Crows

"They can't come out right now, but if they could, I swear I'd strip them bare, rub them down with sea salt, and stuff them headfirst, asses up, into a pickle jar!" Bern cursed one last time before leaving, full of fury and helplessness. Karen could empathize with the Head Bishop's frustration. As the highest authority in the Yorktown Region, Bern was forced to take the blame and clean up this utter mess without having played any direct part in causing it. The pollution had already erupted—divine pollution of an extraordinarily high caliber. It was effectively handing his jurisdiction an uncontrollable source of contamination. He would have to pour continuous manpower and resources into monitoring and sealing the site, all while dealing with the fallout: the emergence of specialized aberrant demons, the corruption of humans and priests, and countless bizarre, horrifying incidents... In the future, Whip of Order squads might even think twice before taking assignments near this cave. If the reward wasn't high enough, no one would want to go. It was like a mayor discovering a fully integrated drug production den operating within his city; with all the chaos it spawned, the local public security would be damned to hell. Most critically... no one could be sure if the current level of pollution was the peak. In fact, it was highly likely to escalate further, given the substantial number of elite priests trapped inside. They were mutilating themselves and dying right now, but that was probably far from the end. After enduring the purest, most direct wave of contamination, God only knew what monstrosities they would ultimately mutate into. On top of that, there were various high-grade sacred relics inside, including three full divine artifacts. Soaking in the contaminated source for an extended period would inevitably trigger bizarre mutations in them. It was safe to say that without prompt intervention, larger-scale spread was practically inevitable. It promised endless possibilities and unimaginable "surprises," but every single development was guaranteed to be disastrous. Back when Purr was human, she had loved assembling expedition teams to explore hazardous secret realms. Still, no one in their right mind would want a secret realm planted right at their front door—stepping outside just for a heart-stopping thrill. "Sigh..." Karen let out a heavy sigh and sat down where he was. Resting his forehead in his right hand, his left hand clutched at his chest. To onlookers, this seemed like the Head of the Law Enforcement Department agonizing over the grim situation. Standing nearby, Alfred knew better: his young master was struggling to suppress another flare-up of his hunger addiction. Fortunately, the seal laid down by Bishop Delon and his men had cut off the connection between the cave and the outside world. Deprived of that external trigger, the hunger inside Karen gradually settled, never escalating into a full breakout. In such an emergency, the last thing Karen wanted was to slash himself with the Scythe of War and then direct this complex aftermath from a wheelchair. "Young Master, should we notify Regional Chief Gaspol now?" Karen raised a hand. "No. Don't send anyone to inform her. Wait until she comes to ask on her own." "Yes, understood." This catastrophic event, thorny beyond measure, had already unfolded. Since Gaspol had not officially assumed office yet, she was entitled to steer clear of this tainted plate. Of course, if she chose to step forward and take charge, that would be her own prerogative—proof of her willingness to shoulder responsibility and solve problems. If Karen sent people to notify and summon her, it would look like he was aggressively trying to pass the buck. "Go arrange the confidentiality protocols. Make sure the garrison and the Regional Administrative Office are properly briefed. Also, pull personnel from here to enforce a perimeter cordon outside the barrier. No outsiders—most importantly, no members of other churches—are to slip in and survey the situation. Anyone acting suspiciously is authorized to be executed on sight." "Pulling people from here, though..." "There's nothing wrong with that." Karen glanced toward the garrison over there. "Bishop Delon's array formation department is all that's needed to hold the line here. No matter how many men you post, if the array collapses, do you think they could stop what's inside?" "Yes, understood." Just as Alfred turned to carry out his orders, Karen called out to him again: "Alfred..." "Yes, Young Master?" "Is this the power of a god?" "Young Master, I cannot answer that question for you." Karen nodded. "Go on, get to work." "Yes, Young Master." Karen waved a hand, and Vic walked over. "Pass the word. Aside from the personnel being redeployed, everyone staying here should prepare to set up camp. Remember, design the camp layout for the long haul. This site will likely be in use for a long time to come." "Yes, Department Head." Having issued those two orders, Karen rose and walked forward to Bishop Delon's side. "Department Head Karen." "Bishop Delon." "Rest assured, the things inside will not spill out into the open for now." "For now?" "Yes, for now." Delon licked his somewhat pale lips. "What we've erected is a static sealing array, but the problem we face is anything but static." Delon voiced his assessment, which aligned perfectly with Karen's own thoughts. "Department Head Karen, do you know what actually