Revenge

Ophelia's mouth parted slightly. At this moment, an overwhelming sense of absurdity welled up in her heart. This... again? Whether it was first glimpsing his true self under the mottled dark moonlight, or parting the curtains guided by the dark moon, or now, the mountain collapsing right before their eyes. The manifestation of faith, the decree of fate—meeting again and again under an uncanny, tacit understanding to form a romance both deadly and aesthetically pure. Ophelia had never denied her fondness for Karen, nor had she deliberately hidden it. But after failing to receive any genuine response from him, she had prepared several times to use her reason to nip this dead-end feeling in the bud. Life was a long road. Matters of emotion were like the brim of a hat perched on one's head; if you kept rolling your eyes upward, all you would see was the color of the brim, mistaking that patch of brim within your sight for the entirety of life. In truth, there was plenty of rich scenery flanking both sides of the road. Once mature, the vast majority of people would not invest their entire lives into emotional affairs—not because they could not afford to, but because they felt it was not worth it. Yet developments always defied expectations. Ophelia felt that if time were stretched forward, she could already picture an elderly version of herself sitting by a pond with a blanket draped over her lap, her thoughts drifting back to this very moment. She already had so many scenes to look back on, each of which might summon a natural smile to the corners of her lips in old age. And yet, she had never even been in a relationship. Karen, on the other hand, felt mostly helpless. Although the Captain was not here in person, the Captain's influence continued to operate with surgical precision. Were it anyone else, Karen probably would not have believed it. But since it was the Captain, Karen felt it was only natural—he was simply capable of coordinating this well, of matching the scene this perfectly. However, after that brief surge of emotion, the two quickly regained their calm. Because the ground they were perched on was rising rapidly—and by a massive margin. Karen knew this was because the Captain had successfully awakened Dorons, but he knew even better that if a slumbering giant turtle underground were merely breaking through the soil, the surface beneath them could not possibly surge upward to such an extent. The only explanation was... had the spot he and Ophelia chosen to sit on been a part of Dorons' body? For instance, the giant turtle's head? Ophelia unfurled a scroll, and a miniature teleportation formation materialized. Drawing the great purple sword, she found their current perch far too high and easy to slip from. Instinctively, she raised the blade, intending to drive it in to create an anchor point. Seeing the girl prepare to stab downward, Karen took fright. If what lay beneath them was Dorons' head, that single thrust might completely ignite the waking temper of a beast that had just been disturbed. Karen immediately reached out, seized Ophelia by the shoulder, and pulled backward with force. Ophelia was slightly startled, but out of instinctive trust, she released her grip on the rock face and followed Karen backward. Together, the two slipped down through the air. Karen's body dissolved into a plume of black mist, enveloping Ophelia as well. Their downward momentum slowed, banking in an arc toward the other side. Just then, a piercing green light struck, seeming to dye everything around them in emerald. Karen had flown with Ophelia directly before Dorons' eyes. One of its eyes was roughly the size of an entire storefront along a street in York City. Before its colossal form, Karen felt like an insignificant bug. He could only hope it would ignore them like bugs. And indeed, it did. Dorons paid no heed to the cloud of black mist drifting past. Its massive head reared high, long trailing barbels hanging beneath its chin, tangled with thick vines and even full-grown trees. Over a century of slumber had long since woven its body into the surrounding environment. When its shell emerged, the pool resembled a gemstone resting upon its carapace—the most natural ornament upon its frame. Stories were always prone to exaggeration, especially when mythic elements were involved, where the embellishments grew wilder still. It was said that over a hundred years ago, Philias and his thousand followers had crossed the sea to Dark Moon Island aboard Dorons. Looking at the behemoth before them now, with a shell like a sprawling mountain range, carrying a thousand people would be utterly effortless. As the awakening accelerated, its body continued to reveal itself, and its limbs touched the ground. Above its head, dark clouds gathered; Around it, blue water vapor began to condense. Its eyes, originally radiating green light, gradually shifted to pure white. It was a divine beast of Light, though not recorded in mythical scripture, for it had been converted by Philias, its heart turned toward the Light. Upon first stirring, what surfaced was its primal nature; but as it fully awoke and its consciousness expanded, the aspect of Light naturally began to emerge. Looking upon it now, one felt no fear despite its colossal stature, sensing instead an aura of peace and serenity—children would even dare approach it to play. The dark clouds overhead gradually softened into white. Though it was already dusk, rays of evening light seemed to pour down from above. It was beautiful—extraordinarily beautiful, a pure beauty unbound by physical form, felt directly by the soul. Ophelia could not help but murmur, "It's so beautiful." Given the choice, Ophelia truly wished to pause, to observe it and touch it up close. But Karen, holding her