A Stern Warning

Daan fell silent. He closed his eyes, but opened them again almost immediately, as if deliberately trying to keep himself from sinking into any particular emotion. Taking the ring, Daan studied it for a moment, then waved a hand. "Go and get some rest." "Yes, Commander." Karen withdrew from the command tent. The detailed, airtight "testimony" he had prepared had found no use whatsoever; Daan hadn't asked a single question. The wind brushed against his face outside, and Karen couldn't help taking a deep breath. He knew that from the moment he stepped out of that tent, this affair was officially over. It had been a covert mission; there would be no need for him to write an after-action report, nor would any written record of it ever remain. On second thought, though, this all seemed entirely natural. Commander Daan had no idea Morindi had reverse-engineered control over the containment array. In his eyes, their team's operation had simply been to wear her down brutally with the array before swooping in to claim the kill. There was a single variable in that sequence—one that, barring any surprises, was the skeleton's intervention, which had enabled Morindi to seize control of the array in the first place. On this journey to the Church of the Crypt, Karen had secured the bone dragon he wanted and completed his secret mission. The outcome was undeniably good, yet because of that skeleton, far too many complications had arisen along the way. Karen pressed his lips together. *Just you wait. Once I get back, I will drag you out into the open.* *** Inside the command tent, Daan activated the communication array. After a brief wait, the phantom projection of High Priest Norton materialized at its center. Daan stepped away from his seat, dropped to one knee, and reported, "Morindi is dead." "Mm." Daan raised the ring. The High Priest's gaze settled upon it. After a long silence, the High Priest spoke. "What did she say to you?" He didn't ask whether Daan had gone to see her. Cold sweat beaded on Daan's forehead, and his body trembled faintly. At his station, very few people could still inspire genuine fear in him. Yet the longer he followed the man before him, the heavier that reverent dread became. "Yes... she spoke a few words to me..." "Mm," the High Priest murmured dismissively. "Keep them in your heart." "Your subordinate... your subordinate would not dare." "I don't mind. Just keep them in your heart. Don't go repeating them to others, and don't let them affect your work." "Understood, High Priest." "We are already standing upon the stage we once dreamed of. We have begun reshaping the Church of Order according to our vision. And we shall defend this Church of ours with our very lives." "Naturally, High Priest!" Daan struck his chest with a clenched fist. "I swear to defend the dignity of Order to the death!" When a private conversation between the two of them required this sort of formal slogan as a bridge, it meant a certain rift had already formed. Neither party wished to widen it, both seeking to suppress the discordant note to the absolute minimum. For Daan's part, he wished he had never gone to see Morindi, wished he had never heard those words at all. "How are the preparations?" "Everything is in place." "Only half the knight order." "More than enough!" "Mm. Return once it is finished. Without you guarding the gates of the Divine Hall, my heart is not at ease." "Yes, High Priest." The communication array deactivated, and the High Priest's figure dissolved into thin air. Commander Daan shifted from kneeling to sitting on the floor. He exhaled a long breath, feeling his face burning hot. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, flicked the droplets onto the ground, and turned to look at the map of the dragon settlements behind him, his gaze growing chilled and grim. The precise degree of the weakening plan was left entirely to the field commander to oversee. It was no exaggeration to say that, as the commander, Daan could determine how deeply this knife cut based purely on his own will. Right now, he felt panic and dread. And a panicked man would swing his blade blindly by instinct. He had no desire to rein that emotion in. This strike needed to fall heavily. He wanted the High Priest to see his terror, his hesitation, his loss of composure—and ideally, let his superior convict him of an offense born from that lapse in control. "We must slaughter a few more." *** Karen had initially intended to look for Alfred and the others at the military priests' quarters, but he had underestimated their efficiency. Once the preliminary treatment was complete, the wounded were transferred directly to the hospital in the main city. It made sense. The field medics hardly had time to oversee leisurely convalescence, and as Karen walked out of the camp, he could feel orders rippling through the ranks. Every part of the military encampment was beginning to operate at rapid speed. Declining a knight captain's offer of an escort, Karen piloted the giant ladybug back to the main city alone and arrived at the task force's office. The building had originally been requisitioned from the hospital anyway, making it perfectly suited to handle follow-up medical care. The bustling scene of the preceding days was gone; the lively atmosphere of mass arrests and releases had vanished. With the Knights having arrived, the main event was about to begin, which meant the prelude handled by Karen's task force was officially over. Vic was overseeing the remaining loose ends, using the sweeping momentum of the Knights' arrival to collect final balances while conducting a final round of shakedowns against the "prominent figures" on the roster who had previously been too difficult to touch. Those handing over vouchers were exceptionally cooperative, and those receiving them were just as eager. Karen ran into several such parties as he climbed the stairs. There was no trace of outrage at being extorted on their faces; instead, they wore the relieved expressions of people who had happily