The God's Betrayal!

Having spoken his piece, Michios watched Karen intently, hoping for some reaction. Evidently, he was disappointed. Karen merely gave a calm nod—a reaction so simple it seemed to say: *Oh, I see.* Michios found this somewhat incomprehensible. Yet he dared not peer directly into Karen's mind. Even if he possessed the ability, he feared he might walk in only to find no way out. As a divine artifact once held in the God of Eternity's hands, he knew all too well just how terrifying a deity—no, an Overlord of the Era—truly was. And so he chose the most direct and sincere approach, asking: "Are you not surprised?" "I foresaw it." "Are you not disappointed?" "I can understand." "Are you not angry?" "I can accept it." Michios spread his hands. "Yet I cannot comprehend it. Or could it be that he deceived me? Few in this world can deceive me, but he is one of them. After all, he is Tyrannus's inheritor." "He is Norton." Michios smiled. "In that regard, you and he are very much alike. I can sense that neither of you identifies with the legacy behind you. That completely contradicts the choice of ordinary people. To ordinary mortals, an ancestor's name always comes first, followed by a succession of honorifics and statuses, and only at the very end, themselves." "That is childish." "Childish? These are the titles of gods." "Yet they are not oneself, after all. Just as you said, you cannot understand Norton, but I can. You cannot understand that sense of self-identity, yet I still can. He is the High Priest of the Church of Order; I am Sequence 2 of the Whip of Order. My vantage point is not as high or comprehensive as his, but we view the Church and the world the same way. You, however, are no believer of Order, and the Church of Eternity perished long ago. "You fail to grasp our self-identity because you have always existed as the artifact spirit of the God of Eternity. You are wise, but your wisdom is narrow, because you cannot even see yourself clearly. Our stances, our positions, and our starting points are entirely different. Naturally, from your perspective, you cannot understand, and you take it for granted that my acceptance is even more baffling. "Yet if our positions were reversed, I think I would make the same choice as Norton. I have no way of knowing where the God of Order is, in what manner she will descend, or what her present state may be. Still less can I know whether the newly descended God of Order is the same one from the previous era, whether they are the same existence, or if the new God of Order has already rotted and fallen into corruption. "Too many uncertainties interfere. And since I refuse to surrender the future to fate, I would rather do everything in my power to settle matters while I am still alive." At this point, Karen let out a sigh. "We will face this calamity head-on. But even the most optimistic person could hardly cling to any hope of success. You cannot understand that feeling, because though you are imprisoned here, you have always been waiting for the God of Eternity's return." "Then will you tell Norton your true identity?" Michios asked with a smile. "From what I know of him, once he learns you are the great incarnation of Order, he may very well alter his original decision." "Not for now. Because he and I are alike in certain ways: we value ourselves more, we trust our own choices more, and we prefer to take the lead in shouldering responsibilities and consequences. We are unwilling to believe even in gods, let alone other people. Down below just now, I chose the defensive divine artifact of the God of Starlight. Because I dislike gambling. I hate the feeling of leaving my feet off the ground and hoping the wind carries me away. I imagine my High Priest feels the same. "Even so, Michios, you still achieved your purpose." "What do you mean?" "Isn't this why you invited me here? You don't want my identity exposed; you don't want me executed; and you don't want the God of Order to regain power and delay your Lord's return. You are in torment. When there is no hope, torment is numb. But when hope appears before your eyes, the torment comes alive." Michios fell silent, which was an admission in itself. Karen turned and waved a hand. "It's getting late. I should go. If I stay any longer, that thing will see me." Michios bowed in farewell, but as he bent down, he spoke: "I was naive to think I could use my petty intellect to sway someone as great as you." "Your luck was simply poor. Just before coming here, I heard the High Priest speak at the First Knight Order. I know he is no cowardly conservative. Tell me, should I believe the man in your words, or the man I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears?" In truth, the Whip-Wielder had contributed to this as well. Karen had always wondered why the Whip-Wielder was so