The Bizarre Dormitory of Legends

Night had already fallen deep by the time Karen returned to the guesthouse. Out on the open ground in front of the guesthouse, the colossal crab was there once again, making the building look like a miniature toy set of wooden blocks in comparison. It was likely a utilitarian monster beast raised by one of the colleges, yet as Karen walked beneath it, he felt a tremble that came from the soul. It wasn't his own, but from above him. Karen tilted his head up and looked at it. Its body was utterly still, but gave the impression of holding its breath with sheer willpower, straining to hold off something. Was it exhausted, or sleepy? Karen didn't dwell on it. Entering the guesthouse, he saw a dozen tables packed with diners in the spacious first-floor restaurant. It was plainly visible at a glance that these were professors and their students, likely celebrating the completion of a research project. At this hour, even if the campus dining halls still served late-night snacks, they could hardly rival a proper guesthouse open for public business. As for the lakeside where Karen had just returned from, that was beyond what ordinary teachers and students could afford. Karen went upstairs and returned to his room. Philomena was sitting on a chair, holding a book. The sight clashed somewhat with Philomena's usual image; Karen was still far more accustomed to seeing her with a blade in hand. Karen said, "The quiet elegance of reading suits you." Philomena stood up and set the book down. Karen noticed that it wasn't a standard published volume, but an internally compiled and circulated notebook bearing the crest of the Guman family. It was a handbook summarizing common formations, practical in nature, primarily explaining how to break and evade them. No need to guess—Richard had definitely brought it out for her. Karen himself actually possessed many precious formation tomes and notes, gifts from Mr. Hoffen and Mentor Piro, but those were meant for formation scholars and ill-suited for Philomena. She could hardly abandon her main profession of assassination to study formations from scratch. Everyone had limited energy. Karen knew he was an exception, and even an exception like him was now feeling that no matter how fast one learned things in the beginning, once reaching the stage where true accumulation and transcendence were needed, one still had to stop and settle in earnest. The higher one climbed, the fewer shortcuts there were. "Section Chief, I'll be heading back." "All right." Philomena left to return to her own room. During the day, Karen had arranged for her to look after Little Kanna, though having her watch over the little bone dragon was rather perilous in itself... But what could be done when even the quota of aides was strictly limited for this trip? Once they joined the investigation delegation, his role would probably amount to something like the head of an errand squad. Karen remembered back when the Church of Order held that meeting on Dark Moon Island—even former Head Bishop Wolflen had sat at the very foot of the table before those true heavyweights. Little Kanna was standing before the window, staring out at the giant crab with a finger tucked into her mouth, sucking on it. Karen walked over, reached out to pat her head, and asked, "What are you thinking about?" Little Kanna answered with utter sincerity, "It... probably tastes very good." Karen finally understood what that peculiar emotion he had sensed beneath the monster beast earlier was. Between powerful monster beasts, there existed a unique resonance and perception. This gigantic monster beast had been trembling under the covetous drooling of a juvenile bone dragon carrying the legacy of the Dragon God. "Have you eaten one before?" Karen asked. "No, but it must taste better than medicine pills. I haven't eaten one, but I feel like it would be very savory." Pausing, Little Kanna added, "There will be lots of egg yolk." "That's crab roe." "A crab's egg yolk." To maintain its coat, Kevin was in the habit of eating egg yolks as a supplement, though the bald patch on the dog's head had never grown back. Little Kanna didn't know what crab roe was, but in her subconscious awareness—or rather, within an inherited memory like that of a Child of God such as Mavaglio—the image and sensation must already exist. To truly powerful dragons, a monster beast of this size was simply a delicious crab. "Steamed is best," Karen said. Little Kanna shook her head and countered, "Barbecue, barbecue!" "Barbecuing uses too many seasonings and loses its original flavor. Steaming preserves the maximum sweetness." Little Kanna kept shaking her head. "No, barbecue!" "You can dip it in vinegar. We have an entire vat at home." Then again, for a crab this large, the vat of vinegar at home wouldn't even be enough to dip a single leg. Little Kanna shook her head vigorously. "It has to be barbecue!" "Heavy seasoning isn't good for children." Little Kanna tilted her head up and stared at Karen, looking thoroughly unhappy. "Half barbecued, half steamed." "Okay!" Little Kanna instantly beamed. Sigh. She was indeed a child raised by Purr. The pair, big and small, spent some time by the window debating how to eat the crab until their vicarious craving was thoroughly satisfied. Karen went into the washroom for a bath. When he stepped out, he saw Little Kanna sitting at the coffee table, taking her medicine pills. To the naive Little Kanna, there were currently two things in this world that brought her the greatest agony: taking a bath ranked first, and swallowing