The Desert Camel Walker let out a low rumble, relaying orders across the area on behalf of the commander atop the platform on its back.
Immediately, rebel soldiers began swarming into the teleportation array hall. The soles of their boots ground the five remaining ash heaps on the steps into faint smudges.
Evidently, the Order investigation delegation inside would not be receiving the courtesy they had expected.
Many among them would die in the direct clashes that followed, while others would be taken alive, only to be dragged elsewhere to have their executions staged for display.
The Desert rebels had chosen the most ruthless form of confrontation.
They defied the formidable prestige of the Church of Order and trampled upon its dignity. The irony was that faced with such blatant contempt, the vast majority of Order priests were left feeling profoundly helpless and bewildered.
Karen closed his eyes, then slowly opened them.
At this moment, he felt not the slightest sense of relief in his heart—only sorrow.
He could not even bring himself to harbor resentment over Deputy Head Yamrek's naivety and foolishness, much less ponder how things might have differed had he been leading the delegation.
Once grim reality struck, one simply lost the appetite to entertain such useless musings.
"We'll break out first from our side to draw their perimeter's attention, especially those Sand Eagles in the sky. Richard, run out first. Kanna, get on Richard's back and protect him."
Richard immediately bent down, and Kanna hopped onto his back. Then Richard leaped from the rooftop outpost where the four had been taking cover, his form dissolving into black mist as he sprinted forward.
The rebels' main focus was directed toward the teleportation array hall, but the Sand Eagles circling above quickly caught the commotion on the flank. Three of them immediately swooped toward Richard.
The Desert believers on their backs raised crossbows and spell firearms, firing upon the black mist below.
Richard managed to evade most of the ranged attacks ahead of time thanks to Little Jerry's acute perception within him. Two bolts did strike home, but both were deflected by Kanna on his back.
Little Kanna mumbled, "Ouch, that stung a bit."
Soon, the three Sand Eagles descended lower, preparing for a close-range kill.
Suddenly, Philomena materialized above one of the eagles. Gripping a blade in her right hand, she severed the heads of both Desert priests in a single stroke, while her left hand flicked a dagger straight through the eagle's skull.
Karen appeared behind Richard and thrust both hands down. Two thick Chains of Order burst from the ground, spearing clean through the remaining two Sand Eagles overhead. The chains churned, tearing the two beasts along with their riders into a mist of blood.
Just like that, three Sand Eagles were eliminated. In an instant, the other eagles in the sky and the nearby Desert rebels had their attention drawn here and began closing in.
Seeing the timing was right, Karen said, "Richard, fire the flare."
"Understood!"
Still running, Richard pulled out a signal flare. With a sharp whistle, a burst of fireworks bloomed across the sky.
The signal instructed the personnel at the other outposts to seize the moment and break out.
They all saw that Karen had taken the initiative to draw most of the perimeter's attention, buying them a better opportunity to escape, and heartfelt gratitude toward this young director welled up inside them.
Karen himself entertained no such thoughts. Even if today was his first time meeting these team members, he was their leader after all; doing this was simply what was expected of him.
Next, Karen's group began their own formal breakout.
Having seized the holy land through an ambush aided by insiders, the rebels were not particularly numerous. Moreover, after taking the area, they had dispersed many personnel to placate local believers and secure vital facilities, leaving the bulk of their mobile forces concentrated around the teleportation array hall. Consequently, Karen's breakout proved far less difficult than anticipated.
Of course, another factor was the high caliber of Karen's four-person team. Even Richard, who ostensibly had a knack for being dead weight, functioned like a human radar thanks to Little Jerry's astonishing perception.
This was Richard's greatest strength: between him and Little Jerry, boundless possibilities always seemed to unfold.
And behind all of this lay the magnificent sacrifice of a father's love.
Thanks to the deactivation of the holy land's defensive formations, Karen and his companions could pass through unhindered when they reached the boundary.
Yet right at that moment, three priests clad in Desert robes suddenly drifted into the air ahead, chanting the latter half of a spell—they had long been positioned here to intercept escapees.
Nearby stood a hotel within Makina Holy Land. On its rooftop terrace, a group of youths was throwing a party.
