Funeral of the Gods (4)

The formidable pressure compressed the wind and snow, causing the ground of the ice plain to sink and pack firmer. Mobiten raised his hand, and the guards instantly dispersed outward. Once each took their position, a small spell formation took shape, sealing out all external influence. The High Priest shook his head and said, "Too stifling." Mobiten bowed and replied, "High Priest, your body requires protection." Though the High Priest lacked the frailty typical of an ordinary person in a wheelchair and was hardly made of glass, right now, he was a consumable. Karen knew very well that this was the High Priest's "reunion with old friends." He did not want to remain sheltered beneath a dome. He yearned to participate, to interact, or at least to feel as though he were standing alongside his former companions. Karen lifted his head slightly, raising his dharma form. From within, he instantly shattered the formation woven by the guard unit. Then Karen placed a hand on the High Priest's shoulder. The wind and snow could seep in, allowing the High Priest to feel their chill and frenzy, but the crushing pressure was entirely absorbed and borne by Karen. A smile crossed the High Priest's face. "Where did you learn this?" he marveled softly. Karen replied, "I used to run a funeral parlor. This falls under care for the departed." "Heheheh, no wonder Foden likes you. If only I had noticed you a few years earlier... How wonderful that would have been. Reading alone in the tearoom gets rather boring." "Until the right time came, I wouldn't have been qualified to stand before you." "Mmm, true enough. You arrived... just in time." Beside them, Mobiten looked on in shock. While breaking through the guard unit's formation from the inside was considerably easier than breaching it from without, the fact that Karen had done so with such nonchalant ease—and that both the density of his dharma form and the golden luster circulating within pointed to one unmistakable reality—meant Karen's realm was already that of a Temple Elder. Just how had he pulled this off? Mobiten recalled back on Fire Island, when he had restrained Karen before his grandson with a single hand. Look at him now. Alas, it seemed that even with Kred serving as a transition, his own body would likely last long enough to swear fealty to this young man. Within the Church, no one could restrict this young man's future any longer. No, he had already seized the future firmly in his grasp. At that moment, the battle array originally deployed before the Order logistics base began to pull back. Evidently, upon discovering that the returning deities were not their own chief gods, they had lost both reason and motive to take a reckless gamble against the High Priest of Order and the future High Priest. The High Priest pointed into the distance. "A thoroughly simple trick, isn't it?" Karen replied, "The key to deception isn't complexity, but making people believe." Who could have guessed that the Knight of Holy Light would use such a method to fabricate divine oracles and false anomalies just to dupe these churches? It was simply that too much time had passed since the age of the gods; people had long forgotten divine might. The High Priest asked, "What do you think of the scene before us?" "Magnificent, but somewhat dull, because people like us seem to have no role to play." "Your mindset sounds remarkably like Daan and the others." "Yes, indeed it does." The High Priest rested his arms on the wheelchair's armrests, leaning back against the seat. "Whether you find it dull or unbearable, I care not, for what begins now is the curtain call belonging to our generation. Only when our stage goes dark will it be time for you all—for you—to step into the light. "A resounding crash, a collapsing dam, a sweeping flood... that is the style of tragic literature, but such irresponsible, sensational romance does not suit us believers of Order. "Those religions that romanticize and embellish death—you will find they often lack a profound sense of duty and mission. "We believers of Order choose to face death directly. Only then can each generation clearly understand its purpose and lay plans to pass the torch. "Whether we ultimately succeed or fail, we have no desire to play the sorrowful hero in an opera. "We... "Must maintain the elegance of Order at all times." Having said this, the High Priest closed his eyes. A few snowflakes drifted onto his face, yet they did not melt quickly. Instead, they clung there, forming tiny ice crystals. Seeing this, Karen felt an impulse to wipe them away, but he ultimately held back. Suddenly, a muffled voice resonated from within the High Priest's body. Mobiten and the others noticed nothing, but Karen heard it clearly. "Sigman." At the call, a smile appeared on the face of the Ice-Sealing Knight Sigman upon the firmament. "I am here, Tyrannus." "Time to awaken your pet, Panrol." The name of the Panrol Ice Plain... had actually originated from Sigman's pet? Karen looked at the ground ahead. This meant these lords had begun constructing the stage for their final curtain call an entire era ago. It was hard to imagine that in the last era, at the very peak and glory of the Order lineage, the God of Order had decided to isolate an era devoid of gods at the cost of his own decay, while the branch deities of Order, far from feeling rage or resentment, had smilingly arranged petals for their own ultimate funeral. How ridiculous that he had once suspected the branch deities of Order had all betrayed the God of Order. The Creed of Order: it will tell you why you must sacrifice, and then let you willingly consent to sacrifice for it. Its origin lay with the gods of the Order lineage. They had led by example. "My Panrol is already dead. It could not possibly have endured for so long. What exists now must be who knows how many generations down its bloodline." When he spoke these words, one could clearly sense the longing and sorrow in Sigman's tone. The High Priest smiled. "I believe Panrol's legacy endures. Its descendants will certainly answer your summons." "Yes, I believe so as well." Sigman spread his arms and cried aloud, "Panrol, your master... I have returned!" *Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!