keen to keep him synchronized with the High Priest's attitudes. With the Whip-Wielder acting as an intermediary, High Priest Norton in Karen's eyes had long ceased to be merely an aloof figure on high; he had become more concrete and realistic. As for whether the High Priest had truly told Michios that he intended to kill Karen, or that after his death the deluge could come for all he cared—that had no effect on Karen whatsoever. In the past, Karen had fallen into prolonged confusion and self-reproach, feeling guilty for his very existence, and had even considered suicide so the God of Order could hold out a little longer for this clean world. Michios said, "Norton actually added one more sentence, right after 'after my death, let the floodwaters rise.'" "Oh? What did he say?" "He said: 'He believes in the wisdom of posterity.'" *** The quarter-hour was up. Karen stepped out. Vic shut the heavy door, and the gaze in the peephole returned at once, warily scanning the surroundings. It was diligent and dutiful, but unfortunately, the person commanding it had committed dereliction of duty. Vic drew out the key and followed Karen outside. Honest was waiting behind the second security gate. When Karen emerged, he immediately told Relier to pick up the camera, eager to take a commemorative photograph with him. Karen wore a cooperative smile, but the moment the shutter clicked, the smile vanished. It was not that Karen couldn't be bothered to put on an act at such a moment. Rather, he suddenly remembered that during the mission down into the underground cavern, a volunteer had also asked for a photo with him, saying he wanted to take it home to show his daughter. That father had died in that operation. Now, watching Honest gleefully cradling the camera and inspecting the shot, Karen felt an involuntary surge of irritation. Vic noticed the shift in Karen's mood and silently resolved to speed up the investigation, aiming to reunite the father and son in the Disciplinary Department's prison fortress as soon as possible. Passing out through the villa's front doors into the courtyard, they saw the corgi sprawled before the doghouse, seemingly taking an afternoon nap. After seeing Karen's carriage off with his subordinates, Honest walked back past the kennel. The corgi lifted its head, looking at him with cold eyes. Honest tossed the camera and photos to Relier, signaling her to leave, and then crouched before the kennel, meeting the corgi's gaze. After a moment, Honest knelt flat on the grass, his face pressed to the turf. When he looked up again, his face was smeared with tears, mucus, and blades of grass. "Do you think there is still any hope for me?" The corgi lifted a paw, touched its own eye, and said, "I think the look in my eyes is clear enough. I am looking at you as though looking at a dead man." Honest sat down. "But I have struggled for so long." "Were you struggling for Order?" "I thought you would understand me." "I watched you grow up. From when you were a child, when your father worked here and brought you along. You couldn't go inside, so you kept me company out here—an entire day at a time. You were very endearing back then. I watched you grow, watched your lush youthful hair turn into the bald head you have now. I used to feel gratified that the boy from back then was doing so well here. But you have disappointed me terribly." "The rules are indeed there, but I'm not the only one breaking them." "The true rules are all in the *Code of Order*. Can you place your hand on the *Code of Order* and swear you have never violated it?" *Slap!* Honest slammed both hands hard against the turf. "Turn yourself in, child," the corgi said. "I can't accept this!" "Then do as you please. Drag your family, your friends, your colleagues, and everyone connected to you down into the abyss together." "I still have one chance." "You have no chances left." Honest took a deep breath, then gave a heavy nod. "You are right. I have no chances left." *** After picking up Bern, the carriage rolled on. "Someone is preparing to make a move against you," Bern said, continuing to pour himself a drink. Karen wasn't surprised. He smiled and asked, "Weren't you visiting a friend?" "Since I was visiting a friend, we naturally chatted, and the conversation turned to this. He may have stepped away from the trade, but he hasn't lost his touch." "Thank you for your trouble, Bern." Bern took a sip of liquor. "I can hardly let you die before me. Otherwise, when my turn comes, who would I put on a dying show for?" Bern then looked at Vic. "Have you tracked it down?" Vic nodded. "They're already under surveillance. It's just a small backlash from recent events. They've been backed into a corner, which is why they're resorting to such a foolish form of retaliation." The recent purge launched by the Whip of Order was