Designated as an Evil God

Karen's eyes grew moist. Involuntarily, he raised his head toward the sky, holding his hands still to refrain from that unfamiliar motion of wiping them. Earlier, he could have stopped the God of Order. Because what the God of Order wanted was him—a qualified successor. Do not imagine gods as beings genuinely filled with warmth and love. Even if she had fallen into a brief silence upon hearing why Diss had been unable to save his children, that had merely been a moment of speechlessness. She was incapable of guilt, and even less capable of regret; one needed only to look at the fate of those branch gods to know that clearly. Therefore, had Karen spoken up to stop her, she would have stopped. How could private matters compare to her grand undertaking? It was simply that Karen had been willing to trade his own disappearance for the complete happiness of "Karen's family." For him, he could simply treat it all as a dream; either way, he had come out ahead. Yet Diss had rejected this reward. The tradition of the Inmerais family: family comes first. Thus, what had been an intensely complex, contradictory dilemma became incomparably simple and clear in this moment: "How could one sacrifice family to resurrect family?" In this world, probably very few people could comprehend this ethos of the Inmerais family—including Karen himself. Putting himself in the other's shoes, Karen wondered whether, if he were in Diss's place, he could have treated "himself" the way Diss had. The answer was: unlikely. But working backward from the outcome, everything made sense again. Diss was a man forged of too much resolve. He could personally put his own children out of their misery, and he could revile the god he once worshipped... and above all, he had the courage to accept reality. He knew nothing of decadence or self-pity. He would grieve, he would rage, but he accepted the death of his children, just as he accepted the death of his grandson. During that grand descent ritual held that night, Mr. Hoffen, Purr, and the others had all believed Diss wanted to resurrect his grandson; perhaps Diss himself had thought that was his aim, wanting to deceive himself. Yet being too strong was sometimes its own sorrow. From the very first moment his gaze fell upon his resurrected grandson, he had never treated Karen as a substitute; rather, it was as if he were a child adopted from outside. The warmth and natural ease with which Karen treated the family, Karen's propriety and excellence, and the deep affinity he subsequently displayed with him—in temperament, in faith, and in so many other ways... all of it had left him thoroughly pleased with this adopted child. Karen had felt guilty. He felt he carried an original sin because he had taken over that "Karen's" body. Though this current body—having undergone initial transformation by Ranidal and remolding in the polluted subterranean pit—no longer had anything to do with the original owner, Karen still felt that he had usurped the affection in Diss's heart meant for that original "Karen." Especially with the crisp chime of the wind chimes beneath the flickering light of those two candles in the study, and that husband and wife who had once lain beside him on the grass of his conscious dreamscape... The more they treated him as family, the heavier the weight of original sin in Karen's heart grew. *I thought I should reach into the past to retrieve the happiness you could have had;* *yet you told me that what you possess and cherish right now is happiness itself.* At long last, everything, in this very moment, was laid to rest. Karen took a deep breath. No longer concealing anything, he openly wiped away the tear stains at the corners of his eyes with a finger. "You asked me just now whether I disliked this world." "Yes. Do you wish to change your earlier answer?" "No. I still love this world, but love requires an anchor. Earlier, I gave you only an answer, without telling you why. Now, I can tell you: It is because of this family that I love this world." Without the warmth and companionship of family upon waking, without the heartfelt care and affection from uncles, aunts, younger brother, and sister, without Diss's validation and guidance... For a world that was utterly foreign to him at the start, it would likely have been very difficult to truly fall in love with it. After all, once awake, who would weep and cling to a dream? If he had awakened in a different environment, in a different family—like Muri's or Philomena's—perhaps everything would have turned out differently. He would not have thought of protecting this world; perhaps, he might even have looked forward to the return of the gods, so that this world would become more turbulent and more "spectacular." Diss said, "You seem to have grown firmer." Karen: "Because my thoughts are clearer now." With that, Karen looked into Diss's eyes and smiled faintly. "Is there a possibility that the past, present, and future are already set, and whether you intervene or not is itself an inevitable part of the workings of time?" "I told you: do not reduce temporal taboos to philosophical questions." "It isn't philosophy." Karen raised his hand and slowly clenched it into a fist. "I agree with your answer." "And so?" "So, what makes you think you can change the present in which I exist?" "I cannot?" "Our fists are the same size. The power you can possess, I can possess as well; the height you can reach, I can reach as well; the things you can accomplish, I can accomplish as well; you sat there for an entire epoch, holding back the gods; I, too, can do it. Therefore, you cannot change me. You said you could bear the cost of such a change, but the price this time would be tantamount to suicide." "Heh." Looking at the fist before him, Diss showed no anger, nor did he feel the slightest sense of being defied. In a short span of time, this young man had presented him with two entirely different demeanors. The former had combined excellence with undisguised passivity. He had said he would not face him with the mindset of a "job seeker" trying to perform for him; indeed, a fellow capable of subduing the hunger addiction to this degree