Karen's Prey

Everything around him had long since faded to a dull gray and white. What had been stripped away was not merely color, but emotion as well—his feelings toward the world, and the world's feelings toward him. Karen walked through the throng of pedestrians. He saw two newsboys raising papers and calling out their sales. Their voices ought to have been loud and clear, yet Karen could hear nothing at all. The two boys likewise ignored Karen, who stood closest to them, turning instead to chase down more distant passersby to pitch their newspapers and the new cigarettes in the display cases slung across their hips. Two cars collided at the crossroads. Their short-tempered drivers had already tangled in a brawl, and the vehicles trapped behind them blared their horns incessantly in an urgent clamor. Karen walked quietly through the intersection, unable to perceive even the slightest hint of the commotion. He continued forward. Perhaps wandering aimlessly was an aim in itself. He had no idea what he was doing, because there was no need to know; when he reached where he was meant to be, what he was meant to do would present itself. He was like a cold, humanoid gear, devoid of self, yet turning with absolute certainty. At this moment, Karen was undeniably an extraordinarily perilous existence. Even setting aside his status and rank, his sheer individual strength alone would cause catastrophe beyond imagination were he to lose control in a densely populated area. Throughout the histories of the various churches, cases of the Lost had never been lacking. In a few extreme instances, they had even triggered minor natural disasters. A campaign motorcade passed in front of Karen. He looked toward Rottini, who was seated in the open-top car. The smile on Rottini's face was radiant as he waved his hand tirelessly. Between his eyebrows, a faint, flickering speck of light hovered, like a seed on the verge of sprouting, opening a vast realm within his mind. Only, it had not truly grown out yet. A seed that had not sprouted was, in the end, no match for unripe fruit. Once the motorcade passed, Karen kept walking until he arrived before an eight-story building. It was a hotel. Across the street, Karen stood directly facing its main entrance. He stopped, standing motionless, closed his eyes, and lowered his head. ... Inside his soul space, the original puddle had turned into a muddy swamp. Karen stood in its center, coated in foul sludge. Behind him, a scythe was likewise blanketed in mud. Though it shuddered constantly, shaking off clumps from time to time, fresh sludge promptly surged back to cover it anew. Beyond the swamp—or more accurately, across the entire vault of the soul space—the form of the hunger addiction statue was reflected. It slowly lowered its head, gazing down. The tenant who had once lived in the innermost room had picked the lock and emerged, while the original owner of the house had been locked inside. The transfer of control had already taken place. This was not a replacement, but rather an ongoing overwrite. *Splatter...* The sludge on Karen's face began to slide off, revealing his features, like a drowning man suddenly granted a rare gasp of air. He lifted his head and looked toward the sky. The hunger addiction statue stood there, looking back at him without any expression. In that silence, a bargain was struck. Karen smiled, though the smile gradually turned helpless. The hunger addiction possessed no self; Karen had known this long ago. Yet lacking a self did not mean lacking intelligence. If anything, its intellect had grown more polished and flawless precisely because it was free from extraneous ego. At the same time, having no self meant it had no flaws or loopholes, making it all the more terrifying. No wonder even the God of Order had been helpless against this hunger addiction. An "opponent" like this would never offer a way to truly defeat it from the very beginning, nor would it leave behind the slightest possibility of doing so. "Is this the food you chose...?" Karen asked. The hunger addiction statue offered no answer. Karen nodded. "Very well. I agree." A transaction: *I grant you a certain degree of conscious freedom; I grant you the possibility of sending me back into the innermost room; I grant you hope of turning the tables; I have even... chosen a prey you can accept.* *In exchange, you will temporarily lend me your experience and abilities without reservation, for me to use as I see fit.* The hunger addiction possessed nearly insurmountable power on the soul level, representing the rules of Order. However, reality was a world of friction; it was never an ideal state. Thus, the hunger addiction not only sought to control Karen, but also wished to employ his full strength. Not simple manipulation and command, but complete adaptation. It had named its price, and Karen had agreed, for he, too, had obtained what he wanted. This dynamic closely mirrored the relationship between a god and a believer, making it hard to tell in the moment who was the god and who was the devotee. In the early days when the hunger addiction flared up, Karen could suppress it by scorching it with the Fire of Light or the Fire of Order, like a primitive human brandishing a torch to drive off a wild beast. Now, Karen had grown stronger, and the beast had grown stronger alongside him. The beast had leaped over the fence, walked up to his bedside, pressed a finger to its lips in a shushing gesture, and said with a smile: *"Let us make a deal."