The instant he locked eyes with that gaze, his soul and body began to tremble at once.
No matter how much mental preparation he had made, how much confidence he possessed, or how much experience he had accumulated, it all tore apart in an instant like a thin sheet of white paper pulled into churning water.
When Karen had undergone purification to become God's Servant, he had seen the God of Order, but that had merely been a mechanical response; the God of Order's eyes had been closed.
He had also peered through a window deep within Raniedal's memories, watching Raniedal suppress the Sea God with his own hands. Yet that feeling came with the foreknowledge that it was only a recorded memory, no different from watching a movie in a theater.
So this was the first time.
It was the first time Karen had ever encountered a truly living god.
This dread did not stem from religious theology, nor from pious awe toward a deity, much less from duplicitous flattery before a true divinity.
It was a crushing weight—an absolute subjugation imposed by a vastly superior order of life!
Even though Karen had once discussed with Alfred how gods were not the embodiment of universal rules, nor were they the unfeeling Heaven and Earth that treated all things as straw dogs, but merely vastly more powerful beings... that was all.
Yet when the hierarchy of life was elevated to such a terrifying disparity, a single glance was enough to drive one to the brink of collapse.
The sensation was like walking down a street, bending down, and finding an ant crawling along the ground. It was busy minding its own business, noticing the sole of your boot yet carrying on as normal.
Then, you gently pinched the ant between two fingers, carefully adjusting your grip so as not to crush it, brought it before your eyes, and stared at it. Stared at it. Stared at it...
And then, your soul swapped places with the ant.
A horrific, suffocating pressure struck in an instant.
Karen staggered, involuntarily stepping backward until his back slammed against the wall. Even so, he still could not maintain his balance. His body felt on the verge of giving out, threatening to fall, longing to prostrate itself.
It was as if only adopting such a posture could bring peace of mind, willingly burying his head in the sand like an ostrich.
When Alfred faced Lord Diss condensing a godhead, he had been frightened almost to his knees.
When Kevin sensed the aura of the God of Light and the God of Order, he had been shaken so badly that he foamed at the mouth.
Now, Karen found himself in a similar plight.
Karen spread his arms wide, his palms pressing flat against the wall with all his might.
At this moment, humiliation was already unavoidable, but refusing to fall to his knees was Karen's final stubborn defiance, as well as his bottom line.
This was not a matter of saving face; it was a matter of his path.
If a god struck you down, that was nothing. When a god moved against you, at least in that instant, you and the god were equals.
But if a god merely looked at you and you fell to your knees, no matter how many excuses you made, you could never truly vindicate yourself in the depths of your heart. That shadow would linger in your chest forever, branded upon your spirit.
It would be equivalent to having all his past convictions, all his inquiries, and all his reasoning slapped right back to square one.
Karen's expression had already twisted into a grimace. He felt like a drowning man, desperately grasping for anything only to find no leverage whatsoever.
Gritting his teeth, he roared in the depths of his mind:
*You whore-born... gods!*
The downward pull on Karen's body began to slacken. He was even able to draw himself up slightly, if only by a fraction.
At this moment, Karen finally realized that his grandfather's old catchphrase had never been Diss trying to sound eccentric or contrarian. It was because Diss stood so high that his perception of gods was far clearer.
It was not vulgar cursing... it was an encouragement to himself.
The more sacred and inviolable a being was, the more he would drag it through the dirt and defile it. Once stripped of its sanctity, its radiance would no longer dazzle—at least not in his own heart.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
Karen began to cough violently, yet he forced his head up, keeping his gaze locked with that single eye outside the window.
Suddenly, the eye shifted away. Right after, Karen saw a colossal figure moving—the majestic body of a god, witnessed with his own eyes through the frame of this window.
In this dream, this house was very likely an isolated existence. It floated before Rielsa, resembling a miniature toy.
*Swish!*
Linda drew the curtains shut.
"Phew..."
Karen exhaled a long breath. Deprived of support, he finally collapsed onto his knees, cold sweat dripping down his face.
At this moment, he felt not the slightest joy over holding out, because he knew very well that he had not won. He had merely preserved his final shred of dignity.
Linda walked over to him, and Karen saw a pair of women's house slippers enter his field of view.
"Mr. Karen, let me get you a towel."
Karen did not answer.
Linda stepped out of the studio. Soon, she returned carrying a warm, damp towel and handed it to Karen.
After a brief hesitation, Karen took the towel and wiped his face.
As he wiped his face, a feeling of disorientation washed over him. Dream and reality seemed to have developed an unknown rift at this moment, and he happened to belong right in the crevice between them.
This was unlike any illusion he had ever experienced before.
Here, he was both host and guest.
If he had to describe it, it was as if Rielsa and Linda were holding paintbrushes and painting upon his very soul.
"Mr. Karen, would you like to sit downstairs?"
