It was truly a scene combining subversion and absurdity—a spectacle that had never before occurred within Karen's conscious space.
Neo had teased Karen more than once that the clutter inside his soul was rich enough to open a general store. Yet for a long time, these "accessories" within Karen's soul had never clashed. In fact, inside the Gate of Samsara, with the aid of the phantom Throne of Order that suppressed Rielsa, they had undergone a thorough process of Order-ification; even Grandfather's phantom had donned the robes of an elder of the Temple of Order.
This current scene was not about internal strife or conflict either. It was purely Karen forcefully mobilizing them to suppress his hunger addiction.
However, the effect seemed far from ideal. The more violently you resisted and fought back, the fiercer the rebound became.
This logic seemed comical, yet it was an inevitability.
Because both the suppressing force and the resisting urge originated from himself, Karen was effectively wrestling his left hand against his right.
This made Karen realize that if this hunger flared up again in the future, the most straightforward approach would be to lock himself down and simply endure until it passed.
Furthermore, he would have to do his best to avoid placing food right at his own doorstep like this.
Otherwise, what should have been a simple execution would inexplicably turn into torturing himself on a hot iron pillar.
Still, those were precautions for the future. The immediate predicament had to be dealt with first.
Now that the contest of wills had begun, there was no stopping.
Diss's phantom pressed his right hand onto Karen's shoulder, exerting force to push Karen back down.
Yet as Karen's momentum to rise grew increasingly distinct, black flames began to ignite across Diss's phantom. This was not incineration, but assimilation.
For although this figure represented the Inmeles family's faith system—a legacy derived when Diss stripped the source of his power from the Church and turned it into an ancestral heritage—it fundamentally shared the same origin.
Therefore, once this confrontation arose, only two outcomes were possible.
Either the Inmeles faith system would assimilate the Order faith system, or the Order faith system would assimilate the Inmeles faith system. Obviously, the former was impossible; it could only be the latter.
So if this situation continued, with the hunger unsuppressed while Karen kept using his family faith system as a ballast, the family faith system his grandfather had given him would likely be normalized and reabsorbed.
This was the absorption of systems and sequences. Over countless years of development, an orthodox church would inevitably assimilate numerous external branches—absorbing other churches, outside families, or even individuals—forging them into one of the sequences under its own system.
The ancestral buckler and dagger deep within Muri's soul were an example of such integration. The ancestor of the Benda family had merged their family sequence into the Church of Order, later securing the hereditary post of Captain of the Guard for successive High Priests.
To have painstakingly gouged something out only to patch it right back in—Karen would never make such a losing trade.
If that happened, he would be squandering all the painstaking effort Grandfather had poured into him.
The Dark Moon Goddess stood on Diss's other side, her hand also pressing down on Karen's shoulder. By now, a cluster of black flames had appeared on her as well.
Unlike the assimilation threatening Diss, for the Dark Moon Goddess, this was true dissolution.
That was why, in the eyes of ordinary people, having so many extra things inside one's soul was by no means a blessing, and few would envy it.
Neo's grueling struggles over the past decade were the best proof.
Karen had previously been able to soothe them, but that did not mean they could naturally coexist as a matter of course.
And as the black flames on the Dark Moon Goddess grew fiercer, the pain along Karen's ribs rapidly intensified, feeling as if they were fracturing one by one.
If this continued, the imprint left by the Dark Moon Goddess in Karen's soul would be wiped away entirely—not merely reskinned, but eradicated from within.
The shackles formed by the Gate of Samsara were now being forced apart; clearly, its capacity had reached its limit.
The Sea God's Armor had vanished completely, dissolving into the black phantom draped over Karen and losing all power to resist.
The only entity truly maintaining suppression without showing clear signs of faltering was the avatar of faith of the God of Light.
His hand pressed against Karen's forehead, continuously releasing the power of light, only to be shoved back time and again by the black flames. Yet when the flames clung to his body, they soon vanished—no, it was more like they were absorbed and converted into his own strength, then exerted right back. With the God of Light, the resistance and suppression formed a small closed loop.
