Piaget's Prophecy!

Quito and Marina finally understood upon hearing this. Both immediately rose to their feet and vacated their seats, while the others to either side shifted down one by one. Karen turned, faced the rostrum, and sat down. Once he was seated, the group that had remained standing sat down in unison. There were no slogans, no commands, yet it was strikingly orderly. Coupled with what Heseth had said earlier—"You chose your own direct subordinates as volunteers"—the atmosphere instantly shifted. The shift from "Charge ahead!" to "Follow me!" It was tragic heroism, but even more so, openhearted integrity—an embodiment of genuine selflessness and fearlessness. By now, nearly every gaze in the hall—as well as those looking through the communication arrays—had converged on this spot. Karen's status was completely different from that of the four "experts." These four were merely students of their respective mentors, entering the karst cave in their teachers' stead. And while their teachers held venerable, noble status, most were already retired. Karen, on the other hand, was the current Minister of the Law Enforcement Department of the York City Region's Whip of Order. Within the Whip of Order system, the Minister of Law Enforcement was conventionally the first in precedence among all minister positions at any given level. Most importantly, Karen was very young. The incidents in his past had forcefully "tarnished" his youth, creating an unspoken shackle that restrained any possibility of him climbing higher. Yet at this moment, that restraint was rendered completely null and void. After all, youthful arrogance and youthful sincerity were two entirely different concepts. Political influence was an invisible, intangible, yet undeniably real thing. It wasn't that one could never rise without the backing and shelter of factions or cliques, but if they all tacitly united to boycott you, you were almost certainly finished. They might squabble among themselves, but by tacit convention, they all maintained the stability of the chessboard, never allowing a piece that didn't play by the rules to rise. Bourne had been treated like this, and Karen had been too. Except Bourne was advanced in age, and for him, rather than taking some high-ranking post in the Dinge Region, it was far better to remain as Regional Head to wield real executive power and get things done. But Karen—he was young. And so, when a young man like him chose to step forward in this manner—and stand at the very front—this single act was enough to wash away every negative mark from his past. Ideologies might differ, political stances might differ, and future plans might differ... but who could reject someone willing to sacrifice their own interests and take the initiative to contribute toward the greater good? You could argue with him until you were red in the face or nearly come to blows, but you couldn't truly despise him. Everything from the past was wiped clean in this moment; his personal image and standing were completely redefined. When Bourne first received the roster and saw "Karen" written on the very top line, he had been shocked as well. He had never expected Karen to do this, and had even felt a faint twinge of regret, wondering whether the flock of ravens he revealed behind his office door that day had given the young man too great a shock. Yet Bourne didn't waste time worrying whether Karen could come out alive, nor whether a tainted Karen would still be able to work even if he survived... Bourne was a realist and a pragmatist. He wouldn't dwell on pointless anxieties. Instead, he had made up his mind to look on the bright side and help pave a new road for Karen first. It just so happened that Heseth beside him had spent virtually his entire life in research. When it came to scheming and political maneuvering, Heseth wasn't fit to carry Bourne's boots. Bourne had merely dug an offhand pit, and Heseth had foolishly leapt straight in. Bourne had originally arranged for a trusted bishop of his own to "speak up," but having an outsider do the honors worked out even better. Heseth flushed—half from anger, realizing he had been played for a fool by the Head Bishop, and half from shame. Indeed, once he learned Karen would personally lead the team inside, the resentment stirred by Karen's disrespect the night before vanished at once, replaced by profound self-reproach for his own conduct. He sank back into his seat and lowered his head. *Fortunately, there are no journalists present today.* Still, this news would inevitably spread. While everyone's loyalty to Order was equal upon signing up, the higher-ups generally considered cost-effectiveness when choosing volunteers. Yet this time, the York City Region had clearly done no such thing. The meeting commenced. First was a briefing on the situation, informing everyone of what had occurred, followed by an introduction of the resolution methods... In short, when it came to this matter, the Church of Order truly lived up to its promise: *I am sending you to die, but I will let you die knowing why.