happened inside?" "I do. I can tell you in detail once we head back." "Oh, good." The old man looked somewhat flattered. He had expected an answer like *it's classified and cannot be disclosed*. Sure enough, his grandson didn't treat him as an outsider. It felt genuinely good. Karen continued, "I suspect we'll need to establish a permanent sealing array next. Can our region manage that with its own resources?" "We can pull it off physically, and the region doesn't lack materials. But the array department can't possibly tie down all its personnel on this single task, important though it may be." "So we still have to wait for higher-ups to deploy reinforcements?" "Yes, exactly. Higher-ranking authorities should be assembling a specialized crisis task force to come and direct operations." "Understood." "There are peculiar energy fluctuations inside. The three strongest ones... the Throne of Order just relayed feedback about them to me. Could you tell me what they are now? I need to make some adjustments to the current seal." "They are divine artifacts. Three of them: the Chessboard of the God of Passion, and two notebooks belonging to branch gods of the Church of Principles." "Notebooks from branch gods of Principles?" Delon's eyes widened. "Karen..." This time, he dropped the official title. "Sir?" "The divine artifacts must be retrieved," Delon said with absolute certainty. "People must be sent in to bring those three... no, at least those two notebooks must be brought out. Otherwise, sealing this place permanently will be utterly impossible. As long as those notebooks remain operational, they will analyze and dismantle the outer seals." "Send people in?" Karen looked out at the gruesome scene ahead. God only knew what even more exaggerated horrors lurked in the depths of the underground laboratory. A source of divine pollution, three divine artifacts, a whole array of other sacred relics, and a host of contaminated elite priests from both churches... most of the world's perilous secret realms couldn't boast such lethal credentials! Could anyone really walk in there and come out alive? Even if they survived, how much of their life would still belong to them? Once infected by the pollution, the rest of their days would be countless times more miserable than the worst days of the two Pavaro girls. "It has to be done," Delon said. "Otherwise, this place will never quiet down. The longer it is sealed, the more pollution accumulates inside. If a breach opens one day, it won't just be Yorktown's problem. All of Wien—no, even the surrounding seas—will be swallowed by the pollution." "That isn't a call I can make. We should wait for the people sent from above," Karen could only say. "Karen, you are not allowed to go." "Hmm?" "You must not go under any circumstances." "Sir, what makes you think I'd volunteer to go inside?" *Did my past actions give you the wrong impression, Grandfather?* "I don't know, but I don't want you going. My daughter died because she was tainted by pollution." Karen nodded and said nothing more. Inwardly, he wondered if his mother and father had suffered pollution of this magnitude back then—so severe that even Diss could not heal them. Delon cast another warning glance at Karen, though Karen gave no verbal reply. Still, Delon knew very well that his wife would never allow Karen to do such a thing. By this point, inside the seal, the corrupted Order priests had stopped their self-mutilation. All of them knelt rigidly in place. Black mist constantly billowed from their bodies, yet it did not disperse; instead, it reentered their flesh, forming a closed loop. This meant they were far from "finished." They were more like specimens being "cured." No one knew what reaction approaching them now might trigger. Old Delon let out a sigh, uttering a local Wien colloquialism with no literal translation, but in this context, it amounted to: "Sigh, what a sin." *** By afternoon, the supply convoys arrived. Personnel ate and rested in turns, though the array masters had it hardest; they couldn't leave the front lines and had to remain intensely focused at all times. Construction materials like cement and bricks were brought in as well. Priests rolled up the sleeves of their clerical robes and began laying masonry, while temporary tents were pitched nearby. Both efforts proceeded without delay. Gaspol arrived. She had requested to come, and Karen sent Alfred to pick her up. Upon arriving on-site, she listened to Karen's report, nodded in approval of his arrangements, and issued no countermanding orders. Instead, she sat down with Karen before a small pile of stones cradling a low-grade fire-attribute spirit stone, atop which sat a small pot brewing coffee. "What a headache," Gaspol muttered, tapping her forehead. "How dare they conduct such a dangerous experiment in a densely populated, traditional missionary district?" Pouring the coffee, Karen replied, "I suspect they couldn't have conducted this experiment anywhere without a dense population and a relatively advanced stage of societal development." Gaspol took a sip. "Then why didn't they choose the Dinge Region?" Karen smiled. This Regional Chief transferred from Dinge was truly irreproachable when it came to professional duty and attitude. "Because this is the Yorktown Region." "If I run into something like this again, I will stop it," Gaspol said calmly. "You must have known about this experiment long ago, right?" "The Head Bishop knew