This couldn't help reminding Karen of his previous experience executing Vicolai, when his hunger flared up and using the flames of Order to suppress his soul had only worsened the situation. It seemed the power of Light was currently the best choice for holding down the primal instincts of the laws of Order.
In fact, the past few times, Karen had scorched his own soul with the Fire of Light to divert his attention.
It seemed the coffin Alfred was preparing would need further modifications—some light magic formations would have to be carved onto it.
A low growl slipped from Karen's throat. His current state was very bizarre. Though he stood at the absolute center of this contest, his perception felt oddly buoyant, as if he were an outsider looking in.
There was nothing proud about such "transcendence." In truth, it meant that as the true conscious subject, he had been marginalized.
This was precisely how the vast majority of believers lost themselves: their soul's consciousness became ruled by instinct, and the self no longer held sway.
If the current predicament wasn't resolved, Karen would be reduced to a mere accessory of himself, without even a sliver of space left.
Seated in his chair, Bishop Dolph had long grown numb. His brain had ceased functioning; he only felt that the scene unfolding before his eyes was utterly fantastical and unbelievable.
He was even beginning to suspect whether he had died long ago, and that what he was witnessing now was merely an illusion after falling into the eternal abyss of death.
Thousand Phantoms was wrapped around Ancestor Allen, but its attention was not on Karen's body below; it was looking upward. It could sense where the real Karen was currently situated.
Looking back, deep in the shadows behind, the phantom of a Rubik's Cube faintly hovered, accompanied by red threads weaving in and out of sight.
Thousand Phantoms felt it ought to do something. After all, it was different from the other "accessories." The others were mere soul imprints or marks of faith, devoid of self-awareness. But it had consciousness.
It dwelled inside Karen as an entity with its own independent consciousness. In other words, Ancestor Allen beneath it could afford to do nothing because his actions were controlled by Karen anyway;
but it needed to put on some kind of display. Otherwise, even Thousand Phantoms couldn't justify why it should continue existing here. Was it purely to sprout a pair of wings for Karen during battle?
In fact, even without its assistance, Karen could transform into black mist to fly.
So, what was it really good for?
Thousand Phantoms looped its body around Ancestor Allen's neck once, then reared up, catching its own reflection in Ancestor Allen's emotionless eyes.
Oh no, it didn't have to be useful.
Even while useless, it could still show a bit of value! In this world, there were plenty of things that were useless yet valuable!
Having realized this, Thousand Phantoms saw the light. It immediately detached from Ancestor Allen, soared above the chair, and began circling where Karen's consciousness currently hovered.
It knew Karen was right here. Head facing outward like a loyal servant protecting its master, it glared vigilantly around, even though it possessed no actual ability to change the situation.
"You..."
Thousand Phantoms' sudden appearance surprised Karen slightly, and then he found it somewhat amusing.
But Karen had already settled on what to do next.
He began chanting the incantation for Black Prison Castle—not to manifest the castle itself, but to provoke the Scythe of War.
*Don't you love appearing in my dreams?*
*Very well.*
*This time,*
*I'll bring you into my world of consciousness.*
In reality, Bishop Dolph still sat in his chair, the Spear of Punishment impaled in his chest, while Karen stood before him gripping the spear.
However, a wind began to stir within the basement hall.
On the back of Karen's right hand, the mark representing the *Scythe of War* glimmered faintly under the stimulation.
...
*Buzz!*
As if a chunk of the scene before them had been forcefully excised, in its place stood the Scythe of War, exuding a terrifying aura.
When it appeared, the expression on Bishop Dolph's face grew richer. Far from terrified, he even felt somewhat flattered.
To die beneath such a scythe—there was probably nothing left to regret.
Yet what happened next gave Bishop Dolph's nearly paralyzed mind another jolt.
For he was flattering himself. Why would Karen go out of his way to summon the Scythe of War just to finish him off? He wasn't worthy of Karen employing such high-standard treatment.
