"Please give your instructions."
And then, the quill fell silent.
Karen fell silent as well.
They sat for about ten minutes—ten minutes of absolute, mutual silence.
Of course, as Vice President Davins had mentioned earlier, the perception of time within the "mental flow" of this small room differed from the outside world, so in reality, it might have only been a brief moment.
Karen turned the situation over in his mind.
Though he couldn't see what was happening in the adjacent rooms, he didn't need to guess to know that the quills in their rooms would never address them like this.
So, what had this quill sensed?
Although on matters of doctrine and path, he had differences—or rather, fundamental opposition—with the God of Order, Karen couldn't deny that on the path of Order faith, he was walking the exact same pattern the God of Order had walked back then.
Furthermore, both he and the God of Order were individuals who had "risen from the dead." Certain parallels and coincidences were bound to arise.
This quill wasn't the true artifact itself; it was merely a projected branch of the divine artifact. Once Karen stepped out of this small room, the quill would erase its own memory.
It was like buying a carriage or car where the requirement was to strip down the features—cut, cut, and cut further, until everything non-essential was discarded, leaving nothing behind but a bare chassis with four wheels.
The Church of Principles referred to this phenomenon as "mechanical mode." The quill phantom before his eyes was the lowest-tier mechanical mode possible.
It was extremely difficult to deceive, because its core remained intact, enabling it to evaluate faith here;
Yet it was also absurdly easy to fool. If it had only been capable of opening its eyes to take a single look, it would have known he wasn't the God of Order. But right now, it seemed to have genuinely mistaken him for the God of Order.
It was a very bizarre feeling, a truly preposterous situation, yet it had actually happened.
This wasn't mere coincidence; before this moment, every necessary groundwork had already been laid.
So, what now?
Karen pondered the question. Should he bluntly demand that it award him the highest score, so that any senior figures reviewing his dossier in the future could see his absolute loyalty to the Church of Order at a glance?
Yet if he actually made such a demand, Karen felt it would show remarkably small-minded vision.
After all, from this quill's perspective, it had already identified him as *that* existence. How could it possibly give him a low score?
Wouldn't that be opposing itself, being disloyal to its own master?
So, what should he ask?
Karen balled his hand into a fist, held it before his mouth, and cleared his throat.
"Ahem."
Immediately after, Karen adjusted his posture, resting both hands on the chair's armrests and leaning back slightly:
"Who am I?"
The quill phantom began to flicker and distort once more. Eventually, it calmed down and answered in a tone reminiscent of a hymn:
"You are the true supreme of this world;
The ultimate destination of all laws;
The sole sovereign above the gods;
The end of all chaos and turmoil;
Your gaze pierces the boundless void, discerning past and future;
Your palms hold fast the chains, binding the turning of epochs;
Your will merged into the codex, establishing imperishable order;
O great... God of Order."
Karen licked his lips. Confirmed—he had indeed been misidentified.
So, what should the next question be?
"How did the God of Light fall?"
The quill flickered and distorted again, then replied:
"I am guilty; I do not know."
It didn't know?
This low-tier version's "memory capacity" truly seemed rather small.
Karen wanted to try again. Having stumbled into such a rare opportunity, leaving without gleaning anything useful would feel like a terrible waste.
"How did the previous epoch end?"
"I am guilty; I do not know."
"Where should the God of... where should I be right now?"
"You are omnipresent. Wherever Order operates, Your silhouette resides."
Karen almost laughed. So aside from discussing faith, this quill was entirely ignorant of any useful information?
"I am guilty.
"I beg Your permission to submit a request to my higher branch. Once relayed through the tiers, my slumbering true body will awaken.
"It will be capable of rendering You far better service."
"No need."
"Understood. I obey Your will."
Karen propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. If the quill's true body were awakened, his true identity would never stay hidden.
When that time came, it wouldn't be a matter of satisfying his own curiosity; more likely, he'd be hauled off to be sliced open on an operating table to satisfy the curiosity of the figures at the very top.
Still, it left a lingering trace of unwillingness.
Karen prepared to make one final attempt and asked, "Where is Tyrannus right now?"
This quill belonged to Tyrannus; Tyrannus was its original master. If it couldn't even answer this, it would thoroughly prove that it was nothing more than a mindless "tool pen."
To Karen's surprise, this time the quill actually offered an answer other than "I am guilty":
"Lord Tyrannus is asleep, awaiting Your summons."
Asleep?
Awaiting summons?
Karen couldn't help recalling the night he received recognition from the Scythe of War. In that dream, oppressed by a terrifying aura, a roar had echoed from the abyss before him:
*Order, how much longer must I wait?!*
So, what on earth had happened at the end of the last epoch?
An "epoch" was a unit of time, but also a historical milestone.
The mark of the epoch before last coming to an end had been the fall of the God of Eternity. The rise of the Light camp and its subsequent charge against the Eternity camp had been the defining event that opened the previous epoch.
