Order, How Much Longer

Order... Karen looked down into the black abyss below. He had a premonition that a genuine secret lay buried within this abyss, one very likely tied to why the gods had not shown themselves since the beginning of this era. The feeling was extraordinarily intense—so strong that Karen himself found it inconceivable. At that moment, as Karen lay on his bed in the bedroom, the golden mark on the back of his hand began to surface. Within the dream, he also felt a scorching heat from the back of his hand. He knew that he was having this dream because he had "seen" the Scythe of War, a pristine, supreme divine artifact. A god could not be looked upon directly. Once you laid eyes on it and forged some form of connection with it, even if it bore no intent toward you, it would inevitably leave its mark on you. This phenomenon went far beyond psychological suggestion; describing it as an "imprint" was far more fitting. It was just that a slight complication had arisen in his case. For anyone else, it would amount to nothing more than a spell of nightmares where they were repeatedly slain by the Scythe of War. For Karen, however, the myriad peculiarities of his person unraveled entirely new developments. The simplest factor was his physical body. Having been remade by Raniedal, it possessed an affinity with "divinity," naturally granting him the ability to perceive more. Karen lifted his foot, intending to step into the black abyss before him and pursue the truth of this secret. His mindset was like that of a gambler staring at the final card waiting to be revealed, having long lost all concept of winning or losing, seeking only release. Yet just as that foot was about to come down, he froze. Karen clenched his teeth. The innate caution rooted deep within his soul reasserted itself. At the same time, cold sweat broke out across his skin. Why did I have such a thought? What does the truth behind that secret have to do with me right now? Whether I find out early or remain in the dark, what difference could it possibly make? Rational thought rapidly flooded in, banishing the mysterious, uncanny impulse that had come from nowhere and nearly commandeered his mind. Karen doubled over, gasping heavily for breath. Fear and lingering dread filled his eyes as he stared at the abyss before him. Was that an enchantment? Or... bewilderment? Was it like the demonic voice the captain had once faced from the bloodthirsty aberrant demon ancestor? It could arouse all manner of desires from deep within you to fulfill its own design. "Phew..." Karen let out a heavy breath and straightened up. If he were his former self, he might have already taken that step. But now, tempered by the final selection, he had completed his self-examination, leaving no cracks in his state of mind. Even so, he had still been affected. That was truly terrifying. Gurgle... Gurgle... Gurgle... The abyss began to belch out black bubbles. Each popping bubble seemed to depict a horrifying scene where countless people slaughtered one another, shouting, screaming, and wailing in agony. Karen pressed a hand against his forehead, not daring to look directly at the bubbles any longer. He felt as if the soul he had always taken pride in would burst from being overloaded by those images. Even when he looked away, the sound of popping bubbles echoed incessantly by his ears. Even covering them with his hands offered no barrier. At this moment, he felt as if he were standing on a vast, boundless battlefield, surrounded by red-eyed combatants butchering each other without reserve. The terrifying part was not the battlefield itself, but that his soul's perspective kept pulling upward—stretching higher, higher, and higher still. You saw your hands, then your head, then yourself kneeling on the ground, then the surrounding battlefield, and then an even vaster, vaster, vaster field of war. In that virtually endless expanse, you were merely the tiniest speck of dust. It was a suffocating despair. Compared to this, the phantasmal beasts of Augurev Fortress were entirely negligible. This did not attack by seeking vulnerabilities in your mind or baiting you into exposing a flaw; rather, you simply stood there, and it laid bare just how minuscule you were, driving you to question whether your very existence held any meaning at all. What was sadder still was that it was not deliberately targeting you. It was merely the instinctive sensation one felt upon drawing near it. Finally, the bubbles ceased. The Scythe of War, which had previously fallen into the depths, surfaced once more. It floated there, motionless. Karen finally gained a moment to catch his breath. Resting both hands against the ground, he