Erasure

The morning sun strained with all its might, yet still failed to pierce the dense blanket of fog. In the end, part of it was absorbed, part deflected, and only a meager remnant cast down like alms. In some places, climate blurred the four seasons; here in Samsara Valley, there was no distinguishing dawn, noon, or dusk. As long as it was daytime, everything was a dull, murky gray. Fortunately, as they neared Samsara Valley and stepped onto the dock, a special barrier seemed to take effect. Though the sky overhead remained an overcast gray, visibility down below was decent enough. The dock was crowded. Tenge, the Church of Order's newly stationed diplomatic priest to the Church of Samsara, had come in person to receive them, and the Church of Samsara had sent a welcoming delegation led by three elders. In addition, there was a large crowd of ordinary believers from Samsara Valley. They certainly harbored resentment and hostility toward the Church of Order, which had just defeated them in war, but that did not dampen their curiosity about them. Karen and Muri led their respective squad members down the gangway, lining up in two rows on the dock. Diplomatic Priest Tenge delivered a brief welcoming speech. For him, stationed with his staff in another religion's territory, seeing a large contingent from his own church always felt like welcoming kin from back home. His situation in Samsara Valley was complex and fraught with undercurrents, but as the diplomatic priest of the victorious faction, his spine was stiff. Everything else was just trivial background noise. This much was evident from his healthy, glowing complexion. A representative elder from the Church of Samsara gave a speech, describing this clause—written into the terms of their defeat—as a gesture of friendship aimed at fostering mutual understanding, trust, and deeper rapport between Samsara and Order. Karen thought this esteemed elder would do well running a funeral parlor, given his remarkable talent for spinning mourning into a celebration. Next, a swarm of journalists came over for an open interview, and every one of them gravitated straight toward Karen. Both squad captains stood in the front row, but between Karen and Muri, the reporters made a unanimous choice. Muri looked at the deserted space before him, then at the bustling crowd around Karen, and couldn't help letting out a sigh. He turned his head, seeking a bit of comfort from his teammates. Paxio promptly and thoughtfully offered that comfort: "Captain, we understand. The gap lies with the captain." *Order Weekly* had correspondents stationed at the diplomatic mission. After all, a war had recently broken out between the two major churches, and readers back in the Church of Order were naturally eager for news about Samsara. There were many religions in the world and plenty of orthodox churches, but human nature being what it was, people cared far more about how their defeated foes were faring. The diplomatic mission also had its own staff writers—or clerks—since certain reports needed to be submitted for internal publications. Besides them, there were reporters from Samsara and various other denominations. Typically, orthodox and major churches ran their own newspapers dedicated solely to internal church affairs, whereas small and medium churches preferred broad, aggregate publications covering events across the entire religious world. Though Karen had just privately mocked the Samsara elder's knack for spinning tragedy into celebration, in the interview he demonstrated what a true professional from a funeral parlor could do. "First of all, I am deeply honored to be invited and granted this opportunity. I believe this trial will strengthen the interaction and mutual understanding between the youth of the Church of Order and the Church of Samsara, laying a sound foundation for the future development of relations between our two churches. "Indeed, some friction previously occurred between our churches due to misunderstandings, all stemming from certain ambitious instigators within the Church of Samsara. Now, I understand that the Church of Samsara has set things right. The Simonsen family will lead the Church of Samsara hand in hand with the Church of Order to forge a new era of harmony. "Of course, I am aware that dangers lie within the Gate of Samsara, but I also know that danger and opportunity coexist. I believe my teammates and I are fully prepared. The great God of Order is with us!" ... Tenge whispered to Growen, who was standing beside him, "Did you write his speech?" Growen shook his head. "No." "Then did he