* The entire ice plain began to shudder. Massive vents tore through the frozen surface, spewing blasts of frigid chill into the air. The mist coalesced, and the silhouette of an ice phoenix slowly materialized. Its plumage was composed entirely of icicles, and its gaze carried the most terrifying, bone-chilling cold in the world. "Ooh..." Atop the watchtower of the distant base, Little Kanna parted her mouth, instinctively exhaling a puff of warm air onto her small palms and rubbing them together. "Compared to that, even the big dumb dragon feels toasty." Augie was a Frost Giant Dragon, yet her elemental power could not compare to the ice phoenix before them. The ice phoenix's cry echoed across the entire plain: "Panrol answers the master's call!" This terrifying, apex ice-type mythical beast had been sealed beneath the ice plain for an entire era. During that time, it had continuously birthed new descendants from its own corpse to preserve its bloodline—operating on the exact same principle as the Hellhound Karen had encountered on Fire Island. It was an extraordinarily cruel torment inflicted upon itself, and even more so upon its offspring. Yet all that endurance was merely for this single day. The High Priest commanded: "Sigman, seal this place off. Too many people have walked in to watch the performance without buying a ticket. Since they are here, they must pay a price." "Understood, Tyrannus." Sigman began to chant, and the ice phoenix spread its wings. "Order—Ice Seal!" The power of the ice seal did not manifest inward, but along the perimeter. This ice plain had been gradually formed by the ice phoenix's body over the turning of eras. Now, it began cutting off the outside world, peeling this place away to form an isolated pocket world. Alarms instantly sounded in dense succession across the Church of Order's logistics base, for all communications and teleportations were cut off at that moment. This place had become an island cut off from the rest of the world. Naturally, the allied army of the three churches faced the exact same situation. Their external communications were severed, and they had no way to leave. *** Dickno said, "The young master was right. I am merely a military commander, not a politician. Analyzing this layout on a tactical level is meaningless now, because we aren't even the ones doing the fighting." Alfred remarked, "The High Priest intends to feed the three churches' elite legions to the gods." "Yes, exactly. This is a battlefield, but even more so, it is an unimaginably vast dining table." "Yet it still needs another push." Dickno nodded. "There is still one lord who has yet to make a move." Alfred smiled. "I love this feeling. Truly, it's wonderful." Dickno said, "I can hardly resist tallying the spoils of this battle. Those three elite legions are a force on par with three Order Knight Orders. What's more, on their campaign, they brought the foundational war armaments of all three churches—mighty war engines whose craft has been lost to time and can never be manufactured again. "Once they are all squandered here, the Church of the Storm, the Church of Black Rock, and the Church of Crystal will lose any capacity to proactively threaten our church. Instead, they will tremble and shudder beneath the hooves of Order." "A tremendous bargain. Not only does it crush three returning chief gods, but it also cripples three orthodox churches." "It's just a pity that afterward, the remaining orthodox churches will become far more cautious." Alfred shook his head. "No matter. Barring any surprises, better arrangements and measures will have been prepared for them." Dickno said, "This is not a fair competition." With that, Dickno looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "Then again, it was never meant to be a fair competition. The guardian beyond the era is our God. Even if this era is drawing to a close, future generations will still define it as—the Era of Order." *** The High Priest continued his command: "Milogar." "Heheh, I am here, Tyrannus." "It is time for you to die." "What a unique greeting. Very well, I shall go die." A black fog of death rose from the divine body of the Undying Knight Milogar. From within the fog, chains stretched forth, binding herself first, then looping around Leftina and Sigman. Leftina grumbled, "Milogar, there's no need to pull so tight. You'll leave marks on my neck." Sigman chuckled. "Are you afraid of looking ugly in front of the one you adore? Alas, our Tyrannus has no eyes for you. He is probably waiting for the final Her." Leftina retorted, "It doesn't matter while I exist, but I refuse to accept flaws in death." Below, the High Priest in the wheelchair gently pressed a hand to his brow and urged, "Focus, all of you. Our three lord chief gods are hungry too." Milogar lashed a chain, winding it around the Goddess of the Night's ankle. The goddess tried to dodge, but found it impossible. Theoretically