Rescue

The God of the Fallen did not refer to a deity who had fallen. Rather, there was an actual god who bore the title "God of the Fallen." He was exceptionally low-profile, not merely because he had never established a church of his own, but because of what he actually did. He was... a corpse-bearer. Before this era, whenever a god fell, a colossal figure clad in a gray cloak and a straw hat would manifest across the firmament. Such was the image preserved in the meager, pitiful records of the God of the Fallen. Naturally, he was not responsible for handling the remains of every fallen god. Some gods had their own churches, and their faithful would collect their deity's divine corpse, striving to preserve as much of the divine legacy as possible and praying for their god's future return. Faced with a deceased god claimed by a church, the God of the Fallen never used force, even if that church was utterly feeble. He would consult the followers for their consent—though in truth, that consultation was often skipped, for who would willingly surrender the divine body of the god they worshipped? However, across multiple eras, plenty of gods had never founded a church of their own. Furthermore, even if some had, the location of their demise was often terribly awkward, if not a total mystery. These were the bread and butter of the God of the Fallen's work, and he was rarely idle. Moreover, throughout the past two eras—whether during the reign of the God of Eternity, the reign of the God of Light, or the hegemony of the God of Order—the faction leaders of every generation had maintained an attitude of tacit consent toward the God of the Fallen. Even in times of fierce factional opposition, no camp ever tried to recruit him to their side. It was not out of some divine taboo, but because of his transcendent status; he existed entirely outside factional strife and personal grievances. Another crucial reason was that a god's corpse was, by its very nature, a massive source of pollution. Having believers collect it, having a divine friend take charge of it, or even having an enemy god slay you and exploit your remains was vastly better than falling mysteriously in an unnoticed corner and eventually brewing a land of corruption. The God-Burial Grounds were the prime example: a group of gods whose lives were nearing their end gathered and died in the same place, directly corrupting the entire area into a forbidden zone. It became so dire that the hegemons of two successive generations, the God of Light and the God of Order, had to travel there in person to resolve it. And even after the God of Order entered personally, crushed the God-Burial Grounds single-handedly through sheer unyielding force, and had Raniedal banish that realm, it still failed to prevent their attempts to return countless years later. The hunched young man of the Light lineage on Fire Island was the clearest proof. Once a rotting swamp formed, it was like toxic mushrooms sprouting; even if you purged it once, new horrors would inevitably grow back. Thus, the God of the Fallen served as a porter of divine corpses. Of course, this was not done out of charity. He certainly had uses for the bodies he recovered. For example... extracting their faith sequences. One who manipulated sand did not necessarily belong to the Desert Church. Outsiders could hardly tell the difference, but Kevin could, because in the previous era, he had met one of the Gods of the Fallen. Having unsealed two layers of his power, Kevin's perception had advanced far beyond what it once was, and his senses often pierced straight to the core of things. However, Kevin had no idea that this sand-wielder had just nearly wiped out the Head Bishop's entire family. Even so, he had already caught the scent of the newcomer's killing intent—faint, yet unmistakably sharp. *** Karen had been studying the woman seated on the coffin. The peculiar presence she exuded left him bewildered. It was an ethereal, translucent purity devoid of any impurities—an absolute restraint that hid every trace of blood essence or spiritual fluctuation, placing considerable pressure on him. In truth, this effect was solely due to the "rendering" Kevin had applied for Purr. Observing a puppet, Karen naturally could not detect any signs of a living person, just as one could never hear a heartbeat from a mannequin. It was an application of reverse psychology. If a plate of cold-tossed chameleon plant were set on a table in a fine dining restaurant, one would instinctively assume it was some rare, high-end culinary creation. Purr continued using the puppet's hands to stroke herself. At the same time, the woman spoke: "Meisente, Ralxi, or Miliolei?" When those words left the woman's mouth, Karen's expression turned thoroughly grave. He replied, "I am surprised. Truly surprised. To encounter someone here who knows such profound secrets... Please permit me to ask a rather conventional question: who on earth are you?" "Me? I'm just a cat." The woman lifted the black cat from her lap, holding the feline face opposite her own, and continued, "A delicate afternoon tea is enough to keep me happy for ages." "I am an inheritor of the Miliolei lineage." Karen stepped back half a pace and offered a salute. "My greetings to you, enigmatic one." Although the God of the Fallen had never founded a religion, branch gods had existed beneath him. The three names Purr had spoken were precisely three of those branch gods. Yet across the river of history, whenever those three branch gods appeared, they shared an identical guise. Thus, very few people—and even very few gods—knew that the specific manifestation of the God of the Fallen was actually shared among them. Upon hearing the name Miliolei, Kevin's canine eyes instantly narrowed with solemnity. Having established a mental bridge with Purr, he immediately relayed the relevant information. Held up in the puppet's hands, Purr's eyes betrayed deep contemplation. Kevin had drastically altered the original plan. Initially, they intended to borrow each other's prestige, acting like a cat wielding the might of a god-dog. Scaring this intruder away was their best option, or at least stalling for time until Karen returned with reinforcements. Yet Kevin had rewritten the plan beyond recognition. Karen's gaze swept across the room and quickly caught an odd discrepancy in one corner. A faint smile touched his lips. That spot was likely where that rather plump God's Revelation practitioner was hidden. *Hiding and shielding even a mere God's Revelation... trying to fool me, are you?