spent money to avert disaster. Although the plan had been drafted by Alfred and Neo, Vic's practical execution deserved considerable credit. If Rasma ever found out that his prized student had been put in charge of bribery and extortion, Karen wondered whether the old man's mustache would twitch in fury. Then again, considering that Vic would soon be tasked with handling the Light remnants—and that Alfred had already placed him on an observation list—what he was doing right now was practically trivial by comparison. When the subordinates below announced the department head's return, Vic immediately stood up. He hadn't finished balancing the ledger yet, and he didn't want to disrupt his accounting rhythm. His first instinct was to grab a random notebook to bluff his way through; after all, Karen wasn't one to scrutinize page by page. He had gotten a good read on Karen's temperament: when it came to tedious administrative tasks, Karen was more than happy to delegate authority. Yet after a brief hesitation, Vic picked up the half-completed ledger and stepped out. "Head Karen, here is the ledger. Because quite a few follow-up matters came in over the past two days, I haven't had time to organize everything completely, but please take a look." "No need. I trust you." Karen spoke with an easy smile, then reached out, took the ledger, and flipped through it casually for a couple of seconds. Vic breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Karen handed the ledger back. "Where's Alfred?" "Mr. Alfred is resting. He said he needed to sleep for a full day and night, and instructed me to wrap up the remaining affairs. In addition, Mr. Alfred arranged for Kevin and Kanna to be sent back to the hotel." "Mm, good." Alfred had likely received spiritual treatment and was currently undergoing further mental restoration. Karen walked into Ventura and Philomena's ward. The two of them were propped up in their beds. Ventura held a cup of hot tea in both hands, sipping from it like an old grandfather, while Philomena wore a dark, sullen scowl. "You're awake," Karen said as he stepped inside. "Ah, yes, we're up! Heh, Head Karen." Ventura immediately offered a welcoming grin and moved to get out of bed, but Karen stopped him with a gesture. Philomena merely turned her head to look at Karen without saying a word. Seeing this, Ventura quickly explained, "Philomena was just reviewing the fight earlier. And... she got mad." "Mad?" Philomena spoke up. "I feel completely useless." "Sometimes we need to take a rational view of the gap between ourselves and certain opponents. Don't pile so much emotional pressure on yourself. Do you know who that undead summon was who knocked you flat?" Philomena nodded. "Mr. Alfred told us before he went to his ward." "And you're still mad?" Karen chuckled. That was the High Priest himself—and a Holy Child to boot. In his entire life, Rasma had only ever bowed his head to one man, and that was Karen's grandfather, Diss. But the only man Rasma had ever stepped aside for voluntarily was Norton. Karen believed that no matter how highly one estimated the High Priest, it would never be an exaggeration. He was someone who could truly be measured against his grandfather. Philomena answered, "Still mad." Karen offered a word of comfort. "Just pretend I was the one who beat you up." Philomena pondered the thought carefully, then said, "Not mad anymore." "Heh." Karen reached out and gave her blanket a perfunctory tuck. "Rest well and heal up." Ventura asked curiously, "Bart mentioned there's going to be a war?" "Not really a war. More like forming a party to catch some loaches." "A pity I won't be able to watch," Ventura said with regret. "It's fine. Bart won't be watching either, because it looks like I won't be going, either." Having reassured the two subordinates, Karen left the ward and headed to another. Neo was in a private room, lying in bed. Suspended above him was a transparent container filled with blood, with several tubes extending from its base directly into Neo's body. "There probably aren't many bloodthirsty aberrant demons in this world who get this kind of blood-drinking service," Karen teased. "This isn't blood. It's raw essence," Neo's voice came from beneath the blanket. Karen pulled back the cover, surprised. "You can talk already?" "Why is there disappointment written all over your face?" "Because I genuinely am disappointed." "Hmph." Neo glanced at the container above. "Aberrant demons consume blood to draw out the life force within it. Strictly speaking, this isn't fresh blood." "The problem is the color. It doesn't look like anything extracted from a plant." "I don't care about that. It's medicine. The Knights have so many good things that the priest didn't even blink while administering it to me. The Knights really do get the best treatment." "Then you certainly got lucky." "Yeah. Otherwise, with injuries this severe, I wouldn't have been able to speak for a week." "Mm. Congratulations, then." "How did things go with the commander?" "Very smoothly. He didn't ask me a thing." "That's normal. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to pry into sensitive matters." "I suppose so." "That Morindi—do you really plan to take her in?" "We'll see." "You should already know my concerns, so I won't repeat them. She's a good person, but she won't be easy to control." "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. No rush. Anyway, get some good rest. I'm heading back to the hotel to take a bath and sleep. I'm tired." "Did you really come here just to visit the sick?" "It's a necessary procedure. You taught me that." "Heh, I'm almost embarrassed to call myself your teacher now. You play the game better than I do." "Of course you aren't my teacher. You're a section head in my chain of command." "You bastard." "All right, enough. If you still couldn't talk, I might've stayed to exchange a few meaningful glances with you. Now that I see you've recovered so fast, I don't feel much urge to chat. Rest up. I'm leaving." "You're not going to the