This Is to Buy Your Life

After returning to his cabin, Karen lay down once more to rest. The token-binding ceremony was scheduled for the dead of night, earlier than their planned entry into Samsara Valley, which made it all the more urgent that he get himself into optimal shape in advance. Ventura remained in Karen's room, not daring to go over and call to his captain. It wasn't that he feared being kicked again; he was simply afraid of disturbing his captain's rest. Torn by inner turmoil and moved to the core, Ventura curled up in a corner and wept soundlessly, wiping away tears with the back of his hand over and over again. When dinner time arrived, Ventura took a deep breath, stood up, and went out to fetch dinner for his captain. At the dining hall, he ran into Aisli, Blanche, and the others. Before they could ask why his eyes were so red, Ventura took the initiative to blurt out that the captain was taking his place. Consequently, when Karen was nudged awake for dinner, his modest cabin was packed full with every member of his squad. The cabin's window was bolted shut and could not be opened, nor was there any exhaust fan, making the air stuffy to begin with. With so many people suddenly crammed inside, each wearing a solemn expression, the sense of suffocation deepened noticeably in both air and atmosphere. Karen rubbed the bridge of his nose and muttered in dissatisfaction, "Sleeping requires plenty of fresh air. That's the only way to get quality sleep." "Captain..." Aisli pursed her lips and continued, "We all know." "So you know. It's nothing special." Karen picked up the tray, hesitated for a moment, and rose to his feet. "Come on, let's eat on deck." Under normal circumstances at sea, eating on the deck was far from enjoyable. The rolling hull and the sea spray that could splash over at any moment would only add unwanted seasoning to your meal. Here, however, the waters had no wind, and the ship glided forward with exceptional stability. Once on deck, Karen could even set his tray down on the railing without worrying it might shake loose. The dinner was not varied, but the portions were generous: three fried chicken drumsticks, a large serving of curry rice, and six pan-fried fish fillets. The others stood beside him, each holding a tray. Bart spoke up. "Captain, let me take your place." Karen picked up a chicken leg with his left hand, took a bite, glanced at Bart, and said, "I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense." "It's not nonsense, Captain. What I mean is—" "Enough. What's decided is decided; stop discussing it. We're not at the cinema watching a romance film where a simple plotline needs to be rehashed over and over. Save some time. Besides, it annoys me." Everyone fell silent and lowered their heads to eat. Ventura was the first to finish. The boy with the squad's historically largest appetite had uncharacteristically lost his hunger tonight. He broke the silence and asked, "Captain, you have a way to deal with it, right?" Aisli chimed in, "Captain, do you have a way to protect yourself?" Karen didn't answer. He simply chewed on the chicken leg while gazing into the dense fog ahead. Ever since he had received the "mission" and stepped out of Growen's room, he had been pondering a single question. It was simple, yet immensely complicated. Why, just as they were about to reach Samsara Valley, had this extra task been tacked on so abruptly? Carrying the tokens into the Gate of Samsara to receive Gaitanbert and Furnites had been a known objective from the start. Bharat had stated back when assigning the tasks that there were three in total, ranked from lowest to highest importance. Karen had held a quick meeting with Muri and directly inverted Bharat's assigned priorities, turning them from highest to lowest. Thus, the higher-ups' contingency had been waiting right here. By selecting one person from each squad to bind with a token, the two squads became akin to beacons swinging flashlights in the pitch black for Gaitanbert and Furnites. If they still existed, they would inevitably "see" them. Then, through the array bound into the token, the host would be rendered helpless, becoming the ideal vessel for them to possess. So the higher-ups never cared whether you adjusted the priority of your tasks; they had already arranged everything for you. Yet what Karen was pondering was not even that. It was how they dared to make such an arrangement so openly and shamelessly. Just as Karen had told Growen earlier: It wasn't fair! In Karen's logic, sacrifice required reasoning. When men stood atop a levee risking their lives to plug a breach and prevent a flood, it was because they knew they were protecting the residents living below. Only by understanding the meaning of sacrifice could one make it. Why should the living be sacrificed just to usher in two souls who might not even be alive, or whose state of existence was entirely unknown? This practice lacked any ground to stand on, lacked any power of self-justification, and treated people purely like disposable chamber pots. Were they truly