* The final segment of the meeting was to pay tribute to the volunteer team. Lord Kumute, head of the incident response team, took the volunteer roster from Bourne and read the names aloud, one by one. Each volunteer whose name was called stood up to receive applause. The last name called was Karen. For the roster Bourne handed to Lord Kumute was a second copy he had transcribed at the last moment, deliberately moving Karen—who had originally been on the first line—to the very bottom. One must not underestimate this minor shift in position, nor dismiss such little maneuvers as negligible. After all, countless pairs of eyes were watching this meeting through the communication arrays. Deepening the impression by a single fraction now would yield tenfold leniency in the future. Celebrities at the Wien Film Festival staged deliberate falls just to prolong their time on the red carpet for a few more photographs; Before a conference, seating arrangements seemed like a trivial matter, yet they invariably demanded utmost caution from the organizers; One could only say that when it came to Karen's future, Bourne was genuinely invested, taking great pains on his behalf. When Karen rose to his feet, the applause reached its peak. With a single glance from Bourne, several high-ranking priests seated below stood up. This motion spurred even more people across the floor to follow suit. Seeing others rise, the rest stood as well. Under this chain reaction, bishops sitting along the edges of the rostrum stood up; Bourne rose as well. At that point, no one else felt comfortable remaining seated. The entire hall was on its feet, applauding Karen. In truth, the tribute wasn't entirely meant for Karen alone; it was an expression of respect for the entire cohort of volunteers. Yet as the last person to stand, as well as the highest-ranking and most watched among them, Karen fully reaped the collective dividends of this volunteer team. Ordinary believers, priests, and even those exalted lords couldn't remember that many names. In the end, the grand sacrifice of a collective would inevitably be distilled into a single concrete figurehead. Thus, this act of great devotion would ultimately forge an enduring cognitive impression. Whenever this incident was mentioned in the future, it would be symbolized by a single name: the young Minister Karen. The collective glory coalescing upon a single person... would bestow an immeasurable boon upon him. Karen hadn't intended this. He could say with a clear conscience that when he put his own name on the list, it had stemmed entirely from public duty. If he truly had a selfish motive, it was probably just that he refused to be outdone by the God of Order. Yet he was merely the actor, whereas Bourne was the director. When the director swung the spotlight squarely onto you and framed a deliberate close-up, you couldn't make a scene and sabotage the show. You could only play your part, while quietly reminding yourself in your heart to bring back as many of them alive as possible. The meeting concluded amid an enthusiastic atmosphere. Next, the volunteer team was arranged for specialized training without a single moment's rest. In a separate, small council chamber, the twenty-four volunteers took their seats again. Instructors entered in wave after wave, rotating out continuously after delivering their lessons. Even the teachers of the four experts lectured in person. The only minor hitch was Karen's exceptional status, which far surpassed everyone else's. Before each instructor began their lesson, after the volunteers had bowed in greeting, the instructor would exchange a separate, mutual bow with Karen. The training covered everything from corruption, divine artifacts, and operational plans to handling special contingencies and analyzing related bizarre occurrences... The lessons ran uninterrupted for a full thirty-six hours. They ate in the classroom, rushed to the restroom, and were crammed with information given the limited time. Everything was aimed at maximizing the mission's success rate. Karen already understood arrays and corruption. Funnily enough... he likely understood divine artifacts better than anyone else present. What was more, he had sought out an evil god beforehand for private tutoring. Yet from start to finish, Karen did not rush to show off. For the most part, he listened as attentively as everyone else. Still, there were those who slacked off even at such a crucial moment. Neo, for instance, sat back with his arms crossed, eyes closed and dozing off, nodding subtly every now and then to create the illusion that he was listening intently. And while everyone else ate quick, simple meals, he would pull out red wine and sip it glass by glass. Finally, the crash course ended. Everyone was granted a three-hour rest period, complete with dedicated priests providing one-on-one blessings to maximize their rest in the shortest possible time—an extraordinary luxury. Karen declined. Instead of going, he headed early to the equipment distribution room to receive his gear. Neo didn't go either; he was well-rested, having slept his