within the black mist, did not halt for an instant, continuing to fly rapidly toward the perimeter. Finally, breaking through the blue mist, Karen stopped and landed. The spell Black Mist Stealth generally supported only short-distance movement. Carrying another person did not merely double the strain—it multiplied it severalfold. Having flown such a long distance, even someone of Karen's foundation felt a wave of exhaustion. Bracing his hands on his knees, bent over, he panted heavily, taking advantage of the lull to recover as much energy as possible. Ahead, the giant turtle Dorons stood like a sacred wonder, inspiring awe. Yet Karen knew this was merely temporary. Freshly stirred, it displayed wildness; once awake, it revealed the spirituality of Light's conversion. Soon... it would sort through its memories, recalling the betrayal and tragedy from over a century ago, laying bare the nature it was destined to show at this moment. No one would tell it what had transpired here more than a hundred years ago. Yet the streams would tell it, the wind would tell it, and the clouds would tell it. Philias had once laid a curse upon Dark Moon Island before the corpse pit on Snake Island. In that moment, his hatred had twisted the Light. The curse worms were originally meant to serve another purpose; their initial cultivation had been intended to provide Dark Moon Island with a new industry. Yet because of Philias' curse, those insects had become the nightmare of the Dark Moon clan. Dorons, this follower converted by Philias, would surely be able to sense that curse as well. Sure enough, the holy, immaculate aura began to warp. Within Dorons' eyes, the clean, pure white became laced with spreading blood vessels, until finally turning completely crimson. It reared its head once more and unleashed a sorrowful roar. "Roar—!" The radiant light across the sky dissolved. Dark clouds gathered once more, with bolts of lightning crisscrossing within the gloom. The layer of blue vapor surrounding it turned blood-red. Below, Karen saw a squad of guards originally stationed at Guze Pool; they too had intended to withdraw toward this side, but as they passed through the crimson mist, it rapidly seeped into their bodies, hoisting them up one by one. The guards' bodies twisted and tore. Their armor seemed to lose all protective capability, and in the end, their flesh burst apart, dissolving into fresh blood mist that fed back into the cloud. A terrifying divine sense swept across the area where Karen and Ophelia stood—the unmistakable sensation of being locked onto by a monstrous beast. Fortunately, Karen had put enough distance between them early on, staying far from the mist. Dorons did not turn toward Karen—or more accurately, toward Ophelia—but began advancing forward. That direction led to the towns of Dark Moon Island, the densely populated region. The giant turtle moved slowly, but given its colossal frame, the relative distance it covered was terrifying. Wherever it passed, trees, flowers, and fleeing animals were instantly crushed and drained dry upon touching the blood mist. It was furious. It sought vengeance. The traitors had to pay the price! Ophelia shut her eyes in anguish. In truth, ever since returning from Snake Island that night, she rarely mentioned "Ancestor Bernard" anymore. As a core descendant raised as a successor with her uncle's backing since childhood, she could understand Ancestor Bernard's choices. Yet Ancestor Bernard had packaged his image far too well. Generation after generation had grown up hearing of his heroic deeds and grand romance; when that image shattered, the disillusionment was truly difficult to bear. Taking a deep breath, Ophelia's gaze hardened with resolve. "We can't let it reach the town." Karen nodded, though he said nothing. In his heart, he leaned toward neither side. Bernard had betrayed Philias back then, slaughtering nearly all of Philias' followers and burying his wife alive. That empty coffin had likely been prepared for Philias himself, though an unforeseen turn that night had allowed Philias to escape. Such hatred, such a blood debt—for the awakened beast Dorons to exact vengeance upon Bernard's descendants over a century later was only natural. Karen had always possessed his own moral baseline, but it had always been flexible. Even so, he was not worried that a true catastrophe would unfold. Seeing the anxious look on Ophelia's face, Karen could only offer comforting words: "Don't worry. It won't make it to the town." Stopping a rampaging beast was hard—exceptionally hard. Especially when Dark Moon Island's primary military forces were with the offshore fleet. If the fleet were summoned back, it could likely defeat Dorons, but Dark Moon Island obviously could not open portals directly aboard warships the way the Church of Order had done during its expedition. The fleet could not return in time. Relying purely on local forces to intercept Dorons' advance was unrealistic. However, right now on Dark Moon Island, two orthodox churches were holding a summit. The Church of Samsara could choose to look on as idle spectators, but the Church of Order could not, because Dark Moon Island maintained a partnership with Order. On the surface it was a partnership, but both sides understood that Dark Moon Island had thrown its lot in with Order. The Church of Order would never stand by and watch its subordinate's home get flattened by a wild beast—not when it was happening right beneath their noses. If it were beyond their reach, that would be one thing, but this was taking place in plain sight. Cardinal Kred, who oversaw war affairs within the Church of Order, was here in person, along with Chief Bishops from various districts. Setting aside those who had advanced through administrative ranks, most