In the Inmerlais house,
on the third floor,
in the study.
Karen kept his eyes fixed on the candle. The blue flame flickered from time to time, though the doors and windows of the study were shut tight, leaving no crack for a breeze to slip through.
The sensation of being watched lingered without pause. At first, it had come from two different corners of the room.
Yes, two gazes!
Karen was certain that two distinct gazes were observing him.
At the beginning, they sized him up with curiosity;
then, they shifted to earnest scrutiny;
soon after, they drifted into some manner of contemplation;
and now, the gaze was gradually softening, growing easygoing.
The initial oppressive weight and tense atmosphere slowly receded, and the feeling of sitting on pins and needles vanished.
Karen's posture shifted from his initial stiffness toward comfort.
He rested his back against the chair and placed his hands on the armrests. His gaze never left the flame, but his legs naturally crossed over each other.
The candle flame before him was like a painting, and Karen watched with an appreciative eye as it danced without pause.
At the same time, he knew that he, the observer of the painting, was also a painting in another's eyes.
It was difficult to put the atmosphere into words:
neither icy nor chillingly grim;
reserved in just the right measure, with a touch of hesitant decorum.
Perhaps it left one somewhat at a loss, but in truth, it also offered a quiet peace of mind.
The candle
had burned halfway down.
You would not think it burned too slowly, for each second did not drag like a year;
nor would you wish for it to burn any slower, for there was no need.
The flame burned without black, white, or yellow smoke, yet something else rose in substance alongside the combustion: an ease with whatever came.
***
Oak Cemetery.
Alfred was keeping his emotions under control, trying his best to regain his composure.
In fact,
analyzing his prior reaction with pure reason—
such as when Diss asked, "Are you disappointed?"—
the optimal and only rational response at that critical moment had been: "Praise Karen!"
For any other response would have brought about one single outcome: being eradicated by Diss on the spot.
The moment you ceased to be "loyal" to his grandson, you lost any reason to exist in Diss's eyes.
In fact, to prevent you from developing shame at having been "tricked" and letting that spawn hatred, the simplest and cleanest solution would be to finish you off right here.
For his family,
Diss would do anything.
The name of Order was merely a rag in his hand, used to wipe down the dining table for his household.
Fortunately,
Alfred was inherently an exceptionally rational being, and extreme rationality was often separated from fanaticism by nothing more than a sheet of paper.
Once this fire had been lit,
there was no need for anyone else to add kindling. Alfred could fully unleash his own formidable initiative. He was a mature bonfire that would gather and chop its own firewood to keep itself ablaze.
He firmly believed his choice was correct, and in the future, it would only prove more so.
This had elevated from "opportunism" into "veneration," and from veneration, it had coalesced into "faith."
Thus,
after receiving Alfred's response, Diss looked away.
"The Church of Principles didn't collect my corpse. Did you look after it?" Mr. Hoffen asked Diss.
"Your corpse isn't worth much," Diss replied bluntly. "An academic type like you only has value while alive. Still, yes, I made a few arrangements, or your body wouldn't be here now. It holds no value in our eyes, but to the church, it would at least count as a bonus—better than nothing."
"That's why I said it's truly fascinating." Having crawled out of his grave, Mr. Hoffen was noticeably livelier and more eccentric than when he had been alive. "When I found out I had a terminal illness and didn't have long to live, I could accompany you in going mad with an over-standard god descent ritual. And after I died, I could crawl back out to finish a ritual sealing an evil god.
"Diss,
"you've made my life exciting even after death."
Mr. Hoffen grew so excited that he raised his arms and began to dance. However, the skin on his face sagged far too severely; against the backdrop of the night rain, the sight was chilling enough to make one's scalp tingle.
Yet he reveled in it. Having died once already, he had long let go of what needed to be let go. He was completely pure.
Diss stood there, watching this old friend who had spent a lifetime strictly abiding by dogma now cast all restraint aside.
Having regained control of his emotions and recovered some measure of calm, Alfred saw this display, brought his right fist to his mouth, and flicked his left hand:
"Three, two, one, hit it!"
