Bart picked a restaurant and reserved a private dining room. Karen had stopped by the front desk to call Alfred, making him the last one to enter, but the three of them had left the seat facing the window open for him.
This small circle had only just formed, so it was still pure—a hierarchy defined purely by circumstance.
Because all three of them had been allowed past by Karen.
The lively and confident Aisli spoke first. "All our quota spots come from the same regional district. Come the final selection round, no one can say for sure whether the format will be anything like this one.
"And while teamwork wasn't the ultimate deciding factor in this test, it certainly provided a substantial advantage along the way.
"I imagine that's why we willingly sat down together for this meal. My thought is that during the next round, so long as it doesn't harm our own interests, we should look out for one another.
"Furthermore, if any of us realizes they won't make the cut, they can always pull someone else down with them."
Aisli was stating the obvious: banding together.
Bart spoke up. "I agree."
Ventura placed a small stone on the table. "I agree too."
Then, the gazes of all three fell upon Karen.
Karen's stance was what they anticipated most, and the linchpin determining whether this alliance could succeed.
First, even though they hadn't crossed swords, everyone silently acknowledged that Karen was the strongest.
Second, Karen had carried deadweight to such heights, stopping only when that deadweight could no longer endure—proving that he was reliable.
Someone willing to help a friend would naturally draw more people wanting to be his friend.
Karen nodded and replied, "Of course."
Everyone smiled.
Aisli asked, "Karen, the person you were carrying—who is he to you? A good friend?"
"Yeah, a good friend. But in the end he withdrew. He wasn't keen on earning a spot that way, nor did he want to squeeze out someone else."
This matter still warranted an explanation.
"What about the fifth-place girl, Philomena? Does anyone know her?" Aisli asked.
Bart shook his head. "She's not from the knight order."
Ventura said, "I don't know many people."
Karen shook his head as well.
Aisli said, "I'll have someone look into her background when I get back, but I don't think we should get our hopes up with her. She doesn't look easy to get along with."
In truth, another major reason Richard had chosen to concede was that once Philomena revealed her transformed state, Richard didn't want Karen fighting such a mysterious and formidable opponent on his behalf.
He wanted to withdraw, yet didn't want Karen's help and sacrifices to go to waste. One could only say Philomena's arrival had offered him the ideal pretext to bow out.
"She's very strong," Karen remarked.
On the mountain, she had been the only one capable of speaking fluently with him.
"So she disdains teaming up," Aisli laughed. "When it comes down to it, we're still lacking confidence."
Bart shook his head. "I simply wanted to treat Karen to tea."
Ventura smiled. "Same here."
"Oh, I know you both have your pride, but I prefer to focus on practicalities. By the way, it seems we haven't formally introduced ourselves yet. I'll go first.
"Aisli Piton. Intern breeder in a Grade A department under the church's Beast Taming System. My parents are scholars there. Sorry, in our department circles, we usually don't use priestly titles because our atmosphere leans heavily academic."
Bart spoke up. "Are our falcons bred by your department?"
"Those are bred by Grade C departments. We typically breed rare monster beasts on the brink of extinction. As for the departments above ours, their research focuses on resurrecting extinct ferocious beasts.
"Put it this way: I'm pretty outgoing and like making friends. If any of you keep a monster beast at home, you can come find me to look after it. Who knows, maybe I can purify its bloodline.
"Of course, regular pets work too—I can help bolster their physical constitution and maybe raise their intelligence a notch."
Karen couldn't help thinking of the two back at his place.
Aisli belonged to a special department. According to the Church of Order's conventions, any department above Grade A in any system was kept in semi-isolation. They had their own circles and ecosystem, rarely contacting outsiders. It was difficult for outsiders to get close, let alone build up favors with them.
"If it's a monster beast, does it need to eat anything special?"
"There are supplements specifically for monster beasts. Do you need some, Karen?"
"Yes."
When tangible benefits were involved, Karen often cast propriety aside in favor of pragmatism.
"Give me your address, and I'll have someone deliver them to you."
"All right. I'll pay in point coupons."
"No need for point coupons. Where's the fun in taking coupons? Besides, I'm not strapped for them."
"Thank you."
Karen recalled Mr. Lemaire mentioning that the Captain had once given him heaps of point coupons, wiping away any lingering favors.
"Don't mention it. Actually, the best way would be for you to bring your monster beast over so I can examine it personally—or rather, have my dad or mom help check it out to see its developmental potential."
"No need to go through all that trouble."
"All right, no problem. What about you two?"
Bart responded, "The knight order has dedicated breeding divisions and veterinarians."
"Those are subordinate units to us," Aisli noted.
"I know." Bart shrugged.
Ventura toyed with his stone as he said, "We don't keep pets in my family."
"Well, that's my introduction." Aisli sat down. "Next."
