The High Priest sighed, straightened his posture, and stepped diagonally in front of the wheelchair. Facing Theisen seated within, he closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Below, everyone sensed that the flame of life within the old man in the wheelchair had gone out. No one wept; everyone bowed their heads in silent tribute together.
*Light of Order* had a major distinction from the scriptures of other churches: the others invariably described deceased believers returning to the embrace of such-and-such god or journeying to some warm, joyful realm, using this to soften the grief of death.
No such descriptions existed in *Light of Order*. When followers of the Church of Order faced fallen comrades, neither would they say words like "he will surely return to the embrace of Order."
For the Church of Order, which possessed the power of "Awakening," their attitude toward death had always been far clearer: it was... an end.
To the faithful and culture of Order, the power of "Awakening" was more like a final and most absolute form of "dedication."
*Even if I am dead, my body is still willing to offer its final strength for the Order in my heart.*
A religious culture that pursued utter dedication would inevitably foster a serene acceptance of death.
It lacked even zealotry, replaced by cool reflection, for the rules of Order were cast in cold tones to begin with.
High Priest Norton turned to face the crowd and spoke:
"I know the purpose behind Theisen's journey. I have already received the report on the massacre at the Mipos Archipelago. This matter involves two orthodox churches, but here I promise that I will give everyone, give Order, and give the world a true accounting.
"As for here, the ground beneath our feet—Fire Island.
"The events here led directly to Theisen's passing. The evidence is clear, and it must be dealt with right now.
"Foden."
"Present, High Priest."
"I order you to personally oversee the hunt and destruction of the two pirate families who resisted justice. Order has already given them a chance; since they failed to cherish it, erase every trace of these two families."
"Yes, High Priest."
If Millis, the head of the Casil family who had already died on the cellar stairs, could hear these words now, he would probably laugh himself back to life.
The Dran family, the Watson family—what right, what virtue did you two possess to warrant the High Priest of the Church of Order personally issuing an extermination order against you?
And the one tasked with carrying it out was none other than the Whip-Wielder of the Whip of Order.
This meant the Church of Order would no longer weigh profit or loss. It had become a political declaration, one that would be carried out to completion at all costs.
Where could you possibly hide?
With your family fleets and family guards, where could you run?
As for seeking asylum... who would dare take you in!
High Priest Norton spoke again: "Third Chief Justice of the Tribunal, Lysanna."
A middle-aged woman stepped forward and bowed.
"Present, High Priest."
"You will preside over the judgment of this three-headed hound."
"Yes, High Priest."
"Minister of Foreign Affairs, Draymon."
An elderly man stepped forward and bowed. "Present, High Priest."
"Dispatch an official communiqué to the Church of the Abyss, informing them that they have violated the *Code of Order*.
"Furthermore, investigate who imparted powers to that angel and those two Everfallen, and tell the Church of the Abyss that Order demands they be handed over.
"Inform them in advance that Order is furious. At Theisen's funeral, an offering of guilt will be required.
"If they are unwilling to deliver them, or if they try to fob us off with a random scapegoat, then I will send the Knights of Order straight to their doorstep to seize them."
This was practically a declaration of war.
Either hand them over, or go to war.
And it was no bluff, no mere posturing. Once the Church of Order published this decree from the High Priest, if the Abyss failed to cooperate, war was inevitable.
Even the Church of the Abyss knew full well that the Church of Order would go to war simply to defend the face of their High Priest.
Besides, everyone knew that the First Day War had concluded far too quickly; the Knights of Order had barely gotten warmed up.
"Yes, High Priest," Draymon immediately complied.
Serving as the Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Church of Order was truly a blessed role. You were virtually always the one issuing threats, and no one dared knock on your door to threaten you.
At this moment, the long-prepared coffin was brought up, and its lid was opened.
The High Priest and the Whip-Wielder reached out together, lifted Theisen, and placed him gently into the coffin.
