In the previous era, the God of the Abyss had once forged a path connecting the Abyss and Heaven. Legend held that his lower body stood in the Abyss while his upper body rested in Heaven, his very form serving as a bridge.
The concept of angels had in fact originated in the Church of the Abyss. Their earliest duty was to travel between Heaven and the Abyss delivering messages, and the wings upon their backs were sacred fleshly vessels forged to pierce the void.
Yet the term "angel" was not unique to the Abyss. It referred specifically to messengers, envoys, and beings dispatched by gods to carry out special tasks—the most loyal servants belonging to a deity.
In the Light of Order, angels were described as vessels created by gods to carry divine will.
Here, Order went so far as to strip angels entirely from the ranks of sapient life, ranking them countless tiers below commanded ferocious beasts. They were merely... craftworks.
The existence of angels served as a bond between a god and their church, yet it also demonstrated from another angle that gods and their churches did not naturally form an indivisible unity, contrary to common belief.
Purr had once teased Kevin, asking why he hadn't founded a little church of his own back then just for fun. Even if it failed to grow into a major church, scouring around might have turned up a few surviving remnants.
Kevin's answer had been: A church is also a check upon its god.
Much like an emperor and his bureaucratic apparatus, they ruled and administered an empire together, yet contradictions and checks-and-balances inevitably existed between them.
The case right before Karen's eyes was the fundamentalist faction within the Church of Order. Though they adhered to the purest faith and devotion to the God of Order, they were currently an existence that could never see the light of day within the church.
As for why the Church of Principles researched the behavioral patterns of "gods," they were fundamentally exploring the most rational form of divine existence: the "mechanical" mode Karen had witnessed during his servant purification—eyes closed, strolling amid the rules, waving a hand to answer believers' prayers.
Yet angels were ultimately relics of the previous era. With the disappearance of the gods in this era, angels had vanished as well, just as there would be no sunrise or sunset if the sun ceased to exist.
And yet now...
One lay down below. Most important of all, Karen could clearly sense that he... was alive!
He was not a corpse. He possessed vitality. Though grievously battered, looking like a critically wounded soldier just carried off an ancient battlefield, he was indeed not dead.
The most direct proof was that he could be influenced by the Laks copper coin.
So what did this mean?
If even a living angel had appeared, was the return of the gods truly drawing near?
Karen continued trying to project his consciousness downward. Having come to investigate, he naturally hoped to glean more information to provide further reference for handling what lay ahead.
An angel discovered in Wien territory—even if it looked "very much like" the figures on Abyss murals—was still... well, property of the Church of Order.
In any case, Karen possessed boundless confidence in the Church of Order's religious chauvinism.
Furthermore, this angel likely harbored the secrets of the gods' return. Its value could no longer be measured in point coupons. Whichever church could grasp more intelligence regarding the return of the gods would seize greater initiative in the grand upheaval to come.
Yet what Karen did not know—or rather, what he had no time to notice—was that in the suite where his physical body sat, diagonally above his back, a figure was slowly materializing.
This was neither stealth nor an assassination. When it wished to appear here, it simply appeared.
A six-winged angel with black, withered, and broken wings. Within its eye sockets remained only an impenetrable black void.
It raised a hand, and a spear materialized within its grip, its point aimed straight at Karen's back.
Everything occurred in utter silence.
Karen had made a mistake... One must not gaze directly upon a god.
And an angel was the vessel of a god's will.
By sending his consciousness down along the thread using the power of the Chains of Order, Karen had pierced through every barrier the Abyss had erected here. It seemed like the optimal method of reconnaissance, but in reality...
It was just like a Church of Order assembly. Even when high-ranking priests sat in the front rows, the low-ranking priests seated in the back never dared project their consciousness to probe them, for doing so constituted the most direct insult!
Karen's method was an affront to this angel, particularly when it was still alive.
It could not move and its life hung by a thread—otherwise the Church of the Abyss would never have taken the enormous risk of nourishing it in Yorktown. Yet an angel's methods of killing were not limited to frontal combat.
The spear thrust toward Karen's back. In that split second, Karen finally sensed something. He began pulling his consciousness back, but a terrifying suction abruptly erupted within the sarcophagus, forcibly latching onto his consciousness.
In the room above, the spearhead was halted when barely a palm's breadth from Karen's back.
Behind Karen, the phantom silhouette of an old man had materialized, his hand clutching the spear.
The two sides locked in a contest of strength—a clash across a specialized medium of existence, one upholding the conviction of a god, the other having condensed a godhead fragment.
Evidently, the angel had no way of breaking through Diss's protection to complete what should have been a successful ambush against Karen.
The angel's figure began to fade. Though not a shred of luster could be discerned in its eye sockets, the corners of its lips curled slightly.
A sound emerged from it.
It was not the Marklai language, but being a spiritual entity, its meaning required no spoken words to convey.
It said:
"I am hungry."
