Inmeles Family Tradition!

Step by step, footfall after footfall... With every step Karen took, a furious roar bellowed from beneath. This was Mount Anlaminde. Here, the God of Eternity had once led the pantheon of gods to raise the torch, kindling the prologue to "modern civilization." Here, "modern civilization" referred to the historical narrative recorded clearly and completely in church records—the era to which later historians had sufficiently intact archives to trace back. While countless other legends circulated throughout the world and ancient ruins were unearthed from time to time—and certain special families and predecessor sects could even trace their lineages back three epochs—the mainstream records of the era prior to the God of Eternity remained fractured, disrupted, and chaotic. To commoners, the tales told within church circles sounded like myths; to people inside the church circles today, the events of the era before the God of Eternity were their own mythological lore. Beneath every single step of Mount Anlaminde, a demon that had once wreaked havoc upon the mortal realm lay sealed. The God of Eternity had used them to lay the bedrock of the mountain ascent. Anyone who wished to climb had to tread upon their bodies, personally walking the monumental achievements of Eternity. Later, the God of Eternity fell into oblivion, and the Eternity faction was defeated in the war against the Light faction. The God of Light took possession of Mount Anlaminde, personally using radiant light to dissolve the demons sealed beneath the steps one by one. Yet the soul imprints of those demons inevitably lingered upon the stone. Even now, treading upon them, their shrieks continued to reverberate in one's ears. On both sides of the ascending stairway lay scalding golden divine blood and broken divine corpses, the shards of shattered divine artifacts reflecting tragic, mournful gleams. Yet because of the unique nature of Mount Anlaminde, the deities and other mighty beings who perished here caused no overflow of contamination; the ascending tiers of steps automatically absorbed each new resident in the vicinity. Their remnant souls were locked away here, ground down to nothingness through endless ages of containment. Karen "continued up the mountain." He barely spared a glance for the "scenery" lining the path, as if entirely devoid of interest. At last, he reached the summit. Here lay an open terrace. Above, it connected to the stars; to the north and south, it linked ocean and continent; to the east and west, it bridged radiance and darkness. It had been constructed by the God of Eternity, who possessed the power to turn things that even gods found unfathomable into reality. Here, the God of Light had once hosted a banquet of the gods, celebrating the defeat of the old gods and the formal rise of the new. Even now, the original exquisite decor remained. From the perimeter to the pinnacle of the head seat, the banquet table of the gods still strictly observed its proper etiquette and hierarchy. However, the seats below were empty. Yet upon the high seat of honor above sat a figure. He wore a crown of holy light and a robe of the rising sun. A profound depth lingered in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth bore his customary kind, benevolent smile. Karen "slowly turned his body," once again "observing" his surroundings. Compared to the path up the mountain, this terrace appeared remarkably pristine, clearly having been deliberately swept clean. Karen "stepped up" to the high seat and stood before that figure. This was his teacher, his comrade-in-arms, his partner, his... dearest friend. Even now, having led the gods willing to follow him in breaking away from the Light faction, he would never deny that for a very long time, the figure before him had been his guide. She was... the God of Light. Karen "reached out" and took hold of the corner of the rising sun robe. Scorching flames instantly surged over his fingers—the blistering heat of the sun. It stung faintly, like touching a newly extinguished match with bare fingers, leaving a speck of charred black that could easily be wiped away. *Rustle...