medicine pills ranked second. Yet ironically, both were things she had to endure every single day. While Karen lay in bed reading, Little Kanna finished her pills, picked up a dry towel and some clothes on her own, and walked into the washroom. When she emerged after bathing, she was wearing a white dress shirt altered from one of Karen's. This was a habit she had kept all along. Purr had wanted to dress her up in its own old aesthetic as a refined, elegant, noble little girl, but Little Kanna hated that. She insisted on wearing Karen's old clothes. In theory it was about equality, but from a psychological standpoint, Karen's clothes brought her inner security and comfort. Karen set down the book in his hand. Little Kanna lay down at the foot of the bed, settled into her sleeping posture, and rested her head on her arms. There was no need to worry about her arms going numb from this position; even if a truck ran over her, she would only feel as if a mosquito had bitten her. Lights out. Sleep. The sleep wasn't long, but it was deeply restful. As he got up to shower and wash, it reinforced Karen's resolve once again: for now, he definitely shouldn't retrieve the Scythe of War. Little Kanna was still fast asleep. When Karen walked out the door, Philomena, who had long been waiting outside, took over to watch the child. Richard accompanied Karen to breakfast. In the restaurant, that group of professors and students had yet to leave, sprawled drunkenly across the floor. Outside, the giant crab still held its previous posture. Partway through the meal, Karen signaled Richard to prepare some extra items for him to take to class. Afterward, carrying a small bag and wearing a mask, Karen walked onto campus. He didn't have Richard follow him, since Richard needed to leave today and head ahead to the investigation delegation's gathering point to rent a hotel, acting as advance scout. It was still the *Philosophy of Divine History* lecture, and Karen was still among the first to step into the classroom. This time, Karen didn't sit in the back. Instead, he took a seat near the front. The other students trickled in, many carrying small cushions. Before class even began, more than half had already drifted into dreamland; conditioned by habit, they didn't even need mental hypnosis. When the bell rang, Hiderod stepped inside and greeted everyone in a gentle, warm tone: "Good morning, students." Everyone was asleep. Aside from Karen, not a single soul still held their head up. The old professor sat down behind the podium with deep satisfaction, looking toward Karen as he unclasped his briefcase. Karen stood up, left his seat, and walked over to sit by the podium. From his bag, he produced two teacups and a packet of tea leaves. Hiderod also produced two teacups and a packet of tea leaves. Hiderod brought out cigars, while Karen brought out cigarettes specially supplied by the Church of Thunder. "Those pack too much of a punch; even I'd pass out if I smoked them," Hiderod promptly declined. "Smoke a cigar instead. There are herbal ingredients in them." Karen nodded. Next, both brought out snacks to go with the tea, arranging them across the podium one by one. There was no exchange of glances; it was pure tacit understanding, born of their mutual anticipation for today's tea party. And notably, once Karen finished setting things down, Hiderod actually produced a small iron stand, dropped two pieces of quick-lighting charcoal inside, and mounted a small ceramic pot on top to boil tea. He had even brought brown sugar, candied dates, goji berries, and longans. "What do you think?" "Professor, you truly know how to live." "Naturally. Life is like a book being read: to find your page, one usually flips from the front; but to find mine, it's far more convenient to flip from the back. The older you get, the more you learn to cherish and enjoy the life before you. Still, you probably understand that even better than I do." Karen shook his head. "I wouldn't dare claim that." "Nothing to be modest about. How many people drift through their entire lives in a muddle, while countless others flee responsibility in pursuit of selfish freedom, mistaking it for living with clarity? In this life, simply navigating each stage with lucid awareness is already rare. The gods are actually the same. From the Eternal camp to the Light camp, and then to the era when our Lord reigned supreme, many gods switched allegiance multiple times—not out of pure self-interest, but because their understanding had transformed..." The lecture continued until class was nearly over. Karen and Hiderod packed up the items on the podium together. Once everything was put away, the professor and student stood up and walked toward the classroom door. Hiderod snapped his fingers just as the dismissal bell rang. One by one, the students woke from their deep slumber and sprinted wildly out of the classroom to race for the restrooms. As Karen walked downstairs alongside Hiderod, he asked, "Why are there so few restrooms designed into the classroom building?" Hiderod replied, "Probably because back when the forebears designed and built this hall, students generally preferred skipping class." "Oh, so that was why." Next came the make-up session. Hiderod led Karen through the academic area, past the traditional residential quarters, and through an orchard shrouded in a mist formation before arriving at a dormitory building in the long-abandoned old living quarters. "Coo... coo... coo..." Perched along the dormitory railing, a flock of owl-like birds gazed down at the newcomers. Beneath the thick