deep and wide-reaching. It had offended many people, naturally provoking resentment and retaliation. However, this sort of revenge was undeniably foolish—the desperate, hysterical thrashing of people with no other recourse, trying to drag others down with them. If they had any way to strike at Karen through official channels, they would never resort to this. The problem was that Karen's standing in the open was utterly unshakeable. Bern asked, "And the containment space? Has that been investigated?" Vic replied, "Are you referring to Honest? He'll be in prison soon. As for the small cabals attempting retaliation through primitive methods, we will clean them up using equally primitive methods." "Heh." Bern shook his head. "This isn't normal. A few isolated individuals going mad is easy to understand. But doesn't it strike you as strange that so many small cabals are going mad all at once? Though they look naive and even ridiculous, that might be nothing more than what someone wants you to see." The slight nonchalance on Vic's face faded, replaced by earnest solemnity. "Please enlighten me, Senior." "When a true hunter hunts, he likes to scatter fresh bait into his traps." Just then, a black raven flew to the carriage window. Vic opened the window, took the raven, read the message, and reported to Karen: "Honest wants to turn himself in, and he has important matters to confess." "Go handle it," Karen said. "Yes, Minister." Vic got off the carriage. Bern took another sip of wine. "These young people around you, like yourself, are outstanding. But they have one flaw: youth. Deny it though you might, doing things sometimes truly requires a sixth sense." Karen picked up his water glass and poured water. Little Kanna sensibly opened the insulated flask and dropped ice cubes into Karen's glass. "That is why I never refuse having elders join my team," Karen said. Bern produced a dossier from his coat and laid it before Karen. "This is something I recently began investigating. Now, things are finally taking shape." Karen flipped through the dossier. It detailed a special organization that had been observing and monitoring him. What was more, this organization had ties to fundamentalist factions within the Church of Order—or more precisely, they were cooperating. After Karen finished reading, Bern raised an index finger to his lips, signaling silence. Karen smiled. "You went to quite some trouble." He had certainly carried the document on him all along, yet chose this precise moment to bring it out—only after Vic had departed. Bern had done it intentionally, his motive plain to see: like a job applicant at an interview, demonstrating his worth to the person in charge. Bern said, "This organization is a taboo." "Why would they set their sights on me?" "They have no reason not to." "Sigh, very well." "What do you plan to do? According to their logic, beyond laying schemes, they seem to want to make contact with you. They haven't designed this with the goal of killing you, because trying to kill you now would cost too much, and the odds of success are slim." "I feel a distinct aversion toward this organization and have no desire to make contact. You will be in charge of this matter. All relevant forces throughout the Yorktown Region are yours to mobilize. Anyone implicated, whether inside or outside the Church, will be dealt with severely." "Sigh, I don't have much life left to begin with. This matter is taxing on both mind and body. Once I finish it, I probably won't last until the end of the month." Karen took a sip of iced water and said, "Once you've settled this matter, you may go ahead and die." *** Church of Order, Administrative Temple. Returning from the First Knight Order's encampment, the High Priest quickly threw himself into routine administrative affairs. At the same time, on the level beneath the Administrative Temple, by the beach that resembled a nether sea, Norton's figure appeared. With a solemn expression, he faced the sea in silence. A massive sea turtle surfaced slowly, looking at Norton. It spoke: "High Priest, this is the first time I have ever sensed such an emotion from you. You are wavering." Norton did not answer. His mind was still replaying the anomaly that had occurred during his speech. The last time the First Knight Order stirred, the outside world considered it a sign of the God of Order's return, and the God of Order was widely recognized as the 'First Returning God.' That aligned with the God of Order's status as the Overlord at the end of the last era. If the gods were to return, there was no reason the God of Order should lag behind. Yet this time, an identical anomaly in the First Knight Order gave Norton an exceedingly unusual feeling. Standing on the sand, he began to survey his surroundings. The *Light of Order* contained such a passage: *The God watches over you at every moment.