Karen lowered the towel and looked at Linda.
Linda's expression remained as natural as when he had first met her... or rather, no, when he had first met her, she was already a pile of ashes.
Was she Linda, or was she Rielsa?
Did she possess her own consciousness?
A possibility suddenly crossed Karen's mind. He knew that the excessive god descent ritual Linda had performed to summon Rielsa had ultimately ended in failure. But what if the true purpose of that ritual had not been to summon the Mural God out, but... to sacrifice herself over to the god?
"Mr. Karen?" Linda asked again.
Karen still could not detect any anomaly in her expression.
"Mr. Karen, I'd like... to hear about Piaget."
Whether intentionally or not, Linda's voice trembled slightly as she spoke Piaget's name.
"All right."
"Thank you, Mr. Karen."
Linda led the way, and Karen followed her down to the first-floor living room. After taking a seat on the sofa, Linda brought over two cups of coffee.
"Did the two of you stay in touch after he went to Wien?" Linda asked.
Karen nodded. "In fact, I went to Wien as well."
"You went to Wien too?" Linda seemed somewhat surprised. "Did you meet him there?"
"We did. When I first arrived in York City, my finances were tight after buying a house, and Piaget lent me a sum of money."
"That was only right. You two were such good friends."
"And after that?"
"He became obsessed with painting. He still couldn't let go of you. He said he wanted to see the scenery you were once captivated by."
"Did he... also become a believer?"
"I think so."
Karen noticed that upon learning Piaget had also converted to the Church of the Mural God, Linda's face showed no trace of pleasant surprise. Instead, she seemed remarkably calm.
Such calmness was already very telling; it meant she held a negative stance toward the matter.
"He really is foolish," Linda said. "I wasn't a good wife. I let him down, and I wasn't worthy of him."
Karen picked up his coffee and asked, "Linda, do you regret it?"
Linda fell silent.
Karen suddenly noticed that even though the doors and windows of the living room were firmly shut, a breeze had begun to blow.
It felt like a concrete manifestation of a crack appearing in someone's mental defenses.
Did this house belong to Linda?
Was she an independent existence within it?
"Mr. Karen..."
Two streams of blood trickled down from the corners of Linda's eyes, yet she herself seemed entirely unaware.
"Linda, you..."
"Mr. Karen, please don't be alarmed." Linda slowly clenched her hands as if suppressing something, then took a deep breath. "The great existence has not awakened yet. You can speak freely here—at least for now."
Linda tilted her head back, her body trembling continuously. Finally, she lowered her head, fresh, terrifying blood seeping from the lip she bit down on. She was enduring tremendous agony.
"I truly didn't expect that you would turn out to be a priest, Mr. Karen."
"I only took up the faith after going to Wien."
"Is that so? That couldn't have been easy. Mr. Karen, I find it... difficult to speak right now. No, it is this mode of expression... that is difficult.
"The great existence is still asleep.
"She granted me certain privileges.
"The great existence can sense everything around her, and I organize those perceptions for her.
"I saw you, Mr. Karen, so I wanted to come see you. That is why I entered your dream."
"My dream?"
"The power of the great existence is beyond our imagination. Even though she hasn't awakened, even her breathing in slumber holds the power to penetrate the human heart.
"I came to see you not only to ask about my husband, but also... to tell you—no, to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
"The great existence is about to awaken. Mr. Karen, please leave this place at once."
The Mural God was about to awaken?
Karen suddenly recalled his previous conversation with Purr, where Purr relayed Kevin's words: the Gate of Samsara had stayed open for so long this time likely because a certain existence was pushing against it.
Was that existence the Mural God?
"Do you mean leave the Mourning Pool, or leave the Gate of Samsara?"
"Leave, the farther the better. Leave, because the great existence has specifically marked you."
*Specifically marked me?*
"Mr. Karen, I don't know why this happened, but when you appeared in this vicinity, the great existence's perception singled you out. Please, leave this place quickly."
"I understand. Thank you, Linda."
"It's only right... only..."
Linda suddenly rose from the sofa and threw her arms wide.
Immediately after, her legs and arms began to twist unnaturally, assuming a bizarre, grotesque posture.
Changing along with her was the living room itself. The furnishings began to invert, and even the staircase fractured into pieces.
Linda's body shifted through continuous, erratic movements. She seemed to want to say something more, but no sound came out.
As the anomalies escalated, Karen, who had originally been sitting in the first-floor living room, found himself seated on the second floor.
Linda's consciousness was folding alongside the house in the wake of a losing struggle.
Even so, Linda did not forget to cast her gaze toward the front door, signaling for Karen to leave through it.
Karen immediately vaulted over the railing and dropped down the stairs, but the moment he landed, he found himself standing on the ceiling. Within this house, the floor was no longer the floor; everything had fallen into complete disarray.