* If the gap between them widened further, it was entirely possible that the man would eventually become the beast driven away with torches. As if sensing the thought in Karen's mind, a ball of Fire of Order coalesced before him, swaying left and right. Karen knew this was its response. What was more terrifying was that he felt no malice or twisted humor from the hunger addiction. The Church of Principles had once studied the behavioral patterns of "gods." In their scholarly treatises, they described the gods' operation as mechanical. Yet the problem was that in the mythologies recounted by the various churches, the stories of gods were often splendid—filled with emotion, conflict, struggle, hatred, and slaughter... Between the two perspectives lay a contradiction that was virtually inherent. Karen turned his head to look at the scythe behind him. It was already bound fast; there was no counting on it. Besides, even if it broke free of its restraints, its first swing would probably be aimed at Karen rather than the hunger addiction. After his body had been remade by the pit's pollution, the former general store was no longer a dazzling array of goods; its shelves had grown exceedingly sparse. Once, Karen could call upon the powerful entities within his soul space to join forces and suppress the hunger addiction of Order. Now, those helpers were gone. Still, there was no cause for regret. At the hunger addiction's current strength, even they would no longer have been able to keep it down. The hunger addiction statue raised its head once more. Across the street, facing the hotel entrance, Karen also raised his head. He took a step forward and walked into the building. ... "The war in the desert will certainly come to an end, and the initiative to end it rests in the hands of the Church of Order. What we must ascertain now is how they intend to conclude this war. "Only by figuring this out can our Moon God Church make advance preparations and lay our plans." Salayina assigned the tasks to everyone in the conference room. At the same time, she held out her hand, and the manservant standing behind her, Sains, placed a small stack of fresh flower petals into her palm. She had remained in the Yorktown Region for a long time. To a certain extent, she served as the Moon God Church's secondary diplomatic priest posted to the Church of Order, using her status and the resources at her disposal to mediate on behalf of her church. Beyond that, there was naturally another tradition: almost every diplomatic mission doubled as a hub for intelligence, espionage, and recruitment. It was an unspoken understanding between them all. Still, considering that the Moon God Church was part of the coalition, the fact that diplomats from both sides could operate normally while Order and the coalition fought tooth and nail in the desert was a rather grotesque, absurd reality. The others bowed and took their leave, filing out of the room. Salayina remained seated. Sains set a basket of flowers before her so she could eat at her leisure, then stepped behind her to massage her shoulders and neck. "My lady, Minister Karen has returned. I believe a breakthrough might be found through him." "He is not a man who plays by the rules. Have you forgotten how he blackmailed and extorted us?" "Yes, my lady, but precisely because he doesn't play by the rules..." "Precisely because of that, he will entice us into feeding him step by step, taking a heavy price from us while giving nothing in return. Men like him are far harder to handle than those upright, self-righteous believers who cherish their reputations. "The latter will at most ignore us, whereas he will look for any opportunity to devour us down to the bone. "Most importantly, we don't even have the standing to deliver ourselves up to be eaten anymore. Once he became Regional Chief, invitations sent his way vanished without a reply, let alone now." "I simply feel it is a pity to abandon that lead entirely." "Sains, you fool. Don't tell me you actually hope to bribe and turn him. If we could flip the number two figure in the Whip of Order, why wouldn't we just try to turn the Whip-Wielder himself?" "That would be a fine idea." "Idiot!" Salayina was amused, and Sains chuckled along with her. Yet their laughter came to an abrupt halt. The fingernail on Salayina's left index finger suddenly fractured into a web of dense cracks—a premonition of mortal danger. Sains stepped in front of Salayina and rolled his neck. The skin exposed beyond his clothes took on the metallic sheen of a rigid carapace, and the sides of his jaw quivered as he barked out a rapid string of commands: "Special security personnel, take your positions immediately!" "All attendees, return to the conference room at once!" "Activate the hotel's defensive formation!" *Snap!* Salayina looked down. The fingernail on her index finger had already fallen away, exposing the raw, bleeding flesh beneath. She added: "This is Order's parish. Call upon the Church of Order for aid!" ... This small hotel was an asset of the Moon God Church within the Wien Region and one of its principal strongholds. By now, the hotel's defensive formation had been fully engaged. Yet Karen walked through it unimpeded. Before him, a Rubik's cube rotated at high speed, analyzing and neutralizing the formation's various measures against him. Having concluded the deal with Karen, the hunger addiction was now able to employ all of his abilities—and Karen's repertoire was remarkably comprehensive to begin with. *Ding-dong...* The elevator doors slid open. The attendees who had just departed were all rushing back toward the conference room; they were project team heads for the Moon God Church in the Wien Region, individuals of immense value. Yet halfway down the corridor, the group froze in their tracks. On the walls to either side, phantom outlines of chains manifested, rapidly weaving across the surroundings like a spider's web. Before they could mount any response, the chains materialized into solid metal and pierced through them. Body after body was run through, left dangling overhead level with the ceiling chandeliers. Karen's figure appeared on the spot. Without sparing a glance at the corpses above, he swung both hands backward. In the two hallways behind him, squads of security personnel were rushing toward the area. Suddenly, two enormous fists materialized before them, entirely filling the corridors. *Boom! Boom!