* The robe of the rising sun was drawn back. Inside the garments of the God of Light who had been sitting upon the high seat, there was nothing at all. A great black sword stood upright in the empty space, impaling his severed head at its tip. As for the rest of the body, none of it could be found here; there was no telling where it had gone. Karen "recognized" this sword. It had appeared countless times in the murals of the Church of Order—the Sword of Amorgana, also known as the Sword of Chaos. Amorgana, the God of Chaos, was a mighty principal deity of the Eternity faction. During the protracted War of the Gods, he had instigated three internal rifts within the Light faction and routed them upon the battlefield multiple times. Later, he was slain by the God of Order, and this sword of his fell into the God of Order's hands. Unlike ordinary deities who each possessed a single renowned divine artifact, a mighty principal deity rarely brought to mind any single exclusive weapon—not because they had no need of such power, but because they possessed far too many formidable artifacts. Even so, throughout many depictions of the God of Order, this Sword of Chaos was shown at his side. According to the mythological narrative in the *Light of Order*, before executing Amorgana after defeating him, Amorgana had questioned the God of Order: *"Do you truly believe you can bring any change to this world?"* The God of Order replied: *"I will have you witness with your own eyes the order I bring to this world."* Later divine historians believed that the God of Order wore the Sword of Chaos on many formal occasions specifically to display his extraordinary triumph. The official doctrine of the Church of Order explained it this way: the God of Order brought an end to an era of chaos and ushered in order. Other churches would never refer to the Era of Gods as "chaos"; only the Church of Order spoke of it without the slightest reservation. As the preeminent church of the current age, the Church of Order naturally regarded the modern structure of the world as the truest embodiment of order's aesthetic. Now, Karen saw with his own eyes the severed head of the God of Light impaled upon this very blade. So the God of Light had not gone missing. He had... fallen. His body had been torn apart and scattered, which explained how that divine finger of Light had ultimately fallen into the hands of the Allen family, and eventually to Purr. Then... had the God of Order killed the God of Light? How else could this sword have appeared here? Karen "lifted" the Sword of Chaos, bringing the head of the God of Light before his eyes. Karen "reached out" and gently touched the God of Light's cheek. Even in death, the flesh of Light remained warm and serene. Karen "turned around" and began walking down. On the descent, powerful auras emerged in the distance—the mighty principal deities of the Light faction. Yet Karen seemed devoid of worry, giving them no regard as he continued down the mountain, "holding high" the greatsword bearing the head of the God of Light like a warrior flaunting his spoils of war. A shift in supremacy was almost always accompanied by bloodshed and violence. The former ruler would never willingly surrender their position, while the newcomer could never endure suppression from the predecessor. The conflict between new and old overlords was innate and irreconcilable; neither could ever take a step back, for at that stature and station, neither could afford to lose. Above, the wills of the principal deities received no response from the Karen walking below. The rule of winner-takes-all found no expression here either, for the new overlord seemed to harbor no interest in inheriting the old overlord's legacy. At last, Karen reached the foot of the mountain. Stepping over the final stair, he "raised" his head and cast a glance upward. His eyes held unmasked disgust, and his aura radiated contemptuous defiance. Throughout the mythological narratives of all orthodox churches in later generations, no record existed of this day on Mount Anlaminde. Thus, the vanishing of the God of Light was defined merely as a disappearance. In truth, the wills of many mighty principal deities had arrived here that day, "witnessing" the God of Order descend the mountain with the head of Light impaled upon a sword. Yet such a record could never be permitted to exist. For if it did, anyone reading it would ask: *Why did our principal deities see it and do nothing?* *** *Hum!* Karen experienced this sequence of visions over what felt like a vast expanse of time, though in reality it was only a fleeting instant. Yet from this vision alone, Karen still could not determine how the God of Light had actually died. Though every sign pointed to the God of Order's hand, something felt off. It was the emotion... It was nothing like the sentiment of a conqueror, but was permeated instead with profound sorrow and regret. And the God of Order was definitely not the sort of person who would weep bitterly while cradling someone he had killed with his own hands. Karen opened his eyes and looked around. He could finally move, yet he was still not in reality. Encircling his body was a black ring—delicate, mysterious, and carrying an extraordinary majesty. One could hardly resist reaching out to touch it, yet at the same time felt that touching it would be an