piles of fallen leaves, something eerie seemed to be stirring. Hiderod produced an ancient-looking badge and hung it over his chest, then retrieved another and hung it on Karen. "This was the student identification card back then," he explained. "Very heavy." "Supposedly, anywhere outside the dormitory, failing to wear it resulted in deducted points—probably something like academic merit points." "Because the school was dangerous back then as well?" "No, because the principal at the time was out of his mind. He loved standing in the principal's office watching students walk back and forth wearing their badges. And that principal was rather skilled at longevity and health preservation—he didn't die until he was nearly two hundred years old. I think if he'd held on just a bit longer, even a Temple Elder's lifespan wouldn't have looked impressive next to his." After donning the badge, one could clearly sense the surrounding presences receding; the environment here began to accept them. Karen felt that if the Church of Order ever collapsed and Order University fell into ruin, this place would probably become an extraordinarily perilous secret realm, luring wave after wave of future adventurers to court death. Hiderod led the way, with Karen following behind. The two ascended the dormitory building to the fifth floor. Walking down the corridor, the door numbers skipped straight from 512 to 516; Room 514 was nowhere to be seen. "Here we are." Hiderod began digging through his pockets. Karen probed carefully and said, "What an exquisite spatial formation." "I recall you saying you weren't interested in formations." "I understand a bit of the basics." "Heh-heh. Then here's the key. You open it." Hiderod handed a rusted key to Karen. Karen took the key, inserted it first into the door of 512, then into 516, and finally closed his eyes and turned around. Before him, another door materialized, its keyhole seemingly pulling the key inward of its own accord. Click! The door swung open. Karen opened his eyes and looked at Hiderod. "Have you seen this before?" "I've seen an example in a book." "How dull. That's just knowing the answer in advance and losing all the joy of uncovering the secret." "You're quite right." "Come on, let's head inside." Stepping through the doorway, the dormitory inside wasn't choked with cobwebs and dust. Of course, it wasn't spotless either, but overall it gave the uncanny impression that someone was still living here. The only real difference was the color palette, which had faded from vivid tones to muted shades of grayish-white. The room had four beds, all upper bunks, with each occupant's desk underneath. Outside was an open balcony, and inside was a shared washroom. "This is Budalas's desk," Hiderod said. Karen looked over. Books and stationery were neatly arranged on the desk, orderly and disciplined. "This is that Temple Elder's desk. He's probably gone by now—so many years have passed, after all. But long after the other three had died, he came back to visit. As I told you, I found his visitor log. By age, he must have been nearing the end of a Temple Elder's long lifespan, wanting to see old friends and reminisce before he died. Oh, his name was Ukonga." This Temple Elder's student desk was far more cluttered, strewn with novels while textbooks were shoved beneath. The walls around the desk were plastered with portraits of girls—and not just one, either. The desk instantly evoked the image of a playboy; evidently, the Temple Elder had quite a history in his youth. "This is Dicarost's desk. Have you heard that name?" "Dicarost... an adventurer?" His name had appeared repeatedly in the worldview notes Mr. Hoffen had given Karen. He was a legendary explorer who had successfully navigated numerous places where other adventurers almost never survived. Most remarkably, each time he emerged, he compiled "Exploration Journals" that were never kept secret, circulating freely to the public. At one point, various churches even hired him specifically to explore their own lost secret realms—after all, their own people died every time, yet he always made it out alive. Purr often talked about him, as he was a natural icon among explorers. "Yes. He was a follower of the Church of the Abyss and an exchange student here back then, living in this very dormitory. They say the reason he survived countless deadly perils was that he had tamed both a holy angel and a fallen angel." There weren't many books on Dicarost's desk, but lots of clothes hung around it, including boxer shorts. It was clear he was an uninhibited, carefree soul. Karen remarked with feeling, "Not a single ordinary person lived in this dorm." A four-person dormitory had produced a High Priest of the Church of Order, a Pope of the Church of Light, a Temple Elder, and a legendary explorer—literally a hundred percent peak career achievement rate. Hiderod chuckled. "It's a mistake to work backward from results. When dorms were assigned back then, students could choose their own roommates. They had already recognized one another's worth." "So they were very close back then?" "Yes. You can tell from the notes that they got along wonderfully. During their late-night chats after lights out, Ukonga would boast about which new girlfriend he'd picked up and lecture them on how to woo girls. Dicarost would beg everyone to help him figure out how to bypass certain professors' laboratory formations—especially in the Agricultural College, where he loved sneaking in to pilfer delicious new varieties of fruit and tender little monster beasts, savoring the students' 