A Fallen God

Karen held the umbrella out, and Pike immediately reached forward to take it. "How many coffins do we have left at home?" "Young Master, we normally keep four empty coffins on hand," Dincomb answered at once. "Do you need one? Where should it be delivered? Shall I go start up the hearse first?" "Should be... enough." Karen nodded and pointed at Pike. "Go pick the one with the best wood you can find." "Yes, Young Master, right away." Pike hurried off toward the backyard storeroom. Dincomb added, "Then I'll start the hearse and back it in so it's ready for loading." "Mm, good." Dincomb picked up the car keys, opened the door, and got into the hearse. After starting the engine, he began reversing, bringing the rear compartment beneath the eaves of the funeral parlor. Immediately after, he killed the engine, got out, ran around to the back, opened the rear compartment, and lowered the steel ramp. Turning around, Dincomb said to Karen, "Young Master, I'll go help Pike carry the coffin now." "No need." "Uh... Young Master, did you forget? Mr. Alfred is still unconscious and bedridden. Pike can't carry it alone." "It's fine. Go rest." "All right, Young Master, I'll go rest then. If you need anything, just call—" Karen raised his hand toward Dincomb. In the next moment, Dincomb suddenly felt a blockage in his throat, a suffocating pressure descending violently upon him. Instinctively clutching his neck in search of air, Dincomb quickly discovered that sand was pouring incessantly from his mouth, nostrils, and even his ears. The horrifying sight filled him with shock and despair. He could only stare at the young man before him and plead, "Y-Young Master..." Karen smiled faintly, tilted his neck slightly to one side, and swept his arm toward the rear compartment of the hearse. *Hum!* Dincomb flew backward into the hearse, tumbling into the recess in the center of the vehicle. Karen walked up the lowered steel ramp into the hearse, looking down at Dincomb pinned inside the rectangular cavity originally meant to hold coffins. "Y-Young Master..." Karen made a downward beckoning gesture. *Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...* From above, sand materialized out of thin air, pouring down into the rectangular recess. The sand gradually covered Dincomb entirely, continuing to fill the void until it was completely full—neither a grain too much nor a grain too little, perfectly flush with the four rims. Fresh blood began to seep through, forming a gory design on the sand's surface. Karen crouched down, gesturing in the air as if making the final adjustments to his "sand art." Ultimately, the bloodstains formed the shape of a red rose. Karen clapped his hands, dusting off nonexistent sand, stood up, and admired the piece once more. "Sigh..." Karen let out a sigh. Evidently, he was dissatisfied with the work. "I shouldn't have drawn a rose. How vulgar." Leaving that evaluation behind, Karen turned and stepped down from the hearse, walking toward the backyard of the funeral parlor. As he walked, he pulled a newspaper from his sleeve—an issue from a few days ago, featuring a large front-page photograph of Karen himself. He stood in the tribunal, handsome and solemn. Below, extensive coverage detailed not only the Vicolai case, but also devoted considerable ink to Karen's past experiences, portraying him as the most prominent rising star of the younger generation in the Yorktown Region. "A pity. He doesn't seem to be home tonight." *** "Could it be an outside visitor? You know Karen knows some rather powerful figures outside. It wouldn't be unusual for someone to drop by. When he was training in the Dinge Region, didn't he get acquainted with several instructors who thought very highly of him?" Kevin shook his head. "Woof." "You sensed killing intent?" Purr froze, then wasted no more words and closed its eyes at once. Between it and Karen, there was an exclusive, unique link—far faster, more stable, and more convenient than telephones, ravens, or communication magic circles. After all, they shared a symbiosis contract. Before long, Purr opened its eyes again and said to Kevin, "I believe Karen has already sensed the danger alert from my side. So, what do we do now?" "Woof, woof!" "You mean the only way for the two of us to survive right now is to act like a real cat and dog? Gambling that whoever came only wants to kill people and won't bother with pets?" Purr's gaze wavered with hesitation. This sudden, bizarre crisis in the dead of night caught Purr completely off guard. One could even say that over more than a century, whether on Mink Street or at the funeral parlor, Purr had grown used to the sense of security at home. Yet Purr knew Kevin's senses were never wrong. He had explicitly signaled that a powerful entity brimming with killing intent had arrived at their doorstep. This forced Purr to instantly switch back to the state of mind from the days before becoming a cat—honestly... it was a bit rusty. However, it knew Kevin's suggestion was the most practical. A cat and a dog could indeed conceal their true identities, with a very high probability of surviving under the enemy's sweeping murderous intent. Yet that also meant abandoning all