Bart stood up. "Bart Cousins. Reserve Eagle Knight of the Third Knights. Both my parents are mid-level officers."
Aisli asked, "What about your grandfather?"
Bart furrowed his brow.
With uninhibited familiarity, Aisli said, "Normally, when parents hold equal status, it's because a strong family pedigree secured an equal marriage alliance. Your grandfather's rank must be even higher."
"My grandfather once served as vice commander of the Third Knights, but that was long ago. When I was very young, he was transferred to the First Knight Order."
Hearing this, Karen stood up. Aisli stood up as well, and even Ventura, who had been playing with his stone, stood up.
Everyone knew what kind of existence the First Knight Order was. Being transferred to the First Knight Order meant becoming part of its strength after death.
Bart looked at Aisli and said, "That's why I didn't want to make things so solemn. Everyone, please sit down."
"Salute to your grandfather," Aisli said.
Bart continued, "The knight orders belong to an entirely different system from the rest of the church. We take orders only from the High Priest and the Temple of Order. Still, what I can offer is this: if any of you or your close relatives and friends want to join a knight order, I can arrange an opportunity. However, entry requirements are strict; you'll have to pass the assessment yourself."
With that, Bart sat down.
Ventura spoke up. "Ventura Lan Mani. I live with my grandparents. Both of them are God's Servants who used to work as clerks in the Church Affairs Building. They're retired now."
Aisli asked, "What about your parents?"
Karen felt rather helpless; this girl was truly thoughtless to a fault.
Starting an introduction with one's grandparents already hinted at the reason, yet she just had to ask.
"My parents passed away ten years ago. Because of..."
Ventura hesitated, his fingers rubbing the stone before he continued, "...because of contamination."
"Were you contaminated too?" Aisli asked.
"Yeah."
"Impressive." Aisli nodded. "You have my respect."
Ventura offered a slight smile. "Actually, you get used to it."
Because Dora and Doreen lived in his house, Karen had witnessed their daily lives and understood just how heavy Ventura's words truly were.
Finally, it was Karen's turn.
Karen stood up and spoke:
"Karen. Orphan.
"I run a funeral parlor. If any of your relatives or friends have need of our services, feel free to reach out."
The three seated fell silent for a moment.
Karen sat down, picked up the teapot, and refilled his cup.
Aisli asked, "So you fought your way up entirely on your own?"
Karen replied, "There were many fortunate opportunities, and I met many people who helped me. But my background is just that simple."
Bart clapped his hands. "In that case, shall we order?"
The dishes were served shortly. All four of them were starving and ate heartily.
After the meal, the four bade one another farewell.
Bart and Aisli still had to meet up with friends from their own circles. They had arrived together and would certainly head back together.
Alfred had already parked the car outside the entrance. Seeing Karen come out, he opened the door for him.
Karen looked at Ventura. "How are you getting back?"
"I'll take a cab."
"Get in. I'll drive you."
"All right, thank you."
The boy didn't act bashful. He climbed into the car and gave his address to Alfred.
Sitting in the front passenger seat, Karen asked, "By the way, you haven't taken up an official post yet, have you?"
"No, I'm still attending a church school. The headmaster recommended me for this selection."
Karen recalled that Little John was also studying at a church school, boarding there for primary school.
"What do you want to do once you finish?" Karen asked. "I mean in terms of job assignment."
Ventura answered, "The Whip of Order."
It was much like many young boys dreaming of becoming police officers when they grew up. Putting aside the insular circle of the knight orders, the Whip of Order certainly fulfilled most young people's romanticized ambitions for a career. Richard, too, had pulled family strings to join back then out of that very same dream.
"Then aim for one of the final twelve spots. That way, you can become a captain right upon graduation."
"I'm too young; I couldn't be a captain," Ventura replied soberly. "What about you? Are you planning to become a captain?"
"What do you think?"
"I think your spot on the twelve-person roster is practically guaranteed, because you're far stronger than us."
"Nothing is certain."
"If you become a captain, can I join your squad as a team member?" Ventura asked.
"If you don't find it beneath you, I'd certainly welcome you."
"Great. I want to follow you."
Karen smiled toward the window. The boy was still pure and naive—at that most gullible age, so to speak.
He had likely been awed during the test, which, in his temporary lapse of rationality, spurred an impulse to swear loyalty to a big brother.
Still, future matters could wait.
If he really did assemble a squad down the road and the boy was willing to join, Karen would certainly take him in.
Ventura wasn't just talented; he had already converted his talent into current strength, making him immediate combat power.
Moreover, his specialty likely wasn't the soul. Given how his soul had turned to stone, his forte was almost certainly close-quarters physical combat. In reality, such people were often exceedingly useful.
In other words, an examination targeting the soul was actually his weak point.
