Karen's List!

From the bookshelves to the desk, from the floor to the chandelier, from potted plants to the pen rack—every conceivable spot in the office where a creature could perch was packed with ravens. Even more circled overhead with nowhere to land. The roar whipped up by their flapping wings surged through the doorway like a crashing tide the moment the door swung open. Every single raven represented a priest volunteering for the mission. Even after the Head Bishop had made it abundantly clear that volunteers had virtually no chance of survival, his office was overflowing with ravens carrying their applications. "Heheheh... Hahaha... Hahaha..." Head Bishop Bern threw his arms wide and let out a hearty laugh. He had once walked in darkness. His family's intricate plots had emptied the cage to make room for a new bird, thoroughly subjugating the Church of Pamires into a mere vassal of Order. That had been an agonizingly long period. What had sustained him as he walked alone through that darkness was precisely what he saw before him now—these countless ravens, unsummoned yet destined to arrive, chattering in defiance of despair. Bern turned slowly, looked at Karen, and said: "There are some people who get agitated and worked up the moment they witness a single scandal in our church. They wave their arms and scream that the entire divine church is corrupt to the core. "Their brains aren't even as big as the two walnuts dangling between their legs. "A single hand blocking their vision makes them think they're looking at the whole world. "They can't see the big picture. That's why they turn pessimistic so easily, turn resentful, turn radical, and sink into cynicism. "Karen, I dare say I've seen more of our church's dark side than almost anyone else alive. The filth I've personally disposed of is too vast to count. "Yet I've never despaired, nor have I ever lost heart. "True, every now and then, I might feel a touch of loneliness. "But I have never felt alone. "Since the dawn of this era, our Church of Order rose through relentless struggle, emerged victorious from its war against Light, and grew over this past millennium to become the foremost religion in the world. "This is the finest proof of all. "It proves that there are countless people like me—men and women who may usually remain silent, who may never raise their voices, but who quietly dedicate themselves and offer their support from their posts. "If this church were made up entirely of the filthy priests you've crossed paths with, it could never have lasted until today, could it? "After all, this is a church capable of commanding the First Knight Order, a church where people are willing to continue dedicating themselves to its cause even after death. "I don't know them, and they probably don't know me. But reality proves to us that we truly exist for one another. I—we—will never walk alone." Karen said nothing. In all honesty, the sight before him had shaken him to his core. He had seen Qihe's greed, and he had seen the rot within the Norton family. Indeed, stains and scandals always drew attention more easily, capturing the gaze while blinding one to the truth: inside the Church of Order, there were many men like Pavaro. Clap! Clap! Clap! Bern clapped his hands. In an instant, every black raven collapsed into sheets of black spell paper, stacking themselves into neat, towering piles on the desk. They were the roster of volunteers. Karen turned and closed the office door. "Karen, there's no ice left, but there is cold tea. Do you mind?" "Not at all." The two sat opposite each other on the sofa. Karen picked up the cup of cold tea and took a sip. His brow furrowed slightly. Not only was it cold, but it also carried a faint, fishy tang. He had no idea what bizarre tea leaves the Head Bishop drank. Bern said, "There's a sacred matter I'd like you to decide." "You aren't asking me to pick the volunteers, are you?" "Yes, that's exactly what I mean." "Don't you think that's too cruel?" "Cruel?" Bern shook his head. "You have to go through this stage sooner or later, Karen. Besides, I don't believe this bit of cruelty is more than you can bear." Karen shook his head, but he did not voice an outright refusal. Just as he and Bern had teamed up earlier to pressure Gaspol into playing by the rules, his own interactions with Bern were governed by rules he had to respect. Bern continued, "We often wish we could live pure lives, but reality rarely grants us that luxury. Some things simply have to be done by someone, even if it looks like soiling your own hands, even if it brings inward moral unease. Everyone wants to be Sandy, immaculate in sacred, untainted feathers during the sacrificial rite, but someone still has to take up the broom and rag to scrub the altar clean. We are those people." "I understand." "The plan calls for twenty people. The roster should be finalized before dawn tomorrow so they can undergo rapid training. "We need to explain to them precisely what happened and what consequences will follow if this isn't contained immediately. As for the dangers, and the fact that surviving might mean living a life worse than death from the pollution—we must lay all of it out for them in plain terms." Karen nodded. "That is only right." "Indeed. The greatest difference between our Church of Order and other churches is that our doctrines