fill during the lectures. "Oh, heavens, they really spared no expense. These robes must be top-tier in the Church." Neo picked up a divine robe and held it against his chest to measure it. "How many point coupons would it take to custom-order one of these?" Truly high-end robes could possess specific attributes; this set inherently possessed corruption resistance, its only flaw being its exorbitant cost. In addition to the high-grade robes, each person received two defensive sacred artifacts: one with corruption resistance, and the other offering mental protection. There were also various scrolls and potions, all premium-grade—the sort one would merely browse in a point coupon shop and never actually buy, permanent fixtures in showcase counters across the regions. "Tsk, tsk. If I flipped all this on the black market, just imagine how many point coupons I'd make," Neo marveled once more. "These are meant to keep you alive," Karen reminded him. "Are you seriously asking a gambler whether his life or his gambling stake is more important?" Karen didn't argue further, quietly sorting the items into more specific categories. "Hey, if you make it out alive this time, your seniority and credentials will be completely solidified. Did you plan this with Bourne in advance?" "No." "Then that's truly rare. He's sparing no effort to push you into the limelight. What's his angle?" "Maybe it's because my cooking is good." Neo rolled his eyes. "We haven't even stepped into the cave yet. Why do I already feel like you've been corrupted?" Just then, Richard walked in. "How are things?" Karen asked. "I've rested enough. Jerry's been helping me regulate my energy these past two days," Richard answered with a smile, though he couldn't help rubbing the back of his neck—where the mark of his grandmother's affectionate blow remained. Neo said in slight disbelief, "Your grandparents actually let you come?" Richard replied, "They probably went through some internal struggle, but in the end, they chose the right way to face it." Neo shrugged. "Good for you, thinking of it that way." Afterward, those who had gone to rest began trickling back, and everyone set about familiarizing themselves with their gear. At that moment, Karen was summoned alone to a meeting room, where Bourne, Heseth, Piro, and several others were seated. Karen bowed to them. Bourne didn't beat around the bush and asked directly, "Regarding the team command, do you need us to step in and adjust things for you?" Heseth said, "We are in unanimous agreement that you are the most suitable person to command this team. Whether in terms of seniority or capability, none of the others come close to you." Piro blew out a ring of smoke and added, "Breadth of spirit, too." The corner of Heseth's mouth twitched, and he glared at Piro. Piro glared right back at him. Had the setting permitted, these two retired elders might very well have traded blows over a single disagreement. Karen replied, "I can handle the coordination myself." "Good, then do as you see fit. You will set out for the karst cave in three hours. Upon reaching the barrier's periphery, you will receive blessings and protection from divine artifacts. By our estimate, the official start time for entering the cave and initiating the mission should be in about six hours." "Understood." "Mhm. Stay safe. I won't be seeing you off; I'll be waiting for you to return and report on the mission's outcome." "Yes, Lord Head Bishop." Karen turned and took his leave. Piro sighed and said, "A waste, a monstrous waste! This is burning priceless master paintings just to boil water." Bourne said, "Thinking that way is fundamentally mistaken. Under Order, all are equal." "Yet Order has different divisions of labor! You have no idea how extraordinarily gifted this boy Karen is in the way of arrays. If he resigned from his current post to study under me wholeheartedly, I can guarantee his future accomplishments would surpass mine." Bourne chuckled. "What a coincidence. I think so too." ... "Everyone, please take your seats." When Karen returned, Alfred was already calling everyone to be seated, as though class were about to resume. Karen walked to the lectern, faced the volunteers below, and spoke: "I apologize to those chosen by me and those chosen by their teachers—together, we are about to undertake a mission with an exceptionally low survival rate." Smiles surfaced on their faces. Tension was inevitable, but everyone present was capable of mastering it. "Before the mission officially begins, I have three requirements to lay down for everyone. "First requirement: I am the commander of this mission, or team leader if you prefer. In short, from this moment on, I expect unconditional obedience to every order I issue." Saying so, Karen pointed to the four experts seated in the very front row: Quito, Marina, Anlans, and Nicole. "I trust the others will follow my commands. My concern is primarily you four. The duty of the rest of us is to protect you until you reach the core area and retrieve the divine artifacts. I do not want you looking upon the rest of us as