My Lord Descends!

The voice faded, and the darkness receded. Diss lifted his head. He had to hurry and leave the divine throne, not only because Old Hoffen could not hold out much longer, but because he himself felt a heavy exhaustion. Those two mighty epochal hegemons were conversing across epochs through the rules of time. As an eavesdropper, he not only had to bear an unimaginable theoretical burden, but also faced the backlash of the rules of time. If the former could still be endured by sheer grit, what awaited him from the latter was temporal contamination—something even true gods feared. Yet when Diss opened his eyes and moved to rise, he suddenly saw a majestic figure standing before him. She had clearly departed. It was precisely because of her departure that this plane had ended its stagnation, forcing Old Hoffen to expend all his strength to maintain it. Yet here she was again. Had Old Hoffen pushed too hard and caused the previous historical vision to replay? Even with an old comrade he had known for most of his life, and even with Diss's confidence in Hoffen's abilities, he still did not believe Old Hoffen was capable of that. When it came to matters concerning the God of Order, not even the God of Principle in person could forcibly intervene. Then only one possibility remained… She had departed, and then she had returned. Gods were aloof and generally indifferent. Their exceedingly high level of existence made it difficult for them to possess human-like empathy, all the more so for a Hegemon God in her own epoch. This act of departing and returning was completely out of character. Only a specific reason could have prompted her to turn back. The God of Order reached out toward Diss. At this moment, Diss was struggling to stand. One could well imagine that if her hand made contact, even the slightest push would suffice to shove him back into the throne. Such was the might of an epochal hegemon—she could kill across an entire epoch. Though this relied on far too many coincidences and the influence of a unique environment, in this instant, she truly had the power to do so. Yet that push never came. The God of Order's hand gripped Diss's shoulder and pulled backward. Diss felt no fingers, and not a single wrinkle appeared on his clothes, yet an invisible force materialized and lifted him out of the divine throne. Old Hoffen cried out, "Heavens, why is she back again?!" The words had barely left his mouth when a terrifying pressure crashed down. Old Hoffen's form was forcibly compressed until he sank back into his journal. The journal hovered in midair. When the God of Order appeared before it, it whimpered instinctively, like a sentient monster beast. The God of Order placed her hand upon the journal. In an instant, the plane that had been on the verge of collapse returned to a stable state of stagnation. Diss walked over. The Journal of Principle shifted before him, while the God of Order's hand remained resting on the cover, occupying only half of it. After a brief silence, Diss spoke: "I understand what you mean. Hoffen, cooperate with her." Diss reached out and placed his own hand on the other half of the Journal of Principle. *Hum!* The golden pages of the Journal of Principle began spilling outward frantically, wrapping around their surroundings as line after line of text surfaced at an incredible speed. When the God of Order had arrived at this palace, she had already noticed the gaze directed toward her from an epoch later, situated not far from her side. The rules of eternity endowed this palace with a unique environmental quality; it could be understood as an "isolated island" existing in this world. Though it could not move forward or backward, standing here made observation far easier. What was being inscribed across those golden pages was Diss's perspective—his present sights, perceptions, and thoughts. Typically, letters were written by the past to the present, or by the present to the future. This time, it was someone from the present writing a letter to a god of the past. The God of Order wished to take a look at the world an epoch later. Not through prophecy, not through divination, and not by manipulating the rules of time to steal a glimpse into some corner of the river of time… She wished to see it properly. That was why she had turned back. Any rule that seemed axiomatic would twist in unforeseen ways once touched by divinity. The God of Order must have paid a tremendous price for this, but she did not care. That was secondary; the necessary condition was that the vessel carrying her "gaze" on the other end had to meet specific criteria. First, he had to be sufficiently powerful and young; Second, he had to be a believer of Order. The hierarchy of priorities was intentional, for under her blockade, this epoch had lost the fertile soil for godhood, making it exceedingly difficult even to condense godhead fragments. Diss was powerful enough, and Diss was young enough. Though already a grandfather, compared to the elders of the Temple, he was—in the words Ukonga had used to describe Sitti—in the prime of his youth. He could bear the cost without collapsing