Yet the end of that previous epoch hadn't been pinned to a specific year; rather, after a certain stretch of time, everyone suddenly realized that the gods seemed not to have appeared for a very long time.
Gradually, the reality that "gods remained absent" became the defining dawn of the current epoch.
What had caused this state where gods no longer walked the world?
Tyrannus was slumbering, awaiting awakening. That meant he hadn't fallen; to an extent, it even implied he still possessed a measure of freedom, otherwise there would be no talk of "awaiting summons."
Did this also mean that the God of Order's Four Retainers and the Twelve Order Knights still existed as well, all in a state of slumber like Tyrannus, waiting for the God of Order's return to wake them?
No... that wasn't right. He shouldn't think of it that way.
Karen tapped his forehead lightly. To the God of Order, whether his former followers were dead or alive made no difference at all. As long as their remains were properly preserved, he could "Awaken" them one by one upon his return.
Besides, Karen suspected that the Twelve Order Knights might have originally been twelve powerful beings awakened by the God of Order in the first place.
Once the God of Order departed and their supply was cut off, they naturally reverted to a state of "death."
"Heh..."
Karen let out a self-deprecating smile. He was supposed to be taking a faith assessment; how had his thoughts drifted so far astray?
Certain matters were far too distant from him right now, with no need to waste mental energy on them. Just like the secret Gaitanbert and Furnites had been guarding all along, Karen had very decisively chosen to hand it straight over to his superiors.
Fine, let it end here. He couldn't extract anything else anyway.
Karen stood up and spoke: "The assessment is over. Produce the score."
Right then, the quill said, "According to the primal rules, I will erase my memory traces upon completing a task. Your will supersedes the primal rules; do You wish for me to erase the memory of this conversation?"
"Erase it."
"Your decree is to erase this memory. Does that include the third consciousness stream?"
"The third consciousness stream?"
"Yes."
"Whose consciousness?"
"My penholder... my penholder... my penholder..."
At that moment, a phantom appeared behind the quill, holding it as if writing something. But it wasn't Tyrannus—Karen had seen murals of Tyrannus, and even his statue.
The phantom was an elderly man, gripping the quill in his right hand while holding a cigarette between the fingers of his left.
It was the vice president of this knight order hospital, the director of this faith assessment department... Davins.
Yet this image was thoroughly irrational. His role was supposed to be that of an array maintainer: whenever this place was needed, he activated the formation, and on normal days he saw to its upkeep. That should have been all.
Yet in this vision, he was actually gripping this quill and writing with it.
It defied logic—like an airport ground crew member stripping off their uniform and heading straight into the cockpit to fly the plane.
A third consciousness stream?
Karen sat back down. Matters too distant and too elevated were useless to him even if he learned them, but when it came to someone right under his nose, he didn't mind learning a bit more.
"What is the third consciousness stream?"
"Lord Tyrannus is the first consciousness stream, holding absolute mastery over everything that is mine. Divided into a branch, I possess my own second consciousness stream. He is the third consciousness stream. The third consciousness stream can exert a limited degree of influence over the second consciousness stream."
"Which consciousness stream do I belong to?"
"You are the supreme. Your will is the totality of my principles."
"How much influence does the third consciousness stream have over you?"
"Ninety-nine percent."
"And you call that a limited degree of influence?"
"When I am not conducting faith assessments, the second consciousness stream enters dormancy, and the third consciousness stream possesses the authority to take control of me."
Karen's gaze narrowed. "Can he perceive what is happening here right now?"
If that were the case, wouldn't it mean his identity had already been exposed?
"He cannot. I am currently in an active working state; the third consciousness stream cannot interfere with or influence me. Here, everything concerning You will remain strictly confidential."
"What does he use you for? The third consciousness stream, I mean."
"Writing and recording. I assist in writing and recording his mental imprint."
"Show it to me."
"I am guilty; that portion of memory has already been erased and no longer exists."
"Then how do you know it exists at all?"
"The one percent."
Karen sighed in slight resignation.
"If You, in Your greatness, permit it, I can reach out to the other eleven quills here to inquire. If the third consciousness stream left an incomplete mental imprint, it can be located."
"An incomplete one?"
"Yes. Incomplete mental imprints are temporarily preserved within the quills."
"The other eleven quills?"
"There are twelve of me in total here. I hold no incomplete mental imprint, but one among them might. The third consciousness stream is not restricted to using only a single quill to write mental imprints."
Karen quickly grasped the reason. Using only one quill would cause excessive wear on that single pen and invite suspicion. Rotating among them allowed overall wear to be kept uniform.
"Twelve quills... currently, counting you, three are in an active working state. Can the ones not in a working state be contacted?"
"They can. Your divine decree is the supreme principle I must obey, and the same holds true for them."
"What I want to know is, when you connect to them, will the outside world notice?"
There should have been twelve small rooms, but Karen had only seen three upon entering; the other nine quills had not manifested physically. If investigating this triggered the formation on its own, it would definitely arouse suspicion.
