The collapse of the Church Affairs Building did not happen in an instant. Following a thunderous roar, the entire structure began splintering apart into clearly defined, angular segments—like an upright rectangular cake sliced clean through with a knife, its severed portions now sliding down in every direction.
Right at that moment, thick black chains surged up from the ground surrounding the building, rising to bind and cradle the fractured, falling sections.
Thus, although the structure had collapsed, it remained suspended in a bizarre architectural state, prevented from crumbling entirely.
These suddenly appearing chains were evidently part of the defensive array originally established to protect the building.
Yet the array's operation—or rather its inherent design—had a fatal flaw: it had been constructed primarily to ward off external invasions, not internal catastrophe.
Consequently, the chains holding the building fragments aloft did not merely support them in a static suspension. Their gripping force was visibly constricting around their designated sections, digging deeper and deeper into the masonry. Before long, the chains would likely grind the very structures they bound into rubble.
Even so, this provided a window of opportunity for the personnel inside to evacuate.
Karen dashed to the base of the Church Affairs Building and found that the foundation had already caved in. The ground-floor lobby, which had once required ascending a high flight of steps to enter, was now reduced to an open pit. People were scrambling out from within and clambering up out of the crater. Karen crouched at the edge and immediately began reaching down to pull people up.
As he did, bodies plummeted from time to time out of the chain-wrapped structural blocks overhead, followed by dull thuds reminiscent of sacks of cement striking the pavement—or the casual swat of mosquitoes in summer.
While hauling survivors up from below, Karen glanced upward every so often, calculating how much longer those chains could hold.
Although priests from the Church of Order kept arriving from the perimeter to assist, and fluctuations of magical power rippled through the ruins as survivors inside mounted their own rescue efforts, the building was staffed by a vast number of ordinary clerks. Even for those who were God's Servants or God's Revelations, a fall from such a height made little difference between them and ordinary mortals.
Just then, Karen noticed several priests in blue robes appearing not far behind him, their garments embroidered with magical formation patterns.
The leader held a black stone in his hand, while the priests behind him began chanting, funneling spiritual energy into his body.
Raising the stone high, the leader slowly drew it downward.
Hum!
Diagonally in front of Karen, the two enormous black chains suspending that particular structural section began lowering the block of the building steadily toward the earth.
Immediately after, Karen spotted several other squads in blue robes nearby. Each team leader held a black stone, manipulating the remaining chains to bring down their respective architectural fragments one by one.
Are they priests specialized in maintaining arrays within the Church of Order?
The Church of Order was divided into many departments, each home to a multitude of positions and responsibilities. Even members of the Church often knew next to nothing about departments outside their own.
Bit by bit, the shattered blocks of the building were lowered onto the ground, encroaching over large swathes of surrounding open space and even smashing against adjacent buildings, though clearly no one cared about such minor damage at a time like this.
Once all the building's sections had been safely grounded, trapped survivors began pouring out through windows and other breaches.
Karen stood up and took a few steps back. His attention instinctively drifted toward the southwest section, which housed the Shop and the Equipment Department. But after only a few glances, he averted his eyes—he had spotted three Jurists standing guard over that section.
Evidently, heavy security had been dispatched there to prevent anyone from looting church property during the catastrophe.
Karen turned his efforts to tending the injured. Teaming up with an unfamiliar young man, he pushed a wheeled stretcher back and forth, ferrying the severely wounded one by one to an open clearing on the perimeter to await church hospital medics.
After working tirelessly for about an hour, the workload only increased rather than lightened, as vast numbers of casualties unable to extricate themselves were uncovered and hauled out of the wreckage.
By then, however, medical teams from the church hospital had arrived on the scene, alongside a large contingent of Church of Order priests rushing in from across York City. Given the scale of the disaster, it was impossible to keep quiet.
Seeing Karen and his partner caked in dust, several newcomers stepped forward to relieve them of the stretcher.
Karen did not refuse. Shaking his numb hands, he walked toward the perimeter and found a spacious spot to sit down.
"Hey."
Karen turned his head and saw his stretcher partner had followed him over, holding out an opened thermos flask to him.
Karen had noticed earlier that the fellow had a thermos hanging at his waist throughout their work. He looked quite young, and like Karen, he wore plain civilian clothes rather than clerical robes.
Oh, damn it.
Karen suddenly remembered the custom robes he had ordered. With such a disaster striking, would his order still be fulfilled?
It... probably would. After all, he had paid in point coupons, and the Church always prioritized the credibility of its currency.
Taking the thermos and bringing it to his lips, Karen caught a sweet aroma. He took a sip—it was soda, and icy cold.
At a moment like this, nothing felt more invigorating than a generous gulp of iced soda. Karen took two more hearty swallows before handing it back.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it." The young man drained the remaining soda in one go, let out a long burp, and turned to Karen. "Got a smoke, friend?"
Karen nodded, pulled an unopened pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, and handed them over.
The young man tore open the pack, shook out a cigarette, offered one to Karen, and leaned in to light it for him.
Karen did not bother explaining why he carried cigarettes when he didn't smoke. Biting the filter, he let the young man light it, watched him light his own, and let him set the lighter and pack down between them.
