Upon hearing the Whip-Wielder's words, Daina immediately set down everything in her hands—not to free them for drawing lots, but to tuck her hands behind her back, lower her head, and take two steps back, showing both terror and resistance.
To amuse his daughter, Ankara, the God of Order had once let her write the name of any fallen deity upon a bookmark.
This story was clearly recorded in the Light of Order.
Yet Daina knew very well that she was no Ankara. She was merely an adopted daughter, and the bond between her father, the High Priest, and the Whip-Wielder was hardly the conventional kind of positive deathbed entrustment. She had long since vaguely guessed her father's fate.
Besides, Ankara's ending had hardly been a pretty one either.
The High Priest ignored the trembling Daina at his side, his gaze turning to the Whip-Wielder, deep and impenetrable.
Foden remained bent at the waist, perfectly motionless.
This ought to have been a nerve-racking, high-stakes examination, yet he had arrived with the answer key in hand.
After "confirming" Karen's status as a Child of God, Foden harbored virtually no doubt about the correctness of that answer.
Still, the Whip-Wielder was the Whip-Wielder after all. An ordinary man holding the right answer would be unable to resist rushing to turn in his exam, but Foden had even paid attention to the neatness and layout of the page, dressing it up with careful polish.
After a brief stretch, the silence was broken by the High Priest.
"Perhaps I ought to see you in a new light, Foden."
"Having followed you for so long, if I hadn't made any progress, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."
"That you could see to this layer was something I hadn't anticipated," the High Priest said.
Foden: "..."
"I can understand their hesitation and fear. I know they are loyal to me and devout toward Order, but what we face is a monumental upheaval never before seen in this era.
"They should understand sooner that any vacillation is pointless. Not only do we have no retreat, but we will not even retain the right to stand where we are.
"Because long, long ago, our forebears staked everything on our behalf.
"They made themselves the wager, and we are part of that wager as well."
Foden: "..."
The Whip-Wielder dearly wanted to reply. He knew his superior's habits well enough to know that someone was supposed to feed him lines and play along right about now. But here, the drawback of knowing the answer without knowing the underlying principles of the problem laid itself bare.
Like playing a guessing game, Foden could only chime in based on the High Priest's descriptions. But if he chimed in incorrectly, the outcome would be dire.
The High Priest picked up a cigar and handed it to Foden, who took it respectfully.
"At times, what breaks us is not the enemy, but our own cowardice."
"Yes," Foden said. "Courage is paramount."
"No matter how powerful the enemy may be, we need only do what we ought to do. We do not know when the enemy will truly come—perhaps we will face them, or perhaps it will be left to our next generation.
"I do not wish for our next generation to resent us when the time comes, blaming us for panicking blindly instead of forging one more weapon or stockpiling one more crate of supplies for them.
"More than that, I believe our next generation possesses wisdom and fortitude."
Foden replied, "Yes, I believe the next generation will possess more than enough courage."
"If they were truly so powerful, why wait until now for signs of their return to appear? When all is said and done, they are nothing more than a pack of stray mutts driven out of their kennel. Now they bark incessantly from across the courtyard wall, as if trying to prove how formidable they are."
Foden said, "Please rest assured. Our Church of Order possesses more than enough courage to bar them outside forever."
The High Priest tossed the stack of bookmarks onto the coffee table and said to Daina:
"Drawing them here with no one to see would be rather dull. When the time comes, we will host a public banquet, and you shall draw."
Daina instinctively wanted to shake her head in refusal, yet an even deeper, bone-deep instinct compelled her to nod:
"Understood, High Priest."
The High Priest gave a faint smile and said, "I heard you've designated that Karen as your successor, and even called Kred and the others over to bear witness for you?"
Foden breathed a deep sigh of relief in his heart. The topic had finally changed; he no longer had to keep chewing endlessly on that safe keyword, "courage."
"Yes. I previously submitted a report to you about it. As you once said, he is a young Foden."
"Heheheh. But I didn't expect you to move with such haste. What, is the cold poison in your body beyond your control now?"
Foden bowed his head, neither confirming nor denying it. Instead, he said, "Rest assured, it will not hinder my duties."
"A pity he already has a fiancée, otherwise our Daina..."
Daina blushed on cue.
The High Priest asked, as if teasing on purpose, "You fancy him, don't you?"
When he wanted distance, you could not act familiar; when he wished to indulge in father-daughter warmth, you had to respond without hesitation.
Everyone around him had to accommodate his moods and preferences. No one could sway him; only he could sway others.
Daina pursed her lips and said, "I do like him. He is handsome and very capable. It's just..."
"Just what?"
Daina had wanted to say, *It's just that he doesn't know how to be considerate of others.*
Yet she realized she could not give such an answer, lest the High Priest take it as an insinuation directed at him.
Though in Daina's eyes, Karen and the High Priest were truly cut from the same cloth. Both treated you with great warmth, and Karen in particular conducted himself with impeccable grace; yet before you even realized it, every action you took began conforming to his personal and professional whims.
