Adjudication: The Fall of the Nadon Family

Ever since moving out of Allen Apartments, Karen had been living at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor—which was also the Pavaro Inquisitorial Office. By the time the stir around the Qihe case died down and no longer drew attention, and Vicolai felt ready to strike back in retaliation, Karen was already beginning to make a name for himself. Especially after Karen broke through the York City Region selection and drew immense public attention, as long as he continued to keep his home at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor, Vicolai would not dare take the risk of seeking revenge. Then came Karen's relentless advancement, rapid promotion, and ever-growing acclaim. Gradually, Vicolai's desire for retribution against this subordinate Inquisitor was buried deep down. It simply wasn't worth the cost. Engineering an accidental mishap during a mission to eliminate a low-ranking Inquisitor who had few friends wasn't particularly difficult; the real problem was killing Karen... or having Karen come home to find everyone under his roof wiped out, and expecting him not to investigate and take bloody vengeance. That was nearly impossible. If Karen hadn't chosen to settle in the funeral parlor, Mrs. Lake, Dora, and Doreen might have already been dead. Yet Vicolai's motive for revenge was truly laughable. He had assumed Mr. Pavaro was dead and seized the credit for his achievements. Then Karen had appeared using Pavaro's identity and made demands of him, forcing him to cough up an extra ten thousand Order coupons and help raise his Inquisitor rank. To Vicolai, and to the Nadon family as a whole, that was practically nothing. Yet he felt his personal dignity had been violated, and insisted on seeking revenge and silencing them. What Vicolai did not know was that during the exact same period he was waiting for the heat to die down so he could murder Pavaro's family, Karen was also waiting for the heat to die down so he could kill Vicolai. In a twisted sense, it was almost a mutual yearning. Hearing Vicolai's provocative words, Karen's expression remained tranquil. He merely drew a cigarette from his pocket in silence, set it between his lips, and lit it. One puff, two puffs, three puffs... It had been a very long time since Alfred had seen his young master properly finish a cigarette. Most of the time, having already quit smoking, the young master would only light a cigarette on rare occasions as a habitual psychological cue, usually when hunger pangs struck or when he was hit with an emotional shock. But this was the first time Alfred had seen him smoke a cigarette right down to the filter before discarding it. The cigarette butt fell to the floor, crushed under the sole of Karen's boot. Karen sat up straight again and looked at Vicolai across the table. Some people's stupidity could not be measured by common sense. When you tried to apply rational thinking and found them utterly unreasonable, it was merely because you yourself were too reasonable. Just as with some people's malice—it was truly baked into their very nature. There was no way to empathize with them. Looking past the superficial physical resemblance and comparing them by the baseline of their souls, they already belonged to two entirely different species. A sneer still lingered on Vicolai's face. He was the type to bully the weak and fear the strong; when Vic had slapped him across the mouth in the car, he had squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed. Now, however, he was convinced that no further harm would come to him, firmly believing his family would bail him out. That was his worldview, shaped and solidified long ago. Seeing that Karen had remained silent all this time, Vicolai felt somewhat unsatisfied. After all, it was Karen who had prevented him from getting his revenge, and Karen who had handcuffed him in front of so many people inside the Church Affairs Building. "Captain Karen, why aren't you speaking? I thought you came in person to interrogate me. I never imagined you'd just send a lackey to do it. That makes this rather dull and thoroughly unrewarding. "Honestly, I was hoping to chat more with you. "It's just that Pavaro was always difficult to get along with, and you were living with him. I was worried he would slander me and ruin my reputation in your eyes, which was why I never visited. Heh. "Still, this is a fine opportunity. We can get to know each other much better. Once I get out in a few days, I'll invite you for coffee and a chat. That way it won't feel so awkward. What do you think...? "Hm? "Hmph?!!" Vicolai's eyes widened as the phantom silhouette of a clerical robe materialized before Karen—the divine vestment of an Adjudicator. Crimson patterns wound across the chest of the robe, radiating a chilling, solemn aura. "An... an advancement?" Vicolai stared at the sight in sheer disbelief. In that instant, he felt as though his heart had been seized in a vice—painful, furious, suffocating, laced with a bitter surge of grievance and indignation! You were mocking your enemy, you were provoking your enemy, yet your enemy didn't even dignify your words with a reply; he just sat there with his eyes closed. You assumed he was pretending to stay calm, but in the very next breath, he began an advancement. Vicolai clenched his fists in fury. Shackle-bound as he was, there was no way he could release spiritual power. Of course, given his true combat ability, which was only on par with Richard's in an epic duel, even if he were entirely free of restraints, neither Karen nor Alfred would have felt the slightest concern. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Karen! Karen, wake up!" Consumed by jealous rage until his features warped, Vicolai began shouting at the top of his lungs, trying to snap Karen out of his focus and ruin his breakthrough. Alfred sat calmly beside them, not even bothering to stop Vicolai's barking. Did his young master lack breakthroughs of this sort? Things that others treasured as priceless were, to his young master, mere items to be picked through and discarded at will. "Hey, Karen, wake up! Don't fall asleep on me!" Vicolai kept bellowing. Then he saw Karen raise a hand, casually grasp the phantom robe before him, and give it a nonchalant tug. The phantom robe dissolved into nothingness. He... he... he had actually terminated his breakthrough opportunity on his own? Karen kept his eyes closed and leaned back lightly against the chair, letting out a faint sigh of impatience. Alfred asked, "Young Master, haven't found the right moment yet?" "Mm. I haven't made up my mind, haven't thought it through yet. Let's put it aside for now. No rush." When these words reached Vicolai's ears, his face flushed crimson with sheer humiliation. He held the position of an Adjudicator, but lacked the strength of one; in fact, he was far weaker than most clerical staff who had transitioned to Adjudicator—pathetically weak. He dreamed of possessing the strength truly befitting an Adjudicator, of going to those places to consume others and siphon their power into his own body. Even if he couldn't retain it for long, even if it would bleed away and disperse after a time, he was utterly addicted to that fleeting sensation of surging power. Yet this young man, considerably younger than him, had forcefully cut off his own breakthrough and thrown away an opportunity to advance to Adjudicator, claiming he hadn't thought it through and would put it off for later? After speaking with Karen, Alfred turned back, glanced at Vicolai's expression, and shook his head with a faint smile, casually scribbling a few notes on the ledger. At this moment, Vicolai looked like an impotent man who had his trousers violently stripped off and was being publicly humiliated. It was a psychological torment far crueler than any physical blow. Vicolai desperately wanted to tell himself that Karen was merely putting on a show to provoke him. The trouble was, he had distinctly sensed the aura of an imminent advancement just moments ago. That couldn't be faked; it was real! How could someone intentionally toss aside such a precious breakthrough just to spite him? Impossible. Utterly impossible. Alfred tapped on the table. "This is the suicide note left by Mr. Pavaro." Vicolai hadn't caught the words at first, but finally his attention was dragged back. Looking at Alfred, he asked in confusion, "What? He's dead?" "Inquisitor Pavaro intended to report and expose your crimes, but you discovered it ahead of time and murdered him." "He's dead... and I was the one who did it?" "Were you not?" "Of course not." Vicolai frowned. "Is Pavaro really dead?" "We have already located the scene where Inquisitor Pavaro was murdered. Traces of your presence were found there, along with your personal belongings left behind." Alfred produced the photographs and set them before Vicolai. "Heh, my personal belongings? I haven't seen him in ages, let alone killed him... As I said before, if I want to kill a dog, I exterminate the entire litter along with its kennel. "What about his two daughters? Are they dead?" "They are under protection." "And his wife? That woman dressed plainly enough, but I could tell her figure was excellent—just the kind of soft, plump build I like." "Mrs. Lake is also under protection." "Phew... that's good. As long as she's fine. It would be such a pity if she died too. "Once I'm out of here, I'll ask her out to a movie. After going through something like this, she needs company more than ever. As Pavaro's superior, I ought to shoulder that responsibility." "Do you admit to murdering Inquisitor Pavaro?" "Murdering an Inquisitor? Heh, what have I admitted to? I admit nothing. These charges are nothing but your slander!" Mirroring Karen's posture, Vicolai leaned back in his chair, bouncing his leg with a smirk. "I told my eldest uncle back then that stray dogs don't understand gratitude; their legs should be broken and their skins flayed. But my uncle stopped me, saying there was a young dog there and making a move would cost too much. "Looking back, he was shortsighted, wasn't he? If we had resolved to do it sooner, wouldn't we have avoided all this trouble?" Alfred began jotting notes in the ledger. "Still, it doesn't matter. A dog is just a dog; it will never be nobler than a human being. All its frantic struggling is merely an attempt to flee—to flee a truth it has known in its heart all along. "How long can you keep me locked up here for an investigation? "Two days? Three days? Or four? "The pressure from outside must be quite heavy by now, isn't it? "I'll cooperate fully and play along with you. Once I'm out, I'll find an opportunity to play with you