Stepping out of the taxi and shutting the door, Karen looked at the ordinary suburban villa community before him and remarked with feeling, "It seems the big shots live very low-key lives."
It had been the same when he visited the Naton family last time; their villa hadn't been considered extravagant even within Yorktown, and Bishop Wolflen's home was even more understated.
Of course, at their level, the Church of Order took care of their food, lodging, transport, and security. However, most senior figures in the church were reluctant to be cooped up together, preferring instead to live in their ancestral residences. In a way, it was a harmless indulgence.
"Perhaps they no longer care about personal enjoyment," Philomena ventured to add.
"No, they do care. It's just that the pleasures ordinary people recognize are far too vulgar for them."
As he spoke, Karen handed a hundred-riel note to Philomena.
Philomena took the cash, looking puzzled.
"Don't you pay when taking a cab?"
"Oh."
Philomena passed the money to the driver.
"Thank you, ma'am! Wishing you good health!"
With that, the taxi driver slammed on the gas and sped away.
"Tsk."
Karen clicked his tongue and reminded Philomena, "Remember to ask for change next time."
"Sorry, Captain. I thought you didn't care about these riels."
"What I care about is the feeling of everyday life."
"Understood. Next time, I'll demand change."
"No."
"Then...?"
"Bargain before you get in."
"Yes... I understand."
"Come on, let's go inside."
Karen led Philomena forward. As they walked, Karen grew puzzled. "This doesn't seem right. Even though the dispatch said the assassination attempt on Head Bishop Wolflen failed, they should at least make a show of it. The garrison should have deployed to secure the perimeter."
After all, Wolflen was, on paper, the highest-ranking authority of the Church of Order in the York City Region.
In the past, whenever something even slightly significant occurred, the garrison mobilized immediately, and Falcon Knights circled overhead. Yet this time, it was conspicuously quiet.
Walking a bit farther, Karen stopped in his tracks, while Philomena rested her hand on the hilt of the Nightmare Blade. Both of them sensed eyes watching them from all around.
Just then, a voice called out from the shadows ahead:
"Identify yourselves."
Karen took out his credentials, holding them up as he spoke. "Captain Karen Silva, Action Battalion, Disciplinary Office of the Whip of Order, this region."
A man clad in church robes stepped out of the darkness. Waving to both sides, he said, "Captain."
With that, the man stepped aside to clear the path.
Karen was in no rush to head inside and asked, "Which department are you with?"
"Captain, you do not have the clearance to inquire about our department."
Karen nodded at the reply. The man hadn't answered, yet he had said enough. The figure before him and those guarding the head bishop's residence from the shadows likely belonged to a special force within the region.
His earlier confusion was now cleared up. The absence of garrison troops standing in formation didn't signify negligence; rather, the security and confidentiality levels here were exceptionally high.
The latter—the confidentiality level—was particularly vital.
Karen even suspected that if Neo hadn't been lying in a hospital bed, Bernie might not have summoned him here at all.
The news of the assassination attempt on the head bishop was undoubtedly under strict lockdown.
At that moment, someone came running up from behind. It was Leon.
Earlier that evening, Richard had dragged him to Red Leaf Street, where he had been snuggled up chatting with a woman old enough to be his aunt. He had drifted off mid-conversation, sleeping so soundly that he hadn't made it home in time.
As a result, he had received the message around the same time Karen did, and due to the distance, he had arrived a step slower.
"My car," Philomena remarked. "The one Richard gave me."
Parked in the distance was a woman's sedan that Leon had driven over.
Karen instantly understood who Leon had gone out with tonight and where, though Richard had already been hauled home ahead of time.
"Captain!"
Leon called out, gasping for breath—not from exhaustion, but from nervous dread.
Karen comforted him, "Don't worry. The assassination failed. Bishop Wolflen is safe."
Leon nodded vigorously.
"Let's head inside first."
Karen waved him forward, leading Leon and Philomena into the premises. As they stepped into the courtyard, he sensed the hum of a spell formation shifting—it had likely been adjusted specifically to let them enter.