"...It's just that we met too late."
"Hahaha! Oh, you. Well, since he already has an engagement, let it be. Which family is his betrothed from again?"
Foden answered immediately, "A fallen minor family in the Yorktown Region."
"Of our church?"
"No, a family-faith system."
"Oh, so they helped him in the past, did they?"
"Yes. That family wanted Karen to become their head."
"Heh, they certainly have an eye for talent. Well then, do not break it off. It would reflect poorly on his reputation. Besides, an in-law relationship with an impoverished minor family is quite suitable for him at present.
"If he truly married a woman from some major clan or ended up with our Daina, the Temple would probably strike him from the roster overnight. How unfortunate that would be."
"The Temple is currently preparing to make significant contact with him, as they just approached me today."
"Because of your actions?"
"Yes. My move likely elevated the weight the Temple attaches to Karen."
"Let them be. We have already suppressed the Temple; we cannot deny them even the right to yip a little. Those temple elders want to save face too, so humoring them when necessary is fine. In any case, they are easy enough to humor."
"I will caution him."
"No need. Let nature take its course."
"Yes, High Priest."
"Very well. You may both withdraw. I wish to read quietly on my own for a while."
The Whip-Wielder and Daina rose and took their leave.
In the central circular zone, only Norton remained seated.
He picked up the novel he had previously laid face down, turned a page, and read for a short while. Then, the path light strips in the central section of the administrative temple all went dark; the High Priest's workday had drawn to a close.
The High Priest stood up from behind the desk, walked over to the circular lounge, and came before Norton. Picking up a wine goblet, he poured himself a drink and took a sip.
The corner of Norton's mouth curved into a faint smile. He looked up at the "High Priest" standing before him.
Swirling the goblet gently, the High Priest said, "Norton, your struggles are all in vain."
Unfazed, Norton replied, "If they were truly in vain, then I should be the one standing and you the one seated."
"I have been sitting and working for so long that I grew tired. I simply wanted to stand for a bit."
"As you please." Norton turned another page.
"Are you not curious why, no matter how you suppress me or what extreme measures you employ, you cannot halt my relentless growth within your body?"
"Not curious in the least. You are a god, the great and exalted Lord Tyrannus. Any miraculous, impossible feat occurring through you seems entirely ordinary to me."
"Then why do you still resist?"
"You being Lord Tyrannus does not stop my name from being Norton."
Norton closed the book, took a puff of his cigar, and slowly exhaled a ring of smoke. Smoke drifted between the two, blurring his vision, as though the figure opposite him were no longer his own reflection, but the venerable likeness depicted on the frescoes.
The High Priest said, "Our great Lord is about to return."
"I address Him respectfully as our great Lord, yet I am even more inclined to believe that our great Lord belongs where He was meant to be."
"My Lord is weary."
"He is great. How could He be weary?"
"This is the inevitable course of the eras."
"All I know is that in this world, nothing has ever been inevitable. If the eras truly possessed such predetermined rules, then three eras ago, the God of Eternal would not have been lost; in the last era, the God of Light would not have fallen; and in this era, the gods would not have failed to emerge.
"Is not the 'inevitability' you speak of merely relying on your own might to more easily bring about the outcome you desire?"
"The return of the gods can no longer be stopped. Norton, do you truly wish to lead a godless Church of Order into battle against a church circle once more presided over by living deities?"
"I believe I can achieve it. And I believe the Church of Order—I believe Order itself—can achieve it."
"And the result?"
"Idealists seldom care much about results."
"Norton, you will lead the Church of Order down the old path of Light. Several thousand years from now, you will be remembered in the history of Order as the Mad Priest."
"You actually know of what happened a thousand years ago. It seems you have long since read my memories."
"Norton, it was I who chose you."
"Thank you. I have always felt proud and honored to have been chosen by your Lordship."
"We could have had a magnificent state of affairs. As the curtain on the gods' return rises, my Lord would inevitably be the first god to return, for my Lord is the closest to this era.
"With you serving as the church's High Priest, I could even assist you. Together, we would make every preparation so that when my Lord returns, this world and this era must still abide by the statutes of Order."
Norton let out a sigh and murmured wistfully, "Yet in an era so clean, why dirty it?"
"That is where I cannot comprehend you, Norton."
"That is only natural. For you are Tyrannus, yet not Tyrannus. You are merely a fragment of Lord Tyrannus—broken, incomplete. Your descent was meant only to alert our church to prepare in advance.
"If the true Lord Tyrannus had descended, I believe he would understand me.
"Because I believe that Lord Tyrannus, who founded the Church of Order with his own hands and personally penned the Light of Order, was surely an idealist as well. He and his companions, those venerable lords—including my Lord—were all idealists back then. You were a gathering of idealists."
"Oh? Is that so..."
"It is."
"That does not prevent you from releasing me now. I could help you make far better preparations."
Norton put down the book in his hand and leaned back against the sofa.