would pass even if he lay there without moving a muscle. Diss could never pass him over to take the risk of seeking another successor who might be consumed and overtaken by the hunger addiction. Yet now, once he uttered those words, "He refused," that passivity was gone, replaced by confidence and composed calm. He was no "job seeker," nor was he asserting some notion of "personhood" or "dignity"; he was standing with him as an equal. "I will choose you, Karen Inmerais." "It is not you choosing me. Rather, across countless epochs, the people who were toyed with at the whim of the gods chose Order, and Order... chose us." Diss nodded and said, "Do you know? I do not like my believers honoring me with the title of 'God.' I dislike the designation of 'God.'" Yet for a church, not having a god was out of the question. Even if the Church of Order established no branch deities, it still had to erect a main god. "What one is called is unimportant." "Indeed." "There is one thing I would like to ask you. Once, when I was on the palm of the hunger addiction sculpture and nearly swallowed whole, I seemed to catch a glimpse of your silhouette. Back then, could you already see me?" "I couldn't. But I had a feeling that someday, someone would go through the very same process as I did—otherwise, it would be far too unfair." "Do you remember what you did?" "I first feigned agony, pretending I couldn't hold on, and at the final moment, I stood up and walked away." "You did that on purpose?" Diss waved his hand and said, "Enough, I must return." With that, he looked up into the sky. "Because of your progress tonight, that other 'me' up above will likely become significantly weaker all at once. Cracks and openings are about to appear. They will begin slipping back in batches." "Is there truly no way to resolve it once and for all?" "I have slain so many, yet they continue to return. If not in this epoch, then in the next. There are deities who have been permanently erased, yet new gods continue to be born without end. Fortunately, I still have time. I will search for a way to resolve them once and for all." Karen pointed toward the heavens. "Then you could ask that 'you' up above right now whether he has found it." "If I don't ask, perhaps he has." "I can hardly imagine such an answer coming from your mouth." "I must go back. Since he refused the reward, so be it, but he must still send me back to the Eternal Palace. I leave this world to you. Though I didn't ask, I can already sense... I am tired." "I will..." After a moment's hesitation, Karen added, "Goodbye." "We will meet again. When you take flight, I will fall. We will meet again very soon, and if I have found the way, I will tell you then." With those words, Diss's figure vanished from where he stood. Karen looked once more upon the quiet street, then vanished as well; he was returning to Luojia City. Yet no sooner had he arrived in the sky above Luojia City than he was forced to halt. The absorption of the hunger addiction sculpture, originally proceeding at a crawl, had accelerated countless times over thanks to the push from the God of Order. This brought Karen down onto the rooftop of a tall building, sensing the arrival of his God's Shepherd. Above his head was the vast expanse of starlight; beneath his feet was the silent city. Wisps of black vortices emerged around Karen, not only stirring his hair but continuously rustling his divine robes. It was a deeply tranquil scene, devoid of earth-shattering commotion or awe-inspiring spectacles. Yet in truth, the brilliant stars across the celestial canopy were gradually dimmed and hidden away. For the blackness that belonged to Order had already blanketed the firmament. ... Kevin lifted his head toward the sky, his tail beginning to wag. Beside him, Purr looked up in curiosity, asking in confusion, "What is it?" Down in the basement, Alfred, who had been drinking black tea and chatting with Ms. Molly, carried his teacup to the lightwell and looked up through the glass at the night sky. He placed a hand over his chest, murmuring with deep sincerity: "Praise be to the Young Master. Praise be to Order." Inside the pub, Neo was excitedly exchanging investment experiences with Mason. Raising his large beer mug, as he took a sip of liquor, his peripheral vision caught the fading starlight above the street through the window. Mason sighed, "That time I was just too greedy, thinking I could control the market, only to lose everything down to the bone. Sigh..." "Damn it! How cursed!" ... On the rooftop of the building diagonally across from Karen sat a painter. An easel stood before him, and a palette rested in his hand. Piaget had returned to Luojia earlier than Karen—the city where he and his wife had lived after their marriage. That night, it was right here that his wife had let go of his hand, flying into the sky, flying into the embrace of the Mural God Rielsa. Compared to Mr. Bede's sharp attention and astonishment regarding the recent commotion on Mink Street, Piaget was far more indifferent, for he simply didn't care at all. Tonight, just as he had done in the past days, he had carried his painting supplies up here to commemorate his wife. His face was deathly pale. Holding a handkerchief in his hand, every cough left dark brown stains of blood upon the cloth. Wreaths of gray haze, invisible to the naked eye, gathered around him. He still lived, yet seemed more like a dead man, an apparition wandering outside this world. "Karen?" Piaget spotted Karen on the rooftop across the way, though Karen did not seem to notice him. While Karen's consciousness could effortlessly blanket the entire city, he had paid no mind to this "specter" devoid of any presence so close by. Though believers of the Church of the Mural God were called madmen, they were not skilled in combat; yet throughout history, they had preserved countless murals depicting gods. This meant they possessed a specialized capacity to approach gods and observe them. At this moment, the gray mist around Piaget served precisely this purpose. "Karen... *cough, cough, cough...