The Defense

Rasma raised his hand, intending to snap his fingers. With that snap, everything around them would freeze in place. But after a brief hesitation, he decided against it. Instead, he stood up and called out toward Mason: "Hey, Mason! When I walked past your house earlier, I thought I heard Mary calling for you. Did some business come in?" "Really?" Mason paused in surprise, then moved to turn his father's wheelchair around to head back. "The weather is wonderful today. One should breathe more fresh air and get some movement. Let me accompany our Mr. Diss on his stroll. Along the way, I can share the gospel from our Lord with him and pray that he regains his health and wakes up soon." Mason trusted Father Rasma. They had gotten along wonderfully over the years, and Mason often visited the church to share a drink with him. The only odd thing was that whenever Mason invited him over as a guest, Father Rasma would politely decline; even when walking right past their front gate, he never set foot inside their courtyard. "Then I'll trouble you, Father Rasma. I'll head back to check on things and come right back to pick up my father." "Take your time. There's no rush." Once Mason was gone, Rasma walked behind Diss. Resting both hands on the wheelchair, he slowly pushed Diss along the riverbank. "Diss, I know every member of your family quite well now. I think I also have a fair grasp of that deep obsession with family in your heart, as well as what that feeling is you so love and cherish. "I can understand you, even though I was never particularly keen on it myself. "All my life, I never thought of marrying, nor did I ever consider making a home of my own. Not that my mother gave me some negative impression of 'family'… In truth, although my childhood was hardly happy, whenever I reminisce in my old age, those memories always taste sweet. "My mother would always start by cursing me as 'a little bastard of who-knows-which man.' Then she'd toss me a few spare coins—the little that remained from what she earned in bed after losing the rest at the card table, money meant for cigarettes—and tell this little bastard to go buy candy. "Late into the night, when her cravings hit and she had no tobacco left, she would curse at me in her frustration. "As for me, I'd just laugh, giggling away as I licked the candy wrapper. "She died young. She fell ill, her health declined, and without money for medicine, her body deteriorated further. That meant fewer patrons and even less money—a vicious spiral. "Before she died, she stroked my head and told me I was lucky. I might not know which man fathered me, but at least I knew for certain that I came out of her womb. "She said she didn't owe me an apology, because she was never prepared to be a mother in the first place. She was forced into it, helpless, stumbling through in a daze. "She also said she had once intended to do what the other women in her trade did—whenever they accidentally got pregnant and couldn't abort, they'd find a ditch to abandon the baby or drown it in a gutter. "She told me she had cast me out, but then picked me back up. She had submerged me in water, but then pulled me back over and washed me clean. "She said so many things before she died, her voice growing fainter and fainter. When she went entirely silent, I knew that 'home' of mine was gone. "All I remember of her final words was: 'Little bastard, live a good life.' "Fortunately, a priest found me and took me under his wing. I joined the faith, and in the end, I made the Church my home. "Diss, I don't mean to imply you are disloyal to the Church. It's just that for me, the Church is my everything. "I liken the Church to my mother. "It truly shares far too many traits with her, haha." Diss kept his eyes closed, offering not the slightest response to Rasma's rambling. The time before last when Diss had shown a reaction—when his finger had twitched as if about to lift—was when Karen and Augie approached Rogia City, compelling Rasma to step in and deal with the assassins. The most recent time was when Karen entered the contaminated cavern. "Technically speaking, we're both old men now. But in truth, if you factor in the extended lifespan granted by condensing a godhead fragment and becoming a temple elder, you and I are essentially still young men in our early twenties. "Inexplicably, we're young again. Yet that youth feels rather pointless, because neither of us can ever be carefree and vibrant again. "I can't throw petty tantrums at you like I used to, staying awake for days on end, staring into a mirror with bloodshot, terrifying eyes just to pump myself up again and again. "Ah, you probably never knew any of that. Even if you did, you wouldn't have cared. After all, you had long grown accustomed to being the brightest light wherever you stood. How could you ever notice someone looking at you with jealousy and resentment so bitter it nearly drove them mad? "Forgive me. I've indulged in too much idle chatter today. Let's speak of serious matters. "I feel I am close. Before you begin condensing a godhead fragment, it feels impossibly difficult. But once the condensation starts, you realize… well, it's just another process. "I have proceeded very steadily. Of course, I can't compare to a genius among geniuses like you, who condensed it the moment you decided to. "I can only use the clumsy method: picking up a brush and sketching it out stroke by stroke. It's like building a house—laying the foundation first, and once it's built, it's done." Across countless eras, innumerable prodigies had spent their entire lives unable to condense a godhead fragment, forever barred from the temple. To them, a godhead fragment was more like a divine favor and grace bestowed by a god. Yet Rasma likened condensing a godhead fragment to constructing a house, reducing a miraculous divine bestowal to a mere construction schedule. That comparison alone laid bare just how formidable he truly was. An ancient sage of the Church of Principles once remarked: *What is a true genius? They are the ones willing to invest time and effort into a task, and then actually see it through to completion.