line through the phrase "boot up," and replaced it below with: *"start the engine."*
*"From known circumstances, it can be concluded that my Awakening bypasses the most cumbersome steps and costs required by the Church of Order's Awakening, but it is simultaneously tied to my own accumulation.*"
*"If I were not a God's Servant right now, but an Inquisitor, or higher still, I should be able to do this with far greater ease.*"
*"Count Rekar, having frozen himself, is now effectively placed inside a freezer. Combined with a series of supplementary measures, the dissipation rate of the residual spiritual power within him can be vastly slowed.*"
*"I hope this window will be long enough.*"
*"Because when I awaken him next time, I must possess the ability to provide him with sustainable 'replenishment.' Right now, that ability remains very distant for me.*"
*"Once I possess that ability and can sustainably replenish active force to the awakened corpses, it will be equivalent to granting those I awaken a chance to 'prolong their lives'—tantamount to holding their life and death directly in my grasp.*"
*"If Count Rekar could remain awake indefinitely, with him by my side, what immense security my safety would have...*"
Here, Karen subconsciously used an exclamation.
Accustomed to the feeling of having Grandfather beside him, he had felt a profound sense of emptiness ever since Grandfather had fallen into slumber.
However, considering that the others might flip through his notebook, Karen added another line:
*"Yet I already have Alfred by my side; he is my most loyal protector."*
The period was filled in and capped with a vertical stroke, turned into an exclamation mark.
*"Still, once I possess that ability, will I even need to worry about my personal safety?*"
*"Presumably yes, depending on what I wish to accomplish then. Even Diss chose negotiation when confronting the accumulated might of the Church of Order.*"
Karen was tired and did not want to write anymore. Just as he was about to set the pen down and close the notebook, he paused abruptly:
*"I have noticed that the mythological summaries in Light of Order have begun overlapping with my current experiences with increasing frequency. I can always find shadows of what I am currently undergoing within those mythological accounts.*"
*"I know I am unique and different.*"
*"So, am I walking the path that the God of Order once walked?*"
*"Grandfather said the God of Order was very hungry; Grandfather also said the God of Order was not truly a god.*"
*"Therefore, I cannot become complacent simply because I can find points of overlap now. Grandfather's path was mistaken, but it seems there was also a problem with the path of the God of Order.*"
*"Perhaps, like Grandfather, the God of Order ventured too far, leaving no possibility of turning back.*"
Karen reached out, picked up the glass, took a sip of ice water, set it down, and continued writing:
*"Do I truly count as a God's Revelation right now?*"
*"How am I to verify my current realm?*"
*"Or should I simply consider myself still a God's Servant, unrelated to God's Revelation, and undergo God's Revelation anew?*"
*"Yet if God no longer grants me a second revelation, what should I do?*"
Leaning against the headboard with pen in hand, Karen suddenly sank into deep contemplation.
Alfred, who had been standing quietly in the distance, felt a surge of turbulent emotion within his heart. Every time he watched the young master pick up a notebook to write, he had the sensation that he was bearing witness to history.
For he firmly believed that the words the young master was penning now would inevitably become works akin to *Light of Order* and *Light Era*—texts passed down for thousands of years, no, for multiple eras, to be read, studied, and revered by countless souls!
*Hm? Why has the young master frozen there motionless?*
*Ah, the young master must be so exhausted that he fell asleep.*
Alfred tiptoed to the bedside, intending to settle the young master in so he could sleep more comfortably. But as he drew near, he stopped dead in his tracks, discovering that an aura of "piety" and "contemplation" was emanating from the young master.
It was the exact same aura he had witnessed not long ago, back when the young master had been sitting on the steps.
Alfred's mouth fell open slightly in silence.
Though praise for the young master had long overflowed in his heart, witnessing this scene still filled him with shock:
*Is the young master... receiving God's Revelation again?*
*What is a great existence? This is a great existence!*
Saying he was exhausted, claiming he was so tired he could sleep on the side of the road, yet habitually wanting to write a little before bed, only to turn around, just before setting down the pen and notebook to sleep...
...and casually squeeze in a God's Revelation?
At this moment, the noise of repairs from the master bedroom next door continued, and the clamor from the open grounds outside still carried over incessantly. Alfred desperately wished he could roar at the top of his lungs to silence the entire world, yet he simply could not do so.
"Phew..."
To Alfred's astonishment, however, he saw the young master open his eyes again and lift the pen once more.
*Hm? The young master's revelation this time was so fast!*
Karen was unaware that he was in a state of revelation. The reason he had felt it so clearly last time was not merely because of his black-and-white observation of the world, but because he inherently harbored rejection and skepticism toward the very definition of "god."
This time, however, he was engaged in pure self-reflection.
The pen tip touched paper once more.
First, Karen wrote down a sentence:
*"Why sit watching eagerly, waiting for God to grant revelation?*"
*"If there is no god, or if God has no time, can we no longer obtain truth?*"
*"Grandfather said faith came first, and only then was God born.*"
*"Before the God of Light appeared, was there no light in the world?*"
*"Before the God of Order appeared, did order not exist in the world?*"
*"Before the God of the Earth appeared, did the earth not exist?*"
*"Must truth be only what God bestows, what God speaks?*"
*"Why can we not personally seek revelation and verify truth ourselves?*"
As Karen wrote the final sentence that followed, he was completely oblivious to his actions—or rather, he did not even realize he was writing. Writing was merely an incidental motion, for he was entirely immersed in his own thoughts and answers.
Yet Alfred, standing beside the bed, clearly saw that the black ink fountain pen in the young master's hand was now producing golden script!
That passage of golden script read:
*"Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth."*
Chapter 110