properly. We'll make sure to enjoy ourselves to the fullest. "Especially you, Captain Karen!" Karen still ignored him. With eyes closed, his fingertip tapped rhythmically on the tabletop. He was contemplating a question—one he had already settled long ago, yet was now turning over in his mind once more. Vicolai hadn't actually killed Pavaro yet. Was it right to pin Pavaro's death on Vicolai in order to secure the honor and justice that the long-dead Mr. Pavaro deserved? Yes, it undoubtedly was. Should it be done? By all reason, the right thing ought to be done. Yet between the two lay a rope, and that rope had to be dragged through a pool of mud. It was not that Karen had suddenly decided against framing Vicolai, much less that he had softened his heart. It was precisely Vicolai's words that had provoked Karen and stoked the fury within him. That was why he had dredged up this decision, one that was already settled and unalterable, to reconsider it once more. In truth, Karen was fortunate to an extent. His profound accumulations allowed him to bypass the arduous process of steadily building up power for breakthroughs. An ordinary Adjudicator—no, even an ordinary Jurist—fell far short of him in terms of spiritual and soul reserves. Even as he pondered this question, another Adjudicator Robe coalesced before him. Only, the red coloration on the chest of this robe was noticeably darker than the previous one. Seeing another breakthrough opportunity appear around Karen, Vicolai's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. If his hands hadn't been shackled, he would have slapped himself repeatedly across the face to convince himself this was a nightmare, praying to wake up soon! Yet this was no dream. This young man sat right there, listening to his taunts and curses, and casually triggered a second breakthrough. Vicolai's breathing turned ragged and heavy; he could no longer even control the twitching of his muscles. This was an insult! Karen was doing it on purpose, deliberately insulting him! This bastard deserved to die—he was utterly infuriating! Did he think this was enough to provoke his wrath? Did he think this was enough to humiliate him? Heh. Fine. He would make him pay! While Vicolai remained trapped in his habitual delusion that the world revolved around him, Karen reached out again and swept his hand forward, dispersing the second phantom Adjudicator Robe. Until he had thought it through, he would not advance. Once he had clarity, the next question would not be whether to advance, but when it would be most fitting. Karen raised an arm, his fingers curving as if gripping an invisible object. ... Behind the two-way glass, standing in the adjacent room to record and listen, Vic had already been marveling inwardly: *Damn it! Is this guy even human? Can a person really be like this?* *Lord Theisen, I'm almost certain now that this new captain of mine has some connection to you. A deep one.* *He's no orphan. Absolutely not.* *Lord Theisen, whose shadow did you see in my captain?* *Oh, I can't take this anymore—he dispersed his breakthrough again!* Vic saw Vicolai sitting in the interrogation room, his face turning thoroughly green with rage. Yet Vic figured his own expression wasn't much better. Just how overflowing did someone's talent have to be for them to be this willful! How many priests spent their entire lives languishing as servants? The realm of Adjudicator, which countless people dreamed of reaching, was treated by him like trash to be cast aside on a whim. *Damn it, Captain, are you picking out fabric colors and styles?!* Right then, Vic noticed the posture of Karen's raised hand. Realizing what it meant, he immediately slipped out of the room, walked to the interrogation room door, pushed it open, and stepped up behind Karen. Then he placed the copy of the *Code of Order* he always carried with him directly into Karen's open hand, perfectly matching his grip. Karen did not open his eyes. Nor did he seem inclined to flip through the pages; he merely cradled the book against his chest with both hands, lightly stroking its cover. He knew Neo and Bernie's subsequent plans. Vicolai was merely the first step. Once this step was complete, they would drag the rest of the Nadon family into the mire. If they could ultimately topple Bishop Dolph, it would mean the York City Region Whip of Order had torn open an opening and secured a firm footing in this struggle for authority. Such entanglement would undoubtedly employ plenty of underhanded methods—slander, swaying public opinion, forging alliances... By all rights, this seemed wrong. At the very least, procedural justice could not be maintained. Yet Vicolai had just admitted to his face that he had originally intended to slaughter Pavaro's entire family. His confidence stemmed entirely from his own family. Stealing Pavaro's merits had surely been orchestrated by his family behind the scenes. His eldest uncle had known of his intentions as well, and had only stopped him because Karen was living at the funeral parlor. If Karen hadn't been there, his uncle wouldn't have halted his revenge, and might even have used his authority to help his nephew clean up the mess. His grandfather must have known about his actions, his father must have known, and his entire family must have known—because his true realm of strength was impossible to hide