protection for the rest of the household. "Alfred is unconscious in bed in his room; Xili went to the Guman family as a maid and hasn't returned; Madame Laike, Dora, and Doreen are in the house... plus Pike and Dincomb. We can play dumb pets, but what about them?" Kevin shook his head. "Woof!" "We can't save them?" Kevin nodded. "Woof!" "But I can't just serve our family on a silver platter to that guy without doing anything." Kevin stared into Purr's eyes. "Woof!" "I know! If I die, Karen dies too! Argh, so frustrating, meow!" "Woof!" "Don't rush me, let me think, let me think!" Purr took two deep breaths, mind racing through options. "Stupid dog, can you imagine how Karen will react when he comes home and finds everyone dead except us?" Kevin fell silent. "You know that Madame Laike, Dora, and Doreen—as Inquisitor Pavaro's surviving family, Karen treats them like his own. And the Radio Fairy... Can't we fight? I mean, buy some time? My fireballs, and didn't you set up some magic formations in the courtyard? I also know that after breaking the second seal, you've been hiding some tricks. Can you use them?" Kevin spread his paws and barked crisply, "Woof!" "No hope at all? Completely outmatched, zero chance of winning, can't even delay him for a moment?" Purr clutched its head with its paws, looking torn and agonized. Kevin crouched beside it. He knew Purr would eventually agree to his suggestion—choosing self-preservation when victory was clearly impossible. He believed the former expedition team leader, Poer Allen, would keep a clear head. "But... but... the Inmeles family motto is... Family comes first." Purr's eyes began to redden. It turned toward Kevin. "Until the very last moment, we cannot abandon family." Tears began to spill from Purr's eyes, dripping one by one onto the bedsheet. Seeing this, Kevin's resolute gaze suddenly softened. He was cold-blooded—so cold-blooded that he could drink the raw blood of a fire dragon without hesitation—yet he had always harbored an exceedingly tender side. When facing his Moon, he had no bottom line. Karen had once told Alfred that if Raniedal were ever to betray him one day, he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest; at the same time, he was certain that even if Raniedal betrayed him, the god would never harm Purr. Such was the nature of that evil god: perilous, yet transparent. Furthermore, there was what Purr had just said about the Inmeles family motto: *Family comes first.* Hearing those words, Kevin's heart gave a sudden leap. What he had always wanted was to earn more trust from Karen, so that Karen would keep unsealing the remaining layers of his seal. That trust could also be seen as 'bargaining chips,' which he needed to earn through tangible action. For example, Karen had initially intended to find the Laks copper coin before breaking the next seal, yet because of Kevin's continuous contributions recently, Karen had felt too embarrassed to delay any further and had unsealed it early. Kevin raised a paw and placed it on Purr. "Woof, woof~" "You mean we can take a gamble?" Just then, Kevin froze, and Purr stiffened as well. Both sensed that someone's aura had vanished. It was Dincomb's. "He's started killing—so swiftly! Why didn't he tie everyone up, deliver a grand speech, and then take his time picking them off? Damn it, what's his rush!" Kevin turned toward the entrance of the funeral parlor. "Woof." Purr said, "We need time, but it seems we don't have any left." *** "Mr. Karen." Just as Karen was about to step into the backyard, a shout came from behind. Karen turned around to see a man in a raincoat walking in from the curtain of rain, exuding a thick, rancid stench of decay. "Mr. Karen, don't you recognize me?" As the man spoke, he unfastened his raincoat, revealing a face covered in pustules, looking as though it had soaked in the sewers of Yorktown for an eternity. Dalis chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Yes, I can't blame you for not recognizing me. Even I don't recognize myself anymore." Karen shifted slightly sideways. "Mr. Karen, you said that if possible, you'd share a cup of tea and chat with me for a bit. I came by before, but you weren't home. Tonight it started raining again, and I originally intended to seek out the sewers, my true destination. But as I walked, I somehow found myself at the funeral parlor again. I wanted to try my luck one more time to see if you were home tonight. Turns out luck was on my side—you are home, heh." Karen asked, "Tea?" "Yes. Do you have time now?" "Chat?" "I've been looking forward to it. Perhaps that's the only reason I haven't let myself be washed into the sewers yet. I had to have something to hope for." Karen nodded and replied, "All right. Tea and a chat." "Thank you, Mr. Karen. I can keep my distance from you, so my stench won't ruin the fragrance of the tea." "No need. I don't mind." Karen took the initiative to walk toward him. "Is that so, Mr. Karen? Then my apologies," Dalis said with a smile. "You truly are a good man, a kind man. I am deeply grateful to receive your tolerance in the twilight of my life." "You are too polite." "No, you don't know how much I—" Karen raised his hand. Cones of sand shot up