They had witnessed the entire rebel assault from start to finish, yet far from worrying that their own safety might be compromised, they were thoroughly amused by the spectacle.
A closer look revealed that they wore the vestments of various orthodox churches.
When the Church of Order dispatched an investigation delegation here, the other orthodox churches had also sent numerous observer delegations, and this particular group of youths functioned more like an experiential training troop.
Ever since the Church of Light fell a thousand years ago and the Church of Order became the sole hegemon, a tacit consensus had gradually formed across the church community to unite against Order.
It was just that in the past, this tacit understanding had been far too loose. However, as the Church of Order's conduct grew increasingly high-profile in recent years—especially with the current High Priest adopting an overtly unyielding stance upon taking power—the collective drive to unite had only grown stronger in response.
The greatest recent catalyst was the anomaly signaling the impending return of the God of Order. The news had shaken the other orthodox and major churches, forcing them, in the face of an existential crisis, to finally set aside some past prejudices and petty schemes to truly join hands and take action.
This desert was the starting point of the church sphere's new confrontational landscape under this shifting tide.
The rebel commander who had ordered the assault on the teleportation array hall could never have imagined that his order today would likely become an "important turning point" fondly discussed by church historians in later generations.
"It's Order's people."
"Just heard that an Order investigation delegation was trapped in the teleportation array hall. The commander is currently leading men to round them up; these must be a few small fry who slipped out."
"The commander made the right choice."
"No, he made the only choice available. The Desert faction knows full well that they've lost any hope of receiving aid or backing from Order, and their own foolish actions have pushed Order into opposing them.
"Now, they have no choice but to follow our commands. If they lose our backing, they are doomed to be wiped out by the Wasteland.
"Children, after all, must learn to be well-behaved and obedient if they want allowance money.
"Every one of our churches is contributing resources and personnel to train them, and we even plan to deploy mercenary units to take part directly down the line. What leverage does the Desert have to refuse to do the work?"
"Tell me, do you think the Church of Order will directly deploy their knights this time?"
"All the better if they do. Having Order step into the ring in person is the scenario we'd like best. We've never denied the prowess of the Knights of Order, but what point is there even if they can crush any legion here? All we have to do is avoid facing them on an open battlefield, right?"
"Indeed. We don't deny that the Church of Order is currently the most powerful church, but Order's might isn't enough to contend with the entire church sphere combined. Otherwise, Order would have moved against us long ago.
"If Order truly decides to formally intervene in this Wasteland civil war over this, then all of our churches can play a good game with Order right here. No matter how deep Order's reserves are, they can't match all of ours put together!"
"Wait, look—is that a dragon?"
"Ah, I know who that is! He obtained a bone dragon from the Church of the Crypt. Besides, he's quite famous over at the Church of Order. What splendid prey—we can't let him get away."
"If we capture him and have the rebels broadcast his execution live before a communication array, I can already picture how furious Order will be, hahaha."
"Indeed. What any group finds hardest to stomach is the throttling of their own young future."
"Hey, we can make our move. Tell the rebels there's no need to send pursuers—we'll handle it ourselves."
"Everyone be careful. Don't end up having your own heads hunted before you manage to kill anyone."
...
As the three Desert priests floated into the air, three colossal sand ramparts rose out of nowhere, forming an enormous three-sided cage intended to cut off any chance of Karen and his companions escaping.
Sometimes, sheer numbers failed to achieve much, whereas placing specific individuals in the most fitting positions worked wonders. Having priests like them stationed along the holy land's perimeter was like casting a wide net, more than sufficient to ensnare most fish.
Karen, however, chose the most direct countermeasure.
"Kanna, you're up!"
Raising a dragon was extraordinarily expensive. Karen had worked tirelessly back then just to earn the qualification to have the Church of Order help him rear one.
Now, it was time to see whether that expense had been worthwhile.
Little Kanna leaped from Richard's back as white mist billowed outward. Accompanied by a dragon's roar, a hundred-meter-long bone dragon emerged from the haze. She first coiled low; once Karen, Richard, and Philomena boarded her back, the bone dragon unfurled her form and charged at maximum speed toward the magical sand rampart ahead.