unforgivable sacrilege; for such a flawless existence, even a single speck of dust upon it would be a monstrous defilement! Looking farther out, Karen saw a second ring enveloping the first. Both were rotating. Then came a third, a fourth, a fifth... The exquisite, orderly rings were like the most precise mechanism in the world, disregarding all resistance, turning in the most primal yet purest operation according to their own immutable rules. What was this? The rules of Order? Karen turned around. In an instant, a colossal eye appeared, its eyelashes as tall as towering buildings in Karen's sight. As it gradually drew farther away, Karen finally saw its full form. It was a person—a magnificent, towering existence clad in black divine robes. With eyes closed, he walked along the path of Order's rules, lightly tossing his hands outward as he walked, showering down sheets of starlight. *The God of Order... We meet again.* During his previous purification, Karen had seen a nearly identical scene. Later, after looking through texts from the Church of Principles, he learned that this was a mechanical inertia inherent to deities. Only, last time, he had stood far below, watching the God of Order above step across the galaxy with closed eyes, scattering starlight. This time, though he remained infinitesimal—so small that comparing himself to an ant would be an exaggeration—what he stood upon was the tangible, solid bedrock of Order's rules. Suddenly, Karen realized that the figure of the God of Order, who had supposedly walked an unimaginable distance away, had vanished. Karen slowly raised his head. Looking upward, he saw that towering, colossal silhouette standing right in front of him. Karen was like a speck of dust at his feet. Yet his tightly shut eyes were now open, looking down directly at Karen. In an instant, the black ring beside him suddenly contracted. It did not bind him; instead, it merged into his body. "Ah!" Deep within Karen's soul space, the statue of Order was undergoing a metamorphosis. Everything about the statue grew more refined, more lustrous, and one could clearly sense a living vitality coursing within it. Beneath the soul space, a black liquid emerged. It was not foul; it was pure, like a crystalline mirror expanding outward. The statue of Order sank slowly into this pool of liquid, its towering grandeur gradually disappearing as it seemed to dissolve entirely into the dark fluid. The soul space was gradually filled by it, yet it did not burst, nor did it even overflow. Having reached its maximum volume, it began to contract once more. Ultimately, a small puddle formed within the soul space. For the first time since the subterranean cavern, Karen's consciousness returned to his soul space. He walked over to the small puddle and looked down. Reflected in the water was not his own silhouette, but a black ring, turning slowly. *Hehehe...* Was that laughter? Karen looked around. In the vast, empty soul space, such laughter should have been unmistakable, yet he could not pinpoint it. It was not truly laughter, but an emotion of sheer delight. It emanated from the depths of the puddle, from the rules of Order. Though not a single word had been exchanged, Karen already understood its meaning. The hunter slowly raised the muzzle of his rifle, having discovered that the prey he sought to shoot had brought him a fresh harvest. The hunger addiction had not disappeared; in fact, it had grown stronger. Yet the shift in its life tier had given it a higher, more refined "primal pursuit." Like... parasitism. Yet had the hunger addiction parasitized him, or had he parasitized the hunger addiction? Karen knelt on one knee, wanting to observe the puddle more closely. After his previous successful purification, a massive pool of water had appeared inside him, laying the foundation for spiritual accumulations several times greater than ordinary people. This time, though it was merely a small puddle, even scooping out a single drop with a fingertip would be more than an ordinary priest could easily endure. Suddenly, Karen noticed another silhouette faintly appearing in the puddle's reflection. That person also seemed to be kneeling on one knee, leaning their head forward to inspect the puddle. *This feeling... again?* Karen did not look up across from him, knowing full well there was no second person here. Yet he also knew clearly who "that person" was—the previous God of Order. Just like in the cavern, when he had knelt together with that identical figure facing him across the mirror on the palm of the hunger addiction statue. He had "seen" more and more of the god's past memories, and through canonical texts and the philosophy of the Church of Order, had come to understand him more and more deeply. That was why this resonance occurred at specific moments—much like an archaeologist moved to tears upon finding a craftsman's fingerprint beneath the corner of an ancient terracotta figurine made millennia ago. A faint smile touched Karen's lips. *This time, I'm going to stand up first!