Hardly anyone could imagine that this old man, whose body was now exceedingly light, had just days before grown into an immense colossus, scythe in hand, shearing away every source of chaos on Fire Island.
Nor could anyone present imagine that this old man, utterly impartial and bound to *Light of Order* as his lifelong code of conduct, would deliberately pave the way for a junior before his death.
Of course, this was not nepotism.
He had said he wanted to teach Karen. More than that, he believed that *that man's* grandson would walk the right path—because that man had been so immensely proud of his grandson.
So proud that when Theisen could not resist telling him that his grandson had received Marchetini's legacy, the man's only response had been a faint:
"Heh."
The coffin lid was closed.
The true funeral would be held in the Dinge Region, where the enshrouding and other preparations would take place.
The crowd began to disperse. The High Priest departed directly, while certain people were ordered to remain behind and attend to matters—such as Whip-Wielder Foden.
Karen quietly watched the coffin being carried away and let out a deep sigh.
He had never experienced his grandfather's era, yet now he was witnessing the curtain fall on that very era. He wasn't sure whether this was good fortune or misfortune.
Alfred also let out a sigh. The remains were being teleported directly back, so there was certainly no way to steal them now.
3/12. When would they ever truly fill all the spots?
Possessing strength, possessing connections, assured in life to stand on their side, and conveniently dying at just the right time... it was simply too difficult.
Or perhaps...
Should he go dig in the Allen Manor ancestral mausoleum again?
That would make up the numbers, and it would be faster. Besides, the Allen family was already thoroughly bound to his young master; as long as the ancestors' brains hadn't rotted from corpse liquor in their coffins, they would know which choice to make.
And if he really did that, that cat would probably wake up laughing from her dreams.
The trouble was, as the young master's power and status rose, the ancestors of the Allen family were becoming somewhat underqualified. Giving them coffin slots would truly be a waste.
Besides, the relationship was already set in stone: the young master had a genius cat of the Allen family by his side, and his fiancée bore the Allen surname. If the need ever arose, they could just dig up the graves and awaken them directly without putting them into the twelve coffins. Getting free labor—wasn't that delightful?
Oh, right, and the paintings!
Those senior court painters of the Church were truly remarkable. This was what real professionalism looked like; their framing and composition were genuinely breathtaking. He wondered if Mr. Bede and Mr. Piaget could ever elevate themselves to such a realm.
Vick sniffled, looked at Karen, and edged over on his own initiative once more, whispering:
"Captain, I'll be very obedient, really. I'll just follow you straight back to the York City Region, okay? Can you arrange a place for me to stay?"
Alfred quickly shook off his wandering thoughts to handle the onboarding of the new member on Karen's behalf. He said to Vick, "I will arrange all of that. Rest assured."
"Of course I'm assured. Actually, from the moment we first met, I could tell you had great taste." Vick took the initiative to step up and greet Alfred. "That suit of yours left a deep impression on me."
"Is that so? Likewise. The worn holes at the knees of your trousers struck me as very trendy."
"Oh, that? No, that's just from kneeling on the deck carving formation arrays for days on end. You really think it's trendy?"
"Indeed."
"I think it's pretty nice too. Mind you, I intentionally didn't change trousers at first just so the old man could easily see my hard work. You know how it is—the economic climate is terrible right now, and finding a stable, suitable job with good prospects is really tough."
"Then you've come to the right place. With us, everything is guaranteed."
"Right? That's exactly why I fancied the potential here. Don't worry, I'm very obedient and know how to read the room. I'm sure we'll get along wonderfully."
"Naturally. Once you join our squad, we're family."
"Hehe. So, good brother, there's something I'd like to ask you."
"Mm?"
Vick leaned in close to Alfred and asked softly, "That girl—what's her name?"
Alfred glanced over. There were only three girls in the squad.
"Which one?"
"The one who looks like she hasn't fully woken up, always keeping her eyes closed. I think she's adorable. Exactly my type."