immediately upon use, without his body and soul instantly withering into a single-use expendable. The earlier "exchange of gazes" and his sitting upon the divine throne had been the most unmistakable tests. Most importantly, this undertaking required the unconditional cooperation of the "letter writer." Diss chose to cooperate. He agreed, not because she was the God of Order and he was obligated to obey her every command, but for the exact same reason he had sat upon that divine throne earlier: For his grandson! *** No. 13 Mink Street, third-floor study. Karen, seated behind his grandfather's desk processing the delivered documents, suddenly felt a burning heat in the pocket of his divine robe. He reached in and pulled out the golden sheet of paper Mr. Hoffen had left him. The sheet floated into the air, radiating a dense divine glow, seemingly resonating with some mysterious presence. Words appeared upon it at a frightening speed—not in the Marclay language, but in church script. The text was dense and sweeping, surging past like an ocean. There was no structural coherence between the characters, only a profusion of abbreviations and shorthand. Karen attempted to decipher it; he managed to grasp a sliver, but dizziness and nausea immediately overwhelmed him. The sheer data load of this transmission was more than even his soul could bear. "Mr. Hoffen, what on earth are you trying to send me?" What Karen did not know was what his two grandfathers had channeled down inside the Eternal Palace in the frozen lands. *** The Eternal Palace. All light and shadow flowed rapidly backward, smoothing the ripples here and returning everything to eternal tranquility. Diss slowly raised his head and opened his eyes. There was no trace of emotion in them. In his hand, he held the God of Principle's journal. He began walking toward the palace exit, but after a short distance, he stopped. Turning around toward the depths of the palace, Diss swept his gaze over his surroundings and said in a low voice, "Shabak." A massive shadow dripped down from the relief carving above, revealing a clown-like face as a powerful aura radiated outward. Once, countless demon gods had been sealed within this palace, including three orthodox deities. But because the God of Order had visited, most of the pocket worlds and demon gods here had been obliterated. Among the remaining demon gods and lingering souls, the ultimate victor who had emerged after an epoch of slaughter and devourment was him—Shabak. The shadow fell completely from the relief, draping over the clown's body like a black cloak. "I intended to let you leave without forcing you to stay, but you shouldn't have provoked me. Last time you came and managed to escape with others, it was only because I was severely suppressed here. You were just… lucky." Diss opened his hand, and the Scythe of War appeared. This time, the Scythe of War was utterly docile, its internal secret seals triggering on their own. With Diss wielding it, it was as if the God of War had personally descended. Beneath Shabak's clown face, no emotion could be seen, yet within him, terror began to take hold. He had been observing this place all along. But after Diss entered, all his senses had been cut off. When Diss opened his eyes again and reappeared within the palace, an inexplicable dread seized Shabak's heart. Yet faced with Diss's direct provocation, he had still stepped out. He was confident that no one in this world could kill him; only a powerful god would have that chance. And from the memories of the Order priests from back then, he knew of this epoch's unique changes. This was a world… without gods! Though the Church of Order had abandoned its investigation here, Shabak had constantly strived to break free. He yearned to embrace this tender new world! The scythe in Diss's hand thrust forward, piercing through the barrier before Shabak and plunging into his semi-incorporeal body. Shabak looked down at the scythe impaling his chest and laughed. "A fine divine artifact. Unfortunately, a divine artifact can only display its true power in the hands of a god." The next instant, Shabak's body cracked. Wounds spread rapidly, and along with them, his very state of existence unraveled. "No, how is this possible?! How can this be?!" He had emerged triumphant through an entire epoch of slaughter and devourment, and what he took the greatest pride in was this immortal body. Why was this happening? Diss gave no answer, slowly withdrawing the scythe with his right hand. He opened his left hand, and godhead fragments appeared in his palm, coalescing together to form a complete godhead. Upon closer inspection, however, the seams where the fragments joined were clearly visible. It was a godhead temporarily pieced together by sheer, formidable will. Shabak's body began to melt. His eyes remained fixed on that godhead. Then, as if realizing something, sheer terror flooded his face. "You… you… you are… you are…" Those words were never finished. He died, thoroughly extinguished. After an entire epoch of brutal slaughter in the dark, on the verge of escaping into a free, godless world, his life came to an