* He thought there was a chance a powerful dormant entity resided in "Karen's" home, but he refused to believe such an entity would bother protecting an insignificant God's Revelation. *Heheheh...* Karen looked up again. The gravity and wariness in his eyes had vanished, replaced entirely by a playful, mocking sneer. Purr's heart sank. She knew their ruse had been seen through; they could no longer deceive him. *Still, why is it that Karen can pull off this kind of bluff time and time again, making his opponents believe he's overwhelmingly powerful and too intimidated to offend him, yet despite my advanced age and having an actual evil god at my side, I can't even fool one person?* *How infuriating!* Karen straightened up and slowly spread his hands, two mini sand tornadoes swirling in his palms. "I think your current pose is wonderful. It makes a fitting candidate for my next work of art. I apologize, but I am pressed for time, so we must pick up the pace." Without further hesitation, Karen unleashed a terrifying pressure of sand, instantly grinding the assorted defensive formations nearby into dust. Raising his hand, he pointed directly at Purr. In an instant, sand materialized beneath the feet of Purr, Kevin, and the woman. The threat of death was palpable. "A puppet... You genuinely fooled me for a moment." Right then, Purr spoke up: "I have a divine corpse to offer you." Karen curled his fingers, halting his movement. "Oh?" A divine legacy was the greatest treasure in an era where the gods walked no more. More importantly, the corpse of a god held extraordinary significance for an inheritor of the God of the Fallen. Karen smiled faintly. "I will give you one minute to elaborate. If I am not satisfied, you die." Hearing this, Kevin took a few steps forward and shook the sand from his coat. In truth, the moment they learned the man belonged to Miliolei's lineage, Kevin knew tricking him would be nearly impossible. Miliolei possessed an epithet: Miliolei the Discerner. Kevin had crossed paths with Miliolei back when he was already a god, pursuing the forbidden secrets of time. He had intended to extract something from Miliolei and laid several traps, yet the other seemed to possess a unique ability to see through all illusions. Conventional intimidation could no longer drive the intruder away. The next step was figuring out what price they could offer to strike a deal. Naturally, it would not be a fair trade, for the intruder held the lives of everyone in the courtyard in his hands. Kevin even felt a twinge of regret, blaming himself for going soft or perhaps getting greedy. How nice would it have been to just pretend to be an ordinary dog, find a corner, lie down, and pretend to sleep? This man was an obsessive perfectionist; he likely would not bear degrading the average standard of his art with a dog. *Go on, Purr. Speak my name. Hand me over, and I will lead him to search for Raniedal's resting place.* Though Kevin knew full well that his divine body had shattered completely when the God of Order suppressed him, leaving no burial site at all, he believed this bluff was enough. He might not have been able to deceive the original Miliolei, but fooling this inheritor would be trivial. Deep down, Kevin had no intention of sacrificing himself for this household. In his original thoughts, it did not matter if everyone here died. He had even harbored a twisted curiosity to see the real Karen's face when he returned to find his family turned into sand sculptures. His willing "sacrifice" was entirely for Purr. There was no profound reason, no solid motive. An evil god was entitled to follow his whims. Yet what Purr did next made Kevin's dog eyes go wide. Instead of pointing at Kevin and naming Raniedal as agreed, Purr raised her tail, parting the fur at the tip to reveal a crystalline, translucent finger bone. "I wonder if you have any interest in the place where the God of Light fell?" The moment she spoke, Karen's figure blurred, reappearing directly in front of Purr, his eyes locked onto the finger bone. "I thought this was merely an outing with an assignment attached. Truly, I never imagined such a harvest." "I will take you to where the God of Light fell. Only I can unlock it. My condition: you are not permitted to kill another soul here." "Woof! Woof! Woof, woof, woof!" Kevin began barking frantically. He was losing his mind! He could not comprehend what this cat was doing! He had already prepared to sacrifice himself—why was she stealing his spotlight?! Most critically, she shared a symbiosis contract with Karen! Karen glanced down at the barking golden retriever. Purr promptly added, "Nor are you allowed to kill the dog." "You have an agenda." Karen chuckled. "My intuition tells me that if I accept your terms, I will likely pay for my greed with my life." Purr answered, "Of course. Exploring any ruin related to a god is an adventure where you tie your life to your belt. All the more so when it concerns the great God of Light." Karen stuck out his tongue, rapidly wetting his lips. "I will die because