* Karen immediately rose to his feet. To his surprise, the faint silhouette in the puddle moved simultaneously with him—as if the other person had shared the exact same thought. "Hehehehe..." Karen could not help chuckling. Such an unspoken understanding was genuinely amusing. A faint, airy chuckle seemed to brush his ear as well; the other was laughing too. Yet gradually, Karen's laughter trailed off, his eyes widening in realization. To him, this was a resonance produced by someone of a later generation responding to the traces left by a predecessor from an epoch ago... Then what did it mean for the predecessor? If even laughter could resonate, what did that imply? Did it mean that back then, his gaze had crossed an entire epoch of time to "see" the Karen of today? Karen suddenly remembered kneeling face-to-face across the mirror on the palm of the hunger addiction statue back in the cavern. At the end, the other had suddenly stood up, appearing completely effortless. Was that truly a coincidence? Had the god struggled under the crushing pressure of the hunger addiction back then, barely managing to stand, only to feign an effortless posture? He had no reason to do that. Yet if he had not been amusing himself, did that mean... he had deliberately been teasing Karen all along? Karen's mouth fell slightly open. In an instant, a profound terror seized him. The God of Eternity had fallen chasing the power of time, causing the Eternity faction he built to be supplanted by the Light faction. Raniedal had touched a taboo and been suppressed by the God of Order—and Raniedal's field of study was the forbidden realm of time. As the overlord of the previous epoch, could the God of Order truly have felt no temptation toward the taboo of time? Then... was it possible that as Karen retraced the path of Order, seeking to take his place and reshape his church, all of it was being watched... silently across an entire epoch? *** "Oh no, the altar is about to collapse!" Vic shouted in alarm. He was responsible for managing the altar that channeled the divine artifact, enabling the Harp of Goddess Mills to project its power here and produce enough high-grade holy water. At first, it had seemed headed for failure; their Section Chief's purification appeared unsuccessful. Even so, it had not diminished their Section Chief's mystique in their eyes in the slightest—that divine oracle alone was enough to stun everyone present. Yet when Neo grabbed their Section Chief's arms, followed by the Section Chief standing up and the Eye of Order opening above, all the sacred aura swirling around was suddenly inhaled by him like madness. It had visibly formed a vortex of devouring. The Harp of Goddess Mills accelerated its production of holy water relentlessly, yet output lagged far behind demand. Gradually, the vortex disappeared, replaced by a straight line of one-way absorption—no, one-way plundering. The power of the Harp of Goddess Mills was being funneled directly into Karen in a straight line. This sight once again shocked everyone present. A high proportion of those here came from distinguished backgrounds; with the exception of Ventura, virtually none had ordinary lineages. Even Ventura had earned the principal's favor early on at the church school and had used a decent sacred artifact to aid his purification. As for Philomena's grandmother, Muri's Benda family, Leon's Head Bishop family, and Vic's teacher, their purifications had started at an exceptionally high standard. Yet compared to what was happening before their eyes... none of that amounted to anything! Had anyone ever seen someone purifying into a servant nearly suck dry a divine artifact capable of generating sacred aura?! This was a servant? Such an exaggerated scene, such a terrifying ocean of high-grade sacred aura, all just to forge a single... servant? By this point, Neo had successfully reined in his persona. Regaining his composure, he took several steps back. The Karen before him was like a monstrous, ravenous beast gorging itself, inspiring a twinge of fear even in him. Then— *Smack!