Diss's phantom stood silently behind Karen. He possessed no conscious will of his own, only instinct, guarding his grandson's soul.
Eventually,
the angel's figure vanished completely, as if it had never been there at all. In truth, even the most experienced Whip of Order investigator searching this room would find no trace of its presence, for this had been a spiritual projection.
How could footprints be left in reality in a place visited only in a dream?
Yet this was not over. Karen had initiated the probe himself, effectively choosing a specialized battleground; now, he naturally had to endure the counterattack mounted along that very path.
Below, the consciousness that should have withdrawn remained trapped. A dark halo appeared, pressing and penetrating with ferocious speed.
Among the high-ranking Abyss priests guarding the core perimeter, several opened their eyes. They sensed a shift inside the sarcophagus, yet could not grasp it at all.
There was no sign of an intruder, nor any tangible anomaly.
And yet, a fierce struggle had already unfolded.
Karen had a decisive option available: sever the portion of consciousness he had projected. Doing so would inflict severe damage upon his soul, likely confining him to a wheelchair for half a month.
Karen did not choose this path—not out of fear of injury, but because of the copper coin's influence. As that mass of blackness surged forward to devour his consciousness whole, it also candidly conveyed that this was not all it wanted!
When a starving man drooled over a table full of delicacies, you knew what he intended next even if he never uttered a word about his hunger.
Karen continued reeling his consciousness back, crashing forward with force. A boundary that should have been impossible to break open gave way.
The opponent had allowed it intentionally—scaring a small animal so it would flee back to its pack, enabling the predator to follow and feast to its heart's content.
As Karen's consciousness retreated rapidly, the other party pursued in close step.
You want to come?
Fine.
You may come.
Karen showed no hesitation. His retreat was swift and decisive, and the pursuit was equally ferocious.
When Karen's consciousness returned to his physical body and he opened his eyes, he saw that the white Chains of Order retracting from the wooden box were flecked with black splotches.
As if... soiled.
"Gods are the greatest sources of pollution."
The closer a being was to a god, the greater its pollutant nature.
The chains vanished beneath Karen's feet, and the black splotches disappeared with them.
The very next moment, a black circle appeared between Karen's brows. A voice sounded beside his ear:
"What manner of body is this?"
One could not discern gender from the voice. Of course, angels could not reproduce to begin with. Why would a craftwork need a gender?
Karen propped his forehead with his right palm and dropped to one knee.
The voice carried a matter-of-fact sense of dominion. "I am very pleased with your body. It has allowed me to find a familiar environment once more. It suits me well."
Yet the owner of the voice did not notice that when Karen knelt and his knee met the floor, it made scarcely any sound. Karen did not wish to produce too much physical noise and "wake" the Abyss priestess still providing her service.
"So, are you a bodily sacrifice offered to me by believers?"
The angel's voice continued.
"I accept this offering. I shall devour your soul and enter your body."
The black circle originally confined to the space between Karen's brows rapidly spread. Dense clusters of black rings manifested across his body, twisting and contracting on their own as if alive.
Karen asked softly, "Who are you, really?"
"I do not know who I am either. I know only my mission, and you shall merge into my existence, burning to provide heat for my mission."
The black rings covering his body were filled with darkness, then surged back in a rapid tide toward the point between his brows.
Like a barrier lake breaching its levee.
Boom!
With a resounding crash, a rift was violently torn into Karen's soul space.
The six-winged angel
appeared within Karen's soul space.
Standing before it was Diss.
"Order..."
The angel seemed to ponder why the believers of the Abyss would prepare a vessel guarded by a Temple Elder of Order.
Yet no answer came to its thoughts. Though alive and capable of voicing needs, it had not truly awakened and had not engaged in normal communication with the outside world.
The angel spread its wings, erecting its domain. Under this overwhelming pressure, Diss's form began retreating step by step, but after falling back a certain distance, he stopped, holding the line.
This indicated that the pressure the angel could exert reached only this far; it could not completely crush Diss and seize control here.
"A mental imprint... nothing more than a mental imprint. If your true self were here, I might be powerless, but with merely a mental imprint, you cannot stop what I intend to do."
A black circle appeared beneath the angel's feet. In reality, a black circle also appeared beneath Karen's feet.
It was a starlight array, a type of magic formation. Not long ago, Karen had consulted Delon on how to maximize the efficacy of soul-based formations, and Delon's instruction had been to employ a guiding method.
Now, this angel was personally demonstrating it.
Indeed, one could hardly blame the various churches for pursuing reverse archaeological projects. In many respects, present-day standards truly paled in comparison to the past.
...
Inside the sarcophagus, the Laks copper coin upon the angel's body gleamed. The angel's consciousness transmitted through it, arriving beneath Karen's feet before entering his soul space.
Within Karen's soul space, the six-winged angel's figure steadily grew, the majestic presence of its soul consciousness continuously manifesting.
...
"I sensed a change."
"Me too."
"Likewise."
