Revelation of the God of Order (1)

"I love this feeling, meow—as if exiled by the world, every breath mingled with despair. What about you, Little Glutton?" "If possible, please go back to calling me Sleepyhead." "Ooh." Purr tilted her head, gazing at Philomena's face. "Is it because 'Sleepyhead' sounds slightly better than 'Little Glutton'?" "I don't know." "Except Sleepyhead is my little Kanna's nickname now." "I seem to recall her name is Snowy White." "Ah, you actually care about that! The old you would never have paid any mind. So, have you started worrying about your image?" "What?" "Most animals and plants display unusual behaviors during courtship and estrus that they wouldn't normally show. In the past, aside from Karen's gaze, you didn't care about anyone else at all—including the nicknames I gave you." "Fine, whatever makes you happy." "Do you have someone you care about now? Saddled with the baggage of keeping up appearances?" An expression of impatience crossed Philomena's face. "Ohoho, you're getting emotional, meow!" Philomena remained silent, continuing to walk forward. "All right, I'll stop teasing you. I just wanted to say, if the day comes when you feel the need, when you're ready to screw or get screwed..." "Hm?" "You can come to me for consultation. I can offer you the most comprehensive and professional guidance. I've read an entire bookshelf of romance novels—I'm a seasoned veteran, meow." "Thank you." "You're welcome, don't mention it, Little Glutton—oh, I mean, Sleepyhead." Perched on Philomena's shoulder, Purr chatted idly with her, trading remarks back and forth. Beneath their feet stretched endless yellow sand, monotonous and desolate. After walking for a while, Purr said, "It's afternoon tea time." Philomena paused and asked, "Can we wait until we get back?" "We cannot. This is a matter of ritual." "This doesn't seem like the time to be particular about ritual." "The less fitting the time seems, the more essential it becomes. A sense of ritual isn't meant for putting on pretentious airs when you're basking in glory; it's to remind yourself, when your circumstances are bleak, to cherish the flavor of life, pull yourself together, and set sail anew." "So, when you were back at home in the past, were your circumstances bleak too?" "Yes, meow. I needed something to hold onto so I would always remember who I was, rather than slowly drifting away and dissolving into an illusory dream." "Were you unhappy?" "Being a cat is actually quite enjoyable, but only on the premise that I clearly remember I am *acting as a cat*, not that I *am* a cat." "All right." Philomena took off the double-compartment pack slung over her shoulders. The bag's original owner was Kevin. Aside from carrying a few tools and materials, Kevin's pack was filled with Purr's snacks, napkins, and, most importantly, coffee beans. Retrieving a small fire-attribute spirit stone, Philomena crouched down and began brewing coffee for Purr. "How can you be so clumsy? I've taught you several times, yet you're still so clumsy at it, meow." "Because I don't want to learn this." "That doesn't prove you aren't clumsy. Our Little Karen doesn't like learning things either, but no matter how much he hates studying, it never stops him from picking things up at lightning speed." "Who could compare to him?" "Whether you can match him is a matter of fact; whether you try to compare is a matter of attitude." "Are you showing off?" "Heh, caught me, meow! When your kid gets top marks, what parent wouldn't brag?" "What kid this big still sleeps in the same bed as their parent?" "Would you dare say that to Karen's face?" "I wouldn't." "You've truly learned bad habits, Sleepyhead. The old you was much more endearing than you are now. Current you is a bit tainted." "Is that so..." "That isn't necessarily a bad thing. In that regard, you have the right to choose for yourself. As long as you follow the flagship's heading, whatever decorations you put on your own ship are entirely up to your preference." "Do you want sugar?" "Two and a half cubes." "Done." Philomena set the coffee cup down on the sand before them. Purr hopped down from her shoulder, hooked a paw around the cup's handle, leaned close to blow on it, and extended her tongue to take a lap. "Mm... Sleepyhead, your technique is truly a waste of the expensive coffee my Little Karen bought for me." "I'm sorry." "Apologizing is pointless. Standard rules apply: it's being deducted from next month's allowance." "It seems there isn't much left." "It was docked down to nothing long ago. But no matter—that fellow, that fellow's parents, and that fellow's grandfather can all be deducted