made no move to stand up. Hum— A sound drifted up, exceedingly faint, yet slight ripples spread across the black liquid surface. Hum— The ripples continued to spread, accompanied by what sounded like a noise. It felt like someone knocking on a door—no, slapping at a door—no, pounding on a door! This person had been sealed away for ages, and having heard the sound of someone passing outside, they had begun frantically hammering on the colossal gate, desperate to draw attention and crying out at the same time. Hum— Hum— Hum— The ripples on the liquid grew increasingly distinct, and Karen felt the very "dream" he inhabited begin to shudder. It was an absurd sight: someone imprisoned an unfathomable distance away was pounding on a door with such fervor that the commotion shook another person's dream. Karen pressed his lips together, staring at the abyss before him. He could almost sense the immense distance and obstacles each ripple had traversed to reach him. Standing between them was not merely a door, but boundless folds of space, and perhaps... the very barrier of time itself. Karen, who had weathered so much and could even tease Captain Neo over "secrets," was now genuinely rattled. All his decorum and composure were like a sheet of paper torn to shreds the moment rain struck it. He had no intention of going down, but whoever was down there seemed desperate to come up! At last, with the emergence of each successive ripple, the sound coalesced into a clear voice carried up from deep within the boundless abyss. It seemed to be a single sentence that the captive desperately wished to convey, an utterance driven to the brink of frenzy, wrath, and hysteria! Karen heard the words in full. What the voice said was: "Order, how much longer must I wait?" ... The moment those words echoed clearly and completely through Karen's mind, he sensed everything around him collapsing inward at high speed. The abyss vanished, the Scythe of War vanished, and the dream vanished with them. Karen lay on his bed with his eyes open. He had clearly awakened, yet he remained unaware of it. Blood leaked steadily from his eyes, his nostrils, the corners of his mouth, and his ears. Veins bulged hideously across his flesh, followed by an aching soreness deep within his bones and violent spasms throughout his muscles. Yet Karen noticed none of it, for his soul was enduring rapid, relentless contortions. Compared to the agony wracking his soul, physical pain could provide no further shock. Only when the tempest in his soul finally subsided did Karen tilt his head slightly. Bracing his hands against the mattress, he pushed himself up. He sat there for a long while before his awareness and senses gradually returned to his body. Why is everything red? Puzzled, Karen opened his hands and found that his palms were covered in blood. He wiped his eyes with his hand, clearing away the red tint in his vision. When he looked down, however, he discovered that a large patch of the bedsheet had already been soaked crimson by his blood. "Cough, cough... cough, cough... cough, cough..." A bout of coughing racked him. Each spasm pulled at his internal organs, sending sharp pangs through his chest. At this moment, Karen sorely wished he could simply lie back down and fall asleep, knowing full well that after a solid rest, these symptoms would ease or even disappear entirely. Yet halfway through lowering himself, he looked at the filthy bedsheet, then down at his equally soiled self... In the end, he gritted his teeth, got out of bed, and dragged his thoroughly exhausted, frail body into the washroom. Turning on the faucet over the sink, Karen cupped water in his hands and splashed it repeatedly over his face, letting the icy chill quickly cool his fevered mind. After a long time, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back looked utterly haggard. He lowered his head to look at the back of his hand where the mark lay. That spot was completely charred black, yet even amidst the blackened flesh, the silhouette of the mark remained distinctly visible. Karen knew, however, that the mark had merely acted as a catalyst for his earlier ordeal. As for which factor had played the decisive role in violently transforming another person's nightmare of being slaughtered by the scythe into a dream-demon calling for rescue, Karen had no idea. He simply carried far too many peculiar fixtures on his person. After washing his face, Karen checked himself over and saw that the bleeding had stopped. He walked to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and knocked on the adjacent wall. "Captain?" Ventura slept on the second floor, but he had left his bedroom door open. Hearing the