'graduation theses.' Budalas loved discussing politics with the Mad Pope. The Mad Pope's notes recorded that their discussions often erupted into arguments, only for them to head to the dining hall together for breakfast the next morning." "Is this the Mad Pope's desk?" Karen asked, pointing at the final desk. It held an equal mix of books on Order and Light, with notebooks stacked high, alongside a candle that was likely meant for aromatherapy. "Yes, precisely." Hiderod stepped over. "This is the Mad Pope's desk. During his years studying here, it was right in this spot that he completed the transformation of his philosophy. It's truly terrifying—if he hadn't fully comprehended it and lost himself in it, the opponent our church faced back then would have been an enemy intimately familiar with us. He would have understood our church better than most of our own members." "I'm curious about one thing, Professor." "Go ahead." "Why was this dormitory preserved so well? Did the school foresee their immense future achievements the moment they graduated and seal it off in advance as the former residence of celebrities? Furthermore, shouldn't their belongings have been cleared out upon graduation to make room for the next batch of students? Why are all these books, notes, and everyday items still sitting here?" "Because an incident occurred in this dormitory building back then, causing all the residing students to be evacuated abruptly. I consulted a great deal of campus history—even went so far as using special methods to access internal archives—yet couldn't find a definitive answer. Still, piecing together circumstantial evidence and memoirs written later by other students who lived here at the time, some sort of corruption must have broken out... No, not corruption. It was more like a leak." "A leak?" "Something like the leakage of divine artifact power, with the epicenter right here. Beyond that, I don't know the specifics. Not only were the records sealed at the time, but multiple rounds of cleanup and erasure followed over the years. I suspect the occupants themselves did it. Budalas went on to become High Priest; burying a matter was trivial for him. And Ukonga lived much longer; he could return every fifty years to purge archives and records, eight or nine times over. In fact, that's exactly what he kept doing." "So that's how it was." "Besides, have you sensed anything, Karen?" "Sensed what, Professor?" "I suspect a mental imprint was left here, but I've never been able to trigger it. Or perhaps my level isn't high enough to perceive it. Yet when I secretly sneaked in here in the past to pay homage, I had faint impressions." "Faint impressions?" "Yes. For instance, I would occasionally hear the faint sound of a door opening, yet the door wouldn't move in the slightest." Karen saw the previously closed dormitory door swing open from the outside. "Or I would catch the scent of incense, even though none was lit." Karen saw the incense on the Mad Pope's desk catch fire and burn. "Or I would hear cries—not human voices, but something wretched, bizarre, and chilling." "Squee-cluck!!!" Through the half-open window of the washroom, Karen saw a crew-cut young man in a black tank top butchering a multicolored turkey, the bird shrieking in desperate struggle. "Oh, and once I even heard an extremely sinister laugh that nearly scared me unconscious back then." "Hahahahaha!!!" A man with flowing blonde hair held a pink paper crow in his hands: "Brothers, she said yes! She said yes! Haha, nailed it! I'm already all set to take her out to the woods tonight! Don't you dare be jealous, you pathetic little virgins, tsk-tsk!" Karen shook his head. Suddenly, he could only hear Hiderod's voice, unable to see Hiderod himself. And the grayish-white dormitory scene began to come vividly alive. A hooked-nose young man walked into the dorm clutching a briefing sheet, shouting excitedly toward Karen: "The Church of Light has declared war on the Church of Rest! The Church of Light has invaded the Rest Secret Realm! Philias, my theory was right! Just you watch—next, our Church of Order will definitely support the Church of Rest behind the scenes to resist your Church of Light, supplying war gear, providing training, and even having our priests take off their Order robes to put on Rest robes and join the fight as volunteers! In short, we'll make sure your Church of Light bleeds without end in this war!" Ukonga pointed at the paper crow and chuckled, "Heh-heh, I'm going out to draw some blood tonight too." From the washroom, Dicarost, who was slaughtering the fowl, shouted, "Budalas, Ukonga, hurry up and find me a basin to catch the blood! I'll make blood sausages for you guys!" Just then, a voice rang out from behind Karen. "The foolish choices of the higher-ups will only lead our Church of Light into greater peril. Moving against other churches will only drive them into the arms of Order." A clean, handsome young man stepped past Karen, picked up a washbasin, and handed it through the window to Dicarost inside. Budalas, whose face had just been brimming with laughter, instantly roared in fury: "Oh damn it, Philias, you took *my* washbasin!" At first, Karen was slightly dazed, but he quickly adapted. It seemed he had triggered the mental imprint; previously in his study, there had also been a mental imprint left by a priest of Light. Yet, a scene completely beyond Karen's expectations suddenly took place. Ukonga, holding the paper crow, abruptly turned his gaze toward Karen and asked: "Hey, classmate, are you from next door dropping in to mooch a meal?"