The Truth Behind the Hunger Addiction!

Karen did not turn around to look, because the moment the voice rang out, he realized what was happening. In a place like this, when a little girl’s voice called you “Daddy,” the identity thrust upon you was abundantly clear. Besides, Karen already had considerable experience being “mistaken” for that particular existence. It was precisely because of this that he had succeeded multiple times in deceiving opponents by impersonating that “great being.” Purr had once grumbled about why she could never pull off such an act, but imagination inevitably stemmed from reality. As for the current situation— A mental imprint? A memory fragment? Had it always been preserved here, or was this environment keeping it intact? Karen began analyzing the cause. The temple had sealed away the Lost Paradise. Because his grandfather had blasted the temple with godhead fragments, a crack had formed here, allowing the gluttonous Old Lister to sneak in regularly for a feast. To some extent, Lister’s antics had lowered Karen’s vigilance—after all, someone had already scouted the path. Yet, through sheer misfortune, the moment Karen arrived, he stepped right on a landmine. Still, Karen did not feel particularly wronged. Given his resemblances to certain traits of that God of Order, the Ankara fragment sealed inside the Holy Child of the Church of the Moon God had previously mistaken the sight of his back for her father. What he needed to consider now was how to escape this vortex. He truly disliked prying into others’ secrets, even those of a god. If it were merely poking a hole in a wall, pulling up a chair, and peeping, he might find it unseemly, but if forced, he would just take a look; the problem was that this kind of “peeping” often tortured him within an inch of his life. Last time, Diss’s phantom had nearly dispersed completely to protect him, and it had only recently recovered a fraction of its strength. In short, he was no theological scholar. He lacked the resolve to throw his life away just to catch a glimpse of some “truth.” Therefore, Karen not only refrained from turning back, but actually quickened his pace outward while shutting down his external perception as much as possible. If this was an illusion, he would dispel it; if this was an environmental projection, he would walk away; if this was the control of a mental imprint… then either stop me by force, or watch me shatter your shackles. From the very beginning, Karen chose the most uncooperative stance, having no intention of engaging or immersing himself in it. However, when Karen rapidly surged his soul consciousness, he discovered that around his perimeter, there were no constraints of illusions or mental force whatsoever. It wasn't an illusion? “Daddy, wait for me! Wait for me…” The child's voice persisted. Far from fading, it grew clearer, and he could even hear footsteps trailing behind him, meaning everything was becoming increasingly real. Karen began to leave at a brisker pace. Experience dictated that when one maintained an uncooperative attitude toward such “contact,” the other party had to either let you leave or resort to force. To Karen, either outcome was preferable to this lingering ambiguity. Karen walked out of the vegetable garden and reached the side of the castle, yet he still saw no sign of Purr, meaning he remained trapped in this state. Eyes of the Dark Moon! In truth, the power of the Eyes of the Dark Moon did not possess the quality to “sober the mind” or “shatter falsehoods,” as the Eyes of the Dark Moon were inherently extreme—essentially the vengeful gaze of the Dark Moon Goddess. Yet that very extremity could, to some extent, pierce through veils. It was like when a person was completely blinded by rage, they naturally could not register anything said by those around them… which meant, when someone nearby tried to deceive you, you would not fall for it either. Karen’s eyes took on a reddish hue, his vision tinted with a layer of blood. Then, he saw an adorable feline face appear before him, her mouth moving, calling out to him. Purr… Though he could hear no sound, Purr was undoubtedly shouting for him over and over. She was fine, while something had happened to him. Moreover, behind Purr, Karen caught sight of melons and fruits hanging from the vines. Was he still in the vegetable garden right now? Unfortunately, the sight did not last. Along with another shout echoing from behind: “Daddy!” Purr’s figure vanished. Karen felt like a drowning man who had struggled desperately to break the surface of the water, only to be dragged back down by a hand seizing him from below before he could even draw a breath! It wasn't an illusion… he couldn't perceive any fluctuations of mental force. Nor was it a memory fragment, because he had just seen Purr. An environmental projection? No. There was no reason only he could see it while Purr could not. Whenever he encountered such situations in the past, Karen found it difficult to differentiate as an isolated individual. But now, with Purr present, he had an extra point of reference, making it easy to analyze the situation. Furthermore, through their symbiotic bond, their connection was more intimate than that between anyone else, even spouses. Yet the analytical conclusion was that even if Ankara had left a mental imprint here, and even if she wished to hold his head and shout “Daddy” directly into his ear, she would still need to make an active move. Right now, he had already eliminated virtually all external interference, meaning no external intervention existed. Then why was he experiencing these “auditory hallucinations”? It was a paradox: he was clearly submerged in water, yet his body remained bone dry. “Daddy, giggle, I found you! I found you after all!” This time, it was