as well. Are you blaming us for not stopping it?" "I hope that if you ever sit in the Regional Chief's seat, you will step up and stop it. For now, you aren't the Regional Chief, so I have no objection to your choice to remain silent." For a moment, Karen didn't know how to respond. Gaspol sighed. "Yes, when you brought this up in the car yesterday, I told you that since it concerned higher departments, it wasn't our place to intervene. But the nature of the event matters. "Sigh... "If something of this magnitude happens again and the catastrophic consequences are foreseeable, you can trust me. Please tell me, and I will make my own decision." "Understood." Karen felt that Gaspol wasn't just spouting pleasant platitudes. "The problem now is how to handle the cleanup." Just then, Vic walked over and reported, "Regional Chief, Department Head, a message has arrived from the Head Bishop. The crisis management team has reached the Church Affairs Building. The Head Bishop requests that you attend the crisis management meeting, Department Head Karen." Gaspol stood up. "I'm going too." At a time like this, fretting over whether she had officially assumed office was meaningless. Vic drove Karen and Gaspol toward the Church Affairs Building. Along the way, Karen saw three crows flutter toward the car window. After he rolled it down, the three crows flew to land before each of the three passengers. These were not personal messages dispatched to specific individuals. Judging by the watermark on the ritual paper, this was a mass broadcast from the Head Bishop's office. Normally, if the Head Bishop wanted to issue a directive or notification, he didn't need to resort to such measures. Karen unfolded the paper, and Bern's voice resonated from within: *"This is Bern, Head Bishop of the Yorktown Region:* *The region is currently facing a crisis, and the administration urgently needs to recruit a batch of temporary volunteers to resolve it. Be advised that in my assessment, the survival rate for these volunteers is practically zero.* *Therefore, those willing to sacrifice their lives to preserve Order in Wien, report to me to enlist."* All three had received the exact same crow message. Vic marveled, "Well, that's blunt." Gaspol said, "Because anyone going to that place will know full well that coming back alive is virtually impossible. Deception serves no purpose." Karen observed thoughtfully, "It seems the Head Bishop has already consulted with the expert panel from above and understands how dire the situation really is. This call for volunteers was probably the panel's suggestion." "Yes, most likely. Dedicated personnel will lead the mission, but they will certainly need assistants to support them. And those assistants are destined to be sacrificed." An oppressive silence filled the car, though fortunately, they soon reached the Church Affairs Building. The moment Karen and Gaspol stepped out of the vehicle, an officer from the Head Bishop's office escorted them into the elevator. When they entered the conference room, they found it packed to capacity. Gaspol took a seat beside Bern. Karen found no open spot at the table; aside from the Head Bishop and the Regional Chief, the round table was filled with newly arrived experts from above, along with figures wearing clerical robes of the Church of Principles. Karen simply pulled up a chair in the back and sat down. The meeting was presided over by a white-haired elder, who instructed an aide to brief Gaspol and Karen on what had already been discussed while signaling for the conference to proceed. Completely resolving the contamination source in the short term appeared out of the question. It remained unclear whether the task was simply too difficult and costly, or if they were unwilling to obliterate it outright. Thus, the core agenda became how to stably seal this source of pollution. Consistent with what his grandfather had said, the first step was retrieving the three divine artifacts inside. In the end, it still boiled down to sending in volunteers—a suicide squad... or more accurately, a martyrdom squad. The remainder of the discussion revolved around how to enable this team to infiltrate successfully, retrieve the artifacts, and provide adequate logistical and tactical support. The consensus so far was that four "experts" would lead the operation—two from Order and two from Principles. They would handle the core technical tasks, backed by a support squad of roughly twenty members. It felt very much like hiring twenty bodyguards to escort a panel of experts through a death zone. Once the meeting drifted into granular technicalities, Karen's mind began to wander. The details no longer required his undivided attention. Hindered only by a slight delay in realization, he now fully understood Bern's earlier fury at the scene. Many of the experts seated here had known about the experiment beforehand; in fact, several had been among its organizers. They simply didn't have to set foot on the front line. During the meeting, three more groups arrived, all expert officials who had just rushed over. Karen spotted a familiar face among them. When this man entered, an official seated at the round table stood to offer him a seat, but the newcomer ignored it. Instead, he made a beeline for Karen, clapped a hand on Karen's shoulder, and pulled up a chair beside him. "You rascal, we meet again." Unable to stand and salute properly, Karen bowed from his chair. "Greetings, Teacher." It