together. After all, the authority to disburse allowances is now firmly held by our Little Karen." Philomena looked down at Purr sitting there sipping coffee and slowly raised the Blade of Nightmares in her hand. "Oh, are you angry?" "I don't know." "Provoking you is done out of love. In the name of love, I satisfy my urge to tease, hoping to draw my own amusement from your uncharacteristic reactions. Please don't take it to heart." "I'm afraid I cannot." "Practice brewing coffee properly, and learn a couple of pastries while you're at it. You'll need them in the future." "I shouldn't need them." "No, you will. When Little Tangli was your age, she also thought she would never marry in this lifetime—especially after meeting Diss. Yet that didn't stop her from having three children who call her grandmother today. "Sometimes, the wheel known as fate won't bother greeting you at all; it will simply crush its way straight across your face. "What ought to be learned must still be learned. "For instance, if you ever have friction with your mother-in-law in the future, brew her a cup of coffee first and serve it with two plates of pastries." "To make amends?" "No. If you've gone that far and she still doesn't know what's good for her, you can hang your mother-in-law up and beat her." "Heh." Having raised the Blade of Nightmares completely, Philomena asked, "Have you ever faced troubles in that regard?" "What do you mean?" Purr blew on the coffee cradled in her paws once more. "Feel free to speak your mind. No third living person can hear our conversation anyway. I grant you full liberty, whether you use wild imagination or sarcasm." "Lord Corps Commander's parents have passed away. You don't have to face any troubles in that regard." "His grandfather is still around. In fact, for a very long time in the past, I was the one hung up and beaten by Diss. I loathe the spell Order Cage to death because Diss always loved using it on me. "Still, I had it coming. Back then, I kept egging Diss on to hurry up and kill Karen. The descent of an evil god was bound to be suppressed by the orthodox churches, and everyone around him would be dragged down to die alongside him." "And what about now?" "Now, it's virtually the same. Never mind how high he climbs, never mind that the slumbering Diss remains his staunch backing, never mind that if his identity were exposed, he would be the most exalted third-generation figure in the Church of Order... the Holy Child... the hope... the future... "He knows very well in his heart that once the deepest veil is pulled aside, he and everyone by his side will plunge alongside him into an abyss of despair. "The difference is: "Back then, we were dragged in passively; "Now, we joined in willingly. "Having the fortune to take part in such a fun game is our honor, isn't that right, Sleepyhead?" "Yes." The Blade of Nightmares in Philomena's hand thrust down toward Purr. *Pfft!* The blade stabbed into the sand, nearly grazing Purr's tail. Immediately afterward, wisps of blood welled up from beneath, staining the surrounding yellow sand crimson. Purr arched her tail to keep it clean. Yet she remained seated where she was, elegantly sipping her coffee. *Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!* All around them, figures emerged one after another. Clad in robes of the Earth, their expressions were grim. The captain of their reconnaissance squad had been pinned beneath the very spot where the cat sat. They had thought their concealment flawless—until that woman instantly executed their captain with a single strike. Through false intelligence and engineered sensory impressions, Mr. Aisen and Dena had fabricated the movements of the main legion. It was convincing enough, yet inherently false. It could deceive everything—except mortal eyes. Thus, Purr's mission was to gouge out those probing eyes one by one as they attempted to draw close. This was not the first squad, nor the second; she had already lost track of how many batches it had been. As their destination drew near, the enemy's eyes grew increasingly desperate to catch sight of the true legion. None of it mattered. Purr would take care of everything. Lapping at her coffee once more, Purr said, "What's the rush? To borrow a phrase from the thrill-seekers: if you're in such a hurry to peek at the hole cards at the gambling table, won't you miss out on the ultimate thrill of flipping them over after going all-in? Where's the fun in that?" Philomena pulled out the Blade of Nightmares and stepped in front of Purr. "You're blocking my afternoon sun, Sleepyhead. Losing it devalues the coffee before me, and its worth was already degraded