never preach about abysses, paradises, the embrace of the moon, or eternal resting places—no warm homelands where believers go after death. Nor do we preach bliss in the next life or degrees of atonement, let alone describe the God of Order welcoming your soul to rest with open arms... "We only tell our followers that life happens only once. A person has only this single existence. Even those who enter the First Knight Order understand perfectly well that they are already dead. "We reject reincarnation, we despise the abyss, and we dismiss moonlight, because the eyes of the faithful of Order look only at the ground beneath our feet. "Thus, the true greatness of Order lies in never feeding you false dreams to trick you into making sacrifices. We will tell you clearly what the purpose of that sacrifice is, while calling upon you to use your one and only life to contribute to the preservation of Order." Karen raised the unpalatable cold tea, took another sip, and said, "I just feel that discussing the greatness of sacrifice in an atmosphere like this feels emotionally jarring." Deep down, Karen still resented how this had happened. He felt some regret now. Had he known the experiment was doomed to fail even without his interference, he wouldn't have hesitated that day. He would have broken through the board with Neo, saved Luther, or arranged for Luther to suffer a 'sudden heart attack' to bring about a natural end. Either way, the outcome couldn't have been worse than this. "Yes. Having our people pay with their lives to clean up a catastrophic mess someone else created leaves a bad taste in anyone's mouth. "However, it has already happened. "Accountability can wait until later. What we must do now is muster the courage and responsibility to thoroughly eliminate the imminent danger before us. "In the end, duty comes first. "I know you feel what those people did violated the doctrines of Order. Personally, while I find their actions despicable, I can understand their motives to some degree. It failed, but what if it had succeeded? "Particularly under the shadow of the prophecy foretelling the return of the gods, our Church of Order, as the world's preeminent faith, faces the greatest pressure from the impending upheavals. Securing the power of a deity right now would have offered immense aid for what lies ahead. "Sigh... "In short, the world isn't a children's storybook. Distinguishing justice from evil, right from wrong, has never been simple. In fact, it's alive, constantly hopping back and forth across the line between right and wrong. "For now, we have to put that aside, don't we?" "Yes." "Pick the candidates as soon as you can." "Understood." Bern rang the desk bell. An attendant brought in dinner, placing a tray before Karen as well. "It won't taste as good as the food at your house, but it'll fill your stomach." "Thank you." Karen shared a simple dinner—or rather, a late-night snack—with Bern in the office. Afterward, they left the office together and entered the elevator, parting on different floors. Bern had follow-up meetings to attend, while Karen had been met by Delon, who was taking him to see Piro. When Delon met him, the exhaustion on the old man's face was unmistakable. Yet he was holding a thermal container, smiling at Karen. "My wife made wontons for me. Want to share?" "Madam brought them in person?" "Yes, she was waiting for me outside the Church Affairs Building just now." Karen didn't mention he had just eaten. He smiled and nodded. "Gladly." Delon knocked on a door, and a middle-aged man opened it. He looked at Karen and said, "I'm Nebas. You must be Karen. My teacher speaks of you often. He said your talent far exceeds mine." Karen noticed the subtle pattern on the man's clerical robe—a dark red cluster. That indicated his rank in the Dinge Region was at least director of a department, putting him on equal bureaucratic footing with Delon, who was now a regional bishop. Naturally, anyone chosen to join the expert panel for this crisis was no ordinary figure. Yet his attitude was very clear: he deliberately bypassed official titles, acting more like a senior apprentice meeting a junior apprentice, or an elder disciple meeting his master's latest chosen pupil. "Hello. I have always been grateful for Master Piro's guidance." "We should exchange notes more often in the future. If you ever visit the Dinge Region, come find me directly. I'll introduce you to more friends in our circle." It was mere courtesy. Karen knew he had quite a reputation, but it was hardly an endearing one. This 'senior apprentice' had undoubtedly known about him for a long time. If he had genuinely wanted to build rapport and bring Karen into his circle, where had he been before? It was only because Piro was in the room that he felt the need to put on a show for his teacher. "Of course. It would be my honor." Standing behind them, Delon felt a twinge of discomfort seeing Karen with another array master. But then he remembered he wasn't Karen's teacher; he was Karen's actual grandfather. With that, the slight sourness vanished instantly. After greeting Karen, Nebas promptly exchanged courtesies with Delon. When they entered, they saw Piro sitting informally on the desk, smoking a pipe. Seven people sat on the sofa facing him. Two belonged to the Church of Principles, and five were from the Church of