no longer just a distant voice. The little girl had pressed herself flush against his back, wrapping both arms around his waist. Karen looked down and saw the pair of childish hands encircling his midriff. If she truly was Ankara, then he was currently receiving the treatment meant for the God of Order. Even if it was entirely illusory, to an Order believer, this was an honor of overwhelming proportions. Unfortunately, Karen felt nothing of the sort. An inexplicable surge of fury rose within him instead. Pressing his hands down, he grabbed the small hands and wrenched them away with brute force. “Daddy… do you not want me anymore? Daddy… do you not want me anymore?” The little girl’s heartbroken cries drifted from behind. Hearing that voice, the flame of fury inside Karen blazed even more fiercely than before. He felt an overwhelming urge to spin around and strangle her to death on the spot! No—to obliterate her, to wipe her out of existence once and for all! Just then, the row of owls perched along the castle balustrade began singing a children’s song. What should have been a lighthearted, cheerful nursery rhyme now sounded unspeakably eerie and sinister. The owls sang with smiles plastered across their faces. Their features already resembled human faces to begin with, and with those smiles, they looked like the stiff, painted skins of wooden puppets. Fortunately, Karen did not understand the language they sang in. In truth, the theme of the nursery rhyme was the relationship between a father and his child, depicting parental affection. “Daddy, you can’t leave me! You can’t leave me! I won’t let you go! I won’t let you go!” The little girl’s voice grew resolute. Karen, who had stubbornly kept his back to her, clenched his fists tightly. His expression twisted into a grimace as he strained to suppress the impulse to turn around and unleash horrific destruction. “Karen… wake up… Karen… Karen, wake up… don’t scare me…” Purr’s voice echoed in the depths of Karen’s mind, only to fade away a moment later. Yet her voice granted Karen a sudden flash of clarity. Karen began to find his current rage utterly bewildering. Why is this happening? Even if she is Ankara, why do I hate her so much? And where did this hysterical urge to destroy her come from? A side effect brought on by the Eyes of the Dark Moon? No, impossible. Its negative impact could never be this severe. “Daddy… Daddy… don’t leave me… I’m begging you, please don’t leave me…” Mustering her courage, the girl hugged Karen tightly from behind once more. Karen’s body began to tremble. The impulse to destroy felt as if someone had pried open his skull and recklessly poured whiskey inside, threatening to drown out all his reason. It felt just like… a flare-up of his hunger addiction. Karen jerked his head up. The hunger addiction! The exact same madness, the exact same lack of control, the exact same arousal of his deepest cravings! They were terrifyingly alike—the sensation was merely wearing a different skin. Karen spread his palm, conjuring a burst of the Fire of Light, and slowly pressed his hand against his chest. The Fire of Light burned the soul! “Ugh…” A muffled groan escaped Karen's lips. Although such acts of self-harm had indeed raised his pain threshold, it did not mean it ceased to hurt. In reality, it remained an agonizing torture beyond human imagination. “Aaaahhhhh!” Yet to Karen’s surprise, the little girl hugging him let out a shriek countless times more agonizing than his own. The piercing cry nearly ruptured Karen’s eardrums, sending a tearing sensation through his very soul. Moreover, the moment the girl began to scream, the impulse to destroy her inside Karen abruptly subsided. Finally, Karen decided to turn around. Looking back, he laid eyes on the little girl for the first time. Her features were exquisite, as though she had walked straight out of a painting. In fact, she looked identical to the depictions in Karen’s memory—she was the young Ankara who appeared in the murals of the Church of Order. In the murals of other churches, children appeared frequently, usually portrayed as innocent and carefree to foster a welcoming, benevolent promotional atmosphere. In the murals of the Church of Order, children rarely appeared. The most classic figure was the God of Order’s daughter, Ankara; yet her childhood image was neither innocent nor carefree. Instead, it embodied the strict discipline pursued by the Church of Order, depicting a child who clearly possessed impeccable upbringing and decorum. Right now, Ankara clutched her head before Karen, screaming in a way that made her agony palpable. Karen pulled the Fire of Light away from his body, and Ankara’s screams gradually subsided. She looked up, gazing at Karen once more. Karen plunged the Fire of Light back into his soul. “Aaaahhhh!” Ankara screamed again. Was she bearing his pain? No, it was more than that. Karen drew the Fire of Light out again, and Ankara fell silent. In the gaze she directed at Karen, there was no hatred, only the same adoration and love for a father. “Daddy, hug!” Ankara raised her arms. Faced with such a little girl, it was difficult not to feel affection. With a child like this, if you told her not to cause a commotion on a train, she would sit quietly in her seat, showing not the slightest desire to join in even if other children around her ran wild and screamed. Karen took a deep breath and opened his arms. He had not been captivated by her adorable appearance or demeanour; he merely wanted to conduct an experiment. He was the experimenter, but at the same time, he was also the subject. “Giggle.” Seeing Karen’s response, Ankara broke into a sweet smile. She trotted over, wrapped her arms around Karen’s waist, and pressed her face against his stomach. The instant they made contact, the