end. It was fate's cruelest mockery. The scythe in Diss's hand dispersed, and the godhead sank back into his body. He turned away without sparing another glance at the pool of remains on the ground, just as a walking man never cared whether he had stepped on an ant. *** The Eternal Palace, an epoch ago. The God of Order stood there, flipping through the journal in her hand. The words were cold and lifeless, yet they conveyed the most vivid sense of presence. This was no longer a matter of literary flair; the sheer volume of information was enough to paint reality in profound detail. What he saw was what she saw; what he heard was what she heard; what he thought was what she thought. The only flaw was that this journal was missing a page. Though it did not hinder the overall experience, the absence left the deity slightly uncomfortable. She sensed that this missing page likely concealed something crucial. She simply did not know where it was. "Shabak…" The God of Order glanced toward a corner of the palace. The demon gods that had escaped from the obliterated pocket worlds were currently shivering in the crevices. She knew there was a demon god among them named Shabak. She would normally not have bothered, but now she knew that he wanted to kill it. The God of Order slowly raised her hand. She could crush the demon god named Shabak right now. To be safe, she could even thoroughly scour every corner of this palace and purify it with divine light. That would eliminate any possibility of other demon gods fighting and devouring one another to adopt a new name and identity after Shabak's death, leaving no chance for this palace to brew a new corrupted demon. She would leave a permanent scar on time here, one that could never be repaired through convergence. The consequence would be that an epoch later, when the investigation team arrived, there would be no enraged surviving demon god, and the team's crisis would never occur. Though this would alter the future and force her to pay a terrifying price, she did not mind. As long as he completed the "task of writing the letter," she would grant him a reward. This was a promise from Order—the most precious thing acknowledged in the previous epoch. *** Diss walked out of the Eternal Palace into the outer perimeter. Dinesen, bundled in a snow-demon fur coat, sat waiting beside the tent he had pitched. "You came out so soon?!" Dinesen shouted in astonishment, quickly running over. He had expected it to take a very long time; he had even prepared himself to rest here forever if Diss failed to return. Yet Diss's speed was beyond imagination. "Is your business finished?" Diss did not answer. Dinesen dared not ask further, assuming Diss had failed in his objective or had perhaps been unable to enter the palace interior. Prying would be improper. "Shall we head back?" Diss still gave no response. Assuming Diss was in a foul mood, Dinesen silently pulled out a scroll and tossed it into the snow. Soon, an ice lizard emerged. "Please, step up." Diss did not mount the ice lizard, but instead raised his hand. *Roar!* A sudden dragon roar resonated across the frozen expanse. A translucent dragon soared out of the snow. After circling in the air, it cast a ring of light downward. Dinesen collapsed to the ground in fright. He could not fathom what grade of summoning scroll could call forth such a terrifying entity. He quickly scrambled back up, bewildered by his own loss of composure. In truth, his reaction was only natural. The dragon's appearance was nearly a miniature version of the Rebel Dragon God, save for its hollow eye sockets, indicating it was merely a puppet crafted in the deity's likeness. Diss stepped into the ring of light. After a moment's hesitation, Dinesen followed. Dinesen found himself wrapped in white light, and the next moment, he stood on the dragon's back. "This is… a teleportation formation?" A summoned dragon projecting a beam of light was a formation? Dinesen swallowed with difficulty. Just what kind of terrifying figure was Yalo's father? The dragon unfurled a barrier of light, not only keeping out the wind and snow but also turning the weather overhead "bright and sunny." Thus, a journey that had previously taken an entire day was covered in no time. When the dragon swooped down to land, all the priests at the outpost were startled. Even so, they activated the defensive formation according to the handbook their captain drilled into them. Even the cook-priest, who held the highest status, tied on his apron, holding a scroll in his left hand and a large ladle in his right, ready for battle. *Whoosh…* A powerful gust swept past, stirring up swirling snow. From the flurry, two figures emerged. "It's the captain?" "The captain's back!" "The captain returned alive!" Diss walked into the outpost without greeting anyone and stepped straight into the teleportation circle. "The things in my storehouse, please hand them over to…" Diss ignored Dinesen and gently hooked his finger downward. The teleportation formation activated, and Diss vanished on the spot. The cook raised his ladle, puzzled. "Huh, Captain, isn't he staying for a meal before