* From the plaster and floorboards to the ceiling, the corridors were utterly flattened. Under this unreasonable, overwhelming crushing force, the security personnel were turned into blood mist and pulverized meat. When subsequent security forces attempted to push forward, they discovered to their horror that the hotel's defensive formation, which should have been under their control, had begun bizarrely turning against them. Karen arrived before the conference room door and pushed it open. Sains appeared before him, his arms transformed into sharp, mantis-like curved blades that slashed down toward Karen. Karen raised a hand. A three-dimensional black cube appeared in his palm, and the Order Cage materialized, not only parrying both curved blades but also sweeping them inside its confines. The cage twisted, contorted, and finally collapsed... Collapsing alongside it were Sains's arms. Even Neo, who excelled above all else in close-quarters combat, was utterly toyed with before the current Karen, let alone the servant before him. In the face of absolute power, combat was simple—and dreadfully dull. Sains stared in horror at his empty shoulders. His frame instantly began to swell, preparing to reveal his true form for battle. Yet Karen gave him no such chance. A layer of black mist clung to his body—a movement spell that had never truly ceased. Because it had not been recast, it caught him completely off guard. In an instant, Karen appeared beside Sains, his left hand casually patting against Sains's chest. *Crack!* The sound of shattering carapace rang out. Sains looked down to see a Spear of Punishment hovering against his chest. This spear was not alone. It was as though a spell had been planted there to fire continuously; in a breath, spear after spear of punishment coalesced and slammed into Sains's chest. The energy ripples were confined with exquisite precision to a narrow area, but the relentless barrage Sains endured was devastatingly real. The sturdy carapace he took such pride in finally shattered. A final Spear of Punishment flew forth, piercing through his torso and carrying him along to slam violently against the conference room wall. Fluids of various colors oozed ceaselessly from his body, pooling on the floor beneath him, looking for all the world like a cockroach swatted flat against a wall. Salayina looked at Karen and asked, "Who are you?" This time, Karen wore no mask, but the state of being dominated by the hunger addiction was the finest mask of all; Salayina could not make out his face. "What do you want?" Salayina asked again. Karen continued walking toward her. "Can we... talk?" As the third question fell, the imprint of a crescent moon surfaced in Salayina's left pupil. Beams of moonlight poured down from all corners of the conference room, converging squarely upon Karen. In an exceedingly gentle voice, Salayina said softly: "You are tired." Seeing Karen dispatch her manservant with such brutal efficiency, she had decisively opted for a psychic counterattack. Unfortunately, this was an even more absurd mistake. She had actually attempted a mental hypnosis against the hunger addiction. It was equivalent to picking the very domain where the disparity between them was greatest to stake everything on a single decisive strike. Karen came to a halt. Salayina let out a slight breath of relief. Yet in the very next instant, the pure white moonlight bathing Karen turned jet-black, as though stained with ink. Every shred of psychic projection surged backward, violently channeled straight into Salayina herself. "Aaaahhh!" However gentle it had been before, it was now that much more savage—the most extreme of reciprocal gifts. Salayina clutched her head and shrieked in agony. Her soul was being torn apart and gnawed by a terrifying force, and fresh blood began trickling from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Several sacred artifacts on her person prepared to activate, attempting to protect their master on instinct. But as Karen stood before Salayina and looked down upon her, the artifacts' autonomous operation ground to a dead halt. Karen raised his hand, and an invisible force hoisted Salayina into the air. In excruciating torment, she looked at the man before her, yet she still could not see his face clearly. The Fire of Order flared up across her form. Her body and soul were both undergoing final preparation, after which an exquisite meal would be served. Wisps of moonlight were roasted out of her, destined to become the delicate savor within a fine broth. Karen possessed a multitude of skills; at this moment, the hunger addiction even drew upon his culinary abilities, plating and presenting the forthcoming feast well in advance. The Church of Order's rescue forces had yet to appear. Salayina knew it was only natural; too little time had passed for them to arrive. She herself had never anticipated that she would be so utterly powerless before this mysterious figure. Left with no other choice, Salayina closed her eyes and pleaded, "Please... save me..." This cry for help was not directed at Karen, but at another existence within her. Back when Karen was still a security squad captain tasked with guarding and protecting Salayina, the Moon God Church's Holy Child, they had faced an assassination attempt inside the Ankara Memorial Hall on the top floor of the Ankara Hotel. On that occasion, to preserve herself, the "Ankara" within Salayina had awakened. The surrounding air grew thick and heavy. A heart-stopping, invisible vortex began to gather rapidly. The entire conference room—no, the entire hotel—was cordoned off, becoming a unique barrier realm. Salayina opened her eyes, her gaze turning fathomlessly profound. Yet very quickly, that depth was shattered. Perhaps not even Salayina herself could have anticipated that Lady Ankara—who had saved her several times and whom she regarded as her greatest protective talisman—would not only fail to perform her role, but would instead look upon the person intent on devouring her with an affectionate gaze and a fond smile: "Father, are you hungry again?"