The High Priest spoke again: "Our disagreement lies merely in method and process, but the outcome we desire is identical."
"Identical? Lord Tyrannus, do you know what an idealist fears most?"
"You may speak your answer."
"What they fear most... is corruption."
The High Priest fell silent.
Norton continued, "Is the outcome we anticipate truly the same? I would not dare assume so. Why descend secretly upon me? Why not notify the church from the very start?
"Indeed, the church generally does not wish for Children of God to come too close to the core of power, but your identity is different. You are Tyrannus! You would bring the most direct prophecy of the gods' return; you would lead the Church of Order in making the earliest preparations to welcome our great Lord's return.
"I do not care much for our Temple of Order—in my eyes, far too much rot and arrogance gather there. Yet even I cannot deny that on an issue like this, our Temple knows what takes precedence.
"The Holy See and its various factions would also, I imagine, set aside their prejudices in the face of such a matter and take the initiative to submit and cooperate.
"In short, had you, Tyrannus, descended in a normal manner, our church could have had decades to make concrete preparations in advance!
"Lord Tyrannus...
"Do you... and your peers... truly harbor no hatred toward my Lord?
"As you are now,
"do you truly wish to protect my Church of Order,
"or rather...
"are you the very first who wish to see it destroyed?"
The High Priest did not reply. He looked left and right, as though he had suddenly become an entirely different person.
He tapped his forehead and asked, "So, was I lost just now? His influence is growing heavier and heavier. He can even control a clone now."
"Mhm."
"What now?" the High Priest asked.
"Let's see if we can trace it back. Kill yourself."
"All right." The High Priest placed a hand before his chest. In the next instant, he thrust it straight into his own breast, crushing the vitality within. "Take better care of your health."
"I will."
"Goodbye, then."
"Goodbye."
The High Priest committed suicide, and his body began to dissipate. Yet within the space of that dissipation, a black hole suddenly opened, reflecting a void so pitch-black it inspired despair.
Norton straightened his back and leaned forward, gazing into it.
The moment his eyes made contact with the reflection of that pitch-black void, a shroud of flame burst across his body, searing him.
From beneath the coffee table, Norton took out a box. Opening it, he retrieved three items in turn: a badge, a bell, and an arrowhead.
These were three soul-type divine artifacts, devoid of artifact spirits and utterly pristine.
As the High Priest of the Church of Order, he certainly held such privileges.
Now, the three divine artifacts were awakened, casting three distinct hues of light to shield Norton.
Yet even so, all three artifacts began to tremble violently.
Divine artifacts without artifact spirits ultimately could not unleash their full might, and the vision he sought to behold was a forbidden taboo in the first place.
At last, amidst the pitch-black void, something appeared that did not belong to that environment.
It was a colossal silver cross. A figure was nailed to it by both arms, his body hanging limp.
Norton rose to his feet. Above his head, a closed eye manifested.
"Eye of Order..."
As the eye opened, the figure nailed to the cross in the vision grew distinct.
The crushing pressure of gazing directly upon a god descended upon Norton, yet he remained standing firm.
Though none may gaze directly upon a god, whether he accepted it or not, he bore the identity of Tyrannus's Child of God.
He saw blood dripping down, pooling into a puddle of despair.
He saw horrifying fractures riddling the withered divine frame.
He saw fine holes bored through by worms throughout the fading godhead.
He felt endless desolation and despair.
Drip... drip...
Rivulets of blood dripped from the corners of Norton's eyes.
Yet the corners of his lips curved upward in an irrepressible arc.
This was Tyrannus—Tyrannus nailed to a cross.
Who could have imagined that the founder of the Church of Order had been kept in such torment for an entire era!
Aside from the God of Order, he was the deity depicted in the most murals within the Church of Order, widely regarded by most Order believers as the church's foremost branch god.
This was the fate of the church's foremost branch god... this was his present reality.
"Hehehe... Hehehe... Hahahaha..."
Norton began to laugh. More and more blood streamed from the corners of his eyes, and his soul was paying the price of dissolution, yet he wanted to sustain this vision for as long as possible.
As the High Priest of the Church of Order, as the vessel of Tyrannus's legacy, he felt neither a chill of dread, nor confusion, nor anger, nor grievance before this sight. He felt exhilarated—it even deepened his devotion toward the God of Order.
You said you wanted to create a new world of your design. I see it now: you turned every god who followed you into a sacrifice.
Originally, Norton had believed that what he worshipped was Order, not a god. But now, he wished to praise God.
"Praise be to my Lord. Praise be... to the great God of Order."
Norton crossed his arms over his chest in the gesture of praise.
The black hole before him could finally hold no longer.
In the instant before it dissolved,
Tyrannus, nailed to that colossal, majestic cross, violently snapped his head up. No longer the symbol of wisdom and composure depicted in the church's murals, his eyes glowed crimson and his expression contorted into ferocity as he unleashed a roar of fury:
"ORDER!!!"
Chapter 820