True Vengeance!

Torisa propped his hands against the ground, panting incessantly. As yellow smoke billowed steadily from his body, his flesh began to melt away. Yet what dripped down was neither waxy fluid like corpse oil nor foul, putrid pus, but wisps of yellow sand. It streamed continuously from his eyes, ears, mouth, and skin, like sand leaking from a shattered hourglass. Before long, a small mound of sand had accumulated beneath where he lay prostrate. Everything he possessed—his past, his realm, his pride—was slipping away uncontrollably like sand clenched tight in a fist, leaving behind only merciless mockery. "Heh... haha... heh..." Torisa began to laugh, his chuckles laden with despair and regret. Karen believed that his remorse at this moment was genuine. Even the most selfish of people, once stripped of absolutely everything, had nothing left to cling to but regret. Many considered remorse an expression of torment, but in Karen's eyes, regret was actually a release valve. A condition like Neo's, where a man habitually stayed wound tight, was far more prone to disaster. If he would just call Karen or the other teammates out every few days for drinks, weeping into his cup with snot and tears streaming down his face, he would probably be far better off. Being too tough was not always a good thing. When the collapse finally came, there would be no warning—just an echoing crash as everything shattered before your eyes. At that thought, Karen glanced at Neo again. Neo had come down and deliberately provoked Torisa just to get beaten up. He was seeking someone conspicuously stronger than himself to thrash him, all to give himself a clearer target and purpose to chase. *Sigh, what an exhausting way to live.* This inward sigh was for Neo, but also for himself. Leaving 13 Mink Street, leaving Allen Manor, leaving Allen Apartments—at several crossroads, Karen had turned down more comfortable surroundings. Every time he lay wounded in bed, regret had crossed his mind: how nice it would have been if he had simply chosen ease. In the end, it was because he had confidently told his grandfather back then: "The world is so big; I want to go see it." The words were already spoken, so no matter what, he had to keep walking his chosen path. Yet if time could turn back, he would probably clamp a hand over his past self's mouth and offer an apologetic smile to his grandfather: "Let me think about it some more." Neo possessed no sense of granting decency before a kill. Toward enemies, he had always been ruthless, thoroughly relishing the pleasure of rubbing salt into their wounds. "Once I get back, I'll look up your records. Three hundred years is a while ago, but with the archives inside our system, finding you should be easy. Though the documents aren't in front of me yet, I can already picture a once-outstanding Whip of Order captain. Your dossier must have been gleaming. So really, why bother?" *Come on, hurt a little more before you die.* Torisa rasped, "It was because I fell under an illusion..." "Even now, you're still making excuses? You weren't loyal to Order, nor to the Church. Compasini's mastery of illusion was formidable indeed—a grandmaster of that era—but what truly brought you to this state wasn't him. It was your ambition, your desires, and your sheer selfishness. What a shame. If you hadn't chosen that path, if you had held fast to your faith and principles back then... I doubt you would have qualified to enter the Temple in the end, but you would certainly have been a paragon for future generations of the Whip of Order. Your name would be in the handbooks, and certain tactics and techniques might even bear your name. Don't worry, once we leave, we'll find a way to pass word of this place to the Church. The Church will send people here to wrap things up. Your history of heresy will be made public too: three hundred years ago, Torisa, Captain of a Whip of Order squad from the Dinge Region, murdered his subordinates and committed apostasy. When that time comes, your name will become a textbook cautionary tale for future juniors of the Whip of Order. Those potbellied bureaucrats who handle doctrinal education will spit and rail through your crimes again and again, using your pathetic end to warn the whole lecture hall: those who betray the faith of Order will ultimately face the retribution of Order!" Torisa replied, "Do you think I still care about any of that?" "Of course you care! What does a selfish person look like? It's not like I haven't seen one—I'm selfish myself, so putting myself in your shoes is easy enough. Did you think I'd believe you could let go of everything right before dying? No, you can't. A person like you, even if you shed tears right now, you're only weeping for yourself. Until the moment your eyes close for good, you'll still be calculating every single gain and loss. Oh, right, that black giant ape behind you earlier showed you have a family legacy. Three hundred years isn't that long for a family within the Church. Your house is probably still around, maybe thriving even more than it was three centuries ago. Once this comes to light, they will bear your disgrace." Saying this, Neo glanced unconsciously at Karen and continued, "That's why I've always felt that among the rules and regulations designed by Lord Tyrannus, the faith scrutiny clause is genuinely brilliant. Your manservant mentioned this to me, saying you support it. I'm just curious about one thing: after what happened to your grandfather, how can you still support that kind of vetting