* "Diss, I'm very curious. Do you truly know that grandson of yours? "Well, perhaps to you, love for your grandson allows you to disregard the gains, losses, security, and stability of the Church. But I cannot. "You wish to protect your home, and I must protect mine. "Keep waiting. "Once my godhead fragment is fully formed, I will make my move. "I will leave this place and go find that grandson of yours. I will peel away his skin, pull out his soul, and examine him thoroughly to see what kind of creature he truly is. "I genuinely wish to know what price you paid during that extraordinary god-descending ritual in the city neighboring Rogia, and what terror you actually summoned down. "When that day truly arrives, there will be only one way to break the deadlock for you." Rasma leaned down, resting his head near Diss's ear, and whispered: "Cast aside your aloofness, shed your solitary pride, and bow your head to the temple. Admit your fault. "If you do that… "There might still be a chance to protect that grandson of yours. "So what if he strayed into heresy and is a remnant of the Light? "So what if he is the descent of some filthy, vile, evil god? "You know how vast our Church of Order is. For your sake, the Church could make room for him." Diss still did not react in the slightest, appearing genuinely asleep, utterly ignoring Rasma's words. "Heh." Rasma chuckled and sighed softly. "You've protected him, yes. But, Diss, how much longer can you keep protecting him?" Rasma halted his steps and turned the wheelchair so that he and Diss faced the flowing river ahead. A warm afternoon breeze drifted by, fluttering the hem of Rasma's sleeves and rustling the gray hair at Diss's temples. After standing silently for a long time, Rasma spoke again: "Unlike you, I once sat upon that supreme seat. Do you know how it felt to sit there? "In that position, I finally realized my own insignificance. "No matter how powerful an individual may be, there are times when it is nearly impossible to truly alter the situation. "The temple may endure and bide its time for the greater picture, but in the end, it is the temple of Order. The faithful of Order still possess a measure of resolve. When the time comes, your issue will inevitably be dealt with; it will not be postponed indefinitely. "I can tell you plainly: on the day I condense my godhead fragment, no fewer than ten temple elders will descend upon this place at once. We will strike from within and without to suppress you. "For the sake of your grandson and your family, you will not strike preemptively. "Yet the end awaiting you will not be a pleasant one. "So please, give serious thought to what I have said and the advice I have offered in the days ahead. "In the end… "I am only human. "You are only human. "We are all merely human. "Alas… we are not gods, after all." *** "Gods above, save me, meow!" Purr wailed in despair while grading little Kanna's homework. No matter how poised and dignified a young lady might be, tutoring a child in their studies could easily shatter her composure. Kevin lay nearby with his eyes open, watching the scene with a wry grin on his canine face. Outside, Karen was conversing with Neo. Hearing the irritable outburst within, Karen could only shake his head helplessly. In his view, little Kanna's progress had already been remarkable; it was simply that Purr's standards were impossibly high. Neo tossed aside the pen in his hand, stifled a yawn, and said, "All right, you really don't need to come asking me about grand war strategy. That's a contest of politics, economics, culture, and faith. In those areas, you understand far more than I do nowadays. "Even if Daan asks you anything, it'll only be about the big picture. He certainly won't be foolish enough to quiz you on the specifics of drill integration or tactical combat commands." "Talking it over puts my mind at ease," Karen said with a smile. "After all, this meeting will directly determine whether I secure the position of corps commander for the main strike army group." "That position was yours long ago. Otherwise, word wouldn't have been leaked in advance. It's nothing more than going through the motions." "It still must be taken seriously. Often, the motions are precisely where things are most likely to go wrong. Looking back now, competing for the regimental commander post under the Whip-Wielder was actually the simplest—all I had to do was shout 'I have no thoughts on the matter' to pass the test." "I'm sure the Whip-Wielder is currently singing your praises on one hand while cursing