In the courtyard, Karen spotted Bernie alongside several other department heads from the Whip of Order.
Bernie walked toward Karen and asked, "What happened to Neo?"
"Reporting to the director: the section chief was ambushed while apprehending a remnant of Light. The assailant's sacred relic had peculiar properties that hindered his bloodline recovery."
This was the excuse Karen and Neo had agreed upon in advance.
Bernie nodded, then turned his gaze to Leon standing behind Karen, his expression growing complicated.
"Take them inside. Be careful not to disturb the scene. The special task force from the Dinge Region will be here shortly."
A special task force sent directly from the Dinge Region?
When a head bishop was targeted for assassination, it was only natural for the Dinge Region, where the Holy See was based, to send personnel to investigate. But arriving so quickly, and in the form of a dedicated task force, felt noticeably rushed.
Karen walked inside. Passing through the foyer and turning into the living room, he saw the ceiling chandelier smothered beneath a thick layer of sand shaped like a wasp's nest.
Embedded inside it was a middle-aged man whose eyes, ears, mouth, and nose were completely packed with sand. His death had been gruesome.
"Father!"
Leon let out a piercing shriek and instinctively lunged forward.
Someone was dead?
And it was Leon's father?
The dispatch hadn't mentioned this at all!
Though utterly shocked, Karen immediately reached out and clamped a hand on Leon's shoulder. Leon was in a frenzy of grief, struggling wildly to break free.
Helpless, Karen had to exert force, sweeping him off his feet and pinning him to the floor.
"Control yourself! Look down—there's a barrier preserving the scene! Don't ruin it!"
Leon finally stopped thrashing. He saw a metallic disc resting on the rug beneath the sand hive, radiating a dark sheen that enclosed the corpse and its surroundings within a protective barrier.
"How could this happen... How could this happen... Why?!"
Leon clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot.
When he got the message, he had thought his grandfather had survived an assassination attempt by vanquishing the assailant. Never had he imagined that his family had suffered casualties.
"Mother... Mother! Where's my mother...?!"
As the thought struck him, Leon grew frantic.
Karen could no longer hold him down. Hysteria was completely natural under the circumstances; Karen couldn't reasonably demand that he stay calm. He could only say:
"Try... try your best to hold it together."
With that, Karen released his grip.
Leon scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the stairs, with Karen and Philomena right behind him.
"Aaaahhh—!"
A bloodcurdling wail echoed from the stair landing.
When Karen caught up, he found a woman's body pinned over the portrait that had hung on the landing wall.
Sand spikes were driven through her forehead, both hands, and both feet. Her arms hung slightly downward, and her legs were pressed together in death.
Beneath her corpse lay another disc, casting a barrier to preserve the crime scene.
"Mother—!"
Leon threw himself onto his knees before the woman, tears streaming down his face. He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists in agonizing grief.
This woman was his mother.
The head bishop's son and daughter-in-law were both dead.
This was no longer a mere failed assassination attempt; the head bishop's family had been butchered by the assassin.
Karen took a deep breath. No wonder the regular garrison hadn't been deployed outside, and the region's secret forces had taken over instead. No wonder the Dinge Region's special task force was arriving on such short notice.
This incident was colossal.
Just then, Karen saw a familiar figure descending from above—Bishop Bern, clad in his episcopal robes.
The moment Karen saw him, a thought sprang to mind: Could the Church of Order be staging this to manufacture a pretext for moving against the Church of the Desert?
Karen had three reasons for suspecting this:
First, the sand here. The assassin had clearly wielded sand-attributed power, which naturally pointed to the Church of the Desert.
Second, from Compasini's burial grounds, he had learned that the Church of Order had begun constructing a Desert faith sequence three centuries ago in preparation to annex the Church of the Desert. Calculating the timeline, they ought to be ready by now.
Third, Bishop Bern was present, and his presence often heralded conspiracy.
Yet, on second thought, Karen realized it was unrealistic. The Church of Order would hardly stoop to murdering the family of a regional chief executive just to fabricate an excuse.