Many amusement parks had "mystery houses" where visitors lost all sense of spatial orientation. The environment Karen was currently in was a distortion beyond distortions, with no pattern to be found, and it remained in constant flux.
This meant Linda was struggling to maintain her autonomy within this detached house. It was likely not pressure from the Mural God, as the deity had yet to awaken; if a god had truly intervened, Linda would have had no chance of resisting at all.
In truth, Linda was fighting against herself.
Karen closed his eyes and opened them again. The Eyes of the Dark Moon surfaced, projecting dark red outlines of floorboards and steps before him, helping him locate order amid the chaos.
Karen proceeded to walk across the ceiling. Before long, he was back on the first floor, and moments later, he appeared right outside the studio door. Yet his pace never slowed.
Just as Karen sensed the front door right before him, ready to be pushed open, Linda materialized in his path.
She continued to cycle through grotesque postures, but in that moment, a second Linda emerged from her body. Reaching a hand toward Karen, a binding force struck him.
Karen held his ground, but the surrounding environment violently shifted once more, rendering the path he had just traversed completely useless.
"Mr. Karen, I still want to hear more stories about Piaget. My intuition tells me a great deal more happened between you two that you haven't shared in detail."
"Mr. Karen... leave quickly! Stay far away from the great existence's gaze, far away from my gaze! Even I didn't foresee that when I chose to defy the momentum of the great existence's slumber, I wouldn't even be able to control myself!"
"Mr. Karen, please sit down. Let's have a proper chat."
"Mr. Karen, run! Push me aside, strike me, get out of here! Tell Piaget for me that I still love him!"
Karen pressed his lips together. Hesitating no longer, chains of Order manifested beneath his feet and spread out in all directions.
Wherever a chain of Order touched, that area ceased its shifting. Gradually, more and more chains extended from Karen, fixing an ever-larger portion of the surroundings in place.
It was like a wildly spinning top being forcefully pinned to a halt.
Once the entire house fell completely silent, Linda stopped her bizarre contortions and returned to her previous posture, while the figure that had stepped out of her was reabsorbed.
Linda raised her hand and pointed toward the front door.
*Creak...*
The door swung open, revealing light outside.
Linda spoke: "Mr. Karen, just head out from here. Also, there is one more thing I must remind you of. When I prepared to enter your dream, your dream actively accepted my entrance. That means you are different from others; you could have refused."
"How do I refuse?"
"I don't know. That is something you will have to figure out for yourself, Mr. Karen. When entering other people's dreams, the concept of permission simply doesn't exist."
"All right, I understand. Linda, I'm leaving."
Karen ran toward the door, but just as he reached the threshold, he came to an abrupt halt.
"Mr. Karen, hurry and get out! I can barely hold myself together! The stability you helped me maintain is about to fail!"
Behind him came Linda's piercing cry as she began to plunge into agony once more.
Yet Karen hesitated. *No, this is clearly my own dream. You two are painting inside my dream, so why should I be the one to leave?*
Moreover, in the logic of mental consciousness, whether exiting through a window or a door, the very act of passing through was a reinforcement of self-suggestion.
*If I leave, who stays here?*
Karen suddenly realized that Linda's two conflicting behaviors could not simply be categorized as one good and one bad. The distinction was neither so clear-cut nor so simple.
"Mr. Karen, get out quickly!"
Karen turned around, looked at Linda, and asked, "You said I actively accepted you, and told me I have to figure out how to refuse on my own. Does that mean... being here is already the result of my refusal?"
Linda fell silent, but a gleam of clarity and release appeared in her eyes.
"I am in my own dream, and you wanted to enter. But this place is the boundary point where I chose to resist and you chose to enter—a contested ground where we are vying for control."
Karen took a deep breath and scanned his surroundings once more.
That eye outside the window and that giant female form were not wandering around some external Linda.
The true owner of this house was himself; Linda was merely the guest.
Karen turned back toward the open doorway. Outside the door was a colossal mouth, its massive teeth and tongue clearly visible. The giantess had her mouth wide open, enclosing the doorway. Had he stepped through earlier, he would have walked directly into her jaws.
At the same time, the furnishings within the house began to transform, gradually shifting from Piaget's home to the interior of the Inmeres residence.
And 13 Mink Street, as proven during the final selection, was the sturdiest fortress deep within Karen's heart.
Linda folded her hands in front of her, an enigmatic smile touching the corners of her lips.
Karen said, "I truly don't know what grievance I could have with the Church of the Mural God. Quite the contrary, I have many friends among its followers."
His good friend Piaget and his prospective father-in-law Mr. Bede were both believers of the Mural God.
Karen truly could not fathom why the Mural God, having not even awakened, would act against him purely on the instincts of her slumber.
Linda tilted her head, looked at Karen, and smiled.
"Could you truly not know, Lord Raniedal?"
Karen: "..."
Chapter 364