was Piro, who had briefly instructed him in array formation insights back in the Dinge Region. "Lord Piro, please join us here for the discussion," someone invited. "You carry on with your talk. Later, I'll take the array personnel directly to liaise with the bishop overseeing array formations here," Piro said, unable to resist grumbling, "What a damn mess you people made!" Many in the room looked distinctly uncomfortable. Everyone present knew that once this crisis was brought under control, many seated here would be held accountable. The only reason they were still sitting here working on damage control was that if the aftermath was botched and the contamination spread, far more terrifying punishments awaited them. "After the meeting, want to find a place for tea?" Piro asked quietly. "Well..." "Don't worry, the concrete plan isn't finalized yet. Once it is, they still have to select personnel, gather supplies, and run training. It'll take at least two or three days." "Understood, Teacher." "Mm." Piro stopped reminiscing, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes—looking as if he were dozing, yet perhaps listening intently to the ongoing debate. The meeting dragged on late into the night before finally adjourning. As the room cleared, Karen asked Piro, "Teacher, do you need to rest now?" "No rest. Time might seem plentiful, but sleeping through this would weigh on my conscience. How about this: go notify the bishop overseeing arrays in this region... "This region's bishop isn't a part-timer, is he?" By "part-timer," he meant someone without an array formation background who had been placed in charge of the department—a case of a layman managing experts, which was hardly rare anywhere. "Bishop Delon is the foremost array master in our Yorktown Region." "Where is he now?" "Guarding the front line." "Then please send word to him. If the situation permits, have him come over. I need to hold a brief session with him and the other array masters deployed from above." "Understood. When he arrives, I will personally escort him to you." "Heh." Piro grinned. "I've always liked your thirst for knowledge." Piro had misunderstood. Karen was merely accompanying his grandfather to the meeting, but Piro assumed Karen didn't want to miss a high-level summit of master array practitioners. "I'll take my leave for now, Teacher." "Mm, go ahead. I won't be sleeping tonight." "Understood, Teacher." Karen rose, left his seat, and passed the message to Vic, who was waiting at the door. Vic immediately departed to notify Bishop Delon. "Hey, Karen," Bern's voice called out. Karen walked over, and the two stepped into the elevator together. The moment the elevator doors slid shut, Bern spat, "That first batch of experts—every single damn one of them is guilty." "Is that why they arrived the fastest?" Karen asked. "Yes, because they've been monitoring the experiment's progress every step of the way." Karen noted, "Davins and his faction will probably use this incident to stir up trouble." "Of course they will. Presuming to 'create a god' as followers of Order—ridiculous. But I'm not speaking up for those bastards who arrived first; their goal in 'creating a god' wasn't to produce a deity to place on an altar and worship. They wanted to harness the power of a god. "Looking at it from another angle, developing a deity as an instrument doesn't strictly violate the tenets of Order, does it?" The elevator began ascending. Bern added, "Now all we can do is pray that the initial retrieval mission succeeds. If it fails, heh... maybe I'll start running expedition tours and charging admission." "Have the personnel assignments been settled?" "The expert panel will provide the specialists. Four of them." "Meaning the entire support squad has to come from our region?" "Yes." "How will the personnel be chosen?" Karen asked. "Didn't you receive my crow? You should have been on my broadcast list. In fact, one of them flew to me as well, heh." "You can still laugh." "Why shouldn't I laugh?" Bern paused, then seemed to understand Karen's skepticism. "Karen, I believe and know that you are a devout believer in Order. But you must also believe that in this world, there are many, many believers just as devout as you—or even more so." "I certainly believe that." "Certainly?" The elevator doors opened, and Bern led Karen toward his Head Bishop office. Grasping the door handle, he said, "Many believers, many priests, simply go about their daily routines in their posts. They slack off, they stay cautious, they pull strings, they flatter, they pocket bribes, and occasionally they even breach the Code of Order. But there is a reason our Church of Order defeated the Church of Light a thousand years ago and became the supreme faith today." Bern pointed a finger at himself, then pointed at Karen. "You and I easily succumb to loneliness. Back when I dwelt in the dark, that feeling was especially suffocating. Yet there is one thing I have always believed in, something that has continuously granted me drive and hope. Do you want to know what it is?" Karen nodded. "I do." "Before heading down to the meeting, I deliberately left the office window wide open. So let's see—after broadcasting a message declaring that volunteering is virtually a death sentence, how many priests from our region have stepped forward on their own." *Creak...* Bern pushed open the heavy office doors. Inside, a tempest of crows took flight in wild disarray.