Below, the high-ranking Abyss priests detected the anomaly one after another. This time, the sensation was unmistakable.
The priest seated at the very center lowered his head and glanced toward the sarcophagus, his gaze lingering on the copper coin. A look of pain crossed his face before he forcibly suppressed it.
"It is the effect of the copper coin. No one is to investigate. Enhanced by Lord Angel, the Laks copper coin's confounding effect is extremely potent."
"Understood."
"Understood."
...
"I like your body. It is the work of art I have been searching for. I am fascinated by it, I need it, and I shall cherish it, for that is the most fundamental respect owed to an artwork."
Karen's voice drifted through: "What is your mission?"
The angel lifted its head, seemingly searching for the source of the voice. Rather than answering directly, it said:
"An exquisite soul strength, like a fine blue crystal sculpture. I can scarcely bear to crush it. Alas, I am destined to destroy it—such is the sorrow and helplessness of an artist."
As the words fell, the darkness surrounding the angel expanded outward with ferocity. Diss's figure fell back repeatedly, ceding more territory.
Yet the angel still failed to locate Karen.
This meant Karen was still hiding, and even more, it revealed just how vast this soul space truly was.
Karen's voice rang out once more: "Tell me. What is your mission?"
The angel raised a hand and reached forward. A spear appeared, gripped firmly within its grasp.
Hum!
It thrust the spear into the ground. Instantly, the blackened region expanded at an even more ferocious pace.
"Tell me. What is your mission?"
Finally, at certain edges, the expanding darkness touched the boundary.
The angel spoke: "I was once dead. My body tore free from the ruins of Heaven and fell into the Abyss; when the Abyss collapsed, my body drifted forth from the Abyssal Sea.
"I do not know how long I drifted, nor how many eras I wandered.
"I must have served as a resting perch for migratory birds, as an anchor for coral reefs.
"Until...
"I suddenly woke once more.
"Heaven's melodies no longer echo, the boundless expanse of the Abyss has vanished, and everything once treasured in the deepest recesses of my memory retains no trace of what came before."
The angel's voice was soaring and rich with emotion, like a wandering bard reciting impassioned verse, or a vocalist building momentum alongside an overture.
By now, the other three directions of the entire soul space had been fully engulfed in darkness. Only the small patch occupied by Diss and the space behind him remained, awaiting the final conquest.
Karen's voice could be confirmed this time to emerge from that very spot:
"I asked you: what, exactly, is your mission?"
The angel spread both arms wide. The surrounding darkness began to churn, as though this place had become an opera stage:
"The departure of the gods stripped away all that was mine, depriving me of my purpose; my awakening signifies that the steps that once walked away have finally embarked upon their return.
"Though I have not yet truly touched this world, I have already sensed its pallor and banality.
"It is like a blank scroll, far too clean, waiting to be filled with color."
Under the tremendous pressure, Diss's figure retreated again, and again, and again, causing the final sanctuary he guarded to shrink continuously.
The angel continued its chant:
"Heaven shall once again ring with splendid movements, the Abyss shall surge anew, and this brief silence existed solely to welcome a far more glorious new chapter.
"The gods are about to return. They shall descend anew in their own ways.
"And the mission I bear
is to make ready for the return of my Lord.
"I shall lead his believers to kindle bonfires, illuminating the road of my Lord's return."
"What is the specific method? How will the God of the Abyss return?"
The angel raised its proud neck and declared:
"The principal god possessing the most complete and formidable church heritage shall gain the initiative in returning!
"My mission is to assist my Lord in returning before the God of Light!
"My Lord
shall open an era belonging to the Abyss!"
Karen finally had his answer. Though incomplete—the angel had not named the exact method, likely because he was only one part of the mechanism, or perhaps because the manner of return differed for each deity—it was an answer nonetheless.
"There is something you might not know: the Church of Light has already perished."
"The Church of Light... has perished? Then which church is the strongest now?"
Without waiting for Karen to reply, the angel raised its finger once more, pointing at that final isolated patch:
"Once I have taken your body, I will have ample time to reacquaint myself with the present world. Right now, I am hungry."
Karen's form finally emerged from that last untouched patch of territory. But he did not walk out alone. Striding alongside him from that space was a towering, majestic figure.
Beside it, the massive, holy aura-draped six-winged angel was instantly reduced to looking like a tiny, winged ant.
Color finally flooded the angel's hollow, pitch-black eye sockets—yet it was brimming entirely with sheer terror.
It began to dread. It began to tremble. Its wings folded back instinctively, its arms clutching its body tightly like a sacrificial lamb prostrating before a giant, incapable of mustering even the slightest thought of resistance.
Its mouth dropped wide open, letting out a prolonged wail: "Aaaahhhhh..."
Its face tilted sideways, its gaping mouth contorting as it stammered in a tearful voice:
"The God of Order... has already returned..."
Karen clenched both fists, his voice strained as though desperately suppressing something:
"I... am hungry too."
Chapter 675