inferior cannon fodder whose lives exist solely to be sacrificed for yours." Quito: "How could that be? I respect Minister Karen's leadership." Marina: "As do I." Anlans and Nicole belonged to the Church of Principles. Both nodded almost simultaneously: "We are willing to obey." Karen swept his gaze across everyone and said, "Remember rule one: everyone must obey the orders I issue. Anyone who defies or disobeys—even in a place as perilous as the cave—will be eliminated by me first. You will have no chance to stand before a tribunal; I will handle it summarily and execute you on the spot, because that is the most fundamental respect owed to everyone else's life. Understood?!" "Understood, sir!" "Understood, sir!" "Second requirement: second-in-command is our Minister of Reconnaissance, Neo; third-in-command is Alfred. If I am incapacitated from issuing orders or if anything happens to me, they will inherit the baton of command. "Third requirement..." Karen paused, then continued: "This is an extraordinarily perilous mission, that is true, but it is by no means a suicide mission. Do not enter that cave with the mentality that you are stepping into your graves. Heh, I'm still young, and I don't want to die yet. I believe none of you do either." "Heh..." "Haha..." Everyone chuckled in good-natured agreement. Neo raised a hand and shouted, "Rest assured, everyone! The God of Order will surely watch over us!" At this shout, everyone slipped collectively into habitual behavior, just like animals knowing it was mealtime upon hearing a bell. Except for Karen standing on the platform, everyone crossed their arms over their chests and chanted devoutly: "Praise the great God of Order!" ... "Pah, pah, pah! The weather and sand here are pure torture." Mr. Bede returned from outside, carrying a large bag of food and water. They were currently staying in an extremely cheap inn bordering the Desert of Death. The reason their lodgings were so squalid was that they had been robbed by sand bandits, who stripped them of most of their point coupons, throwing them straight back into the wretched state of wanderers right after leaving home. Worse yet, Piaget had fallen ill—gravely ill, with no clear cause—leaving him thoroughly emaciated and haggard. Mr. Bede set down his things. "Sigh, people would laugh themselves to death if they heard. Devout followers of the Church of the Mural God dreaming every day of painting murals prophesying divine matters, yet unable to foresee even getting robbed in advance. "Hm? "What are you painting? "Wait, are you cured?" Mr. Bede leaned in and found Piaget still in terrible shape, yet his eyes shone with intense light as his hand rapidly moved the brush across the paper. *Hiss...* Mr. Bede instantly realized Piaget had entered that special trance again. Circling around, he saw painted on the paper a "demon" stepping out of the darkness. The demon took human form with blurred features, yet the ambiance of the painting radiated a cold, unrestrained malevolence that felt almost tangible. Beneath the demon knelt a man whose body had been nearly a third devoured, the remainder waiting as a meal the demon had yet to finish enjoying. However, this person had his back turned to the viewer, so his features could not be seen. Mr. Bede asked, "What does this painting mean? Being devoured? No, wait... the demon and the man are wearing the same clothes. They're one and the same! Is he lost, supplanted by the demon within his own heart?" Piaget did not answer, continuing to paint. From the demon's body, he drew black, cord-like tendrils binding and sealing off the kneeling man entirely. "Oh, is he being controlled by the demon with those things?" Mr. Bede could only guess. "Aaaagh!" Piaget suddenly cried out. "Are you alright? Stop painting if you can't handle it—you're terrifying to look at right now!" As if completely deaf to Mr. Bede's voice, Piaget obsessively kept painting the black cords, one after another, as though seeking to enshroud the kneeling man completely. Just then, the brush ran out of pigment. Piaget dipped it into the palette, only to find the black paint was completely exhausted. "Damn it, damn it! It's not finished! Damn it!" Piaget opened his mouth and bit down toward his own finger. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mr. Bede immediately reached out to stop the self-mutilation—whereupon Piaget seized his hand and bit down hard into his palm. Mr. Bede: "..." Once blood welled up, Piaget dipped his finger into the "pigment" of Mr. Bede's palm and painted another chain. Unlike the black cords, this one was red, jarringly prominent. And perhaps because it was another person's blood, this stroke was laid on thick. The blood on the painting began to seep outward, swiftly dyeing every chain binding the man crimson! For reasons unknown, once his own blood touched the painting, Mr. Bede forgot the pain entirely. An inexplicable panic and anxiety gripped his heart, and he asked urgently: "The man in the painting—is he dead or alive?" Piaget shook his head in faint daze and answered: "Dead, yet alive again."