from the ground, piercing straight through Dalis's body. "Mr. Karen... what are you doing..." Dalis tried to break free, only to find he couldn't move at all. Before the sand spikes appeared, his body had already been thoroughly immobilized. The young man before him possessed absolutely terrifying control! "You delivered yourself to my doorstep. I thought unexpected occurrences might create a sense of aesthetic beauty, but your appearance only fills me with disgust." "Mr. Karen... I know I am guilty... but..." Karen slowly clenched his open palm, seemingly having lost all interest in talking. The sand spikes began to grind savagely, and with a wet pop, Dalis's entire body burst apart, pus and filth splattering everywhere. Karen's hands began to tremble. Looking at the soiled surroundings, a wave of rage welled up within him. "So filthy... so filthy!" Karen turned, intending to continue toward the backyard, but stopped halfway. He looked at his surroundings once more. Unable to bear it, he spread his hands, and yellow sand rapidly spread outward with him at the center, scouring the filth from the area. After a while, the previously dispersed sand faded away. The walls and ground around him were spotless; the filth and contamination left by Dalis's explosion were completely eradicated. "Phew..." Karen exhaled a long breath, finally feeling at ease. Leaving behind filth that his own hands had caused would have been sheer torture for him. Then he turned and continued inward. Entering the courtyard, Karen first looked to the left: someone was lying inside that room. Then he looked to the right: inside those two rooms were three people, including a pair of near-identical ones. Karen closed his eyes, seemingly steadying his state of mind, and turned toward the right. Yet after taking just a few steps, he paused and looked in the opposite direction. Light and shadow were alternating inside that room—not in reality, but mental ripples created by shifting illusion scenes. Karen changed his mind and walked toward Alfred's room. Pushing open the door and standing at the entrance, he saw a man lying on the bed. The man's hands flailed intermittently before him; his eyes were closed, clearly still unconscious. Those movements were more like a state of sleepwalking. The truth was, Alfred hadn't sobered up yet and remained dead to the world. "Such rapid shifts in illusion scenes? Interesting." Karen tilted his head. Above where Alfred lay, sand began to amass, gradually forming the maw of a vicious beast. Most conspicuous within the jaws were two towering, curved tusks—the likeness of the Phantasmal Beast Compasini. At that moment, the giant maw forged of sand pressed downward. With a single bite, it could completely crush Alfred's body to shreds. At the same time, however, Karen released a sliver of his spiritual consciousness, wishing to peer into the illusions. Then he froze, and the beast's giant maw above halted along with him. Because in the illusion, he saw many familiar scenes: the former holy land of the Desert Church's Holy See, yellow sand flowing everywhere, and a man bearing elephant tusks. "What is this?" Karen was utterly bewildered. Just then, Pike's shout came from outside: "Young Master, I picked out a black coffin for you. Do you want to come take a look and see if you're satisfied?" Pike's interruption annoyed Karen, but he thought it would also be a fine choice to finish off the lower-grade pieces first before savoring this one. Karen snapped his fingers. Shackles made of sand formed across the slumbering Alfred, binding the completely defenseless man to the bed. Immediately, Karen stepped out of Alfred's room and closed the door. Yet when he came out, Pike was nowhere to be seen outside the storeroom entrance where he should have been. Hm? An isolation barrier set up inside the storeroom? Karen's gaze turned grim. Had he been discovered? This infuriated him. Although his rhythm had been thrown off by that pustule-covered fellow who suddenly showed up, he had still been quite immersed in his art. If his identity was exposed this early, he wouldn't be able to experience what he had anticipated. Suppressing the revulsion in his heart, Karen proceeded inward. The storeroom was pitch black; even standing at the entrance, not a sliver of the interior could be seen. It really was an isolation barrier. Karen raised his hand, preparing to break through it by force. Suddenly, the formation deactivated, and in its place, clusters of crimson flame circulated in an exceedingly bizarre manner. On the rim of an open coffin right in the center sat a beautiful woman wearing a hooded black dress. In her arms she held a black cat, gently stroking its fur with her hand. At her feet, a golden retriever sat leaning against her leg. Even the golden retriever emanated a sacred aura, as if bathed in an extraordinary halo, which cast the woman's figure in deep mystery. "Meow~" The black cat let out a languid cry. Smiling faintly, the woman continued to caress the cat in her lap and spoke softly: "You have disturbed my rest." Then, She shifted her gaze toward Karen. There was not a shred of emotion in her eyes, only absolute chill: "Little friend who worships a fallen god."