* Neo slapped himself across the face. Why had he switched back so quickly? Just to stand here and watch in jealousy?! Purr remained unconscious, cradled in Little Kanna's arms. Looking at Karen, Little Kanna asked in bewilderment, "Why aren't you eating your medicine?" Karen's "whale-gulping" posture made Little Kanna feel as though she were looking at one of her own kind. Hadn't they said that for her to grow properly, she had to eat heaps of expensive pills every day? Yet you... seem to eat even more than me! Little Kanna pouted. "From now on, when I eat pills, I'm stuffing some into your mouth too. That's only fair." Kevin's twitching had just subsided, and he was about to rebuild his dignity before the harp's artifact spirit. But when Karen entered full devouring mode, Kevin began convulsing all over again, terror shining in his canine eyes. Many had mistaken Karen for the return of the previous God of Order, yet Kevin had never confused the two. At times, certain traits Karen displayed that resembled the previous God of Order would trigger terrifying memories in Kevin, but he had always known clearly that they were two distinct beings. Now, he was no longer sure. He was confused, because through his dog-eyed perspective, the two silhouettes were actively overlapping. He suddenly wanted to move his dog bed out of Karen's bedroom. He could not bear the thought of genuinely sharing a room with *that person* in the future—the pressure was simply too immense, woof! Earlier, Alfred had been the most agitated and uncomposed; now, he was the calmest and most elegant. He picked up his paintbrush and began painting, doing his utmost to pull back his previously disordered composure. "Sigh, I must reflect upon myself. Serving beside a great existence, I must maintain faith and tranquility at all times." Alfred first painted his young master as he was now. The second figure he rendered was not himself, but Neo. He dearly wanted to title this painting *Light Awakens Order*. Yet he felt that simply echoing a historical classic was overly deliberate and cliché. Most importantly, the Light here was hardly orthodox Light, and the Order here was a more advanced, sacred New Order. So what should it be called? Alfred felt he would lose sleep tonight over this new conundrum. While some were consumed by jealousy and others by shock, the only one truly "injured" was the artifact spirit of the Harp of Goddess Mills. She felt plundered, drained. She felt like a hand pump well, yet the water she pumped out could not match the speed of the drinker, who had nearly overturned her and jumped straight down the well himself. Even so, painful as it was, she did not resist. She was willing to offer everything she had, opening herself completely to this existence who would erase her memories afterward. For she knew he was the "Brother Karen" Luoya spoke of—the one who had promised to lead their group of artifact spirits out of the containment space in the future. Most importantly, his aura... though it no longer stirred her now, she felt she ought to do something for that dog. That dog was on his side. Finally, moments before the altar was about to collapse, the frenzied plundering of sacred aura came to a halt. Vic collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. "Teacher, what a pity you aren't here to witness what your student just saw. But rest assured, Teacher—you will certainly be proud of your student's choice in the days to come." The spirit woman first bowed to Karen, then, before everyone's eyes, raised her hand and wiped her memories of today. Immediately afterward, she looked around with a puzzled expression and asked, "Is it over? I feel so weary. I want to slumber." "It is over," Vic answered. "You may return." "Very well." The phantom of the harp ascended, vanishing into the dark void above. Once she departed, the long-overburdened altar finally caved in. Standing at the very center, Karen tilted his head slightly, looked around, and then lowered his gaze to inspect his palms. Neo kept a sullen face, remaining silent. He thought to himself: *Hold back! Hold back! Hold back! Don't go up and ask how it went. Don't set up the stage for him! Don't give him the chance!* It was just like after an exam: you must never ask the top student how they did. The moment you ask, you're just setting yourself up to watch their performance. Philomena was standing close by. As the others gathered around, she took the initiative to ask, "Section Chief, how... are you?" Neo's ears immediately pricked up. Karen smiled faintly and replied, "Pretty good." With that, Karen bent down, lifted Purr from Little Kanna's arms, patted Little Kanna on the head, and nudged the still-twitching Kevin with the top of his foot. The golden retriever instantly convulsed even harder, nearly losing control of his bladder. In his mind, every memory of the previous God of Order nudging him with a foot came flooding back, nearly scaring the dog out of his wits. He knew he needed to reconstruct his psychological foundation and perception, or life from now on would simply be unlivable. Alfred did not step forward at this moment. Instead, he continued painting with