system?" "The Church never convicted my grandfather to begin with." "Fair point. Though I think it was mostly because they didn't quite dare to." "You're off topic." "Oh, right. I should get back to scourging him." Neo refocused his attention on Torisa. "When you were beating me up just now, was it satisfying?" Torisa answered, "If I had known it would come to this, I wouldn't have given you the chance to leave the sand pool. I would have killed you, no matter the cost!" "You think you could have actually killed me?" Neo laughed. "Sigh, this sand pool is the safest place around. Even if you turned it into an amusement park and let children come in to play in the sand and build castles, there wouldn't be the slightest danger." Neo poked his forehead with a finger and continued, "Those aren't my words; they were left in my head by that person. While there were differences in doctrine and paths, and faith pointed in different directions, it cannot be denied that Compasini was a kind-hearted man... oh, no, a kind-hearted beast. You couldn't have killed me, especially today. Once the inheritance began, the curse reached its end. The consciousness left by Compasini decided it was time you learned the ultimate truth, delivering the final, cruel blow to the wretch he toyed with and tormented for three hundred years. The two of us merely accelerated the process—or gave the outcome a few extra ripples." Karen reminded him, "You alone. I knew nothing about it." Neo countered, "Aren't you happy now that you know?" Karen shook his head. "I don't particularly enjoy that sort of happiness." Neo tilted his head back, about to say more, when Alfred's figure approached from a distance. Stepping outside the sand pool, he walked up to Karen and bowed respectfully. "Young Master." Karen replied blunt and direct, "What kind of creature are you?" "Hahahahaha!" Neo burst out laughing. "Why bother disguising yourself as Alfred? Their relationship hasn't been mere master and servant for a long time. You can't fool him." Alfred chuckled, then revealed the form of the ivory old man in white robes. He replied, "That young man is still receiving the inheritance, though it is nearly complete. He said if his Young Master had received it instead, the result would have been even better. Ah, what a pity." "Tch," Neo scoffed disdainfully. "No pity at all. It's not like he'd want it anyway." "You both talk so big," the old man said, spreading his hands. "It leaves me somewhat at a loss." At this, Karen took half a step back and bowed respectfully again. "My apologies for offending you just now. It was not intentional." Karen's reaction earlier had actually been quite polite. He had guessed who was impersonating Alfred, so he had merely voiced a sharp question rather than launching an attack. "It is fine," the old man said nonchalantly. "I suppose my joke went too far. It should be I who apologize." Neo pointed at the old man and said to Karen, "See? Didn't I tell you he's a decent fellow? Even on his own turf, he's still so polite." The old man offered a wry smile. Neo continued, "So you see, if I hadn't been sure he recognized my identity, I wouldn't have gone down there to fight Torisa with such utter abandon. I knew I couldn't beat him inside that sand pool." The old man asked, slightly surprised, "You are Philias?" Neo replied, "He is part of me. But what's with the question mark?" "I merely thought someone among you knew when my next-door neighbor would dissipate, and guessed you had found notes or messages left behind by Philias, learning of this place and when it would be best to claim the inheritance." "You didn't know Philias was me?" "I did not." "You couldn't tell?" "No." "Then when I was fighting that bastard down there, what were you thinking?" "Out of consideration for the one receiving the inheritance, I didn't want any of you to die. Even though you are both Order priests, my true self never hated the Church of Order. Up until the moment the Whip of Order struck him down, he felt the Church had treated him well, and his time within it was the happiest, warmest period of his life. However, I saw that you initiated the provocation. When someone seeks death like that, I will not intervene. I have no right to, and so I respect each person's freedom to choose their own fate." Neo took a deep breath and asked, "So if he had actually killed me, you wouldn't have intervened? Say, by making him turn into this ahead of time?" The old man shook his head. "No. This truth, of course, had to be revealed by me." Then he pointed toward Karen. "I could see that he didn't want to die, so when he was about to be crushed into paste earlier, I gave his manservant a heads-up." "Heheheh," Neo laughed. "You blind old fool!" The old man looked at Neo. "You are Philias's inheritor?" Neo answered, "Barely, you could say. I ate him, but he was poisoned." "Ah, so that is why you carry Light within you." "I've been poisoned. Food poisoning, I'm certain of it." "Light manifests as high-intensity purification—that is, obliteration—toward anything incompatible with it. Clearly, you are not of that kind, which means..." "Shut up!" "Very well." The old man smiled and fell silent. "You're almost gone anyway, so don't try casting illusions on me like your original self." "Indeed." The old man truly had an easygoing temperament. "Mr. Philias was a very fine man. Though he refused the inheritance, I spoke with him. He was a truly wise believer in the Light." Neo offered no opinion either way. Karen spoke up in affirmation, "Yes, he was." The