Order, including a young man and woman. Piro asked, "Delon Guman?" "Greetings, my lord." Delon offered a formal salute. "No, no, none of that. I'm retired now. Technically, I should be saluting you." Piro waved off Delon's courtesy. "Sit. Let's discuss the matter together." With that, Piro tapped out his pipe and began repacking it with tobacco. Nebas pulled out a lighter, ready to light it for his teacher. Piro leaned away and looked toward Karen. Karen stepped forward, glanced across the desk, picked up a box of matches resting there, and struck one with a crisp snap. Piro leaned his pipe in, drew a satisfying puff, and let out an enchanted sigh as he exhaled a plume of smoke. Watching this, Nebas could only muster a wry smile. Parents struggled to treat their children with complete impartiality, let alone teachers. Parents at least maintained some restraint, but teachers often favored their proteges with shameless bias. Piro asked Karen, "How much of the notebook I gave you last time have you read?" "All of it," Karen replied honestly. Piro asked again, "How much of it did you understand?" "I've finished reading all of it." "Heh, you brat." Piro took another pull on his pipe. "You still need to put in some effort." "I will heed your instruction, Master." Piro was very pleased with Karen's attitude. Of course, he also understood the nuance behind Karen's answer. He had given Karen an extraordinarily thick volume of notes. To have finished reading the entire thing in such a short time was already remarkable. "Can we proceed, Piro?" An elderly man wearing the clerical robes of Order spoke with a hint of impatience. Piro pointed his pipe toward him and said to Karen, "Karen, this is Hoses Bourne, one of the organizers behind this experiment." Hoses frowned. "Is there any need to waste time on introductions?" Piro shrugged. "Hoses, watch your tone. You ran this sort of experiment in the Yorktown Region and stirred up a disaster this big. The head of this region's Whip of Order is standing right in front of you. If you don't mind your manners, don't be surprised if my student beats the daylights out of you." "You—" "'You' what? Karen is the head of the Yorktown Region's Law Enforcement Department. You read the newspapers, don't you? Haha, this student of mine doesn't have the gentlest temper. He's fully capable of thrashing you. Since you're retired and don't hold an active office, him beating you wouldn't even count as striking a superior." Karen looked at Hoses, his gaze turning chilly. Just then, the young woman beside Hoses stood up and snapped at Karen, "Mind your attitude!" Hearing that, Karen took a step toward her. Hoses reached out and pressed down on his female student's shoulder. "Marina, sit down." "Yes, Master." Hoses said to Karen, "The church will hold us accountable for our mistakes later. For now, can we focus on handling this thorny situation first?" Karen offered neither agreement nor disagreement and simply sat on the sofa. Delon opened the thermal container and handed Karen a fork. Karen took it and joined his grandfather in eating the dry-tossed wontons his grandmother had made. Hoses looked at Delon and asked, "Could you brief us on the situation at the front lines while you eat?" "Certainly." Delon was entirely unfazed, continuing to brief them between bites. He was, after all, the man who had managed to marry Madam Tangli; decades of domestic turbulence had forged him into someone who didn't rattle easily. Once Delon finished, Piro and the others began their deliberations. There were two plans on the table: one for how to combine arrays to seal the karst cave if the divine artifacts inside were successfully retrieved, and another for how to maintain a long-term containment standoff if the retrieval failed. Karen didn't interject. Having finished his wontons, he sat there listening in silence. In truth, these discussions held little personal value for him. They centered around large-scale arrays that required coordinated teams and vast quantities of precious array materials. The technical threshold on an individual level wasn't high; the true difficulty lay in collective coordination. When the discussion concluded, Piro led Hoses, Delon, and the others to a larger conference hall to coordinate the next steps with other departments. Only Karen, Marina, and the other young man were left on the sofas in the temporary office. Karen couldn't be bothered to engage them and silently packed up the thermal container. "You've kept that cold face the entire time. Can't you tone it down a little?" Marina asked. Karen drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said nothing. The young man beside her said, "My name is Kratos—Kratos Al Dinks. Pleased to meet you, Director Karen." "Hello." "My younger sister is a big fan of yours. She's still studying at the Church University, but her bedroom wall is covered in newspaper clippings about you." "Thank you." Karen stood up with the thermal container, ready to leave. Marina stood up as well and said, "Our only fault was that the experiment failed!" Karen looked at her and said, "If we weren't counting on you to help resolve the crisis at hand, I would have already had you and your master thrown into the Whip of Order's cells." "Who do you think you're intimidating?!" Kratos held up a hand. "Marina, I fully believe our director here is