from his own kin. This made it virtually certain that his family was far from innocent. There were bound to be countless crimes they had committed that had yet to be unearthed. It was impossible to imagine a household with such a toxic culture committing wrongdoing only through this one person, or on this single matter, while remaining upright and incorruptible in everything else. Procedural justice served as a constraint on those who wielded power. Yet if he already knew the truth, did he truly have to tread through every step of procedural justice all over again? The *Code of Order* contained a vast amount of material, but the volume itself was not very thick. Relative to the multitude of regulations it covered, it could even be described as remarkably concise. For the most part, it simply stated what punishment was warranted for what crime. It did not dictate the procedural flow of how one must arrive there. Karen's thoughts began to drift. He recalled the image of Lord Theisen brandishing the Scythe of War on Fire Island not long ago, reprimanding him and telling him not to bring shame to his grandfather. Theisen had made him reflect on his past behavior and thoughts, yet what he had criticized was Karen's instinct to evade... In truth, from the perspective of procedural justice, Karen's choice back then hadn't been wrong. Even knowing that Giragon's awakening would bring destruction, teleporting back as quickly as possible to report the matter to the divine church was the most rational course. Karen also thought back to that night when his grandfather had recited the *Code of Order* to those men. Karen had deliberately allowed himself to be pushed over, and his grandfather had immediately charged the other party with driving an aberrant demon to harm ordinary mortals in violation of the Code of Order; Purr had suddenly leapt onto the chief editor's desk, swiped her claws toward Karen's side, and snapped a few strands of hair, and his grandfather had proclaimed to the chief editor that he had violated the *Code of Order*. His grandfather respected the *Code of Order*, yet his proclamations appeared utterly casual. It wasn't wanton slaughter, nor was it false accusation; rather, once the truth was already known, he simply chose the most direct path forward. At the end of the previous epoch, the God of Order had slaughtered deities with reckless abandon. In nearly every faith's mythological canon, the God of Order was depicted, both overtly and subtly, as manic and tyrannical. Because the God of Order's judgment upon a deity was as simple as a single phrase: *You have violated Order; I shall suppress you.* Do not evade, do not flinch, do not hesitate. Confront the truth, confront everything. He had to find his own anchor to bind and warn himself, rather than relying on so-called pedantic procedures. For at this moment, what he needed was absolute confidence and courage. Adjudication was anchored by the principles of Order within one's own heart. At that moment, a third Adjudicator Robe manifested before Karen. The red upon this robe had faded to faint, delicate crimson lines, radiating an aura of genuine, biting cold. The temperature inside the interrogation room seemed to plummet instantly, and a thick yet invisible layer of frost formed across the four walls and the floor tiles. "Y-you... you... you..." Vicolai stared at Karen in utter terror, as if looking upon a ghost. He suddenly realized that an opponent like this—an opponent with whom all pretense had already been shattered—could never be granted more time. Not a single moment! He was simply too terrifying! This time, the family-backed worldview he had taken such pride in was torn open by Karen's mind-shattering talent. If they didn't take this opportunity to smother him before he truly rose, then in the future, not even the Nadon family would be able to suppress him. His prospects and his personal strength would likely surpass the Nadon family's entire level. At this moment, Karen slowly opened his eyes. Within his pupils, a deep, swirling blackness revolved before gradually settling into stillness, devoid of any emotion, holding only the purest emptiness. When that gaze fell upon him, Vicolai felt his body and soul instantly constrained, as though he had been bound hand and foot, dragged onto the judgment platform, and left waiting for the sentence to fall upon him. Karen reached out a third time, seized the phantom Adjudicator Robe before him, and tore it apart once more. He had thought it through, and he had made his choice. But now was not the optimal moment. He required a practical success to step into the rank of Adjudicator in his most complete state. It was a form of greed, and a relentless pursuit of perfection. Only an Adjudicator formed this way could truly cash in the profound accumulations he currently held, inherit the past, and allow him to continue forging ahead in the future. The subject of his practice, and the final step leading to his Adjudicator rank, already stood before him. *Since you have already told me that you wanted to slaughter Pavaro's entire family, and since you have already told me that your family knew everything;* *very well. I shall return the favor in kind.* Karen extended his hand, pointed straight at Vicolai across from him, and spoke with calm finality: "Adjudication: Annihilation of the Nadon family."