"Oh, her name is Philomena. An innocent, romantic girl, a bit ditzy, but very warm-hearted. You know how it is—girls who love sleeping are all like that."
"Really? Who does she have in her family?"
"She relies on her grandmother; the two of them are very close."
"How pitiful."
"Indeed."
"Should I go introduce myself and say hello?"
"Go ahead."
Karen had intended to go upstairs to rest alone for a while, but Mavaglio came over and signaled for Karen to step outside with him.
Alfred deliberately waited a moment before heading upstairs. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a loud *bang*, followed by the sight of Vick flying backward through the air.
"You don't like him?" Muri asked softly. Standing nearby, he had overheard the exchange between Alfred and Vick.
Who didn't know that Philomena had the worst temper in the squad and was second in strength only to the captain? It was only before the captain that she became "well-behaved."
Muri had studied psychology as well, and had even exchanged ideas with Karen. But truth be told, Muri deeply admired Karen's practical execution. After all, not just anyone dared launch a psychological offensive against someone like Philomena—and even pull it off with such success.
So at times, one couldn't help but marvel. Being around someone like the captain meant you had to be prepared for your own light to be thoroughly overshadowed. Yet Muri didn't find it off-putting; in fact, he rather enjoyed it.
Hm? Had he also fallen victim to the captain's psychological offensive?
Oh no, not the captain—this guy.
Muri looked at Alfred again.
Alfred shook his head. "Not at all. I simply felt this would deepen the impression and solidify their bond."
Vick rubbed his chest as he scrambled to his feet, glaring at Alfred as he grumbled indignantly:
"You call that gentle?!"
"She is gentle in reality," Alfred said with complete certainty. "However, this is her dream."
Vick froze, seemingly falling into deep thought, before immediately asking:
"Fuck... is her last name Fischer?!"
"Yes, exactly."
"That cursed family!" Vick shuddered. "Can't mess with them, definitely can't mess with them."
Just then, Ashley and Blanche came running over, shouting, "We just went to borrow the communication array to check in! Guess what news we got? Captain Neo and Richard are both alive, and they've already returned to Yorktown!"
Alfred had expected Memphis's door to burst open, followed by an excited "Really?!"
Yet Memphis's door remained completely still. Instead, the door that had just slammed shut—Philomena's door—swung open, scaring Vick into scrambling backward out of the way.
Philomena spoke:
"Really?"
...
Lysanna arrived before Giragon. She had already gathered the specifics of the incident beforehand, and she knew she would most likely be assigned to judge this ferocious beast.
Even so, she had brought only two assistants.
One assistant brought over a chair for her, while the other held a parasol over her head.
There was no jury. On the spectator bench sat only two onlookers: Purr and Kevin.
Lysanna began reciting the crimes Giragon had committed. Giragon's three heads lay flat on the ground, watching the woman in judicial robes seated before it.
It had received Purr's instructions: when facing the trial, it had to display a good attitude and remain exceedingly respectful.
Because theoretically speaking, its dog life was clenched firmly in this woman's hands.
Once the charges were read, Lysanna began questioning Giragon.
She opened her palm, and a small gavel appeared within it. Bringing the gavel down, she gave the ground a light tap. A black starburst manifested, from which three human faces of different colors emerged.
One face was responsible for translation and transcription, one for detecting truth and falsehood, and the last for supervising the judicial order.
Giragon began using whimpers to answer each of Lysanna's questions.
Following Purr's demands, it omitted the conversation it had shared with Purr and Kevin in the dreamscape where their mental waves had collided; aside from that, it recounted everything truthfully.
Originally, it had intended to flee the island as soon as the seal was broken and hide beneath the sea.
Later, however, its sanity had been influenced by the three factions until it was driven practically mad, leading it to slaughter across the island.
Lysanna also held the incident report Vick had drafted for Theisen and signed in Theisen's name, which contained an impartial account of Giragon's conduct.