Especially now that it was practically confirmed that Vice President Davins was far from ordinary.
"They will not. Even in dormancy, a baseline of one percent of the second consciousness stream remains active. They and I are equals, but Your supreme will grants me the authority to awaken them and command their cooperation."
"Then begin. Start with the nine dormant ones."
"Understood. Please wait a moment."
Next, Karen watched as a second quill began to materialize beside the quill before him, then vanished, reappeared, vanished again, and reappeared...
The process took some time. Of course, Karen was well aware that time was merely stretched within his mental perception right now.
Stepping into this small room was equivalent to automatically establishing a "mental bridge" with the chamber and the quill inside—and one operating under the effects of a top-tier Mental Bridge Array.
Even so, Karen still wished he had a glass of iced water beside him right now.
Finally, the quill halted and spoke: "None of the nine dormant quills contain an incomplete mental imprint."
"Could one be inside the other two active quills?"
"I am guilty; I do not know."
"If you connect to them, what will happen?"
"It will cause their ongoing work to halt, and the subjects currently undergoing assessment will be able to perceive what is happening on our side on an equal footing."
"Can I control them personally? What I mean is, can I pacify the subjects they are evaluating?"
"You may. You may take hold of me."
"Alright."
Karen rose, walked behind the desk, and reached out to grasp the quill before him.
There was no physical sensation of an object, yet mentally it felt firmly held—a sensation akin to an arm falling asleep, where you feel pins and needles even though your hand isn't actually fluttering at high frequency like bee wings.
Karen now stood facing the chair where he had sat earlier.
***
"I am not refuting you. I acknowledge that your arguments were valid in the era of your birth, because that was an age rife with divine wars and church conflicts, where even deities fell frequently and churches replaced one another at an even faster pace.
"In that era, survival was naturally the first priority, which made it necessary to adopt a broad-net approach when cultivating believers. The more you diluted the core concepts of Order so ordinary folk could understand them, the faster you could cover and reach potential converts.
"However, that was a compromise forced by the inability to cultivate deeply. Times have changed. In this epoch, the gods remain absent, and divine wars are no longer so frequent. Continuing that crude, broad approach to spreading faith will only diminish efficiency.
"First of all, the Church of Order already possesses a highly mature and comprehensive organizational structure..."
"That's enough, Alfred."
"Hm?"
Mid-flow and speaking with great enthusiasm, Alfred froze, then looked up toward the space in front of him. Behind the desk, a figure holding a quill had appeared.
"Young Master?"
"We'll talk once we're outside. Let me focus right now."
"Yes, Young Master."
Alfred lowered his head and wrote in his notebook with his fountain pen:
*I am fearful, for when the Great Being displayed a 'miracle' before my eyes, I no longer felt the thrill I once did.*
*I am proud, for I know this is the piety born of my heart's absolute conviction that whatever occurs around the Great Being is entirely natural.*
Karen tapped the quill in his hand against the quill on the desk. After a short pause, the answer arrived: nothing.
"Alfred, carry on."
"Understood, Young Master."
Karen's figure vanished.
Alfred resumed: "Come, let us continue. Where had I gotten to in correcting you?"
***
"Your piety toward Order is insufficiently distinct! You must understand the meaning of Order on a far deeper level, using your inner heart to perceive the essence of Order!
"You must use your eyes to closely observe the beauty of Order, and use your ears to listen to the wondrous rhythm belonging to Order!
"You cannot continue drifting along in this muddled state, or your faith will never progress deeper! While I can sense your recognition of Order and your reverence toward the God of Order, these are not enough—there remains far more potential to be unearthed!
"I can grant you a passing score this time, but do you realize? For a disciple from a family within the church like you, a mere passing score is a humiliation!"
Richard's backside had already left the chair. He was crouched on the floor, head clutched in both hands like a prisoner of war.
Under the mental pressure of the quill's faith interrogation, he felt utterly suffocated—as though a strict teacher had yanked his soul clean out of his body and held it over a candle to roast while lecturing him relentlessly.
This had nothing to do with personal strength. Unless one wished—or rather, dared—to break free through brute force, anyone whose faith lacked sufficient piety would inevitably suffer immense pressure.
Right then, Richard suddenly noticed the quill's voice cut off.
Puzzled, he looked up and saw Karen standing behind the desk, holding the quill.
One had to understand: growing up, his grandparents had spoiled him rotten, his mother had abandoned the family, and his father was mentally unstable.
As a result, Richard had rarely been disciplined by anyone throughout his life. Even though his father had recently developed a fondness for belt-based education, that hardly counted as proper discipline.
Right now, the only person truly capable of disciplining Richard—and whom Richard was genuinely willing to heed and learn from—was Karen.
Seeing this scene, Richard didn't immediately assume Karen had actually appeared the way Alfred had. Instead, his face instantly collapsed into a miserable, aggrieved wail:
"Fuck, do you really have to be this ruthless? It even comes with a character roleplay feature?!"
Chapter 427