leaving?" *** "Phew, finally back." Foden returned to his office and sat behind his desk. Due to old injuries, he was very sensitive to cold, yet he craved it. Vigulin brought over a cup of shaved ice drizzled with strawberry syrup. "You've worked hard, sir." "It was fine." It hadn't really been hard work; Karen had handled the mop-up operations in Luojia City. Karen was still there conducting final inspections, while Foden had returned ahead of him. Eating his shaved ice, Foden glanced at the newspapers and internal periodicals on his desk. He saw that the cover photo was actually of himself. When his finger touched it, the photo became dynamic, showing the scene where he had "lectured" Raniedal. However, the god's face was not visible in the image, blurred into a mere silhouette. "Heh, that kid." Foden opened a drawer containing a complete dossier compiling his research into Karen's true divine identity. After a moment, though, Foden pushed the drawer shut. Never mind. He wouldn't give himself a headache over this anymore. For now, at least, he lacked the energy to delve into it. The office door was suddenly pushed open, and Vigulin rushed in, looking flustered. "Whip-Wielder, something's happened! Someone is forcibly requisitioning the church's teleportation formations across various regions—just like last time!" Foden stood up immediately. The one who had done that last time was the very person who had triggered the Mink Street crisis not long ago. Although he had not yet had the chance to visit the Temple, he had learned of its current state through the intelligence network. Had another one arrived? Or was it the same… Inside Foden's office, atop an icy peak up ahead, the teleportation formation flared with light. Vigulin turned toward it. That teleportation formation was exclusive to the Whip-Wielder's office; outsiders could never use it unless they submitted an application in advance, and she obtained the Whip-Wielder's approval to open the authorization and resonate with the transfer. Yet the formation was activating right now, resonating on its own. The person traveling had forcibly altered the formation's structure, even before arriving! Could he be modifying it mid-teleportation? "Whip-Wielder…" Vigulin reached for a bell on the desk, only to find she couldn't touch it no matter how she reached. Terror gripped Vigulin's heart. Could the other party exert control over this place in advance as well? "Step outside, shut the door, and do not alert anyone." "Yes, Whip-Wielder." Vigulin breathed a sigh of relief. It turned out the Whip-Wielder had stopped her from ringing it. Shortly after the door closed, Diss's figure materialized on the icy peak. *Roar!* Confronting this sudden "foreign intruder," Augie let out a dragon roar, her massive serpentine body surging out of the frozen pool. Diss walked down from the peak and stepped squarely onto Augie's head. *Boom!* Augie shrieked in agony and was stomped straight back to the bottom of the pool, bloody bubbles gurgling to the surface. With his next step, Diss appeared before the Whip-Wielder's desk. Though he had never met Diss in person, Foden recognized him immediately. Naturally, Foden did not choose to attack. Even if the man had barged into his office without cause, profoundly offending the dignity of the Whip-Wielder, fighting… would be madness! The man could walk in and out of the Temple at will, let alone this office. Although this was the headquarters of the Whip of Order, it was not where its power was most concentrated. The faction's greatest combat strength was currently in the Disciplinary Department of the Yorktown Region, because Karen had incorporated a large number of battle-hardened elite squads into his department. "What, what brings you to my office today, sir?" Diss did not answer. He looked down, and the teleportation formation beneath the desk activated. This was a formation that linked directly to the High Priest, with authorization held by the High Priest himself. In the past, the High Priest often sent avatars through it to assign tasks. "You're…" "I can announce your arrival in advance." Foden's eyes narrowed slightly, and he opened his palm, summoning the sub-divine spear into his grip. The man intended to go straight from here to the High Priest's Administrative Temple. No matter what, Foden had to stop him, even knowing full well he was no match. Yet Diss merely glanced at Foden. A crushing pressure forced Foden back into his seat in an instant. He could not even lift the spear in his hand. Immediately after, the teleportation formation activated, and Diss vanished. Though this formation was subject to one-way authorization, the man clearly possessed the ability to breach and modify it. Foden stared at the spear in his hand in sheer horror. Even when facing Raniedal's true body, he had never been suppressed to such an extent. "Is he… truly this terrifying?" *** On the steps of the Administrative Temple, Mobiten covered his mouth with the back of his hand and yawned. He knew his physical condition was nearing decline. Even in decline, he could hold his post for a long time, but it was time to scout a successor