In particular, after Theisen was mortally wounded, Giragon could have continued rampaging or fled, yet it had obediently lain here the entire time, awaiting trial.
On that point, its conduct was beyond reproach.
Of course, that was also because Purr knew the [Scythe of War] had branded it with a mark. Considering the Church of Order's unyielding stance in handling the Fire Island affair, how could it possibly have escaped?
Thus, the wisest choice was to show a contrite attitude and await trial.
In the end, Lysanna pronounced the verdict.
Giragon was sentenced to be bound in chains as an enslaved beast of Order, with a term of one hundred years.
Based on merit and contributions, opportunities for sentence reduction could be granted; upon completing the term, Giragon would regain its freedom.
Subsequently, Lysanna produced a set of shackles and tossed them toward Giragon. The shackles landed right between the brows of Giragon's central head before sinking into its flesh and blood. A grid pattern appeared on the foreheads of all three heads.
Throughout the process, Giragon put up no resistance, signifying its acceptance of the sentence.
Purr breathed a long sigh of relief, even though it knew the final clause about freedom was utter nonsense.
Still, being taken in as an enslaved beast of the Church of Order wasn't a terrible outcome. After all, Giragon had been so well-behaved; while a ferocious beast in name, it certainly wouldn't suffer the harsh treatment dealt to genuinely rabid monsters.
As for the sentence... well, freedom was certainly precious, but many ferocious beasts were actually quite willing to remain within an orthodox church indefinitely. If they went out, they wouldn't necessarily enjoy much freedom anyway and might easily be captured by some other faith.
A church with a profound foundation like Order would even provide it with the conditions to grow and cultivate.
Purr hopped onto Kevin's back and departed the grounds. It knew that in the future, if it wanted to visit this useless dog, it would have to rely on Karen's standing.
"Stupid dog, once we get back, Karen will probably unseal another layer for you."
"Woof."
"You say it's entirely up to Karen? Why act so modest now? You should take the initiative! What if he forgets?"
"Woof, woof."
"You say Karen doesn't casually forget things, and if he really forgets, it's just an inevitable avoidance ordained by fate?
"Why is your tone so weird today?
"By the way, stupid dog, don't you feel Karen's been a little different since he woke up this time?"
With Giragon's trial concluded, Purr finally had the leeway to think about other things. It had sensed something—after all, it was the cat who shared Karen's pillow.
"Woof?"
Kevin began shaking his head.
"You say you don't know?"
"Woof."
"You say casually probing and observing other people's psychological shifts is unethical?"
"Woof."
"You say it's completely normal for Karen to have changes in his thoughts?"
Purr froze, then promptly grabbed Kevin's floppy ears with both paws like reins, pulling the dog to a halt.
"Hey, stupid dog..." Purr leaned its head close to Kevin's snout.
"Woof?"
"Why do I get the feeling... you're a little afraid of Karen now? It's not like his craving acted up again."
"Woof?"
Kevin turned his head, staring at Purr with wide, bewildered eyes, feigning complete ignorance of what Purr was talking about.
Purr narrowed its eyes and said with utter conviction:
"You really *are* afraid of him."
Kevin locked eyes with Purr, his watery gaze gradually turning solemn and grave. He barked with great earnestness:
"Woof, woof."
"You say... Karen truly has become different from before, and is beginning to genuinely resemble another person?"
Who that "other person" was was abundantly clear. It was just that too many formidable figures of Order were on the island right now, making it inappropriate to mention the name aloud—even in "dog language."
"Woof, woof, woof, woof."
"You're saying I should learn to keep a bit of distance from him, and start getting used to revering him?"
Kevin nodded vigorously!
Purr leaned back, belly facing the sky, resting against Kevin's back as its two paw pads toyed with its own tail.
"But I can't do that! Who told him to make fish taste so delicious? Hehe, meow!"
Chapter 490