sound, he called out immediately and came running down. The sight of Karen gave him a fright. "Captain, what happened to you?" "I'm fine now." Seeing Ventura come down, Karen turned back into the washroom, took a shower, and changed into a bathrobe. When he stumbled back out, he saw that the sheets, duvet cover, and pillows on his bed had all been swapped for clean ones—Ventura had evidently brought down the bedding from his own room to replace it. "Captain, should I fetch a doctor?" "No need." Karen sat down by the edge of the bed. "Captain, the way you looked just now was just like when my corruption flared up as a child. Were you also..." "I wouldn't be..." Karen paused. His body did not fear most forms of corruption. But if the entity knocking from within the abyss did not fall under the category of "most," and was instead War... Then did his earlier physical and spiritual reactions amount to his body repelling the corruption? If he had been an ordinary person, would he have been completely corrupted? No, if he had been an ordinary person, he wouldn't have even had the chance to be corrupted like that. Karen pressed a hand to his aching forehead. "Captain, you should get some rest." "Yeah." Maintaining that posture, Karen leaned back against the headboard and fell asleep. He woke several times throughout the night, and Ventura was sitting beside him every time. Karen asked him for the time; each stretch of sleep was broken, waking every twenty to thirty minutes. Only on the final try did he sink into a truly deep slumber. When Karen woke again, it was already afternoon. Ventura was still sitting on the floor, holding a glass of milk and a piece of bread. Karen got out of bed and stretched his limbs, checking his condition. Though a trace of fatigue lingered, both his body and soul were largely unharmed. "Captain, how are you feeling?" "I'm fine. What about today's training?" "Oh, right. Muri's squad didn't finish until noon, so today's scheduled training was postponed until tomorrow." "Understood." "Captain, should I get you something to eat? Oh, and the others don't know what happened to you last night. They all went to the base training grounds to practice with the apparatuses. Do you want me to call them back?" Karen glanced back at the clock on the nightstand. It was past four in the afternoon. "Forget it. We'll have dinner together after they finish training. I have something to discuss with everyone anyway. As for what happened last night, keep it between us." "Yes, Captain, I understand." Ventura turned to leave, but then paused as if remembering something. "Captain, one more thing. Today, a logistics director from the base hotel disguised himself as a waiter, knocked on our door, and gave me a business card." "Oh? What for?" "He must have noticed that we've been requisitioning cigarettes and liquor every day lately, so he offered to buy them back from us at fifteen percent off the point coupon store's price. What do you think?" Generally, black market sales always involved a markdown; who would buy from the black market if the goods weren't cheap enough? Certain strictly regulated contraband was an exception, of course, but cigarettes and liquor clearly didn't fall into that category. "Then call him and tell him to come by tonight to collect the goods." "Right away, Captain." ... The training base had a dining hall, and Muri's squad usually ate there, but Karen's squad preferred to gather in their captain's suite for meals. Once everyone had assembled, Karen stepped out of his bedroom. He had changed into a divine robe, looking no different from the day before. Aisli and Blanche had both just taken showers, and since Saint Antis was a tropical coastal city, the two women were dressed rather lightly. Mars wore a short-sleeved shirt, while Bart wore a sleeveless undershirt, revealing bronze skin that made him look like a dockhand hauling sacks for a living. Karen sat down on the sofa and asked, "How did the afternoon practice go?" Aisli peeled a shrimp and popped it into her mouth. "Captain, there wasn't nearly enough time. I feel like I need much more practice." Mars nodded in agreement. "Yes, Captain. The time to get familiar with them was too short." Bart shrugged nonchalantly. "Doesn't matter. Nobody knows whether we'll even need them after entering the Gate of Samsara anyway. Most of our squad will be transferring under Captain's Whip of Order squad later on, so we'll have plenty of time to train and coordinate among ourselves in the future." "Right, there's really no rush. We'll have plenty of time later." Blanche echoed the sentiment, simultaneously deveining a peeled shrimp and placing it onto the plate before Karen. Seeing