Though internal power struggles within any church were bloody and dark, the Church of Order had always maintained a brazenly aggressive stance in foreign affairs.
Even when they manufactured an excuse to declare war on the Church of Samsara last time, hadn't the Order's Knight Order that was supposedly trapped in spatial collapse been forewarned and emerged completely unscathed?
Internal conflicts were one thing; when dealing with external threats, they might use shameless tactics, but turning blades against their own people merely to find an excuse would be far too crude.
Most importantly, if senior leadership had truly orchestrated this to stir outrage, why would they lock down the news? Shouldn't they be blaring it from the rooftops to blow the incident wide open?
Bishop Bern looked at Leon and said, "Your grandfather is waiting for you."
Leon wiped his eyes hard, stood up, and demanded, "Where is the assassin?!"
At that moment, Leon looked ready to kill.
Bishop Bern's eyelids drooped slightly, seemingly unwilling to bother answering.
"I asked you, where is the assassin?!"
Leon charged toward Bishop Bern on the stairs.
Karen had to reach out and restrain him once more, whispering in his ear, "Go see your grandfather first!"
Leon froze. He struck himself hard on the head twice, then rushed upstairs in utter panic.
A horrifying realization had struck him. The dispatch said his grandfather had survived an assassination attempt. But looking at the state of his family, his grandfather certainly hadn't repelled the attack easily. Perhaps right now, his grandfather was...
After Leon hurried up, Karen followed.
Bishop Bern looked at Karen and asked, "What was that look in your eyes just now?"
In such an unexpected situation, no matter how adept Karen was at controlling his expression, it was difficult to escape the notice of a bishop. A man like Bern didn't even need to look at you; he could glean countless answers from the rhythm of your breathing.
Karen replied, "Just now, I suspected..."
Before Karen could finish, Bishop Bern cut him off. "And what do you think now?"
"I no longer suspect it."
Bishop Bern nodded. "Not completely stupid, then."
With that, Bishop Bern continued downstairs.
Karen climbed higher. At a corner on the upper floor, by the French windows, stood a small coffee table. In the Guman family villa, this was the grandmother's favorite spot; she often sat there knitting sweaters so she could see family members returning home at the first opportunity.
Now, however, an elderly woman sat on the small sofa beside the coffee table. A broken spear made of sand had pierced through her mouth, pinning her whole body to the sofa.
This was likely Leon's grandmother.
When Karen turned toward the study, he saw another man and woman pinned to the wall outside. Dressed in servant uniforms, they were likely the household's manservant and maid, or perhaps bodyguards.
What unnerved Karen most was how clean the house was.
From Leon's father to his mother, and then to the other dead bodies seen along the way, there was no stray sand in the corners aside from what clung to the corpses.
This meant the assassin had killed them swiftly and cleanly. The victims hadn't stood a ghost of a chance at fighting back.
Just how terrifyingly powerful was an assassin who could slaughter people inside a bishop's residence like this?
And while the bishop himself was home, no less!
"Captain, the assassin is formidable," Philomena said.
"Just formidable?" Karen pursed his lips. "An assassin like this would leave any household drenched in blood."
Karen gently pushed open the half-closed study door. Leon was not inside, but the desk was not empty. It was not Bishop Wolflen sitting there, but another middle-aged man.
A massive pillar of sand extended from the floor to the ceiling, skewering directly through the man's torso.
The man's mouth was stretched wide and his arms hung limply at his sides, fixed in place even in death.
A family portrait hung inside the study, and this man was in it—in all probability, Leon's uncle.
They had set out to exterminate the entire family!
Was it done by someone from the Church of the Desert? Had they deliberately left behind so many sand sculptures just to advertise their identity, terrified that no one would know?
Having ruled out the ridiculous notion of a self-orchestrated farce by the Church of Order, the message the assassin intended to convey demanded serious scrutiny.
Karen let out a long breath. Whatever the case, seeing this scene stoked a burning fury within him.