prepare it beforehand?" "I think it was more of an improvisation." "What a pity. A young talent like that belongs in the diplomatic corps." "You're dreaming, my lord." "I know. Can't a man dream?" "Of course, of course." Once all the formalities concluded, Karen's and Muri's squads were arranged to stay at a guest hotel within Samsara Valley. The hotel rooms were carved into the cliff face, with interior corridors running through the mountain itself—a very distinctive design. Their official entry into the Gate of Samsara was set for tomorrow afternoon, giving Karen and the others a full day to rest and recuperate. It was still two people to a standard room. As soon as Ventura entered, he began scrubbing the large bathtub on the balcony for Karen. Just as he finished wiping it down and turned on the tap, lunch was delivered. It was brought directly by members of Growen's team to ensure the food's safety as much as possible. While the Church of Samsara was unlikely to pull any underhanded tricks here, Samsara Valley was not home to them alone; diplomatic missions from other churches wouldn't mind stirring up trouble at a moment like this. The lunch was exquisitely presented, but in terms of flavor... rather mediocre. Karen felt it wasn't even as good as the fried chicken drumsticks he'd had on the ship. Coated in egg wash and breadcrumbs, that satisfying first bite was infinitely better than this flashy, tasteless Samsara Valley specialty fare. "Later on, go ask them if there are any simple meals. Eating food like this is too exhausting." Ventura nodded. "Mm-hmm, and the portions are tiny too." As he cleared the plates, Ventura opened the room's mini-fridge and asked, "Captain, want to try some local drinks?" Karen looked over. The beverages in the mini-fridge were bottled in clear glass, resembling freshly squeezed fruit juice, but in vivid, striking colors: a charming pink, a limpid azure, an enchanting purple... "Smell it. Is it alcohol?" Ventura immediately picked up a bottle and sniffed it. "Smells like alcohol. Captain, want a glass?" "Alright, I'll take ice water." "Yes, Captain." Because the hotel occupied a vantage point and the rooms were embedded in the cliff face, there was no need to worry about privacy on the balcony. Karen stripped down and stepped into the tub. Ventura thoughtfully brought over the ice water along with some snacks he had brought from the training hotel back in the Dinge Region. He had already been very attentive to Karen; after Karen had kicked him several times on the ship, the boy had become even more attentive. Sitting in the tub and sipping his ice water, Karen gazed out at the oppressive, dreary gray expanse ahead. "Do people here have a high suicide rate?" Karen muttered to himself, getting out before long to change into pajamas. The setting and layout were nice, but the atmosphere was far too depressing. A bath was supposed to be relaxing, yet soaking here felt like brewing suicidal impulses. Then again, considering the doctrines of the Church of Samsara, perhaps such decor was simply their brand of political correctness. A waiter knocked on the door. Ventura answered it, and after a moment, walked over to Karen to report, "Captain, someone named Peide is asking to see you." "Peide?" It was that young man from the Simonsen family he and Ophelia had run into while walking on Dark Moon Island. Or rather, that pervert. He had beaten the fellow to the ground, but because his great-aunt—an avatar of the Gatekeeper—had intervened, Karen hadn't been able to kill him. What did he want now? "I'm not seeing him." "Yes, Captain." Ventura went to deliver the message. Karen pulled an exquisite pendant from his pocket. This pendant had been given as compensation by the Gatekeeper Romir last time, and she had told him he could use it to find her once he reached Samsara Valley. However, Karen had no interest in seeking her out. Right now, he only wanted to get through the trial in the Gate of Samsara smoothly, leave Samsara Valley, and return to damp, cold Wien. If only everything would go smoothly. For the rest of the afternoon, Karen resumed catching up on sleep, and Ventura followed his lead, settling in for a nap as well. When they were awoken, it was half past four in the afternoon; Growen was holding a meeting. Everyone gathered in Growen's room. Nothing of real substance was said; it felt more like a chaperone giving students a pep talk before an exam. Still, Growen had one redeeming quality: his rambling never dragged on. The meeting wrapped up in a quarter of an hour, and he even brought out a box filled with Samsara