by your shoddy technique." Philomena shifted aside. "Good girl, Sleepyhead." Philomena said, "Even though you talk a lot sometimes..." "Hm?" "I still hope that on future missions, you can be by my side giving me orders." "I understand. When acting independently, do you feel ashamed of your intellect?" Philomena fell silent. "You can say those exact words in the future to whoever you want to maintain your image for. Believe me, after hearing that, he'll seem calm on the surface, but once he lies in bed at night, he'll be clutching his blanket and rolling back and forth endlessly, like a maggot in heat." "In that matter, I don't want to be directed." "Oh, right. Our Little Karen is indeed better at handling people's hearts. He has constantly warned the others not to meddle in your personal affairs. Our Little Karen is truly an empathetic superior, so you all had better be utterly devoted to dying for him, all right? "Hehe, meow. These fellows actually stood there listening to us chat nonsense. Was the nonsense pleasant to hear, my dear Earth marmots?" Hearing that, the surrounding Earth priests froze in shock. Immediately behind them, shadows surged simultaneously. Inquisitors from the Church of Order materialized after closing the distance. Their weapons struck into their targets almost simultaneously, accompanied by the finishing touch of the Fire of Order to ensure none of their marks could stir up any further trouble. In the blink of an eye, nothing remained on the ground but patches of gray residue, starkly conspicuous against the yellow sand. Purr lifted the cup with her paws, drained the last drop of coffee, and stood up. Pacing before the reconnaissance battalion's priests with graceful feline steps, she scolded: "Your speed and efficiency are so low they bring me sorrow. By the time I took my last sip of coffee, it had already gone cold." The priests all bowed their heads, accepting their reprimand and admitting their fault. Evidently, they were thoroughly accustomed to this. When units were initially assigned, they had been astonished to discover that their de facto commander was actually a cat. That astonishment had even carried a trace of shame. Until... while chatting over a meal with colleagues from the artillery battalion, they heard them say: *Brothers, what do you have to feel ashamed of? Our boss over at the artillery battalion is a dog!* Fortunately, whether in the atmosphere of the church, the teams of the Whip of Order, or the military camps, strength reigned supreme. Before long, the priests of both the reconnaissance battalion and the artillery battalion stood tall with chests puffed out, proud of their respective commanders. "If your progress continues to be this slow, then to save myself from humiliation, once the war ends, I'll have your Corps Commander reassign you all to the carriage drivers' unit. After all, under normal circumstances there aren't many suckers willing to hail a carriage, so you'll have plenty of time to sit around scratching your feet and slacking off. "Do I make myself clear, my little good-for-nothings?!" "Yes, my Lady!" "Yes, my Lady!" "Next target: southeast direction. Advance and infiltrate swiftly." *Swish! Swish! Swish!* The priests vanished on the spot. Philomena stowed the spirit stone, scoured the coffee cup clean with sand, and packed it back into the bag. Purr leaped back up to sit on her shoulder. "Actually, they're improving very fast, meow. As expected of elites picked from elite teams. Once a few die and the rest are weeded out, they quickly become presentable." "I know. Every time you scold them, you sound very much like the Corps Commander." "I'm still no match for our Little Karen. Whenever our Little Karen gives people the spicy chicken wing treatment, he's so practiced and natural, whereas I tend to overdo it a bit." "What does 'spicy chicken wings' mean?" "I don't know either. That was translated by Alfred. He loves playing that game of inventing a custom language system with Karen; the two of them are like children, never tiring of it." "Mr. Alfred has never taught us." "Naturally. To protect his spot on the mural, our 'Mr. Flirt' has always been extraordinarily stingy. "All right, let's keep moving. Hurry up and dispose of those straw dogs lurking on the perimeter, meow!" *** *Rumble...