As an Order priest, seeing the family of his regional head bishop pinned and displayed one by one inside their own home... whether Karen belonged to the Whip of Order or the Regional Administrative Office, he felt a profound sense of humiliation.
And that humiliation wouldn't stop here; it would only burn far hotter among the senior leadership.
One could even say that if the Church of the Desert openly stepped forward to declare responsibility for this attack, war would be all but inevitable. The Order's Knight Order would mobilize instantly and march upon the desert.
Even if the Church of the Desert wasn't foolish enough to claim it, an answer would have to be given for what had happened here. The wrath of Order would demand an outlet.
"Let me in! I'm Leon! This is my home! My grandfather is inside!"
Leon was being blocked at the bedroom door by three priests.
"Apologies, but the head bishop is currently undergoing another round of treatment. Please wait a moment."
"I want to go in! I need to see my grandfather right now!"
"Leon!" Karen was forced to play the heavy once again. "Wait until the treatment is over."
Leon bit his lip, freezing in place. Soon, blood began to seep from his lips.
Philomena spoke up. "When people in my family..."
Before she could finish, Karen silenced her with a warning glare.
Philomena clamped her mouth shut immediately.
She had meant to say that when people died in her family, she hadn't felt anything special.
Of course, she wasn't mocking him; she had genuinely intended to console Leon.
However, she simply didn't know how to comfort people. Much like Uncle Aisen had to relearn how to interact with his wife, Philomena, having broken free of her birth family, had to truly begin learning how to interact with people.
*Thud!*
Leon dropped to his knees again, cradling his head with both hands as tears and snot poured down his face.
He felt an absurd wave of remorse. While his family was being butchered, he had been lying in the embrace of a prostitute, chatting and sleeping peacefully.
Intense self-reproach flared like a raging fire, scorching his heart and filling him with loathing for himself.
Karen did not approach him again. In moments like this, Leon didn't need comforting words from an outsider.
Finally, a priest bearing white patterns on his chest stepped out. "You may enter now."
Leon scrambled up at once and rushed into the bedroom.
Karen walked to the doorway and peered inside. Bishop Wolflen sat propped up on the bed, his wound apparently in his chest. The bishop's face was deathly pale, and that was even after emergency medical intervention.
"The head bishop's injuries...?" Karen asked the priest.
"Fortunately, Lord Bernie arrived in time, otherwise... As it stands, I can only say the situation is dire. The head bishop is hanging on purely by force of will."
"I see. Thank you for your hard work."
"It is my duty."
Leon knelt beside his grandfather's bed and asked anxiously, "Grandfather, Grandfather, are you all right?"
Having just seen his slaughtered relatives one after another, his grief was beyond capacity; his only thought was to cling tightly to the family member who was still alive.
Bishop Wolflen smiled weakly and asked:
"Leon... where did you... go tonight?"
Leon wiped away his tears forcefully. Making no attempt to conceal the truth, he answered honestly:
"Tonight, I... I was at a pastry shop."
As he answered, Leon clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh, overwhelmed with shame and self-hatred.
None of this escaped Wolflen's eyes.
In his critically wounded state, the dying old man worried most about this grandson of his.
"Hehe... hehe..." Bishop Wolflen chuckled softly. "Don't be sad... don't feel guilty... don't blame yourself... If you had come home... normally today... you would be... dead as well... So don't carry that burden..."
"Grandfather..."
"Praise the God of Order... for watching over you... Leon... my grandson... do not weep... You must laugh... live brightly and carry on...
"This is the duty God gave you... to continue our family line... and the chance to avenge your kin... Before each of them died... knowing you were not at home tonight... they must have felt peace in their hearts..."
Bishop Wolflen reached out, pulling Leon's head close and resting his chin against his grandson's hair.
"My grandson... promise Grandfather, will you? I do not want you to spend the rest of your life trapped in guilt and agony... Cough, cough..."
"I promise, Grandfather! I promise!"
"Then laugh... laugh for me... let Grandfather hear your relief..."
"Heh... hehe..."
"L-Louder!"
"Hahaha!"
Chapter 565