Together!

On one hand stood the supreme, exalted gods. In mythological accounts, they were virtually omnipotent; anything they casually left behind before the last era would be hailed as a divine miracle today. On the other hand, they were just like the fish bones Karen and the others had left behind after eating, hauled over and tossed down here by the sprites. If this gorge were likened to a gigantic trash can, then they were nothing more than a pile of kitchen scraps. When the two images overlapped, a jarring, tearing dissonance emerged. Yet this spectacle served as a vivid illustration that even in the world of gods, the law of the jungle remained the bloody essence of reality. Both were gods, yet Raniedal had prostrated himself before the God of Order, terrified to even breathe too loudly; one truly couldn't blame Raniedal for being too cowardly or weak. How could that island youth—who had dedicated his life to taking vengeance upon the Sea God and climbed step by step to divinity—ever have been someone spineless and sycophantic to his core? It was simply because he knew full well that before certain beings, the slightest misstep meant he could end up in the exact same plight as what lay before Karen now. The gap between one god and another might be vastly greater than the gap between one mortal and another. "Did you already know these things were here?" Mavaglio asked. "Is that why you came here on purpose?" Karen shook his head. "I didn't know." "Oh." Both fell silent for a moment. Seeing that Mavaglio didn't press the matter, Karen grew a little curious. "Hmm?" "What is it?" Mavaglio asked in return. "I thought you'd keep asking me questions." "You already said you didn't know." "And you just believed me?" "Why wouldn't I?" "All right, thank you for your trust." "My trust in you is just as sincere as your invitations for me to visit your home." "Haha, all I can say is that if you ask me which day I'm free to host you, it really is hard to schedule. But if I came home from work one day and saw you sitting in my living room, I'd be glad to cook dinner for you myself." Mavaglio was a unique person. His uniqueness stemmed from his status: he was a member of the church, yet elevated beyond it. He lacked the suspicious touchiness other people possessed, because the environment he had grown up in never required him to have it. Whenever Karen and Neo did anything, they always had to think about how to clean up afterwards to shake off suspicion; Mavaglio didn't need to. Even if he walked brazenly out of an internal meeting of Light remnants, the church would only assume he had gone undercover. This was an ease and composure that belonged only to someone born to the highest rank. He only knew one thing: Karen's arrival at the temple was an accident, and Lister catching and eating fish was an accident. What took place under the intersection of two accidents was not something Karen could have planned or engineered. Thus, he naturally chalked it up to Karen's sheer luck and serendipity. Furthermore, while others might not have seen through it before his grandfather's passing, Mavaglio had sensed whom his grandfather had paved the way for when he kept the door open during his final conversations with the High Priest and the Whip-Wielder. Karen was the one his grandfather had placed his hopes in. Of course, another undeniable factor was that he genuinely liked Karen. What fun was there in mingling with those old men and women all day? What fun was there in being endlessly flattered as an esteemed lord to the point where one wasn't even allowed a proper family? He thoroughly enjoyed Karen's equal treatment—the feeling of being treated as a friend. Only, what Mavaglio didn't know was that, to a certain extent, the reason Karen treated him as an equal was that... whether in terms of family background or personal legacy, the two of them might genuinely be equals. "Do you know about this place?" Karen asked. "No. I only inherited a very small portion of Lord Marchettini's memories, and..." Mavaglio tapped his forehead. "I've browsed through many historical records concerning successors of the 'Lords'—or what other churches call Holy Children—and I've met some of the contemporary Holy Children too. I discovered we all share one thing in common. Care to guess what it is?" Karen replied, "You know what you're supposed to know, and you don't know what you're not supposed to know." It was a tautological truism, yet Mavaglio smiled and nodded. "Exactly. Spot on." Put plainly, these Holy Children were tool-men. Take Mavaglio: he could mobilize the power of the Scythe of War and grasp the inner workings of many other war implements and spells. In short, he had proper, practical duties to perform, and once he matured, the church would support him accordingly so he could play his role in the development and preservation of the Church of Order. However, when it came to the secrets of that bygone era or the interpersonal relationships between the gods, they inherited very little—practically next to nothing. This was easy to understand as well. The birth of a Holy Child certainly required the coordination and backing of the church's power; it couldn't possibly be a random lottery, or else it wouldn't have landed on Theisen's grandson. At the very least, one's political vetting had to pass without question. Second, receiving an inheritance was meant to make you useful, not to have you descend with a bunch of messy 'secrets' to sow discord, stir up major scandals, and overturn the official doctrine. With so many branches, departments, and prominent families within the church, if ancient secrets and grudges were dredged up by them, how could the current staff of those departments and the descendants of those families get along? Would they have to avenge their founders and ancestors over grievances from the previous era? Or suppose current policies were formulated based on internal or external circumstances, and some Holy Child stood up and claimed that a certain Lord had once declared in a secret council that such things were strictly forbidden—what would the current church leadership do then? In secular nations