*" Piaget wanted to call out to his good friend on the opposite rooftop to invite him back to his home for coffee later. However, his voice was too hoarse, the wind was fierce, and the open expanse swallowed his words before he could project them. Yet Piaget did not mind. A faint smile curled the corners of his lips, bringing a touch of color back to his pallid complexion. He felt that the pitch-black night sky and Karen at this moment were breathtakingly beautiful. Heavens, this was truly a perfect composition: a simple arrangement of hues, yet evoking an intoxicating solemnity and depth. Piaget brought out several tubes of pigment and squeezed them onto the palette. These were his most cherished paints, blended from the ashes of his wife; of course he had to use them to paint his closest friend in the world today. Upon the paper that had remained blank for so many days, color was finally laid down. As Piaget painted, he continually looked up, observing Karen across from him. For some unknown reason, an indescribable joy rippled from the depths of his soul. In a daze, he seemed to drift off to sleep, yet he remained vividly aware of the brush moving in his hand; he was still in reality, yet caught in a dream. He stepped into that profound, shadowy corridor, arriving once again at its deepest reach. He could no longer remember how many times he had experienced this exact same dream, but every time before, he had been unable to see the true face of the painting at the innermost end. This time, he had held no hope either. Yet as his eyes blinked open, he saw his own easel, saw the freshly finished painting, and saw Karen within it. ... In the Eternal Palace of the previous epoch: The God of Order lifted her hand from the God of Principles' notes before her. And in the identical spot an epoch later, Diss also withdrew his hand. "There is still time for you to change your mind." Facing the deity's inquiry, Diss countered, "If I were willing to change my mind now, would you change yours?" The God of Order answered, "You have a good grandson." Diss nodded. "I like hearing him call me Grandfather." The God of Order left the palace. The plane dissolved entirely, and all returned to peace. Diss picked up the book from the ground, dusted it off, and blew away the grit. On the cover appeared Old Hoffen's haggard face: "It really is hard to imagine what we've just been through." "Have you figured out how you're going to face Karen once we're back?" "I've considered countless possibilities for that. A god is a god; a grandson is a grandson. There's no conflict." "Indeed, no conflict." Diss lifted his head. Over his chest, a godhead manifested, and then began to fracture, disintegrating into pieces of godhead fragments. Old Hoffen asked, "May I interview you, Diss? As the first person of this epoch to attain godhood, and also the first to fall from the divine throne, how do you feel?" "A bit hungry." "There's a cook at the outpost." "I want to eat something my grandson made with his own hands." ... In the previous epoch: After departing the Eternal Palace, the God of Order returned to her divine temple. As that colossal divine form descended, casting a solemn shadow, the deities and guards within the temple bowed in reverence: "Praise be to the great God of Order." "Praise be to the great God of Order." A bald deity lay prostrate on the steps of the Temple of Order, worshipping loudly. Without pausing, the figure of Order returned to the Throne of Order. Tyrannus set aside the quill in his hand, rose, and bowed: "My God." "She has come again?" "Yes. This lesser god named Ranidal has come many times. Last time, she was just beaten by Augurev." "Why did Augurev beat her?" "Presumably because he disliked having his hairstyle ruffled by such a minor deity." "Tyrannus, go meet with her and hear her request." Though Tyrannus found this somewhat unexpected, he accepted the command: "Yes, by Your divine will." Yet Tyrannus did not leave immediately. Instead, he continued, "My God, Rielsa seeks an audience with You. She is currently waiting in the side hall." "Send her in." "Yes, my God." Soon, Rielsa's figure appeared below the Throne of Order. Wearing a phoenix feather on her left hand and a bracelet condensed from a prismatic world on her right, she bowed with utmost deference to the presence above the throne: "Greetings, great God of Order." After paying homage, Rielsa looked up, her expression nervous and agitated. Every time she was able to draw near to him, she could feel a tremor rising from deep within her godhead—one born not merely of awe, but of many other emotions. "Rielsa, what is your purpose here?" "Reporting to the great Order, I come to bring You warning: I have painted Your... end." Tyrannus's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice dropping into a stern reprimand: "Insolence! How dare you curse our great Lord!" With her left hand, Rielsa raised a scroll, choking back a sob as she pleaded: "Please, great One, gaze upon this!" The God of Order opened her hand, and the scroll flew into her palm. She unrolled it. Depicted within was a young man standing atop a high vantage point, backed by a pitch-black, solemn night sky. Below, Rielsa spoke: "I firmly believe that Your greatness shall endure for all eternity, reigning supreme over the divine realm forever. I do not believe anything in this world could ever threaten You. I ought not to have presented this painting, but I cannot bear to see any blemish upon Your sacred form. This painting foretells Your end. I implore You, take the person depicted within, and ahead of time—" Rielsa's words were cut off. A terrifying power bound her fast, preventing her from transmitting any further message. Tyrannus was not surprised in the least. For a minor Mural God to presume to paint the end of his Lord was nothing short of defilement. The quill on the initial manuscript of the *Light of Order* automatically inscribed the events unfolding before them. The scroll caught fire within the God of Order's palm and burned to nothingness. The bound Rielsa spat out a mouthful of golden divine blood, her figure instantly wilting; evidently, producing that painting had drained an immense portion of her vitality. "Tyrannus." "My God, Your command." "Designate Rielsa as an evil god."