old man smiled and turned around. Karen said to Neo, "You still took too great a risk." "I know that now." "Not just now—from the very beginning," Karen reminded him. "From the start?" "The information Philias left told you that Compasini's mental imprint was a friendly soul." "Right, what about it?" "I acknowledge Mr. Philias's noble character and exceptional qualities, but his ability to judge people..." "You mean Bernard?" "Yes." "That's different. It makes sense that he misjudged Bernard." "How is it different?" "Because he considered Bernard a friend." The old man walked over to Torisa, bent down, and looked at the man whose body had already half-crumbled away into sand. "Do you know? My true self came within a hair of escaping back to the Church of the Desert. You and your squad were exceptional enough to intercept him at the final moment." Torisa, with only half a face remaining, looked at the old man in total bewilderment. "Perhaps that was fate. When your sword pierced my true self's body, crushing the last ember of life within him, he actually admired you deeply." "Do I still have a chance to fix this? I don't care about my realm anymore, but my body was only placed into eternal rest. I think I still have a chance..." "No, you have no chance. You died long ago. In truth, you are just like the subordinates you murdered—every one of you died ages ago. It was only inside this sand pool that you could sustain the illusion that you were still alive. Illusion, after all, is false; how could it truly resurrect someone in this world? If that were possible, the one standing before you and speaking would not be me, but my true self." The old man extended a finger and gently tapped Torisa's forehead, murmuring softly, "I will grant you one more chance to dream. This is my final act of kindness to you, and the dying wish of my true self. Choose once more. Your companions are still waiting for you." "Th-thank you..." As the fingertip touched his brow, Torisa's body disintegrated at an accelerated pace, dissolving in an instant into a handful of yellow sand. The old man plunged his hand into the pile of sand and flung it upward. The grains danced across the air, coalescing into an image displaying Torisa's final dream. The old man stepped back two paces to give himself a better vantage point. Then, turning to Karen and Neo beside him, he asked, "Do you feel my benevolence is somewhat excessive? But it cannot be helped; this was the command left by my original self before his death. I must carry it out." Neo shook his head. "I understand. I understand completely. You're just like this one here. It seems your true self must have been a very proper person as well." Neo gestured toward Karen. The old man nodded. "Indeed. My true self was very much like his manservant, which means he must have been very much like this Mr. Karen. All of you have quite a flair for the dramatic." Karen: "..." ... Torisa felt as though he had awakened from an exceedingly long dream. He looked down and found himself standing atop Compasini's colossal frame, the Sword of Diamans thrust deep into the beast's skull. Bewildered, he looked around. He saw his wife Luna lying in a pool of blood; he saw Angel, the Blind Man, Kuzan, and each of his subordinates standing around him, smiles of mission accomplished gracing their faces. Even Luna wore a smile. Torisa pulled the sword from the corpse and rushed straight to his wife, anxiously examining her condition. "I'm fine. Seal my wound with a scroll, and I should hold out until we get back to the church hospital for treatment," Luna comforted her husband. The squad's priest, Angel, called out, "Don't worry, Captain. I'll look after Luna on the road. I won't let anything happen to her." "Captain, we captured the bastard who grievously wounded Luna alive! He's not dead yet. How should we punish him? Just say the word!" Right then, an unfamiliar voice echoed in Torisa's mind, revealing a method—a way to rapidly elevate his cultivation realm. Torisa immediately shook his head with force, as if trying to shake the voice out entirely, then waved his hand dismissively. "Give him a quick death." "Captain, but..." "Give him a clean end. Our mission is complete, and we need to hurry back—not only to get my darling treated as soon as possible, but also to take on our next assignment! Our adventures, our glory, are far from over. I believe that in the training booklets held by future juniors of the Whip of Order, there will be tactics and battle records bearing our names! Everyone, leave this place with me. For Order, and for us, let us begin our next campaign!" Torisa raised his sword and cried aloud. In the recesses of his mind, he vaguely knew this was a dream, but he was profoundly grateful. In this dream, he could make a different choice. If only this dream could last another three hundred years... Yet at that exact moment— *Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!* Every subordinate beside him, including his wife Luna, drove their weapons into his body simultaneously. He was turned into a pincushion. The faces of those followers who had once trusted, followed, and revered him were now contorted with unmitigated hatred and loathing. Torisa's mouth fell open as blood poured incessantly from his lips. He wanted to scream in fury, only to find he couldn't utter a sound. His world seemed frozen here for eternity, washed over in an oppressive, ash-gray haze. Leaving only the curses echoing relentlessly in his ears from his teammates and his wife: "Scumbag, drop dead!"