A rhythmic cadence flowed from Alfred's mouth. Right from the start, the beat matched Mr. Hoffen's swaying groove, practically custom-tailored for him.
Furthermore, Alfred had always possessed a unique advantage when it came to sound, giving his beatboxing an exceptional rhythm and metallic texture, as if a large boombox radio had truly been set down to blast music right there.
"Yo, yo, yo!"
Mr. Hoffen pointed a finger at Alfred. He was thoroughly pleased with this aberrant demon, even flashing a thumbs-up to commend his perceptiveness.
One must remember that before he died, Mr. Hoffen had been shouting for Diss to kill his grandson; yet now, he was hitting it off with an aberrant demon without the slightest barrier between them.
The rain fell steadily, and the atmosphere was harmonious.
Alfred's rhythm and Mr. Hoffen's dancing, accompanied by the torrential downpour, formed a strikingly textured scene.
Pity that the sole spectator was Diss;
fortunate that Diss was a spectator bearing witness.
At long last,
Mr. Hoffen suddenly called out:
"Diss, I've been dancing this long, so why don't I feel tired at all?"
Diss replied placidly, "Right now, you could dance until your body falls to pieces, but you will never dance until you're tired."
"Eh?" Mr. Hoffen immediately waved his hand, signaling Alfred to pause the "music." Then, with an embarrassed look, he wiped the rainwater from his face with both hands. "Sorry, sorry. First time being dead—no experience."
Diss had awakened him to help seal an evil god.
If he danced until his body scattered across the ground right here, it would truly be embarrassing.
Mr. Hoffen sat right down, oblivious to the muddy earth—he had gotten filthy crawling out of the ground anyway.
"Diss, we can start preparing now. As for the specifics, you make the arrangements. You know what I'm good at, don't you?"
Diss nodded and sat down as well.
Alfred sat down with them. *I can actually... listen in on a plan to seal an evil god from this close?*
If ending up on a mural was a beautiful vision of the future, then right now, Alfred felt he was experiencing the tangible sensation that must come from being someone depicted on a mural.
To deliberate the fate of an evil god...
Heavens, only figures worthy of murals could convene a gathering like this!
"As I said earlier, its state of existence is peculiar, all because the god descent ritual was only half completed.
"If it had already entered Karen's physical body, or if it possessed a body it had crafted with high compatibility, its state of existence would change accordingly."
Mr. Hoffen said, "Just as mist condensing into water droplets makes it easy to hold in a container."
Alfred nodded.
"I attempted to unleash soul fire, yet could not destroy it. In fact, sustaining the soul fire burned my own arms.
"Therefore, the first step of the plan is to make it leave its current state of its own accord."
Mr. Hoffen meant to stroke his chin, but the old skin there had long drooped down, so he fondled the hanging flaps of flesh as he spoke:
"To fish, one must use bait."
Alfred nodded.
"I have already prepared the bait," Diss said. "Because it can no longer modify a second body. It no longer has the power. I do not know whether it has a time limit on its existence, nor can I be sure whether it will gradually drift toward demise with the passage of time, like spirits detached from their anchors.
"Yet even knowing I am beside Karen, it still dares to linger and watch. That means Karen's body is its only option.
"For it can see my true realm."
Even an evil god would retreat after seeing his true realm.
"Using Karen as bait, then." Mr. Hoffen wasn't surprised in the least. "But knowing the fisherman is holding the rod, would it dare take the bait?"
Alfred nodded.
"Therefore, the fisherman must leave the rod," Diss said.
"There must be a suitable pretext," Mr. Hoffen pointed out. "The reason must be convincing enough for that evil god to believe you had no choice but to leave."
At this point,
Mr. Hoffen reached up and tugged at his eyelids.
Then he addressed Alfred, who had been sitting there nodding along:
"Hey, come over and hold my eyelids up. They're sagging down."
"Right away."
Alfred rose at once, squatted behind Mr. Hoffen, and used two fingers on each side to pull Mr. Hoffen's eyelids upward so he could keep his eyes open.
In any case, he felt no pain now even without blinking. As for whether it would damage his eyeballs or harm his vision... with less than three days left to exist, who cared about becoming nearsighted or farsighted?