so certain that this batch of chosen youths would consent and never refuse? Yet the facts proved that they indeed had not refused. Whether Ventura, Aisli, Bart, or the rest, not one had voiced anger or doubt toward the higher-ups' arrangement from the very start. Their pleading and concern for him were built upon the premise that this matter was already set in stone, and they merely wished to swap the person in that position. In their perception, this whole affair was only natural. Even Muri—who had gone home yesterday for a family dinner—clearly had known of his "arrangement" back then, which explained his low spirits today. But he was merely downcast. The young man who had fought Karen for so long in the palm grove that night adopted an attitude of complete, head-bowed acceptance when facing this decree. Only now did Karen realize that his previous understanding of the church remained superficial. It was not a nation, though its internal structure closely resembled one. It was not a syndicate, though its operating model was remarkably like a gang. It certainly was not an affinity club, a hobby circle, or a research society. It was a religion. It was a church. The first Order priest he had interacted with deeply was his grandfather, Diss. The second he had come to know well was Mr. Pavaro. The third was the Captain. Diss had long been a rebel against the church. If not for the three godheads he had condensed, his acts of defiance would likely have made the church's official history. Mr. Pavaro's human moral integrity had overshadowed his church identity. In Karen's eyes, he had resembled a local police chief far more than a believer. As for the Captain, he was looking more and more like someone who merely lived for the amusement of it all. In truth, Karen's own perspective had been too narrow; he had mistaken what he saw for the entirety of reality. Yet the truth was not so. If the Captain had not blindly hoped to be with Miss Elisa through church-sanctioned means back then, Miss Elisa would not have lost herself and committed suicide while waiting in vain for genuine rest fluid. If Diss had been able to sever his family from the church the way he did now, Karen's parents would not have met such an end. Even Mr. Pavaro, who had listened to his two daughters' agonizing sobs in the dead of night while continuing to reject outside resources—had it been moral character sustaining him, or loyalty to God? Every chant of "Praise the God of Order" was in fact a renewal of an oath: when God required you, when the Church of Order required you, you would surrender everything without question. You wouldn't even need a plausible reason. Because God was the sole reason. Muri's grandfather had known his grandson had been chosen, yet he had merely summoned him home for a farewell meal before sending him off. Was his own maternal grandfather, old Mr. Delon, the exact same kind of elder? Was that why his grandmother, Madame Tangli, refused to let him know Karen existed? If the Church of Order ever needed Aisen or Richard to do the same thing, old Mr. Delon wouldn't ask for a reason either. Likely, he would simply share a farewell meal with them and send his son or grandson out the door to surrender everything for the great God of Order. A sudden chill of dread seized Karen's heart. Looking back on how relaxed he had felt in the Guman residence, subconsciously treating it as a gathering among relatives... it was practically a crime against his own life and safety! The Guman family was not the Inmerless family, and Grandfather Delon was certainly not Grandfather Diss. The gap between them did not lie in strength. Drumstick in hand, Karen looked around at the young people gathered near him. For a moment, they felt utterly foreign to him. And he felt utterly lonely—no, completely out of place. The Church of Light preached light to the world, and the Church of Order preached order... He had seen only light; he had seen only order; he had seen only faith; yet he had forgotten that above them stood a god. Above faith, how could a god be allowed to exist? Karen stuck his spoon into the curry rice. Right now, he desperately wanted to grab a notebook and a fountain pen to write something down, but this was the deck of a ship, not the study behind his funeral parlor. *** "There are no saviors, nor gods or emperors..." In the study behind the funeral parlor, Alfred sat behind the young master's desk, humming his favorite hymn while compiling his *Master's Quotations*, also known as *Quotations from Karen*. Although he had long memorized every word by heart, the black notebook remained open before him. To Alfred, this ritual was indispensable. Everything he recorded and compiled originated from what the young master had written in this very notebook. Suddenly, Alfred froze. He heard a soft scratching sound coming from the black notebook, as if words were being written. But the fountain pen was lying beside it, completely still! Alfred immediately reached out and turned to the latest page. Just as he opened it, he watched a line of golden script