capable of doing exactly that. He isn't making empty threats. In my sister's words, that's just part of Director Karen's charm." Marina took several steps forward until she was nearly nose-to-nose with Karen. "We will atone for the consequences of our failed experiment ourselves! I specialize in arrays, and Kratos specializes in the operation of holy relics. The two of us have already been chosen to enter the cave to retrieve the divine artifacts and holy relics, while two others will come from the Church of Principles. "So put away your temper, because we are paying for our mistake with our lives!" As she spoke, Marina jabbed a finger toward Karen. "Agh!" Marina let out a sharp cry of pain. Karen had seized her finger and twisted it downward. The excruciating agony forced her sideways, bending her double. Spirituality surged from Marina, but an even more violent wave erupted from Karen. The message was unmistakable: make a move, and I will beat you mercilessly. In the end, Marina abandoned any thought of striking back, shouting stubbornly, "Let go of me!" "I don't know how your master taught you manners, but I will tell you this: cleaning up your own mess is something even toddlers understand. You have no right to act like you're doing something noble here." Kratos hurriedly stepped in to mediate. "Director Karen, please don't break her finger. She still needs to dismantle arrays inside the cave." Karen released his grip. "If you die in that cave, no one will mourn you. You deserve to die there, and so does your master." "How dare you insult my master! You—Aaargh!" Karen exerted force once more, drawing another agonizing shriek from Marina. This time, it wasn't just her finger—her entire arm felt as if it were being torn from its socket. "Do you know that our region has to draft twenty people just to support your mission? Do you have any idea how many of them will come out alive?" Marina fell silent. Karen let go again, picked up the thermal container, and walked out of the office. Kratos stepped forward to check on her, asking with concern, "Are you alright? Why did you have to provoke that madman? Haven't you heard about the things he's done?" "I just couldn't stand the way he looked at us." "He wasn't wrong to look at us like that." "But we weren't wrong either! The experiment itself wasn't wrong!" "Fine, fine, not wrong, not wrong. I suppose in a few days, if we manage to walk out of that cave alive, we can endure the agonizing corruption while continuing to debate what's right and wrong." Marina glanced at Kratos. "Are you scared?" "Of course I don't fucking want to die, dammit!" Kratos suddenly bellowed. "If I had stayed with Master for a few more years, I could have advanced to the divine hall and had a shot at becoming an attendant of the Artifact Hall! What about now? I don't believe I'll walk out alive. Even if by some miracle I do, once I submit the mission report, I'll probably kill myself!" "Then tell your master! Tell him you don't want to go in!" "How could I? My master was a participant in this project alongside yours. If the disciples don't go in, are the masters supposed to go first? Besides, if we fail, they'll have to go in anyway." Kratos clenched his fists, shook them twice, and suddenly laughed. "Besides, I am a follower of Order. There are things I would have to do even if they had nothing to do with me, let alone when I'm personally involved. Director Karen was right just now." "Right about what?" "As members of Order, walking into that place is nothing to boast about." *** Instead of returning to his office, Karen walked down to the entrance of the Church Affairs Building and stepped into the flower garden out front. He found a bench, sat down, and pulled out a cigarette. Just then, the thermal container beside him was lifted. It was his grandmother, Madam Tangli. "Grandmother, you haven't left yet?" "What, didn't you bring the container down specifically because you knew I hadn't left?" Karen silently lit his cigarette. "Where's your grandfather? Still in the meeting?" "Yes." "I heard about the situation from him, because it involves you." "It has nothing to do with me." "Karen, don't you dare do something rash. You are not allowed to go! Let others go!" "I never said I was going. What's gotten into you and Grandfather?" "Think of your parents, Karen. Divine pollution... truly isn't something you should ever touch." Karen exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze distant. "Aren't you hesitating right now about whether to go?" "I'm not, Grandmother." "Promise me you won't go." "Alright, Grandmother, I promise. How could I possibly go? My position is so high, and it wouldn't be my turn anyway. Countless people have already applied—even the clerks working behind the counters on the ground floor put their names down." Holding the thermal container, Madam Tangli found herself at a loss for words. After a long pause, she could only ask softly: "Karen, are you alright?" "Why wouldn't I be? I just want to sit here alone for a while. Forgive me, Grandmother." "I understand. You have important work to do. I'll head home first. Tomorrow I'll bring lunch for your grandfather, and I'll pack a portion for you too." "Thank you, Grandmother." Madam Tangli turned and walked away. Karen leaned back against the bench, facing the sky with his arms stretched out along