Ventura's home was in an apartment building. When Alfred parked outside the entrance, two elderly people sitting on a roadside bench immediately stood up. The grandmother supported the grandfather as they walked over.
"Grandpa, Grandma!"
Ventura hopped out of the car and ran toward them.
"Young Master, it seems you have a good rapport with them. In fact, this subordinate believes such relationships are the most solid."
"I asked someone for some restorative tonics. Once they arrive, take them to Purr and Kevin to examine. If they can eat them, let them have some."
"They probably won't do much for Purr, but they should be quite effective for Kevin," Alfred remarked as a subtle reminder.
Just then, Ventura's grandparents came over. The old man looked very aged. He bowed slightly and said to Karen, "My Lord, we have refreshments and tea prepared at home. Won't you come up for a bite?"
The old man had been a God's Servant his whole life, working in the Church Affairs Building as a frontline church employee. He had grown accustomed to addressing most people in the Church of Order as "My Lord."
Even though his grandson was exceptionally talented now, the boy had not yet graduated and held no official post.
Karen was about to decline, but Ventura walked up and said, "Please, do us the honor."
The grandmother added from behind, "He's the very first friend our Ventura has ever brought home."
Karen hesitated a moment before nodding. "Then forgive the intrusion."
There was no helping it; one had to think three steps ahead. Since he intended to recruit their grandson as a subordinate later on, he needed to maintain good relations with the boy's elders now.
Karen and Alfred got out of the car and followed them upstairs.
Entering the apartment, they found it impeccably tidy and clean. The dining table already held snacks handmade by the grandmother.
Along the way, the grandfather talked endlessly about his grandson. Karen could tell that due to the "contamination," Ventura had grown somewhat withdrawn, or intensely shy, with hardly any friends to speak of. Fortunately, his outstanding abilities had earned him the headmaster's appreciation.
The headmaster of a church school wielded substantial authority, overseeing a major pipeline that supplied fresh blood to the church.
The two elderly folks desperately wished their grandson could lead a normal life in the future—respectable and honored, like the church "lords" they had always looked up to.
Karen accepted a piece of sponge cake and took a bite. It was soft, fluffy, and tasted wonderful.
As he ate, Karen took in his surroundings and noticed a portrait hanging on the living room wall, covered by a black cloth.
Was it a memorial portrait of Ventura's parents?
Noticing Karen's gaze, the grandfather immediately explained, "That is a portrait of our benefactor."
"A portrait?"
"Yes. Without him, our Ventura wouldn't be here today. Years ago, both Ventura's father and mother were contaminated. They were beyond saving; even the church hospital had no way to treat them. Then that benefactor came knocking, saying he had a method he could try. We agreed. There was nothing to refuse, because back then we knew that even if his treatment failed, things couldn't possibly get any worse."
"And in the end, it succeeded?"
"Yes, it succeeded. Our benefactor contained the contamination in Ventura's parents, granting them three final years free from torment."
In the end, they still passed away after three years.
Yet Karen knew this was already the best possible outcome—not just three additional years of life, but years lived with dignity and quality.
"Back then, Ventura's mother was already pregnant with him. She might not have lasted long enough to bring the child into the world. But thanks to our benefactor, not only did they deliver Ventura safely, they also watched him take his first steps and heard their son speak with their own ears. When they finally departed, they were at peace.
"It was just hard on our Ventura—he was contaminated as well. Before his mother passed, that was her deepest regret; she felt she had failed her son, making him suffer from birth."
"Grandpa, you're saying that again. I love my mother, I love my father, I love both of you, and I love the life I have now," Ventura spoke up.
"Yes, yes. Thanks to our benefactor's arrangements, even though Ventura was contaminated from birth, he was able to attempt to control the contamination within him. Though he endured immense pain for it, it prevented the contamination from spreading and taking his life in infancy. And now, he's still so healthy, isn't he?"
"Yes. He will have a very bright future."
"We hope you will look out for him going forward."
"I will. By the way, who was this benefactor?"
"We don't know his name. We only know he was someone from our church. Our benefactor's family had likely been infected as well, so he was actually searching for and testing treatments to save his own loved ones. He was very clear with us about that. Even so, we remain profoundly grateful to him. I can hardly imagine what would have become of our home if he had never appeared.
"A pity we didn't get to take a photograph of him back then, so we had to commission an artist to paint a portrait based on our description.
"Ventura, go tell our benefactor that you passed the regional selection. He will surely be delighted."
"Okay, Grandpa."
Ventura walked to the wall and gently drew aside the black cloth, revealing the portrait beneath.
The figure in the portrait was an elderly man with silvery-white hair and an imposing stature. In his left hand he held a potion vial, in his right an empty sword hilt, and on his face... he wore a silver mask.
Karen froze.
It was Diss!
Chapter 310