possessed the formidable strength expected of a bishop. Not to mention that each bishop was accompanied by the most elite Whip of Order squad from their respective district. Though serving merely as honor guards during the conference, no one could overlook their combat prowess. This force was powerful enough that if Kred wished, he could stage a coup on Dark Moon Island right now, given that the offshore fleet could never reinforce the island in time. Hearing Karen's reassurance, Ophelia nodded, her expression easing considerably. Her stance was unquestionably rooted in protecting the people of Dark Moon Island. Ophelia sighed, "Fortunately, this is happening while both churches are conferring on the island." Karen wanted nothing more than to tell her: if both churches had not chosen to hold their conference here, Dorons would never have awakened either. Because that madman of a Captain would never have had the chance to stir up chaos on Dark Moon Island. ... The commotion stirred by Dorons immediately rattled most of the island, for the celestial anomaly was far too glaring. Members of both churches were drawn and alerted by the disturbance. A soft flying carpet ascended into the air. Gatekeeper Romir sat atop it, a cup of black tea in hand, sipping in silence. Before her sat two young men. One was Xiding, the Church of Samsara's spokesperson from the first day's proceedings, quite handsome. He had performed foolishly that day, spouting a great deal of pointless and laughable nonsense. Of course, that was not entirely his fault. Under those circumstances, as the defeated party, Samsara offered no flattering stage for him to showcase his abilities. The other man was Peide, Romir's grandnephew, surnamed Simonsen. That day in the observers' gallery, upon learning Romir belonged to the Simonsen family, Karen had specifically wondered whether Talina, whom he had killed, was related to her. Indeed she was; Talina was Romir's grandniece. To pursue the higher realms of Samsara, Romir had never married and naturally had no children. Yet the Simonsen family might occasionally lack Gatekeepers, but it never lacked a steady line of descendants. Now, following their defeat, internal factions within the Church of Samsara had undergone a sweeping reshuffle. The old entrenched family factions had reclaimed power, and a member of the Simonsen family—hailed as the royal bloodline of the Church of Samsara—once again occupying the Gatekeeper seat was the clearest proof of this transition. In times of peril, most within the church subconsciously believed that old families with histories nearly as ancient as the church itself could lead them out of the mire brought on by their defeat. Watching the advancing beast in the distance, Xiding marveled, "Its form is truly immense." Peide spoke up: "A deep-sea giant turtle, a Bursak variant. Records from the previous era note their presence in the ocean, yet finding them has always been difficult. First, because their numbers are scarce; second, because those who chanced to see them rarely returned alive to recount what they witnessed." Xiding replied at once, "So that's how it is. Thank you." Peide continued sipping his tea without betraying any emotion. "Peide, you truly have matured. When I brought you along, I was worried you wouldn't be able to keep your temper in check." "Because of Talina?" Peide smiled faintly. "The Church of Order killed my sister. I hate the Church of Order, but hatred shouldn't be vented in such a manner." "To be able to say that means you are truly clearheaded." Peide lowered his head. "My apologies. In the past, I disappointed you." "It's fine. Everyone does absurd things in their youth." Deeply in love with a girl, tirelessly searching for women who bore her likeness, implanting that girl's memories into them to sustain the illusion of being together and savor the sweetness of love, completely indifferent to how the vessels quickly deteriorated and died from the memory implantation, only to seek out the next body... Indeed, even conduct such as that was nothing more than "youthful absurdity" in the eyes of someone of Romir's stature. "The Church of Order will intervene, won't they?" Xiding asked. Romir gave a slight nod. "Of course. How could a master stand by and watch their dog's kennel get torn down?" ... Tafman chose not to continue pursuing the Captain. Now that Dorons had awakened, his immediate duty was to stop this behemoth from entering the town. Meanwhile, the Captain's figure appeared upon a hillside. Standing there, he could gaze upon Dorons marching in this direction, while behind him lay the town. Neo spread his arms slightly, leaning forward to savor the cool evening breeze brushing against his face. He was somewhat intoxicated—no, he was thoroughly intoxicated. Snapping his fingers with his left hand, he raised his right in a loose grip, as though holding an invisible conductor's baton. His body began swaying in subtle turns, while in the distance, the thunderous rumbles accompanying the beast's advance served as the finest orchestral accompaniment. The tempo grew faster and faster. The snake-head mask upon Neo's face slipped off, falling to the ground. Immediately after, the ring on his fingertip flickered faintly, and his face vanished as well, leaving only a blood-red visage. The entire scene was both serene and grotesque. The moonlight spilling over him flowed with a gentle warmth, yet radiating from his frame was a tremor bordering on madness. As the piece drew to a close, Neo turned to face the town. Inside, crowds were fleeing in blind panic, but with the beast bearing down, evacuating now was far too late. Neo let his right arm drop, swept his left behind him, and bowed low: "My apologies. Darkness has fallen, and the Light can no longer be seen."