rapt focus, humming a rustic folk tune under his breath. Yes, he had to harmonize with the "pretty good" atmosphere. Karen offered no further description of his physical condition, turning his gaze toward the coffins. Now that he had successfully purified into a servant and once again possessed spiritual power within him, it was time to grant the residents of those coffins a second life. He simply was not sure how long a single charge of his current ability could sustain their active state. He hoped it would last as long as possible, though he naturally did not expect to reach the level of the God of Order sustaining his Twelve Knights of Order in one breath. Once Count Rekar awakened, this manor—already fortified with high-grade defensive arrays—would be anchored by a truly formidable powerhouse. As for Old Saman, he was a master technician. So long as he was awake, there would never be a shortage of uses for his skills. These were two exceptional assets. Additionally, he needed to find time to "retrieve" the noble lady reserving a spot in the undersea tomb; that was a promise he had made her earlier. As for the skeleton of the necromancy archmage brought back from the Church of the Crypt, Karen still had no intention of rushing to awaken her. He would wait until the necessary moment, for that woman had once been part of the High Priest's circle; her actions would introduce far too many variables. A new starting point had begun, and with everything proceeding favorably, Karen was genuinely unwilling to take unnecessary risks. "Alfred." "Here, Young Master." Alfred set down his brush and walked over to Karen. "I will likely need a day to rest and settle myself. In a day, I will attempt to awaken Count Rekar and Old Saman. Make the preparations with the team." "Understood, Young Master." Cradling Purr, Karen walked toward the exit of the performance hall. Ventura asked in confusion, "Um, what kind of preparations do we need to make?" After all, wasn't awakening them something their Section Chief could accomplish on his own? Alfred glanced at Ventura and answered, "A birthday party, for instance—because tomorrow will be their new day of birth." Ventura had an epiphany. "Oh! Then we definitely should prepare. We'll bake a big cake—my grandmother is best at that." "You may bring your grandparents over," Alfred said. "Really... can I?" "This manor is secure enough now. It couldn't be more suitable for the elderly to retire here. That way, you won't have any worries while working out in the field, will you?" "Yeah!" Alfred looked around at the rest of the group and added, "Everyone remember to write an observation reflection tonight. I trust you all gained deep insights this time. At our next study seminar, each of you will take the stage to read and share yours. Make sure you do a proper job—who knows, an excerpt might even be quoted in the *New Light of Order*." "Yes, Mr. Alfred." "Understood, Mr. Alfred." *What kind of nonsense is this?* *Damn it, I can't hold it in anymore!* Neo blocked Karen's way out. "Hey, hey, hey—you're just going to leave like that?" Karen nodded. "I don't think there's any need for thanks between us. In the past, you owed me plenty of secrets; now, I owe you plenty of favors. Don't worry, I keep track of them all." "Hehehe." Neo gave a dry chuckle, grabbed Karen by the collar, and brought his face right up to Karen's. "Well, I recently grasped a few new moves and my hands have been itching. How about we go spar and exchange pointers right now?" "Sure." Neo's expression instantly changed. He leaned his neck back, creating distance between himself and Karen, pointing an incredulous finger at Karen's face. "Motherfucker... You mean to tell me that right now, as a servant, the power you can wield is already on par with when you were an Adjudicator before entering the cavern?!" "Did I say that?" "Hah! As if I don't know you! If you hadn't recovered to your previous level of strength, there's no way in hell you'd agree to fight me!" "Oh, is that so?" "So what level are you actually at, my dear Servant Section Chief?" "Though I've lost many things and haven't reclaimed them—and some I can't take back for the time being even if I wanted to—my personal sense is that the spiritual accumulation within me and the abilities I can deploy... in terms of combat power, are roughly comparable to when I was an Adjudicator. The only drawback is that for now, I can only use Order spells, which is a bit plain." "What the hell?!" Neo's eyes widened. "If you already have this much power as a servant, what in God's name is your future goal going to be?!" Karen pondered for a moment, then answered, "My expectations aren't high. Just enough will do." "Such as?" "Following family tradition—an Inquisitor, probably."