of this. My instincts are never wrong. If I wished to live, I should slaughter everyone here right now—cats and dogs included—then conceal myself at top speed and find a chance to flee Yorktown. Only then would I have a shot at survival." Having said that, his tone suddenly shifted: "However, without the passion of life, one cannot produce exquisite art. I am willing to gamble—with my life as the stake." Karen reached out and seized Purr by the scruff of her neck. Purr warned him again, "If you dare kill another person here, I will make sure you walk away with nothing." "Tsk, tsk." Karen nodded. "I find myself rather liking your stubbornness. Very nice." In the next instant, sand enveloped Purr entirely. It not only bound her physical body but sealed her soul as well, severing all communication with the outside world. Cradling Purr in his arms, Karen looked down at the golden retriever once more. Under his gaze, Kevin backed away, his expression turning fawning and servile as he practically prostrated himself on the ground. "What was that rendering about earlier?" Karen asked. Kevin wagged his tail, flashing an innocent, honest smile. "There is definitely something wrong with you, dog. And that fellow lying in the room weaving alternating illusions has secrets of his own; I even saw Compasini in his dreams. "Sigh... this man named Karen truly keeps so many secrets in his home. I almost regret it. I shouldn't have made the Head Bishop's estate my first stop; it cost me far too much time." Karen squatted down and reached toward Kevin's head. Just as he would with the real Karen, Kevin nudged forward eagerly, letting the man pat his head. "Heh, then I shall leave you and him here on deposit for now. I will come back later. You have already been marked by me." Rising to his feet, Karen moved to leave, but suddenly paused. Whether speaking to Kevin behind him or talking to himself, he murmured, "Sigh, surely I can survive this... What is this gloom of death welling up in my heart?" With that, his body dissolved into a shower of sand, vanishing completely. Once the intruder was gone, the servile smile vanished from Kevin's face, his eyes suffused with a bloody crimson. Even when Diss had sealed him away, even when Karen had taken the body he had meticulously prepared, driving him to curse hysterically, he had never felt such rage. Those had been contests of skill, like a game of chess; losing once was just a loss, and he could win it back in the next round. This was different. The last time he had looked at anything with such eyes was when he had gazed upon the sea. "Woof!" *** In the courtyard of Leon's villa, Karen was struck by a violent wave of dread. In a flash, he understood where it came from. Purr was in danger... something had happened at home! "Philomena, back to the funeral parlor with me! Hurry!" "Yes, Captain!" Augie asked, "What happened?" "Something happened at my home," Karen replied hurriedly, a pair of black wings sprouting from his back. He had wondered earlier whether he could remain as quiet as Bishop Wolflen if their positions were reversed. Clearly, that was impossible. The moment he sensed Purr was in danger, Karen could not care about anything else. "So, you want to go home?" Augie reached out and seized Karen's shoulder. Instantly, Karen felt as though an entire mountain had come crashing down upon him; the frantic flapping of the wings behind his back could not lift his boot soles even an inch from the ground. She truly was a mountain—no, a whole mountain range! "Is it related to the assassination?" Karen had never considered that the assassin would target his home, partly because he had dared not let his thoughts drift that way. He knew all too well what that implied; Alfred remained unconscious, leaving the house virtually undefended. "Just say it's related! It's so stuffy here, and I'm dying to get away from the Whip-Wielder for some fresh air, understand?" "There are clues at my house!" "Mmh, that's more like it. Point the way." Augie clamped Karen's shoulder with her left hand and grabbed Philomena's with her right. "West." *Hum!* The three vanished from the spot in a blink. Leon stood stunned. "..." Left behind in the courtyard, Leon felt his mind go blank. He took a few steps forward subconsciously, finding only a patch of crushed ice where they had stood. Speed—frightening speed! Karen felt his entire body coated in a layer of frost, followed by a terror-inducing velocity. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Philomena similarly encrusted in ice, while Augie, positioned between them, appeared entirely at ease. By the time Augie set Karen and Philomena down before the funeral parlor, Karen took a step forward, his limbs so stiff he could barely keep his balance. Yet he scrambled ahead, resorting to hands and feet if necessary. Passing the hearse parked inside the funeral parlor, he spotted the recessed compartment filled with sand and the thoroughly vulgar blood-red rose pattern etched into its surface. In an instant, an icy chill far more terrifying than Augie's travel frosted through Karen's veins. The grisly scenes from Leon's home flashed repeatedly across his mind. Reaching the inner courtyard, Karen threw his arms wide. Chains of Order burst forth, smashing open every room door at once. To the left, Karen sensed Alfred lying inside, bound by sand shackles, but alive. To the right, the screams of Madame Laike, Dora, and Doreen rang out; they were safe as well. Just then, Kevin bolted frantically out of the storeroom. At that moment, how Karen wished to see Purr riding Kevin's back as usual, but she was nowhere to be seen. Kevin skidded to a halt in front of Karen: "An inheritor of the God of the Fallen's Miliolei lineage took Purr! Use your symbiosis contract to track her position and save her, now!"