battle?" Neo asked. Karen paused at the doorway and turned back. "Should I?" "I mean, aren't you curious to watch? If I weren't injured, I'd go for sure. Chances to see the Knights fight in person don't come around often." "Of course I'd like to see it. But do you think the Knights marching to battle is a game? Can I just stroll over whenever I feel like it?" "There are always ways to find an opening. That young lady named Daina—isn't she staying here too? I heard the nurses say she already woke up from her coma." "Oh, she's awake?" Karen nodded. "Understood." Karen stopped by Alfred's room next. Alfred was sound asleep, a potted plant resting on his chest bearing white blossoms that gave off a gentle fragrance with a noticeable soothing effect on the spirit. Since he was sleeping, Karen didn't disturb him, though he sat beside the bed for a short while. Standing up to leave, Karen reached the corridor and hesitated briefly. Instead of heading straight back to the hotel, he walked over to Daina's room. Two Order priests stood outside her door. After Karen had requisitioned the place as his task force's base of operations, the security for any patients who couldn't conveniently be evicted naturally fell under his responsibility. "Department Head." "Department Head." "Mm." Karen nodded to them, pushed the door open, and entered. Inside, Blanche was changing Daina's dressing behind a drawn curtain. Blanche poked her head out first and greeted him when she saw who it was. "Department Head." *Swish...* Daina pulled the curtain aside, completely unbothered by having her body exposed before Karen. Karen didn't bother averting his eyes either. It wasn't as if he hadn't already seen her bare during her earlier treatment. Besides, with a bowl-sized wound still gaping on her abdomen, anyone who could harbor lewd thoughts at a moment like this would have to be a pervert. "My bone dragon—did you take it?" Daina stared at him. Karen nodded and explained, "You're the one who told me to take the initiative so it wouldn't fall into someone else's hands." "I meant it shouldn't fall into the hands of another church! It already belonged to our Church, yet you actively submitted an application, and the higher-ups approved it for you." "Mm. That's true." "Why?" "Because I quite like that bone dragon." "Then you should have told me earlier. I would have willingly yielded it to you." Daina wasn't angry in the least. "It was just a matter of a few words, and it would have made you look far better." "I don't care that much about my personal image anymore." Karen walked to Daina's bedside, openly resting his gaze on her abdomen. "How is the injury?" "As you can see, it's just a simple wound now." "Congratulations." "Thank you." Daina tossed her hair back. In that pose and against this backdrop, she resembled an oil painting—though one where a child had poked a hole through the subject's midriff with a little finger. "Sister Augie came to see me this morning and told me a few things. But I felt like she was deliberately avoiding any topic involving you. Did something happen between the two of you?" "No." Daina teased, "Did you spank Sister Augie's rear with a greatsword, too?" "Hardly. Her rear is much bigger than yours." Having her old wound prodded with a counterattack, Daina merely pouted. "She's afraid of you. I can feel it." As she spoke, Daina reached out and lightly patted Blanche's bottom. "Unlike your subordinate here. She holds you in awe, and she was clearly delighted the moment you walked in." Blanche reminded her, "Miss, please don't move. I need to apply the medicine carefully, or the scar will be very difficult to treat." Instead of reining it in, Daina traced her fingers along the curve of Blanche's hip and teased, "So, what exactly did you do to Sister Augie? I'm truly curious." Karen smiled faintly. "If you don't know how to show respect to my subordinates, I don't mind playing another round of golf right here." Daina withdrew her hand immediately and shrugged. "I pat Sister Augie's bottom all the time. What's the big deal? I'm a woman." "You should show basic respect to Priest Blanche. Her rank is higher than yours." Hearing that, Daina finally seemed genuinely annoyed. "You're doing this on purpose just to anger me." "Not at all. I deliberately refrained from mentioning that you aren't even a priest." "And what about Sister Augie? Do you respect her? You call her 'milady'!" "Calling her 'milady' is no different from calling you 'miss.'" Daina thought about it for a moment, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You know what? The injuries on my body hurt less than the words coming out of your mouth!" Karen felt that was about enough; her oppositional spirit was properly stoked. Turning to Blanche, he asked, "How much longer will her treatment take?" "Very soon, Department Head. Changing the dressing takes only a moment." "Mm. Then I'll wait so we can head back to the hotel together. I have a few superficial wounds myself; I'd like you to tend to them." "Understood, Department Head." A smile blossomed on Blanche's face. To her, treating her department head's injuries was always a pleasure. Karen looked back at Daina, pointing a finger at her in warning. "Since you're awake, make sure you don't run around recklessly. A battle is starting in a couple of days, and things outside will be chaotic." "A battle?" Daina instantly latched onto the keyword Karen intended for her to catch. "Commander Daan is about to lead the Knights in an assault against the dragon faction. At a time like this, you must absolutely not cause any more trouble. The adults have serious business to handle; children should be obedient and stay out of mischief." "Uncle Daan is leading a battle..." Daina's eyes sparkled. She had always harbored one deep regret: during the 'First Day War' against Samsara, the knight order she and Uncle Daan belonged to had not been among the deployed ranks. Karen gave her a stern warning: "Remember: if you dare run off, I will personally hunt you down and drag you back!"