The sight made the three Desert priests' eyes bulge. Their mission was containment and interception, and when setting up barriers, they usually chose the most cost-effective method rather than casting top-tier sand wall spells for just anyone.
Yet now, it was too late to switch spells or reinforce the existing ramparts.
They could only hope that this suddenly appearing bone dragon lacked the power to smash through in a single blow.
But Kanna was Kanna. Not only was her bloodline pure and noble, she also carried the legacy of the Rebel Dragon God. Most importantly... if a dragon's formidable physique was its proudest asset, the bone dragon's physique was universally acknowledged as the greatest among all dragonkind.
For they had not a single scrap of flesh—they were literally so hard that nothing remained but bone!
Little Kanna's eyes glowed red. At this moment, her mind flashed back to all those pills she had been forced to eat every single day for so long. Had it not been to grow up healthy, how could she ever have brought herself to choke down such foul-tasting things day after day?
Now was the moment to prove she hadn't suffered through those bitter medicines in vain.
Boom!
Like a sledgehammer smashing through a wall.
Karen, Philomena, and Richard were nestled between the bone dragon's skeletal plates, which Kanna had sealed tight to shield them from the impact as much as possible.
Even so, Karen and the others felt a violent jolt. Soon, however, glimpses through the crevices confirmed they had successfully broken through. The bone dragon was flying swiftly; below them was no longer a city, but boundless desert.
Richard laughed heartily. "Haha, we got out!"
Karen sighed, worrying whether the people breaking out along the other routes would succeed. He hoped as many of them as possible would make it out.
As for his own side, he had already done everything he could.
Having vented his joy at escaping, Richard promptly pulled a map from his satchel. "Karen, let's head here next. We have a secret intelligence outpost here; we can get assistance once we arrive."
"A secret intelligence outpost?"
"Yes, part of our Whip of Order's external intelligence network. I did the research and planning before coming. Oh, right—others don't have clearance to view such classified information, but I asked Mr. Alfred's permission and submitted the request under your name. Mr. Alfred holds your official seal, so a quick stamp was all it took."
When it came to intelligence work, Richard truly had a gift.
"Then let's go there."
Escaping Makina Holy Land was only the first step. What came next was making their way to a nearby major city under Wasteland control.
Yet this vast desert was no less daunting than the endless sea he had once drifted across; if anything, conditions were even harsher. Without local guides and a support team, travel and relocation would be painfully inefficient.
Suddenly, Richard's expression tightened. Pointing behind them, he said, "Someone's coming after us! Very fast—not a large force, but more than one person!"
The relief of their successful breakout vanished in an instant, though it was not enough to trigger panic or despair.
Karen said, "Sense more carefully."
"There are several groups in total; the closest ones are four signatures." Richard closed his eyes. "Their speed is on par with ours—even exceeding it. We aren't faster than them; it's only a matter of time before they catch up."
Little Kanna's voice drifted up from her chest cavity: "It's not like dragons are famous for speed."
Evidently, Little Kanna thought Richard was taking a dig at her being slow.
Karen immediately said, "Even if they can't catch us, letting them trail us like this is very dangerous. There might be other rebel units active nearby, and they could transmit our coordinates."
Philomena remained silent, awaiting her orders.
Karen let out a faint smile, his gaze gradually turning somber. Having stomached so much frustration from Yamrek, witnessed the delegation being trapped with his own eyes, and now being shadowed after breaking out, Karen's temper had been simmering beneath the surface for quite a while.
"Since they want to chase, we'll keep them company. They want to play a one-on-one headhunting game, do they? Then let's all join in.
"Richard, you stay with Kanna and maintain the escape as the primary target. Kanna, did you hear me? Follow Richard's lead, and no throwing tantrums."
"Got it," Little Kanna's response came from the chest cavity once more.
"In short, Richard, your job is to draw them in and divert attention away from Philomena's and my movements."
"Don't worry, I get it. I'm the bait," Richard said, patting his chest and then tapping his forehead, expressing agreement on Little Jerry's behalf.