The Scythe of War began to tilt, and the direction it tilted toward was Karen himself—and toward the majestic, black avatar of faith of the God of Order cloaking Karen.
Thousand Phantoms was scared stiff. As the scythe fell, a terrifying force pinned its body right where it was. What awaited it next was very likely being cut in two.
However, guided by Karen's conscious tug, the scythe's trajectory shifted slightly, allowing Thousand Phantoms to narrowly escape.
*Pfft!*
In the end, the scythe plunged into Karen's chest.
In an instant, everything around seemed pressed under a pause button; all of existence froze in absolute stillness.
The God of Order's avatar enveloping Karen began to fade. Its momentum to rise was drained without limit, and Karen sat firmly back down in his chair.
Diss's phantom withdrew his hand. The phantom of the Dark Moon Goddess withdrew her hand. The God of Light also withdrew his hand. In unison, the three figures receded into the shadows and vanished into the darkness.
The Gate of Samsara and the Sea God's Armor dissolved along with them.
In their place, only two people remained, each sitting in a chair.
One had a dazed expression; the other, impaled through the chest by the scythe, sat motionless.
After a long while, Karen reached out a hand, grasped the edge of the scythe, and slowly raised his head. His eyes held deep exhaustion, but at least they had cleared.
The Chains of Order that had bound Bishop Dolph were completely retracted, swirling around Karen once more as if licking his wounds—even though this wound had been inflicted by Karen himself.
*Hiss...*
Enduring tremendous agony, Karen began slowly pulling the Scythe of War out of his body. He looked forward; the Chains of Order seemed tempted to strike at Bishop Dolph again.
But Karen didn't want to let it go. Having finally suppressed that hunger, he didn't want his shotgun teasing the prey anymore.
Yet Bishop Dolph had to be disposed of; all he had left was that final breath.
"Thousand Phantoms, go. Devour him."
Thousand Phantoms, which had curled up like a mosquito coil in terror, instantly perked up. It shot toward Bishop Dolph and began gnawing on him.
Bishop Dolph chose not to resist. Having witnessed the scene earlier, resistance had become entirely pointless. In fact, the sheer shock had even diluted the dread of approaching death.
"Who on earth are you..."
Compared to his inevitable death, Bishop Dolph's curiosity was now far stronger.
Karen ignored him.
"The Whip of Order has a ceiling. The higher you climb, the fewer spots there are. If you want your future to proceed more smoothly, you should still branch out into other affairs. It's best not to walk down this path entirely."
Karen still ignored him.
"How I wish I could give you something right now in exchange for looking after my family."
Karen responded:
"Keep dreaming."
"Then one last question, I hope you can answer me..."
Ignoring Thousand Phantoms frantically gnawing on him, Bishop Dolph asked:
"Dalis... is he a curse?"
Karen answered, "He will be just like it—devouring the Norton family clean."
Upon hearing this, Bishop Dolph actually smiled.
"Then I'm glad I held back from killing him. At least... the Norton family still has hope, doesn't it?"
Karen was exhausted and closed his eyes.
Around them, only the rustling and crunching sounds of Thousand Phantoms gnawing away echoed continuously. Bishop Dolph no longer screamed, letting out only intermittent bursts of laughter.
After a while, the laughter ceased entirely.
Thousand Phantoms flew back heavily and coiled itself fawningly before Karen.
However, where its originally slender body coiled up like a neat mosquito coil, its bloated, undigested form now coiled up looking suspiciously like a pile of...
Karen let out a long breath. In the future, if there was another execution job, he would hand it to Neo or Alfred; he would avoid getting involved as much as possible.
After this, recovering from the soul injuries would probably take a very long time.
Karen looked up at the Scythe of War before him. He wanted to move it out of his conscious space, but the base of the scythe seemed firmly planted there, utterly motionless.
It had already formed a contract with Karen; it was just that Karen had never allowed it inside before. Now that he had let it in, removing it was no easy matter.