materialize across the paper: "I made an error—a cognitive error." Alfred's eyes widened, and his hands began to tremble with excitement. The handwriting continued to appear: "I saw only the advanced nature of certain church aspects, such as war implements, teleportation arrays, church administration buildings, knight orders, tobacco, liquor... "Yet no amount of progressiveness can conceal its essence: backward, ignorant, and idealistic. "The correct understanding must be to acknowledge the church's positive aspects while criticizing its negative ones." Alfred licked his lips and read the words intently. When the final sentence appeared, his jaw dropped in astonishment: "[At the end of faith—there should be no god.]" *** "Captain?" "Captain?" The squad saw their captain standing there, motionless and silent for a long time. Karen slowly opened his eyes, a faint smile curling the corner of his lips. He picked up one of the two remaining large drumsticks from his tray and held it out to Ventura. Ventura froze for a second before opening his mouth and biting into it. Then Karen picked up the other drumstick and held it toward Aisli. Aisli promptly opened her mouth wide. He bypassed Aisli and offered it to Bart, who caught it in his mouth. "Anyone have a tissue?" Karen asked Aisli. "No, sorry." "Captain, I have a handkerchief." Blanche immediately offered one. Karen wiped his hands and handed it back to Blanche. "Sorry for getting it dirty." "It's fine, Captain." Karen looked around at all his squad members once more and said, "All right. Even if I bind the token and become a vessel, it doesn't mean certain death. It merely lowers the probability of retaining my self. But I have a way to handle it. I'm different from you; your souls are too weak, while mine is too strong. "What's dangerous for you is no great issue for me. "So put away your gloomy moods. This is just a trivial interlude. Nothing will happen to me. Trust me, I'm still waiting to lead you all in establishing my own Whip of Order squad after coming out of the Gate of Samsara. "I still want to earn plenty of point coupons and purchase lots of equipment." Karen clapped his hands. "Pull yourselves together! I have no interest in stroking your feathers like baby chicks to comfort you, so I won't repeat these words a second time. Understood?" "Understood, Captain!" In the cabin corridor, Paxio and Digat stood with cigarettes between their fingers, their expressions grim. They happened to spot Karen's squad returning from the deck, every one of them looking full of vigor. Paxio glanced back through the open doorway behind him. His own captain, Muri, sat inside with the rest of their squad, their morale thoroughly depressed. "What's this? Didn't we receive the exact same notice?" Digat said, "The other captain snatched the spot from his squad member." "People fight for that too?" Paxio chuckled. "What an unreasonable captain." Digat asked in a low voice, "Should we make a token gesture and offer to take the spot from our captain?" Paxio shook his head. "No." "True, it's meaningless. The captain would never agree anyway." Paxio blinked. "I'm just afraid he might." *** Late at night, in the cabin hall, a group of Order priests stood ready. Ten youths stood at the back, while the two captains sat in front. Growen stepped forward, and his assistant signaled that everything was prepared. Growen walked to the front. Neither Muri nor Karen rose; they remained seated. Growen paid it no mind and spoke: "You shall offer your loyalty to the Church of Order, to the God of Order. If you fail to return safely in the end, the great God of Order shall guide you into the laws of Order. "If you return safely and complete the extraction of those two figures, that shall be the God of Order's reward for your loyalty! "Praise the God of Order!" Everyone present crossed their arms over their chests and chanted in unison, "Praise the God of Order!" Karen could only stand up with Muri and join in the praise. After the formalities, Karen and Muri sat back down. Three priests stepped up to Karen and Muri respectively, one of each carrying a tray. On the tray before Muri lay a single strand of yellow lion hair, remarkably stiff and resembling a prism spike. Before Karen lay a snake scale. Both the lion hair and the snake scale rested on an astrolabe. As the nearby priests began chanting, luster continuously flowed into the astrolabes. Finally, a priest stepped behind Karen and Muri, apologized softly, and held them by the shoulders. The snake scale was lifted and pressed against Karen's shoulder. He immediately felt an intense stinging pain as if a piece of his flesh were rotting away, and the scale seeped into his body. An icy chill washed over him, making him shiver instinctively. This snake scale was enveloped by an array; it was merely "lodging" within him, not merging into his flesh. The moment Furnites sensed him, the scale would detonate, first weakening and suppressing his soul before welcoming Furnites's entry. In essence, he had invited a traitor inside. After enduring the initial