* A squad of undead knights burst from the yellow sands, charging straight into a small outpost. The defensive array outside the outpost was trampled into pieces in an instant beneath their charge, and the eight priests inside were crushed into mincemeat in a single pass. With knights, warhorses, and the resonance effect generated by the arrays forged into their armor, in a place like Yorktown they could have crashed through building after building without losing a shred of momentum. Reining in his mount, Count Rekar swung off his horse and began searching through the outpost. He uncovered numerous letters and supply manifests. Everything pointed to the fact that a logistical supply base lay not far ahead. "Hehehe..." Count Rekar chuckled, found a patch of shredded flesh, crouched down, reached in to scoop a bit out, popped it into his mouth, and then spat it out with a wet *ptooey*. "Tastes entirely of sand." The clerical robes wrapping the mangled flesh belonged to the Church of Life, but the meat carried the flavor of the desert. This was a pack of desert remnants disguised in Life robes. This outpost had been deliberately left here waiting to be overrun, and the documents and manifests inside were intentionally planted to reinforce the impression that a logistical supply base lay ahead. "When it's time for people to die, they can't bear to sacrifice their own, using desert remnants instead. Petty through and through." Count Rekar stood up and rested his hands on his hips. The former great pirate stood amid the desert as though planted on a ship deck rolling through the waves. He turned around and looked toward the rear. There lay "his" main fleet. Back then, how could he ever have imagined that one day he would lead an army of Order into battle? How could he have foreseen that after death, he would regain a status like the one he held today? The once-greedy great pirate no longer possessed desires in that regard. Like an old man, he held only a single obsession in his heart: "*Sigh*, hurry up and have a child for me to hold. Either of you two having one is fine by me." *** The wheels of chariots rolled past at high speed. Every chariot was wrapped in vines; though they bore the banner of the Church of Life, family crests were engraved onto the sides of the wheels. This was observation at an extremely close range; the slightest mistake would mean the squad's total destruction here. Once the chariots had moved off, a bald head poked out from the sand, followed by a second, a third, a fourth... A row of brightly gleaming bald heads emerged, shining brightly enough under the desert sun to serve as signal mirrors. Dalivenro crawled forward, groping beneath the wheel ruts until he located a leaf. He brought the leaf to the sapling in his hand. The leaf was absorbed, and at the same moment, he sensed a familiar aura. Indeed. Both the crest and the leaf indicated that forces belonging to "his own family" were nearby. A private army of his family must have been dispatched to the battlefield, and whoever held command of this private army had to be a prominent figure from the clan. Which of his uncles could it be? No, no, no—what mattered most was that since it was a family private army, a whole bunch of his relatives were bound to be in it. Dalivenro's facial expression twisted slightly from excitement. Due to the urgent orders, he had not yet had the chance to ask the young master to help awaken his cousin Bilion. Now, fortune smiled upon him: he had the opportunity to welcome several more family members to reminisce together and host a lively family reunion. Unable to resist, Dalivenro reached up to rub his bald head, thinking to himself: *Damn it, how come ever since I defected to Order, my pace of vengeance has suddenly accelerated so much?* Right then, a surge of life energy spilled out from deep ahead. The surrounding vines began contracting, sweeping the perimeter on alert. Yet the sapling Dalivenro held happened to shield them from these "gazes," ensuring his strike squad remained safe. However, during this very contact, the sapling in Dalivenro's hand suddenly burst with several small red flowers in excitement. Delicate and moist, the crimson deep within the floral hearts was so concentrated it seemed on the verge of dripping out. *Haa... haa... haa...* Dalivenro began breathing deeply and rapidly. Seeing this, the bald subordinates around him cast concerned glances his way, almost suspecting their captain was suffering an attack of angina. It took a long time for Dalivenro to regain his composure before ordering the squad to pull back. After retreating to a safe distance, the entire squad mounted a desert monitor lizard they had captured in the wild. Dalivenro sat alone at the very rear, facing the direction they had previously scouted. Cradling the sapling in his arms, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes held a mixture of yearning, filial attachment, and... chilling coldness. He murmured: "Father, Mother truly misses you."