and kingdoms, voices crying 'the ancestral laws must not be changed' were already common enough; here in the church, they could literally make the 'ancestors' speak. Why was the current High Priest able to overturn the low profile kept during Rasma's tenure, consolidating power from below and suppressing the temple from above? A major reason was the rumor that he was the successor to Lord Tyrannus. Even the temple had to steer clear of his edge and avoid a head-on clash with him, because their legal standing would simply crumble—after all, the Church of Order had been founded under 'his' very hands. Who could understand the Church of Order better than him? "Shall we go down and take a look?" Karen suggested. "I think the seals here must be meticulously arranged. Going down for a closer look shouldn't be a problem." Now that they were here, leaving without taking a closer look would feel like a missed opportunity. In the past, had Neo proposed such a risky idea, Karen would usually be the one to refuse. But now, Karen trusted the Church of Order; if this place were unstable or unsafe, it wouldn't have been housed within the temple in the first place. "All right, but be careful." "Of course." Wings sprouted behind Karen's back, while a black starlight astrolabe appeared beneath Mavaglio's feet. Together, they flew toward the center of the gorge. Admiring the sights as they flew, even Karen felt a thrill of forbidden pleasure swelling in his heart. Mavaglio said, "They are... very clean." "Yes, very clean," Karen chimed in. Karen agreed inwardly: they had probably been gnawed clean. Still, what a waste. The flesh was eaten, and the bones were just dumped like this? Karen felt that if it were him, he would definitely simmer these bones into broth—and once wouldn't be enough; he'd boil them at least three times. Then he'd grind the bones into powder, mix it with black sesame seeds, and drink it with hot water as a calcium supplement. From another perspective, perhaps life back then had simply been too abundant, so no one bothered to pick at bones. Naturally, there was another possibility: the continued existence of these bones held value in itself. With these thoughts running through his mind, Karen flew past a colossal skull, and from deep within its pitch-black eye sockets, some lingering consciousness seemed to project outward. "Careful!" Mavaglio immediately darted toward Karen. But before he could get close, Karen had already backed away on his own accord, slightly surprising Mavaglio. Karen sighed with emotion. "Even in death, gods can't die completely clean, can they?" "Indeed. They are dead, yet they still exist." Mavaglio pointed at several markings carved across the gigantic skeletons. "These look like seals placed by our church. They're probably reinforced every few centuries." "A mess not handled properly in the last era, left behind to give headaches to future generations?" "Or maybe they couldn't bear to part with them. I've had access to church secrets beyond your reach. In certain aspects, our church is far more radical and audacious than you imagine." "How radical can it get?" "Can't say." "Don't tell me they kept these skeletons to research how to awaken 'gods'?" Mavaglio narrowed his eyes. Karen froze for a second, then asked in astonishment, "Really?" "Can't say." Karen began descending; he intended to inspect the bottom of the gorge. Mavaglio stayed right beside him, the two of them looking like a pair of kids exploring a sewer together. Here, every single divine skeleton was roughly the same height as Rielsa's physical body that Karen had seen within the Gate of Samsara. However, since only white bones remained without any distinguishing identifiers, Karen couldn't tell which specific god any of them was. Near the bottom, Karen spotted several massive clocks hovering in midair. They had no dials or markings, yet pendulums swung slowly back and forth beneath them. The closer one got to them, the more serene one's heart became, for they were absorbing all negativity. Beneath the huge clocks were over a thousand circles formed of flags. At the center of each circle stood an altar, upon which burned the Fire of Order. Along the canyon's cliff faces below were countless spell formations, though they remained silent and inactive. Seeing this, Mavaglio pursed his lips. Karen said, "This really is... the treatment given to an Awakener." Mr. Hoffen's notes on spell formations contained relevant descriptions. "You know a lot about the First Knight Order?" Mavaglio asked. "I know a lot about spell formations," Karen explained. "The church is truly treating these divine remains as subjects for awakening. But can things like this even be awakened?" "No, this is nurturing." "Nurturing?" "You're right in a sense. The First Knight Order does use this method to preserve remains, nourishing the spiritual power left inside the corpses as much as possible. It's the same method here, but with a different purpose." Karen understood and asked, "To ensure the food doesn't spoil?" Mavaglio seemed slightly unaccustomed to Karen's wildly leaping train of thought, but he still nodded. "Yes. Because once they spoil... it becomes a massive trouble. Because gods are..." Mavaglio paused. Karen picked up, "The greatest source of pollution." Mavaglio laughed wryly, caught between tears and laughter. "Your trust in me is almost moving." "During my trial in the Gate of Samsara, I saw Rielsa. To be honest, her image completely shattered my preconceptions of what a god is." "In reality, Rielsa could no longer be considered a god; she was merely a husk left behind by one. The ones here aren't gods anymore either. I can't sense the slightest divinity in them." "Yeah, true." So many massive skeletons, yet in terms of value, they couldn't even compare to the bone of the Dark Moon Goddess Karen had absorbed, because the dark moon bone he absorbed still retained divinity. "What do you think these are?" Mavaglio asked. "Were they all devoured by Ankara?" Karen replied, "You know, children might be picky eaters, but parents usually aren't." "And what does that have to do with this?" "Because the groceries parents bring