coupons. "Security around here is pretty good. You can head out tonight to unwind and look around. The official exchange rate isn't favorable, but the black market rate is better. You can exchange some Samsara coupons with me to spend outside." Everyone was somewhat surprised, not expecting the group leader to show such a considerate side. Growen added, "After all, some of you might not make it back out after going in. Better take a look around now so you don't leave any regrets." Hearing this, everyone felt the tone was back to normal, and breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone exchanged for some Samsara coupons, including Ventura. Once they left Growen's room and prepared to head out into the streets, Karen stuffed his exchanged Samsara coupons into Ventura's hand. He still preferred to go upstairs and sleep. However, Muri's squad took the initiative to come over, talking about going out to have a good time. Muri himself walked up to Karen, sighed, and said in a tone that sounded as if he had seen through life and death, "Let's take a walk outside." Seeing him like that, Karen couldn't bring himself to refuse. They exited the hotel lobby—which was essentially stepping out of a cave mouth on the mountainside. The rest of the squad members paused to let the two captains walk ahead, a tacit understanding between them. Only Ventura stood somewhat dazed, clutching the Samsara coupons Karen had thrust into his hands. *Huh, the captain gave all his coupons to me.* *Oh, as expected, the captain really takes the long view!* ... The town in Samsara Valley wasn't some haunt for a night parade of a hundred demons. Aside from the local architectural flair and traditional attire, it was hardly any different from any other town. Karen and Muri strolled aimlessly. Two grown men walking together had no interest in sampling street snacks or browsing knickknacks; it was purely a walk. As they walked, Muri also realized how dull it was. He glanced back and asked in bewilderment, "None of them followed us?" Karen replied, "They probably didn't want to ruin the bleak atmosphere of two dying men on their final stroll." "No need to be so pessimistic. Theoretically, as long as we flip a coin and get heads twice in a row, we'll survive." "Quite right." Karen nodded, pulled out the coin Piro had given him, and tossed it. Tails. Karen picked up the coin and flipped it again. Tails. He picked it up once more. Tails. Muri: "..." Karen chuckled. "Heh, don't even need to flip a second time." "Doing that will ruin our mentality." "Let me put some distance between us. I'll flip for myself." Karen took a few steps away and tossed the coin. Heads. "I'll flip again." The coin hit the ground—heads again. Karen smiled. "Alright, I feel much better. How about you?" "Even more ruined." At that moment, Karen saw a man approaching through the crowd. It was Peide. A few guards stood behind him. Karen quickly scooped up the coin and wiped it on the sleeve of his clerical robe. "As expected, I see you here again, Karen," Peide greeted with a smile. "A friend of yours?" Muri asked. "Yeah, a life-and-death friendship." "You're that close?" "I nearly beat him to death back then, but his elder showed up just in time to save him." "Ah, I see." "Karen, this is Samsara Valley. Can't you spare me a little face so we can both maintain some dignity?" Karen shook his head. "Precisely because this is Samsara Valley, I have nothing to fear. If anything happens to me, you'll certainly be offered up as the scapegoat and handed over to the Church of Order." Peide pressed his lips together. "How about finding a place to sit down?" "Not interested," Karen refused outright. "I don't think there's anything for us to sit down and discuss." "Not necessarily." "Sigh, drop it. I know you want me dead, and I've always regretted not killing you back then. Why bother sitting down to put on an act? It's exhausting for both of us." "Don't you want to know about certain peculiarities within the Gate of Samsara? No matter how good your Church of Order is at gathering intelligence, it can't compare to the intelligence of our Church of Samsara." "I think entering the Gate of Samsara with an air of mystery is far more interesting. If everything were laid bare, it would spoil the fun." "Must you reject me like this? I was the one you nearly beat to death, and my beloved was utterly annihilated by my great-aunt because of you! I'm the one who should hate you, not—" "It's just disdain. You know, before coming to Samsara Valley, an instructor specifically called me out, implying that an orphan like me would be your favorite target for recruitment. "I understood what that instructor meant, but I couldn't stand the way he said it. I talked back to him, and he ended up apologizing to me. "So, let's not meet in private, lest we prove that instructor right—and I have to go back and apologize to him." With that, Karen turned and walked away, Muri trailing behind him. Peide didn't give chase. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets and watched Karen leave. "Should we buy some things?" Muri asked. "We can mail them home." "As keepsakes of the deceased?" "Uh..." "Sorry, I just feel the environment and atmosphere of this island easily make people depressed." "I feel the same way." "Do you always buy local specialties for your family when you travel?" Karen asked. "Yes, I never leave out a single relative." "Oh, no wonder you're unwelcome at home." "Does that have anything to do with it?" "Not at all." "Are you really not buying anything?" "What, won't your squad members buy things for their captain?" "Damn it!" Karen laughed. Just then, a shop appeared ahead. Hanging on its glass storefront were numerous oil paintings, all depicting women in various styles. Oil paintings easily evoked a hazy, aesthetic charm. Karen and Muri stopped in front of the paintings in unison, taking them in. "A painting shop," Muri said, pointing at the signboard. "Looks like it specializes in paintings of women?" Karen pointed toward a shop on the opposite side of the street. "That one specializes in paintings of men." "Is the artistic atmosphere in Samsara Valley really that rich?" Muri asked, puzzled. "It's not artistic atmosphere. I think this is probably a local specialty pastry shop." "A pastry shop? Selling pastries?" "If there's a chance in the future, I'll introduce you to a friend named Richard." "What's special about him? Is he really fond of pastry shops?" "Yeah. The kind who'd go eat pastries even if it meant breaking his legs." "Wait, do you mean this pastry shop is... something like a brothel?" Muri finally caught on. Evidently, because the Dinge Region and the Wien Region were so far apart, there was not only a time difference, but also a massive cultural divide. Just then, two male patrons walked out. Their eyes were listless and their legs unsteady, yet the expressions on their faces were utterly blissful, fully embodying the ecstasy of pure indulgence. Moreover, a dense lingering soul aura clung to them. Muri said in shock, "No wonder they hang oil paintings instead of photographs... The service providers in this brothel are ghosts?" "Presumably so. Quite unique, isn't it? Want to go in and experience it?" "No. If I die in the Gate of Samsara, I don't want the last memory flashing before my eyes to be a scene of me in a brothel." "Fair enough." "What about you? Do you want to go in?" Karen shook his head. The two strolled for a while longer before finding a relatively upscale restaurant for dinner. Well, Karen hadn't brought any point coupons, so Muri picked up the tab. After dinner, the two returned to the hotel. Muri went to the front desk, where local specialties were sold. He had to sign order slips one by one; these items would be delivered via array teleportation courier back to the Dinge Region, into the hands of each and every member of his family. Karen waited beside him for a long time. Watching him busy himself writing out one name and greeting card after another, Karen suddenly felt very fortunate. What he had possessed all along was something others yearned for but could never attain. "Sorry to keep you waiting so long," Muri said. "It's fine. Come on, let's head back to our rooms." "Yeah, alright." Once they returned to their floor, they parted ways to their respective rooms. After entering his room, Karen lay down on the bed, waved his hand to set up a simple barrier, and took out the purple pill Muri had given him last night. Karen closed his eyes, and when he slowly reopened them, the crimson Dark Moon Eye surfaced. The Dark Moon power cautiously probed into the purple pill. In an instant, an icy aura fed back, and the bloody hue in Karen's eyes dimmed in a flash—forcibly suppressed. Only after breaking contact did the Dark Moon Eye return to normal. "So, this pill isn't meant to protect the soul, but to suppress it—allowing Lord Gaetanbert to take over the body more easily." In Karen's mind, the image of Muri in the hotel lobby buying gifts for every member of his family resurfaced. "Muri, the pill your grandfather gave you isn't meant to improve your survival rate. It's meant to... completely erase your already slim chances of living."