discomfort, Karen gradually adjusted. Turning his head, he saw the long lion hair being driven into Muri's thigh; Karen suddenly felt he was somewhat fortunate by comparison. With the token-binding ceremony concluded, Growen picked up two glasses of wine and handed one each to Muri and Karen. Attendants served wine to the other squad members as well. Growen raised his glass and said: "I hope all of you complete the mission and return safely. I mean every single one of you, because the future of the church needs you!" *** After the ceremony, Karen did not return to his cabin. Instead, he walked out onto the deck alone. The night grew deep, and small skiffs began to emerge within the fog, bearing silhouetted figures. Like phantoms, they rowed tirelessly through the heavy mist. Such a sight would terrify ordinary mortals, but in the eyes of true priests, so long as something was harmless, there was nothing to fear. "Hey." Karen turned back to see Muri standing behind him. "Feeling lost?" Muri asked. "Heh." Karen chuckled. This fellow was actually trying to comfort him. Muri continued, "Do you feel like our future is just like the figures on those skiffs, with our way back obscured?" "Sigh." Karen let out a breath. "You can speak your own mind openly. No need to use me as an excuse." Muri gritted his teeth and lowered his voice. "I thought my hard work would make my grandfather value me. I thought my hard work would eventually allow me to sense the great God of Order, to let Him know He has such a devout believer. "I was willing to do anything for my grandfather, for the great God of Order. I only hoped they would remember that my grandfather has a grandson named Muri, and that God has a believer named Muri. "I really never expected that my final end might just be a vessel—my name erased, my soul erased, my very existence erased, turned into another person's incarnation. "Do you know, I had a dream last night. I dreamed that when I met our teammates, they all called me 'Gaitanbert.'" Karen teased, "Without adding 'Lord'? How utterly disrespectful!" Karen's quip left Muri both amused and irritated, shattering his gloomy mood. "Damn it, you sure have an easygoing mindset." "Hahaha." Karen laughed and spread his arms. "Because I'm already prepared to welcome the descent of the great Lady Furnites into my body." "Really?" "To have my body borrowed by the great Lady Furnites is my honor. I hope Lady Furnites finds my body satisfactory." "Got any cigarettes left?" "Yeah." Karen handed the cigarette pack and lighter to Muri. Muri took them, put a cigarette between his lips, and offered one to Karen. "I quit." "Have one with me?" "Is that necessary?" "Really, please. Do you know, when I heard you took your squad member's place, I was actually glad." "Did I offend you somehow?" "No. It's because I feel honored to face this together with you." "So your pride feels balanced now?" Karen took the cigarette and placed it between his lips. Muri lit it for him with the lighter. "I suppose so. It feels balanced because I admit you're better than me. If even you have to face this, the resentment in my heart shrinks a bit. Too bad you had to go through an extra step. If my squad member had been chosen at first..." "Would you have snatched it like I did?" "I'd probably comfort him by saying the great God of Order will be with him." "Heh." The two men leaned against the railing with cigarettes in hand. Across the sea behind them drifted aimless, numb phantom skiffs, and faint chants seemed to echo from deep within the fog. Muri said, "Our chances of surviving with our sense of self intact are only fifteen percent. And that's the most optimistic estimate." "Oh? Really?" "That's assuming peak condition. In reality, once we enter the Gate of Samsara, how could we as captains possibly maintain peak condition?" "Yeah, true." Muri flicked his cigarette butt into the sea, then reached out and produced two purple pills the size of soybeans. "These are soul pills my grandfather gave me, bestowed upon him by the former High Priest, Lord Rasma. My grandfather suffered a soul injury, but he never took them. There are only two left now. "Swallowing one forms a protective film over the soul, helping us resist assimilation by those two great figures' souls. Theoretically, taking one increases our survival chance by ten percentage points." "What about both?" "The effect will be even better, increasing the survival rate further." With that, Muri placed one of the pills into Karen's chest pocket and patted it with his palm. Karen took out the purple pill, examined it before his eyes, and asked, "This must be very valuable, right?" "Of course. But why ask?" "How many point coupons? Give me a friendly price and I'll buy it, as long as it lets me make a small profit reselling it on the black market." Muri assumed Karen was joking. Turning toward the cabin, he waved his back to Karen and said: "Not for sale. This is to buy your life." Pinching the pill, Karen watched Muri's departing silhouette from the corner of his eye and murmured: "Oh. This is to buy your life."