urge to destroy her instantly overpowered most of his rationality. A reddish tint flooded Karen’s vision, and his hands, which had not closed around her in an embrace, instinctively shifted toward her neck. “Daddy, you’re the best. We’ll never part, never ever.” These intimate words from a “daughter,” which should have sounded like the sweetest music to a father, now felt like heavy hammer blows pounding against Karen’s chest, compelling him to unleash an even more violent impulse to destroy her. Karen condensed another cluster of the Fire of Light and thrust it into his chest. “Ugh…” “Aaaahhhh!” The same scene played out again. First came his muffled groan of pain, followed immediately by far more agonizing shrieks from Ankara. Once she started screaming, the furious impulse in Karen’s heart plummeted, and his mind cleared. Yet this time, Ankara clung desperately to Karen without letting go, no matter how excruciating the pain. Karen stared at her in a daze, asking, “Just who… are you?” Ankara offered no answer, continuing to shriek. Karen withdrew the Fire of Light from his body, and Ankara quieted down, but the fury in Karen’s heart flared up anew. “Who are you, really!” Karen let out a low roar and shoved the little girl away. The two separated. The difference was that Ankara remained standing where she was, while Karen was sent flying backward an immense distance, crashing heavily onto the ground. Ankara spread her arms once more, attempting to run toward Karen, but across the mere dozens of meters separating them, she ran and ran without ever drawing closer. Karen sat on the ground and extended a hand in bewilderment. In his line of sight, an invisible membrane seemed to have materialized. A memory fragment. This was a memory fragment. Karen could clearly sense that he had entered that kind of atmosphere. Everything irrational from before now made sense, but what about the peculiarity of that initial stage? It seemed to have… originated from himself? Ankara wept continuously. It was no longer a piercing shriek, but heartbroken sobbing. She kept searching for her father, yet could never touch him. Around her, the adorable little animals gathered, offering their comfort. It should have been a beautiful, heartwarming scene: a father away from home, a little girl missing her father and weeping, surrounded by so many sweet little animals keeping her company; yet to Karen, watching as a bystander, the entire scene felt profoundly discordant. Because Ankara’s weeping was not something these cute animals and this fairytale setting could mend. She did not belong here. Yes, the place was indeed beautiful, but confining her here was, in essence, imprisonment. She was a girl crying out for her father, yet she was no ordinary, innocent child. This was not what she truly desired. Right then, Karen’s vision suddenly darkened, as if a painting had been crudely splashed over with a massive blot of black ink. Karen could now see only where Ankara stood. She sat weeping on the steps, surrounded by the animals. The black ink encroached steadily toward her. She looked up blankly, staring ahead, then rubbed her tears away with force, a smile surfacing on her face: “Giggle, Father! Father!” “Were you crying?” A man’s voice rang out. The moment his voice emerged, the memory seemed to shudder violently, and an unseen force began pushing Karen outward. Originally, this was the outcome Karen had sought—he had no wish to make contact or pry into secrets. But now, Karen chose to forcefully resist this repulsive force. He wanted to stay; he needed to see this through! Because the scene that followed was very likely directly related to him, involving… the hunger addiction! “Ankara was bad. Ankara shouldn’t have cried, shouldn’t have cried… but Father wasn’t here, and Ankara missed Father so, so much…” “Did you miss me?” “Yes, Father, I missed you terribly.” “Did you miss me, my treasure?” “Of course, Ankara missed you, Father.” “Are you hungry?” “Giggle, nothing escapes Father. I am hungry. Father, take me to eat something delicious.” Ankara reached out both arms, seeking to embrace the ink-like blackness that Karen could not see through. Standing within it was presumably the God of Order. Yet at that moment, Karen saw a hand reach out from that churning, flowing darkness. Pinched between its fingers was a bookmark. Upon seeing the bookmark, Ankara froze mid-embrace. Her gaze locked dead onto the bookmark, and she swallowed hard. “My treasure, have you decided who you wish to eat?” Ankara looked up at her father somewhat bashfully, like a shy child carefully concealing a secret desire. “Mm-hmm.” “Then write his name upon it, and he shall appear upon your dining table.” “Okay, Father! Giggle.” According to the mythical accounts in the Light of Order, Ankara was the daughter of the God of Order who was later cast into the jaws of a ferocious beast for violating Order, thereby achieving the Light of Order. In the murals, her body shattered as she fell into the beast's maw. The largest official Order reception hotel in the York City Region was named the Ankara Hotel, with the Ankara Memorial Hall situated on its top floor. Within the Church of Order, Ankara had never been viewed negatively; rather, she was treated as a “sacrifice” to illuminate the spirit of Order. She had fulfilled her historical mission, and symbolically, she could even be considered noble. Karen’s eyes widened instantly as a truth dawned on him—one that overturned virtually every description of Ankara in the mythical records: The God of Order had not cast his daughter into the beast's jaws to achieve the Light of Order. He had simply wanted to destroy his daughter. Because Ankara was, in truth, the hunger addiction that the God of Order had severed from the depths of his own soul!