"I just came to collect my allowance," the young man remarked. "If it weren't for the traffic jam on the way, I probably would've been carried out on a stretcher myself. Nearly lost my life over a hundred point coupons. Tsk."
Hearing "one hundred point coupons allowance," Karen immediately recognized him as a fellow God's Servant.
"I'm Richard. What about you, friend?"
"Karen."
"So, should I be addressing you as 'my lord'?" Richard asked with a grin.
"I receive a hundred-coupon allowance too."
"Hahaha!" Richard burst out laughing. "Good, that's good!"
Between two God's Servants, there was no gap in status to worry about.
"Look over there, the bishops have arrived too," Richard said, pointing into the distance.
Karen looked and saw several bishops in red vestments arriving on the scene, their expressions grim.
"Do you think this was an attack by the Church of Pamires?" Richard asked.
"Hm?"
"Don't you read the papers?" Richard asked, looking puzzled.
Karen realized then that this was no ordinary God's Servant. A typical God's Servant's monthly allowance was not even enough to subscribe to Order Weekly.
Furthermore, for him to casually ask another God's Servant, "Don't you read the papers?" proved he had no real grasp of what one hundred point coupons could actually buy—an attitude not unlike asking why the starving didn't simply eat meat.
Assuming he wasn't lying, Karen deduced he was likely some privileged scion collecting his very first allowance.
Second-generation church members were common in the Church of Order, as faith and influence often passed down through families and clans. Just as spotting a single cockroach in a house usually meant there were dozens more hidden away, an isolated convert rarely existed within a family; belief was almost always nurtured by elders and kin.
Strictly speaking, even setting Diss's personal standing aside, Karen himself counted as a second-generation church member. After all, the Inmerlais family was a lineage of Inquisitors.
"You think the Church of Pamires did this?" Karen asked.
"It's possible." Richard pointed toward the partitioned building. "A structure like that definitely has an operational hub—the Equipment Department and the storehouses, for instance, which rely on spatial arrays. Did you see the building when it first started collapsing?"
Karen nodded.
"Then did you notice that the initial fractures all centered around that one section?" Richard pointed toward the block guarded by the Jurists. "So, something must have gone wrong with the spatial arrays there, causing the entire building to disintegrate from that focal point."
"Did the Church of Pamires participate in the design and construction of the Church Affairs Building?" Karen inquired.
"Of course not. Our church handled it directly. A project like that would never be handed over to outsiders."
"Then why do you suspect an attack by the Church of Pamires?"
A knowing smile crept across Richard's face. "It couldn't be openly handed to outsiders, but it could be subcontracted."
"That..."
"Do you know what subcontracting means?" Richard asked.
"I do."
Karen was simply astonished that even the Church's internal construction projects operated on such earthly pragmatism.
"It happens all the time. Subcontracting work out to others makes sense. For one thing, the Church of Pamires specializes in spatial mechanics; having them handle it guarantees better results at a lower cost. For another, we don't even have to pay them in coupons—they'll pinch their noses and bring their own materials just to complete the job, provided they're compensated with favors elsewhere.
"Of course, I lean toward an attack by the Church of Pamires. Though I wouldn't rule out... ahem, a little drama staged by our own side."
"It wasn't staged by our side," Karen said flatly.
"Oh? Why? Wouldn't this serve as an excellent pretext?"
"We don't need to look for pretexts, nor do we need excuses. The more justifiable the reason and the more fitting the pretext, the less use we have for it."
Richard pressed his lips together. "The way you talk sounds an awful lot like my father."
"What position does your father hold?"
"Whoa, asking so directly? Shouldn't you pretend you didn't notice, then casually butter me up to get closer?"
"Heh."
"My father's a Jurist. Look over there—that's him standing guard."
So one of the Jurists currently guarding the section containing the Equipment Department and the Shop was Richard's father.
"Not just my father—my mother is a Jurist too, though she's currently stationed in Sangpu rather than York City. My aunt is also a Jurist. My uncle by marriage fell two ranks short; he's only an Inquisitor."
A... family of Jurists?
If the Inmerlais family's Inquisitor heritage made them local gentry, then Richard's household was an aristocratic powerhouse within the Church's inner circles.
"So why are you only a God's Servant?" Karen asked.
"Hahaha! I just hold a God's Servant credential because I've been too lazy to go and update it. Young as I look, I'm actually a God's Shepherd! You should be calling me 'my lord'!"
Karen suspected the entire conversation had been carefully orchestrated just to deliver that punchline.
Dropping the unsmoked cigarette onto the ground, Karen ground it out with the sole of his shoe, ignoring him entirely.
Seeing Karen's indifferent reaction, Richard took no offense. Instead, he leaned closer and whispered, "Friend... er, Karen, what position does your elder hold?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just trying to make friends."
"Then I would be reaching out of my league."
"Tch, keeping secrets from me, are you?" Richard blew a smoke ring, dropped his butt, took another cigarette from the pack between them, and lit it. "If you don't smoke, why carry a pack and a lighter?"