home are things they themselves want and like to eat." Mavaglio fell silent. Karen knew these gods were indeed eaten by Ankara, but in essence, they had been eaten by the God of Order. His grandfather had always believed that the God of Order existed in a state of perpetual hunger; this place was the best evidence of that. The temple had always boasted of being the place closest to God. So, what did an ordinary person usually keep within arm's reach? Letting his gaze sweep over the surroundings once more, Karen thought that even without developing, researching, or experimenting on this place, if the need arose—such as during a war—simply hurling these divine skeletons into enemy churches would produce horrifyingly devastating results. Karen closed his eyes and attempted to sense his surroundings. Suddenly, his mind perceived a faint tugging sensation—no, not just one, but dozens of them. Formed into wings behind his back, Thousand Phantoms began sending a signal: it felt an itch. In this form, it was fused with the Chains of Order. It wasn't actually itching; rather, the Chains of Order had sensed a swarm of faint summons. Karen couldn't help recalling when he had "awakened" Luoya. That was his first attempt at an awakening that defied common logic, as Luoya had no physical body; he had merely re-gathered her scattered consciousness from across those pitiful girls. Opening his eyes, a trace of solemnity flickered in Karen's gaze. Even though the Church of Order had sealed this place so thoroughly, deep within these divine skeletons—so clean they resembled sculptures—undercurrents had been churning all along, violently turbulent. They—no, it should be "they"—had been longing for an "awakening" all this time. This place was practically a cesspool of biogas. If someone dropped a spark in... Karen couldn't help teasing himself internally: *Grandfather, next time you bomb the temple, take me along.* Right then, Mavaglio abruptly looked up and said, "A consciousness is probing this area. We have to leave immediately." Karen was thoroughly startled. "We've been discovered?" "Some 'gazes' and 'perceptions' don't require specific reasons. Our presence here was probably flagged as a threat, automatically triggering the operation of some divine artifact. Its fluctuations were sensed by the Scythe of War and relayed to me." Rasma had said something similar, which was why he could only read newspapers on Mink Street and couldn't send messages to the outside world. This was the temple. The stars above were either home to Temple Elders or consecrated divine artifacts, so it was completely normal for a sixth sense to trigger. Mavaglio gasped, "It's the Bell of Warning! The last time it sounded was half a year ago—and right after, the temple was blown up! It's about to lock onto this location. I'll try to stall it with the Scythe of War." Hearing this, Karen felt a slight pang of guilt. Could his joking thought just now have triggered it? Karen and Mavaglio flew out of the gorge together, escaped the miasma-shrouded area, and quickly exited the dense woods. Purr and Lister were both lying on the grass with their bellies sticking out, having clearly eaten their fill. The moment Karen appeared, he scooped up Purr, while Mavaglio reached down to haul Lister up by his collar. Together, they flew toward the teleportation array. Upon reaching the teleportation array, Mavaglio snapped his fingers, activating the formation. In a flash, they returned to their starting point. Only now did Lister ask, "Were we spotted?" Mavaglio nodded. "Yeah." Lister slapped his thigh in distress. "Damn it, I forgot to pack my things and bring them back!" Mavaglio replied, "No need." "Won't that leave behind evidence..." "Evidence certainly needs to be left." Lister's expression froze, and then his face fell into a wail. "No, Lord Mavaglio, you can't do this to me!" Mavaglio looked at Lister and said, "In a few years, I'll be appointed to a deputy post in a research department. When that time comes, I'll transfer you back under the guise of research." "But, my lord..." "Whether you're willing to shoulder the blame for trespassing into the forbidden zone alone or not, there's no way I will be exiled along with you. You know that perfectly well. I'll still be staying here in the temple. When the time comes, I'd like to see who dares disrespect me if I pull strings to help you. Or maybe you'd prefer never coming back, never needing to return?" Lister opened his mouth, then nodded vigorously. "I understand, my lord... *Sob, sob, sob...*" Mavaglio consoled him, "All right, stop crying. Just consider it a vacation." "No, my lord, I just regret leaving behind the fish soup for you two! If I'd known, I would've downed every last drop. Now it's gone to waste!" ... Old White stood before the teleportation platform inside the temple holding a large suitcase and a ticket slip, feeling utterly miserable. All he had done was take one extra look at that seal, and now he faced exile. It had all been decided by rock-paper-scissors; if he were given the choice again, he would rather go inspect that dragon's consciousness, even if it meant getting struck by lightning until he was smoking. Just then, Old White saw Lister walking toward the platform carrying his luggage. For a moment, warmth rushed through his heart, and old tears welled in his eyes. "I truly never imagined that now, when everyone else is avoiding me like the plague, you'd actually come of your own accord to see me off. Old friend, I offer you my most sincere apologies for all the petty squabbles we had in the past. I was in the wrong. Sadly, I may never have the chance to make up for the harm I caused you. Just your coming to see me off fills me with immense gratitude—keep whatever gifts you brought for yourself." Lister: "..." "Farewell, old friend. I hope we can see each other again in this lifetime. I'll write to you, I swear I will. All right, don't walk any further. My teleportation array is right ahead, and it's about to activate. Stopping here is enough. Old friend, is there anything else you want to say to me? Please, say it quickly, there's hardly any time left." "Together."