from his family for this position. Originally, Muri would have been very suitable to take over, but having him stand guard here now… would stifle his current prospects. Just then, at the base of the steps ahead, a ring of teleportation light flared. "Hm?" Usually, only the High Priest departed through here; no outsider had ever dared arrive through it. Even when visiting the Holy See, one was supposed to arrive at the dedicated teleportation hall outside. Diss had passed through the Whip-Wielder's office simply because it was the shortest route. From the ring of light, Diss stepped forward. "It's him!!" Mobiten held his shield in his left hand, drew his short blade with his right, and shouted, "Defend!" All the surrounding guards assembled at once. Half encircled Diss, while the other half formed ranks flanking Mobiten. On the battlefield of the Garden of Life, Mobiten had withstood a surprise attack from an elder of the Life Temple, but facing this man, he possessed no such confidence. After all, the Scythe of War was in his hands, even if he had not summoned the divine artifact. Diss climbed the steps. Mobiten raised his hand, signaling the guards not to attack rashly, and retreated at a steady pace while asking, "Have you come to see the High Priest, sir? Please wait a moment while I announce you." Diss ignored him and continued forward. Mobiten glanced around. The Holy See's outer security forces were rushing over, but against this man, such strength was laughably insufficient! "Stand down!" The High Priest's figure appeared at the top of the steps. "Yes, High Priest!" Mobiten breathed a long sigh of relief and stepped aside. The guards also parted. Seeing Norton, Diss stopped advancing. Norton walked down the steps of his own accord and asked, "Do you require anything else? I can assist in preparing it." Diss looked at Norton, a faint smile gracing the corner of his lips. Norton halted his descent, his gaze turning solemn as he sensed something amiss. Diss said nothing. Turning around, he walked back down and stood inside the teleportation ring. He had come just to take a look at the High Priest, and now he was leaving. Without an order from the High Priest, Mobiten naturally would not command an attack to stop him; he wished nothing more than for the man to leave immediately. The formation activated once more, and Diss vanished. Mobiten's heart eased, and he immediately suggested, "High Priest, please order Commander Daan to deploy a cavalry unit to reinforce the Holy See's defenses." The High Priest shook his head. "There is no need." *** All the teleportation formations of the Church of Order could be mastered and commandeered by Diss. He could now appear anywhere within Order's sphere of influence. Now, he materialized in Luojia City. His gaze settled upon an area within the city. "The missing page is here." *** "What wonderful weather today, and what a wonderful mood, meow." Purr lay sprawled on Kevin's back as the cat and dog ambled lazily homeward. Two tails of different colors and sizes swayed left and right in unison. Kevin's satchel was packed with freshly bought snacks, including two fresh, large fish. After reclaiming his divine status, Kevin had far more ways to adjust the space inside his satchel, helping Purr store even more things. "Woof?" "You're asking why I didn't kill her? "Aiya, it would've been a waste to kill her. Even though little Karen gave me permission to finish her off, forget it—keeping her around is still useful. "Besides, once her injuries heal, and after I've fully recovered and made a new breakthrough, I can go pick another fight with her, hehe meow. "Huh? Diss is back already?" Up ahead, Diss's figure appeared. Purr hopped off Kevin's back and bounded toward Diss. "Did you go to that place or not, meow?" Yet Diss ignored Purr, merely glancing at Kevin, who had been carrying the cat. Just as Purr's paws were about to touch Diss's boots, she realized with a start that Diss had vanished. "Is there any need to rush back to see your grandson like that? Stupid dog, let's hurry back too! Stupid dog, what's wrong with you?" Purr looked back and found Kevin prostrated on the ground, his front paws turned upward, his body trembling uncontrollably. His canine eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. "Aiya, you're already a god again, and you're still this scared of Diss?" Kevin shook his dog head with great difficulty. He… was not Diss! *** "Grandpa, you're back!" "Brother Karen, Grandpa's back!" In the study, Karen let out a helpless sigh at the golden page hovering before him, still struggling to decipher its contents. Hearing the shouts of his younger cousins downstairs, he couldn't help but feel a pleasant surprise: *Grandpa's back already?* "I thought I wouldn't see Grandpa again until the war at the Garden of Life broke out." Karen stood up and walked out of the study. Grandpa's return meant Mr. Hoffen was back as well, so he could ask him directly what was written on this page. Just as he reached the third-floor stairwell, Karen saw Diss standing downstairs. Their gazes locked. Karen froze, then asked in a low voice, "Who are you?"