this, Aisli immediately peeled another and set it down as well. Mars also picked up a shrimp, but Bart nudged him with an elbow. "All right, that's enough from you. No need for you to peel one." Observing everyone's interactions, Karen felt satisfied. "There is something I need to tell you. As you heard yesterday, these war apparatuses will be delivered to us inside the Gate of Samsara via teleportation scrolls. "However, once we exit the Gate of Samsara, these apparatuses will essentially remain behind inside. "In other words, those lovely big toys you spent all afternoon getting familiar with will part ways with you the moment we emerge from the Gate of Samsara." The moment the words left his mouth, the entire room fell dead silent. It was like a bunch of youths who had finally managed to drive an adult's car, drink adult liquor, and smoke adult cigarettes, convinced they had grown into adults themselves, only for a swift slap to remind them that they were still just children. "Then my repeating crossbow..." "My Array Screen..." "My Imprisonment Cage..." "On that note, let me ask: can any of your families support you in purchasing a war apparatus out of pocket?" Everyone exchanged glances. Ventura lowered his head and silently chewed on his flatbread. No one spoke. War apparatuses were expensive—exorbitantly so. A major reason for the steep price was that they were strictly controlled materiel. Although they were displayed and priced in the point coupon stores across each district to stabilize the value of Order coupons, the higher-ups had no desire to see them enter widespread circulation. Consequently, their prices were set sky-high. The actual manufacturing cost of war apparatuses supplied to the knight orders might only be a tenth of the price listed in the external point coupon stores. Of course, cost couldn't be calculated by materials alone; it encompassed the human overhead of research, forging, engraving, and arraycraft across every phase. Even so, the prices were undoubtedly inflated. After all, the Church of Order had no wish to see Light remnants wreaking havoc one day armed with magic crystal cannons. Moreover, there was an inescapable problem: even if someone present had the family background to secure a discount or purchase gear from a knight order that had been marked as scrapped despite remaining fully intact, they couldn't operate that way. These were not meant for a private collection; they were meant to be used. Once their Whip of Order squad was established, it would serve as a flagship for reform and draw immense scrutiny. When missions were executed and war apparatuses were deployed, they would be noticed without fail, making concealment impossible. One would have to account for their origin. Unlike the Church of Samsara, where royal lineages and dominant clans could blot out the sky with a single hand, the Church of Order's main objective in this reform was to fracture and rein in the factional families within the faith. No family would be foolish enough to hand the Holy See a knife to use against them at a time like this. Seeing that the reality check had landed, Karen spoke up: "It doesn't matter. Once our Whip of Order squad is established, we can ramp up our pace, take on missions, and earn point coupons. I believe it won't be long before we can buy back those big toys you practiced with today from the point coupon store—and we can even buy better ones. "Building and accumulating things from scratch is far more interesting anyway, isn't it?" "Captain is right!" "Captain is completely right!" Just then, the doorbell rang. Ventura got up to answer it, and a plump, fair-skinned waiter stepped inside. Seeing so many people in the room, he immediately bowed to everyone. Ventura opened two suitcases, allowing him to tally the contents. Karen noticed that Ventura must have requisitioned Muri's squad's share of tobacco and alcohol as well today; otherwise, there couldn't possibly be this much. That kid certainly had a sharp learning curve in such matters. Once bought back, these goods would simply reappear in the base hotel's warehouse, accounted for at their original procurement price. After packing the goods, the man handed a thick stack of Order coupons to Ventura and turned to leave, but Karen called out: "Please wait a moment." "Yes? Is there anything else you require?" The logistics director maintained an exceedingly courteous demeanor. Karen pointed to the lavish spread of food on the dining cart. "Are these the highest-tier meals available?" "Yes, they are the top tier within your party's entitlement tier." "Then starting tomorrow, just bring us simple meals instead, and credit the difference to us in point coupons."