* Right now, Norton felt that he was indeed being watched. Basse dared say no more, silently keeping the High Priest company. Finally, the High Priest spoke: "Norton, you cannot stop it. Whatever you attempt to do, you cannot prevent my Lord's return." Basse's massive frame shuddered. Recognizing who was speaking, it immediately began to submerge, seeking escape. "Tyrannus, I have a question to ask you." "Norton, you are my inheritor. Dispelling your doubts is part of my duty." "Should I believe in my Lord?" "Hehehe... Hahaha..." Laughter burst recklessly from Norton's mouth, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along. Yet right at that instant, Norton raised his hand, gripped a bell, and smashed it squarely into the space between his brows. *Bang!* A hole was punched into the center of Norton's forehead. He called out, "Basse, come up!" Having just submerged, Basse had no choice but to surface again. Whether the person before it was Norton or Tyrannus, it dared not defy the command. "Your orders, please." "Help me see the truth." Norton's body drifted upward onto Basse's shell. According to the *Light of Order*, this shell had once borne the God of Order—though that was the first-generation Basse, while the one here was the fifth generation. Ancient patterns began to surface on the shell, converging beneath Norton's feet. Norton reached into the puncture between his brows, pulling out strands of golden thread, weaving and fusing them with the turtle shell beneath him. This was... the aura of divinity. Basse's heart trembled violently: *Is the High Priest about to condense a godhead fragment?* Tyrannus spoke: "Why suppress your realm?" Norton replied, "I have no desire to receive an invitation from the Gate of Order to enter the Temple. I imagine the faction inside the Temple would love nothing more than to see that; they desperately crave my departure from the position of High Priest." Tyrannus asked, "Norton, what are you doing? Since you asked, I can give you the answer." "Are you Tyrannus?" "Of course I am." "Perhaps you were once." "I am now as well." "People change, and gods change too. The Tyrannus who founded the Church of Order and inscribed the *Light of Order* is no longer merely a god, but a symbol of spiritual faith. I want to know if my Lord has changed." "I can answer you." "No, I want to see for myself." "What do you wish to see?" "I want to see... all of you." Golden and blue flames ignited across Basse's shell. From the wound between Norton's brows, threads flowed out continuously, resonating with the carapace beneath his feet. The sea began to steam, and the surrounding waters rose up, forming an immense, towering curtain of water. From within the water curtain, the first thing to emerge was a colossal image. Because the water rippled, the image appeared dynamic. Upon a cross, Tyrannus was pinned, his blood dripping without pause. Then came the second colossus: Ogulef hovered in total desolation, his eyes pierced through by two terrifying bolts of lightning, while endless lightning fire scorched his body. Directly following was the third colossus: Sigman stood amid bitter frost, divine body and divine soul perpetually stripped away by ice, only to reconstitute in the very next instant. The fourth colossus: Milogar was surrounded by countless remnant souls of ferocious beasts. Within his body and divine soul, they engaged in endless strife and slaughter, the dead souls using Milogar's form to be reborn. The fifth colossus: Loftina clutched her head, sinking endlessly within a sea of molten lava. What was terrifying about this magma was not its heat, but that it was an extreme manifestation of a psychic storm. Her hair was disheveled; the once-holy knight now resembled a madwoman. A sixth, a seventh... Colossal visions surfaced one after another. Norton saw the Four Retainers, saw the Twelve Knights of Order, and saw the other pantheon gods recorded in the *Light of Order*. In the murals, they were all towering, holy beings—objects of worship and prayer for Order's faithful, their deeds sung and passed down through generations. Yet now, without exception, every single one of them was enduring unimaginable torture. If the images within this water curtain were transcribed and revealed to the world, they would likely overturn the entire mythological narrative built by the Church of Order over two eras, shattering the faith of nearly every believer of Order. Norton stared blankly at these scenes, and then he smiled—a bright, joyous smile. Then he said: "It seems you all betrayed my Lord." The next instant, Tyrannus seized control of Norton's body. The smile on Norton's face twisted into the most hideous, agonized snarl. Clenching his fists, he unleashed a roar of boundless fury: "No! "It was our Lord... "Who betrayed us!"