you as a little scoundrel on the other. What do you think?" Karen replied, "He'll be furious. He must feel the sting of being deceived and manipulated." "If it were me, I'd be thoroughly displeased too." Neo flicked his lighter with a sharp click and lit a cigarette. "I might even look for a chance to bury you in a ditch later on." "That won't happen. The Whip-Wielder is Foden, but at the same time, anyone who occupies that seat is shaped by it. No matter how much he dislikes me right now, he is obligated to maintain the posture of supporting me fully. That is a duty he must shoulder as the head of the Whip of Order." "If you ask me, you should just switch branches entirely. This is a prime opportunity to transfer into the cavalry legions. Less hassle, and the power… is actually greater. That's how the Mad Pope rose to the papal seat step by step—by relying on his seniority and backing within the Light Templar Legion." Karen shook his head. "I have no such intention." "You should understand my point. The military is the foundation of everything." "I know, and to a certain degree, I agree with you. However… the Church of Light did not fall because its strength was insufficient. It collapsed because rot set in from within. "The Whip of Order is responsible for identifying and resolving those internal problems. I believe that is where I belong." Just then, Daina approached from outside to report: "Corps Commander, we are ready to depart." "Very well." Karen stood up and stepped inside first, rescuing little Kanna from the high-pressure environment. Taking Kanna by the hand, he accompanied Daina through the teleportation array at the newly established logistics base. After two transfers, Karen arrived at the supply depot closest to Daan's cavalry legion encampment. Little Kanna transformed into a bone dragon, carrying Karen and Daina toward the camp. To guard against any surprises, a squad of falcon knights escorted them on either flank. During the flight, little Kanna seemed somewhat listless. Daina asked with concern, "She's still young. Are we putting too much pressure on her?" Karen offered no reply. Since he wasn't responsible for the child's direct education, he felt it best not to hand down unsolicited directives. Daina stroked the white bones beneath her feet and said, "Kanna, you're already much more impressive than Augie was at your age." After all, Daina had seen little Kanna's study desk. Who could imagine a young dragon already studying formations and jurisprudence, alongside music theory and history? Hearing that praise, little Kanna perked up considerably. Daina looked at Karen and added, "Corps Commander, Uncle Daan is very straightforward by nature. He appreciates candid dialogue." "Understood," Karen acknowledged. "Thank you." Little Kanna landed before the encampment, and Karen's group proceeded on foot deep into the military base. From a map perspective, the cavalry legion's camp was thrust like a dagger deep into the enemy's heart. The sole reason they had paused their advance rather than pressing further was the risk that pushing too aggressively might overextend them and sever their link with allied formations. After passing through several identity checkpoints, they reached Daan's command tent. In accordance with protocol, Karen was directed to wait in an adjacent tent. Yet the moment he stepped inside, an adjutant notified him that Daan had moved up their meeting to receive him immediately. Karen was not overly flattered by the gesture. He knew that from the instant he entered the camp, Daan had likely received word and ordered other appointments and tasks postponed to meet him first. The adjutant had merely staged the brief delay to make a show of how highly Daan prioritized his subordinates—a bit of theater Daan himself was likely unaware of. Karen entered the command tent. Daan sat within, clad in armor, reviewing documents. "Greetings, my Lord!" Karen saluted respectfully. "Uncle, I missed you!" Daina called out affectionately, running up to wrap her arms around Daan's neck in familiar spoiled warmth. A kind smile surfaced on Daan's face, instantly dissipating the somewhat stifling, solemn atmosphere inside the tent. One could say that with Daina's affectionate display, this interview was already half-successful. Superiors rarely shifted their dispositions without reason; the warmth he showed Daina reflected the attitude he would extend toward Karen. Of course, just like the adjutant's little arrangement, there might have originally been a scripted phase meant to "temper" him, but that step had now been bypassed. "You rascal," Daan teased, tapping Daina's nose before turning his gaze toward Karen. Today, Karen wore the divine robe gifted to him by the Whip-Wielder. Naturally handsome, his features had been tempered by his recent time in the military camp, shaving away any delicate softness and replacing it with a resolute edge. "He truly is handsome. No wonder your heart is pulling outward." Daina's face flushed crimson at once. She instinctively gripped Daan's arm tighter, silently pleading with him not to bring up the matter of the arranged marriage. She still had to return with Karen shortly and continue serving as his subordinate. Things could not be allowed to become awkward. If Karen didn't share those feelings and refrained from any romantic intimacy, she