"For people like you."
"Pfft! Hahaha! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Richard burst into roaring laughter.
Karen had no idea what he found so amusing.
Ahead, Karen saw squads from the Whip of Order marching in to establish a perimeter and maintain order. Although the police headquarters sat right down the street, not a single secular officer was in sight; mundane authorities had no jurisdiction here.
However, Karen did not spot his own squad. Had he known, he wouldn't have returned that blue seashell to Fanny. Still, tonight's gathering was undoubtedly canceled; with an incident of this magnitude at the Church Affairs Building, his squad would surely be deployed.
Just then, Karen sensed a presence behind him. Turning his head, he saw a stern-faced woman in dark red robes standing behind them.
The patterns embroidered on her vestments confirmed her rank—a Jurist.
Karen rose at once and bowed. "My Lord."
"Aunt?" Richard scrambled to his feet, discarding his freshly lit cigarette onto the ground.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, totally fine! Aunt, Father's over there."
"I know." The woman turned her gaze toward Karen. "State your identity."
"Karen Silva, God's Servant under the Pavaro Inquisition office."
Karen also held membership in the Whip of Order squad, but he chose to report his God's Servant status—a designation equivalent to harmless and benign.
"Hehe, Aunt, he's a new friend of mine." Richard leaned forward to examine Karen before turning back to his aunt. "He got covered in dust helping me haul stretchers, but he's still quite handsome, isn't he? Just as dashing as Uncle was in his youth!"
"You might tell your mother that he looks as handsome as your father did in his youth."
"I can't say that! Father isn't good-looking at all—why else would Mother prefer staying in Sangpu City rather than transferring back? She just thinks Father is too ugly."
"I'll be sure to pass along your compliments to your father."
"I'm not scared! Aunt dotes on me the most."
"Don't run around recklessly next time. It's dangerous. Things have been turbulent lately, and the outside world isn't safe."
"I only came to pick up my allowance and buy you some jewelry on the way. Isn't your birthday coming up?"
The woman glanced into the distance. "Head home early. I have business to attend to."
With that, her form dissolved into black mist, streaking toward the section where Richard's father stood.
"Did you drive here?" Richard asked Karen.
"Yes."
"That's great! The perimeter is cordoned off, so I can't hail a cab."
Karen pointed into the distance. "If you run a little further out, you'll find one."
"Hey, you were so respectful to my aunt just now—why are you treating me so casually?"
"Because we're both God's Servants."
"I told you, I'm a God's Shepherd!"
"I only acknowledge credentials."
"Oh, come on!" Richard threw an arm over Karen's shoulder. "Give me a ride home. I'm exhausted, I don't want to walk."
Karen looked at him skeptically. "We only shared a stretcher."
"I don't know why, but I feel an affinity with you. Oh, rest assured, I date women—it's not that kind of affinity."
"Where do you live?"
"White Deer Street. It's not far from here. I'll treat you to coffee at my place."
Karen did not agree, but he walked toward his car anyway. Richard trotted along beside him, and the moment Karen slid into the driver's seat, Richard settled naturally into the passenger side.
Richard grinned. "Of course, if you'd rather invite me to your place for coffee, I wouldn't mind that either."
Karen shook his head helplessly. Usually, others went out of their way to curry favor with wealthy young masters, yet this scion had inexplicably attached himself like a burr.
Leaving him no choice, Karen drove to White Deer Street. Following Richard's directions, they pulled up to a detached villa, where the car drove directly into a private underground garage.
"When a friend comes over, you have to invite him in, right?" Richard turned off Karen's ignition for him.
After a brief hesitation, Karen stepped out of the vehicle and followed Richard up the garage stairs into a spacious parlor. The room was decorated in a vintage style, elegantly appointed with refined taste.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Ice water."
"Sure, just a moment." Richard headed into the kitchen. In such a massive villa, there seemed to be no maids present. However, several sculptures positioned throughout the house gave Karen an unusual impression—they were likely defensive arrays. Had he entered alone without Richard leading the way, he would almost certainly have triggered an attack.
Karen walked toward the center of the parlor, where a large framed family portrait hung above the fireplace.
The photograph was clearly dated and did not include Richard. It depicted an elderly man seated, with one man and two women standing behind him—presumably his children. The man bore a strong resemblance to Richard and was undoubtedly his father. The woman on the far right was the female Jurist in her younger days.
However, the woman on the far left...
Karen stepped closer, examining her intently. She looked remarkably familiar.
As he stared, a memory abruptly surfaced in his mind—the "dream" he had entered when Raniedal attempted to usurp his body. In that dream, a man and a woman had lain beside him, and it was their protective presence that had prevented Raniedal from taking over.
And the woman on the far left of the photograph looked identical to the woman who had lain at his side in that dream.
"I don't know why, but I feel an affinity with you."
Richard's earlier words echoed in Karen's ears. At the time, he had wondered if the young master had a loose screw.
Only now did Karen understand: Richard wasn't out of his mind. His feeling of kinship had a genuine origin, even if Richard himself had no idea where it came from.
Because...
He was actually his cousin.
Chapter 193