"Philomena, pick a target and carry out an ambush assassination. I'm not demanding that failure isn't an option; all I require is that you stay alive. Remember, I'm not asking you to throw away your life covering the rear. If you die, I'll consider it a loss."
Philomena nodded. "Understood."
"All right, let's begin. Remember to maintain contact. If you spot rebels appearing nearby, regroup immediately. We only strike isolated targets; don't engage groups."
Having given his orders, Karen and Philomena departed from the bone dragon one after another.
Richard immediately spoke up: "Oh, my dear Lord Bone Dragon, please slow down a bit so our pursuers see hope and rush up faster and more recklessly. That will give Karen and Philomena a better opening."
Little Kanna's voice sounded from the chest cavity:
"Don't call me Lord Bone Dragon. Please address me as—Miss Kanna White Silva."
...
A man with two scimitars strapped across his back was speeding across the desert atop an octopus that reeked of death.
He and Karen knew each other; his name was Lango.
Within his body resided a powerful soul from the Church of Samsara behind the Gate.
His first encounter with Karen had been upon exiting the Gate of Samsara; the second was outside the Gate of Samsara while clearing the battlefield of death caused by Rielsa; the third was during the war between the Moon God Church and the Church of Samsara, upon the deck of a Moon God warship.
Karen, am I about to see you again? I've heard about you; you're doing very well over at the Church of Order.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, Lango promptly slowed the octopus beneath his feet.
He opened his palm. A black tortoise shell was continuously cracking across his hand. According to the divination from the fracture lines, he would face grave danger ahead.
The consequence of slowing down was that he, previously leading the pursuit, would quickly fall behind.
He was content to fall behind—not because he was unwilling to risk encountering Karen, but because he preferred to let others meet him first.
After enduring consecutive wars against Order and the Moon God Church, Samsara's strength was far diminished. In this coalition against Order, its standing was at the very bottom of the orthodox churches' hierarchy. In that group, Lango not only lacked presence, but was also frequently mocked.
He wasn't angry about this; after all, in his eyes, those other youths were little more than children. But he didn't mind watching them suffer a bit.
"Take your time playing. I'll wait to claim the heads after you fall."
...
A shadow, like a blemish beneath the blazing sun, moved at astonishing speed, only to freeze still in the very next instant. From the shadow, the figure of a girl slowly materialized. Clad in a long black dress, she looked exquisite and beautiful.
On the dune before her sat a young man. Thrust into the sand in front of him was a greatsword.
The girl smiled. "Believer of the Goddess of the Night, captain of the Nightfall Watchers elite squad—Demetria Suman."
The young man replied, "Church of Order, Yorktown Region, Director of the Law Enforcement Department—Karen Silva."
Demetria shrugged. "I thought you'd appear by ambushing me."
Karen shook his head. "Too cliché."
Demetria laughed and called out, "I came to hunt you down and kill you."
"I know."
"But I've changed my mind now, Director Karen. Sleep with me right now, and I won't kill you—I'll let you go. Deal?"
"Really?"
"Really. The greatest taboo for a believer of the Goddess of the Night is lying."
As Demetria spoke, she raised both arms, showcasing her figure to Karen like the most alluring sprite beneath the night veil, exuding an air that was innocent, lively, and captivating.
"What do you think, my dear Director Karen?"
"I have a fiancée."
"Oh, but that's an unavoidable sacrifice to save your life. Even if your fiancée finds out, I'm sure she'll understand."
"Yes, she would."
"Mhm?"
"Yet I cannot understand it myself." Karen dusted off his hands and rose to his feet.
"Why is that?" Demetria lowered her arms. Above them, a veil of night had already been summoned by her previous gestures, blotting out the sunlight. "Could I possibly be inferior to your fiancée?"
Karen shook his head.
"See? You don't think I'm any less than—"
"Not just slightly inferior. You aren't even close."
A smile lingered at the corner of Demetria's mouth, but even if this was just banter before battle, someone with absolute confidence in her beauty could not help feeling offended.
Karen drew the Sword of Diamans before him
and said:
"My apologies, miss. I tried, but I still couldn't convince myself to settle for you."
Chapter 739