"Mm, good. Pull them outward at a slight angle."
"Understood. Like this?"
"Mm, yes, not bad. That'll do."
Looking at Diss with wicked, slanting phoenix eyes, Mr. Hoffen continued:
"So, you've already prepared this pretext, haven't you?"
"Yes," Diss replied. "Rasma has already come out to meet with me once."
"Oh heavens, that couldn't have been easy. It must have taken monumental courage on his part.
"However, a single Rasma isn't enough."
"There are also three elders from the Temple of Order whose consciousness projections have already arrived in Rojia City."
"Whew... three elders of the Temple of Order. My goodness, what an entourage. Then there must be other clergy from the Temple of Order as well. Even if they're just there to make up the numbers, the spectacle must be quite exaggerated."
"The courier carrying those meaningless official documents back and forth between me and the regional administration is a squad leader of the Whip of Order."
"Heh-heh, hahaha!" Mr. Hoffen couldn't help bursting into laughter. "In that case, there must already be large numbers of clergy of various ranks from the Church of Order rushing here from other countries. They might not have entered Rojia City yet, but the moment the time comes, they'll sweep in immediately.
"Besides, with such a massive mobilization, the other orthodox grand churches will surely take notice. There is no way to hide it from their eyes and ears completely.
"Therefore,
"I can even venture a bold guess
"that one or two consciousness projections of core elders from other grand churches have already reached the outskirts of Rojia City, merely concealing themselves for now."
A faint smile touched the corner of Diss's mouth as he said,
"Most definitely."
"Oh?"
"Because once I take that step and completely unleash my realm, due to my being a devotee of the Church of Order and walking the faith path of the God of Order, I will automatically coalesce a portion of the godhead belonging to the God of Order. Though it will be an infinitesimally small portion—merely a godhead fragment at best—it is already enough to make the other orthodox grand churches restless.
"For if they obtain my godhead fragment, they could even develop a new system belonging to Order within their own churches."
"In the past, they never had such an opportunity," Hoffen laughed. "First of all, anyone who could reach that step was immensely powerful, extremely hard to kill, let alone rob. Moreover, every existence of that level would have been a true core member of their church long ago, receiving focused nurturing and protection.
"Ten or twenty years before taking that step, they would have entered seclusion deep within their church.
"Only you were different.
"Diss,
"only you kept so many people in the dark, allowing yourself to remain in Rojia City's Inquisitorial Office all this time.
"Even someone like Rasma, who knows your strength isn't what it appears to be on the surface and knows you're hiding something, would never dare believe you've already walked that far.
"An elder-tier figure on the verge of coalescing a godhead fragment,
"left isolated outside the core structure of the Church of Order for so many years,
"and what's more,
"standing in opposition to the Temple of Order.
"Heavens,
"this is a once-in-a-millennium opportunity!
"They won't be able to sit still—there's no way they could—because having an additional faith system is equivalent to granting their church an extra life to keep enduring!
"So..."
Mr. Hoffen lowered his voice abruptly, leaning his face forward to ask:
"So, how did they find out?"
Because of Diss's existence and his current exceptional status, the Church of Order would surely seal off the news at all costs.
This was an internal schism, a rift at the very pinnacle.
A hint of a smile touched Diss's lips. "I was the one who leaked the news."
"Hahahahaha..." Mr. Hoffen burst into roaring laughter.
As he laughed and laughed,
his jaw dislocated.
"Mmph... mmph..."
Alfred reached out and supported Mr. Hoffen's jaw.
Diss extended a hand and gave it a gentle tap. With a sharp crack, the jaw snapped back into place.
"Diss, I feel like a wooden toy figure now."
"No need to get used to it. You'll be gone in a few days anyway," Diss consoled him.
Mr. Hoffen nodded. "Your comfort is always so heartwarming."
With that,
Mr. Hoffen tilted his head slightly, pressing his face against his shoulder to prevent his jaw from dislocating a second time, and continued:
"The Church of Order must be in agonizing torment right now. If they move against you, even if you surrendered without resistance, or even if you took your own life, it would be a colossal loss for them.