the backrest, flicking the cigarette ash. In truth, Karen knew very well that his resistance to pollution was extraordinarily high. Setting aside protective gear, there was likely no one in the entire Church Affairs Building more resilient against corruption than him. Yet this wasn't ordinary pollution—it was divine pollution. The conditions inside were unknown, and there were bound to be dangers beyond mere corruption. If he entered, his survival rate would be higher than that of others, but not by much. "Sigh..." Karen tossed the cigarette butt aside and lowered his head. On the steps in the distance, Vic stood watching his director sitting in the flower garden. Bern's figure materialized beside Vic, stretching his arms. "Damn it, looks like this meeting is going to drag on until dawn." "Lord Head Bishop." Vic immediately bowed. "Just stepped out for some fresh air. What are you doing? Ah, watching your director?" "Yes. I feel like the director is hesitating." "Hesitating?" Hearing that, Bern chuckled. "It seems you truly don't know your director at all." "What?" That comment hit Vic surprisingly hard. He was practically one of Karen's devoted followers now. Fortunately, Mr. Alfred wasn't here, or he would have pulled Vic aside for another ideological lecture. "By the way, is the roster ready?" "Not yet. We're waiting for the director to make the final selection." "Alright. Remind him for me. We need the list soon." "Understood, Lord Head Bishop." Bern stretched again, and his form vanished from the spot. Just as Vic was still brooding over the remark that he didn't know his director, Karen suddenly appeared before him. "What are you spacing out for?" "Ah, Director!" "Come on. Back to the office to get to work." "Yes, Director!" Karen led Vic back to Bern's office. He walked straight over and sat down in the Head Bishop's executive chair, facing several towering stacks of application forms. "Director, should we start selecting now?" Vic asked. Karen didn't answer immediately. He clapped his hands, and as a thread of spirituality was drawn into the paper, the spell sheets transformed back into black ravens, fluttering erratically throughout the office. It was fortunate these ravens were made of paper. Had they been living birds, the droppings they left behind would have been enough to force the Head Bishop to repaint his entire office. Karen reached out and picked up the copy of *Light of Order* resting on the desk—a standard fixture on nearly every priest's desk. Whip of Order members usually had a copy of the *Code of Order* alongside it. "Heh, it's the latest edition." For an esteemed Head Bishop to keep the latest edition of *Light of Order* on his desk really showed he had no concern for putting on airs of status. Older editions had fewer revisions and often contained more unfiltered historical accounts. Yet Karen wasn't searching for expunged details. He stopped turning pages at a specific passage. It recorded the God of Order suppressing the God-Burial Grounds. When deities died, their remains became terrifying sources of corruption. The God-Burial Grounds were a colossal realm of contamination. During the Age of Light, the God of Light had chosen to negotiate to keep the God-Burial Grounds placated. In the Age of Order, the God of Order refused all negotiation. He entered alone, trampled the God-Burial Grounds beneath his feet, and had Kevin—no, Raniedal—banish the place. In Raniedal's memories, the nearly omnipotent God of Order had emerged from the God-Burial Grounds visibly injured. Karen chuckled. "Heh." Sitting by the secretary's desk, Vic watched the ravens swirling around the room, then heard his director's sudden chuckle. It only deepened his confusion and heightened his dread. "So Grandfather and Grandmother weren't worrying for nothing after all. I was just a bit slow to realize it. I never planned to face it actively, but my dictionary doesn't contain the word 'retreat.'" Karen rubbed his fingertips over the printed lines. "Your deeds are praised and worshipped by others, but for me, they merely set the floor." Karen raised his hand. Having had their fill of frolicking, the ravens descended, turning once more into towering stacks of application papers. "Vic." "Here, Director." "Come over and make the selection. Choose thirteen from this pile." "Huh? Director, aren't we supposed to pick twenty?" "Because I've already chosen seven. I'll read off the names; write them down." "Oh, alright, Director. Go ahead." "Leon, Philomena, Muri, Ventura, Alfred..." Karen paused. A jolt went through Vic. Scribbling furiously, he shouted before he could be left off: "Vic!" Karen nodded, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. "Karen." Vic finished writing and handed the list to Karen. To his own surprise, he felt neither terror nor dread. Instead, a sense of grounded calm settled over him. He even cracked a smile and made a joke: "Director, heheh, if something goes wrong, will our entire team get wiped out?" "Heheheh." Karen chuckled as well. "Vic, write down a message on behalf of Alfred while he isn't here, then pass it to him." "Yes, Director!" Vic immediately pulled out a small notebook—the identical model Alfred always carried. Karen rose, placing the paper bearing the seven names atop the thick stack of applications before him. "We are going to stand in front of them."