would find herself in an excruciatingly embarrassing position. Daan spoke: "I am very pleased with your recent command performance." "I was merely carrying out the directives of headquarters." "Devouring an entire enemy front while suffering minimal losses of your own is no small feat." "That is the shared aspiration of every commander." "Come to the cavalry legions. I will arrange your transfer myself. I promise you that your talents will not be buried, nor will your future be hindered. Whatever Foden can offer you, I will only give you more." Karen brought his right fist to his chest in salute. "My Lord, I already wield the whip." "Very well. I understand." Daan waved a hand dismissively. "Go meet someone else first. Once you're finished, join me for dinner." "Yes, my Lord." Karen withdrew from the tent. Daina blinked and asked, "Uncle, you're not angry, are you?" "Why would I be angry? It was entirely expected. But what about you? Why do you care about him so much?" "I can't help it—he truly resembles you, Uncle. I imagine when you were young, you were just as handsome, decisive, and capable. Naturally, I feel closer to him. It's all out of respect for you, Uncle." "Daina, promise me one thing. Our status is unique, and it touches upon the honor of the High Priest. Therefore…" "Therefore what, Uncle?" "Therefore, since the betrothal fell through, under no circumstances are you to become his mistress." Daina: "…" *** Karen was escorted into another tent. Upon entering, he found it completely empty. Once he stood firmly in place, a majestic voice resonated through the air: "You must answer three questions for me." Karen made a show of glancing around before replying, "I assume you hold an exalted status, and I should pay you proper respects. But if I am to answer questions, I would prefer to see you in person." "If you cannot see me, will you refuse to answer?" "I cannot answer questions posed by someone I cannot see." "Would your answers truly change depending on my identity?" "When commanding a legion, facing different enemy situations naturally calls for different plans." "Heh." A figure materialized, clad in a gold-trimmed divine robe that radiated supreme nobility. Karen glanced at the silver ring on his finger, then bowed with deep reverence: "Greetings, Temple Elder!" "First question: What is your view of the temple?" "It is the temple of my Order." A long silence followed. "Is that all?" "My answer is complete." "This is an opportunity for you." "Yes. I cherish it deeply, and I feel both thrilled and apprehensive. However, I believe my answer is sufficient." "Second question: Who do you believe can represent the will of the great God of Order?" "The *Light of Order*." "I asked, *who*?" "All believers who have read the *Light of Order*, and all believers who hold devout faith in Order in their hearts." "Choose between the temple and the Holy See." "I believe both the temple and the Holy See have read the *Light of Order*." "You are squandering an opportunity." "No, I cherish it beyond measure." "Third question: Who do you believe is more qualified to guide the course of our Church?" "According to our Church's doctrine: the High Priest is the supreme leader of our Church, standing above all departmental branches and holding the highest authority. He is tasked with guiding all believers of Order forward and commanding us to construct a world governed by complete rules of Order." "Is that so? Yet reality rarely proves as pure and simple as written doctrine." Karen spoke with solemn gravity: "As a believer of Order, I shall unconditionally defend the authority of the High Priest." "The inquiry is over. You may leave." "Yes, Elder." Karen backed out of the tent, his fingertips lightly grazing the silver ring. At that moment, the adjutant waiting outside did not escort Karen back to the command tent for dinner with Daan as promised. Instead, he led Karen further outward, stopping before an unassuming, ordinary tent and gesturing for him to enter. Inside the main command tent, Daan reached out and caught a black raven flying in. Unfolding the message it carried, he read Karen's earlier responses, lingering repeatedly over the final answer: *"As a believer of Order, I shall unconditionally defend the authority of the High Priest."* Meanwhile, Karen stepped into the new tent. The moment he crossed the threshold, the silver ring on his finger sent a trembling chill straight into the depths of his soul. Immediately after, an imposing figure robed in gold-trimmed vestments appeared before him. Karen knew in his heart: this one was an authentic, genuine Temple Elder. "Greetings, Temple Elder." "I have questions for you." "Please ask, Elder. I shall answer with all my heart." "Who do you believe can represent the will of the great God of Order?" "Naturally, it is the temple. For the temple is the sacred place that serves our Lord, the realm closest to our Lord in this world, and the domain where divine decrees are first received. "Therefore, only the temple can represent the will of our Lord, and only the temple is most qualified and capable of guiding the direction and development of our Church!" "And what of the High Priest?" Karen fell silent. "Why do you hesitate?" "I dare not speak." "Speak your true thoughts." "I believe… the High Priest is the steward responsible for serving the temple."