This was an unstable factor beyond his control, but Karen had no energy left to contemplate how to handle it. He could only let it be for now.
The next moment,
Karen leaned back.
In reality, Karen opened his eyes. Bishop Dolph sitting before him was devoid of life—dead, thoroughly dead. Not a trace of lingering spiritual power could be sensed on his corpse.
This meant Thousand Phantoms' clean-plate operation had been as thorough as a purification spell.
...
In the study above, Bishop Bern opened his eyes.
"It's over, then."
Promptly, Bishop Bern's figure vanished from the study.
The next moment,
he appeared outside the barrier at the edge of the basement hall, the pendant emitting a faint chime.
Bishop Bern did not disturb Karen, quietly observing instead. He watched Karen step forward, thinking Karen would gently close Bishop Dolph's eyes. Who would have guessed that Karen merely raised his hand—
*Smack!*
He slapped the back of Bishop Dolph's head, forcing his face to tilt downward.
Immediately after, Karen covered his mouth and burst into a coughing fit.
"Cough, cough... cough..."
Raising his hand again, he saw vivid crimson in his palm.
Bishop Bern frowned slightly. *Bestowed, yet wounded?*
*Did the bestowal fail?*
As a seasoned schemer, Bishop Bern's observational acuity and intuition far surpassed those of bishops like Dolph.
...
Dolph was dead. Having opened his eyes, Karen did not look back, nor did his consciousness attempt to penetrate the barrier. But he knew Bishop Bern had in all likelihood appeared outside and was watching him.
As for Bishop Bern, Karen didn't hate him, but he knew full well they were not the same kind of people. In fact, the man was rather obnoxious; it would be best to keep a distance in the future.
Ultimately, he was someone who had schemed against and orchestrated his own son's life since childhood. How could his heart hold any genuine warmth for others?
Until his own strength and standing surpassed Bern's, he couldn't harbor any positive illusions about him.
"Cough, cough..."
Looking at the blood in his palm, Karen shook his head somewhat helplessly. For a long time to come, he would have to nurse his injuries and avoid battle as much as possible.
*Buzz!*
The barrier was dispelled.
Bishop Bern asked as he walked in, "Karen, how are you feeling right now?"
*Your Excellency, you're truly impatient.*
Karen sighed inwardly, turning around to reply:
"Bishop Bern, Bishop Dolph didn't intimidate me. He bestowed his blessings upon me, funneling all his power into me—including his rootstem of faith."
"Yet you appear to be injured?"
"Bishop Bern, have you ever tended a vegetable garden?"
"Hm?"
"Anyone who has farmed knows that applying too much fertilizer at once will burn the roots. Bishop Dolph gave me far too much. I couldn't stomach it all and wasted a great deal, but even so, I feel bloated to the point of injury—it's quite painful and uncomfortable."
"If you're injured from overeating, then you're certainly stuffed, right?"
"Yes, Bishop Bern."
"Being stuffed should yield some results, shouldn't it?"
"Yes, there should be."
"Come, let me examine your body. I hope no irreparable harm has been done."
Bishop Bern reached out and took hold of Karen's wrist. Karen did not resist, merely offering a faint smile.
Just as Bishop Bern prepared to send his consciousness through the contact at the wrist into Karen's body to investigate, a surging, torrential force rippled out from within Karen, completely repelling his consciousness.
The next moment, an ancient, dignified Adjudicator's vestment—black with crimson edges—materialized before Karen. The aura on Karen's body rapidly surged, embracing the metamorphosis of this realm.
In Bishop Bern's eyes, this looked nothing like a grueling breakthrough; rather, it seemed completely natural and exceptionally steady, as though he were taking a casual step forward.
Bishop Bern nodded silently. It seemed Dolph's bestowal had taken obvious effect, directly helping Karen breach the barrier to become an Adjudicator.
*Alright, Bishop Bern. Didn't you want to examine me? Then allow me to confirm it for you.*
*Well then,*
*let's... advance.*
Chapter 532