"Yet you could never surrender without a fight; that's not your style, Diss.
"So once you choose to drop all pretense and stand in total opposition, resolving the issue of you will cost them dearly, making the price steeper still.
"Yet if they don't resolve you and leave an elder-tier apostate who has coalesced a godhead fragment roaming free outside—whether you establish your own religion, join another, or end up hunted down and killed by other churches—it will be a devastating blow to the very foundation of the Church of Order.
"Diss, you truly are a devout follower of the God of Order."
"I still firmly believe so to this day," Diss said. "Even after I cursed that the God of Order was raised by a whore, the God of Order's godhead fragment will still take shape within me.
"This is the personal endorsement of the God of Order himself for his most loyal believer. Heh."
"Hahahahaha!" Mr. Hoffen laughed loudly once more, while Alfred promptly caught his jaw in advance.
"This opportunity is more than enough. Diss, I believe that evil god is waiting for this very moment as well. An evil god's wisdom is beyond doubt. It is waiting—waiting until you can no longer suppress your realm and finally coalesce the godhead fragment, leaving you no choice but to step into that chaotic vortex.
"When that time comes, you won't have the leisure to care for anything else, and Karen will lose your protection.
"Then it can attempt to reclaim the body it refined.
"Oh,
"I actually feel a bit of sympathy for that evil god now. How pitiful. A house it built with its own hands was occupied by someone else, forcing it to sleep in the wind and dew outside, constantly glaring at the house with resentful eyes."
"That is why, several months ago, when Karen suggested to me that he wanted to go to school and study at an overseas university, I refused."
...
"I don't feel at ease with you traveling far."
"But Grandfather... I'm all grown up. According to the customs of Rojia City, turning fifteen makes me an adult."
"In my eyes, you are still just a child. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless... I die."
*For that evil god knows full well that as long as you remain in Rojia City, it cannot touch you, because I will appear by your side in an instant.*
...
"You certainly broke your back worrying over this grandson," Mr. Hoffen said. "Though I can understand. Before I died, he called me 'Grandpa,' and I was truly overjoyed.
"So what if he's an evil god? Such a sweet-talking evil god, an evil god who calls me Grandpa—what's wrong with treating him as my grandson?
"Think how proud I could be telling people! This life was worth it!"
"When you were buried, he called you Grandpa again."
"Oh? Really? Ah, what a good boy."
"You can turn around and look at the epitaph beneath your headstone," Diss reminded him.
Mr. Hoffen immediately turned around to look at the lower part of his headstone.
"Each person is like a spider spinning a web in life.
"Whether in anticipation or in dread, one's web will inevitably entangle with another's at an unforeseen moment.
"This interconnected web can be vast, so vast as to grant the illusion that one may go wherever one pleases;
"yet it can also be so small that sometimes, a single gust of wind can effortlessly scatter into nothingness the greatness you took for granted."
Mr. Hoffen took a deep breath
and cursed:
"I can't shed tears now, but this child is truly far too endearing. He's mourning me, he's missing me, he treats me as a cherished family member worthy of looking back upon in his journey of life.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!
"Diss,
"I want to seal that evil god, wrap it up neatly, and deliver it to my lovely, sensible grandson!
"Oh,
"heavens,
"Grandpa loves you, my little Karen!"
At his side, Alfred mused inwardly:
*Is this... the great charm of Lord Evil God... Ptui, no, the great charm of that Great Existence?!
*I am just like Mr. Hoffen—deeply captivated by the immense charisma of this Great Existence, willing to offer up everything for him!*
"Diss, come on, let's keep going. The bait is set, and it will take it—it's bound to take it. Then what about the container?
"Where are we going to seal Lord Evil God?
"It must be easy to carry, discreet enough to conceal from prying eyes, yet capable of showing its effects at any time. We can't go sealing it away in a cellar—what would be the point in that?"
Diss extended his hand. A leash flew into his grasp, and he gave it a gentle tug forward.
The golden retriever
was pulled before the three of them.
Diss said calmly,
"Let Lord Evil God... be a dog."
Chapter 69