speaking, they were still trapped within the membrane; though the decaying God of Order was already exceedingly weak, he could still suppress them. "Order! You went mad and slaughtered the gods in life, and now that you are on the brink of falling, do you intend to drag the gods down to be buried with you?!" Milogar replied, "You were always the funerary offerings my Lord reserved!" Leftina hurled her chains toward the God of Netherflame. The god attempted to sever the chains with terrifying magma, only to discover that doing so made them even heavier. "You might hold us back, but can you withstand all the gods of the previous era? Those overlords of even earlier eras will also return one after another. What meaning is there in what you do?" Leftina said, "The Lord said: your absence is the greatest meaning!" Sigman whipped his chains toward the God of Thunder. Lightning rumbled around the god, yet just like the God of Netherflame, not only could he not cut the chains, but the bindings grew heavier still. The God of Thunder did not become hysterical; he merely asked calmly, "Is it worth it?" Sigman replied, "Not worth it, but thoroughly delightful." In his wheelchair, two trails of hot tears slipped from the corners of the High Priest's eyes, melting the newly formed ice crystals on his cheeks. He said softly, "Safe travels, everyone." Milogar said, "Tyrannus, I'll go find Augurev first. Her bald head will definitely be gleaming brightly ahead—easy to spot." Sigman said, "Tyrannus, please tell my Lord that I go ahead to pave the road of jade ice for the great Her, awaiting Her return!" Leftina said, "We will wait for you ahead, Tyrannus. You must come together with Her." The next instant, divine fire erupted from Milogar, Sigman, and Leftina. The flames conducted along the chains, setting the divine bodies of the three chief gods ablaze as well. Milogar was originally undying, yet when she resolved to embrace death, she could take gods down with her into the grave—to say nothing of the fact that her two companions were acting as fellow travelers and accomplices in her demise. A scene reminiscent of the one in the Sea of Life played out once more above the ice plain. It was not dazzlingly intricate, but it was tragic and solemn enough—for this was no battle of gods, but a sacrificial burial! Below, the entirety of the three churches' allied army was shaken to the core by the spectacle in the sky. Though the high-ranking commanders knew what had happened in the Garden of Life, experiencing it in person was a completely different matter. The burning of six mighty deities seemed to set the firmament alight. The terrifying divine fire appeared ready to devour the world. Blood began to seep from the murals of the Night God Church, the Church of Thunder, and the Church of Netherflame. The architecture within their temples shook violently, and wails and shrieks echoed from various secret realms. The higher-ups of these churches received divine oracles in rapid succession, doing everything they could to uncover the cause. The problem was that no matter how swiftly they investigated, there was no time to mount any response. Elite legions capable of an expedition could not be formed overnight. What was more, with the ice plain sealed off, they had no way to deploy them. They could only watch helplessly as the divine miracles collapsed. The Church of the Storm, the Church of Black Rock, and the Church of Crystal frantically attempted to reestablish contact with their finest legions. The clear indicators of their divine oracles showed that their own chief gods' return was still some time away, yet now they were already beginning to fret over the foundational forces they had deployed. *** 13 Mink Street. Diss stood by the study window, looking out at the curtain of rain. *The gods treat us as reared swine... yet the swine are willing.* *You cannot blame or mock the swine for their ignorance, because these swine are all gods.* "Still, you should have given me a word of greeting." Downstairs in the basement, Neo lay on his side in bed. The notebook beside him spoke up: "More are about to fall. Falling in droves. Madmen of Order... a bunch of lunatics." Neo reached toward the nightstand, felt for his cigarette case, and shook it, only to find it empty. He tossed the case onto the floor and couldn't help letting out a wail: "My Thunder cigarettes! Oh, my Thunder cigarettes..." *** At this moment, for the three chief gods burning against their will, their options were exceedingly limited. Either perish alongside the three Order Knights just like this; or consume more and replenish themselves at this very moment, striving to have something left of themselves after the three Order Knights finished burning away. Even if only the faintest shred remained, it would still count as a return. Even if restoring themselves required endless time, it would be infinitely better than perishing completely. Yes, gods would return, but unless left with no choice, they did not wish to reach that point. Gods harbored their own selfish desires too. This was a gamble, played with open hands. The High Priest had no need to deliberately guide or persuade them, because the gamble itself possessed its own developmental logic. The three chief gods knew full well they were being exploited, yet they could only walk the predetermined path. Gradually, the gazes of the three chief gods fell upon the allied army of the three churches below. The Order Knight Orders were not here, and the logistics base had only a handful of clerics. Although the High Priest was Tyrannus's inheritor, Tyrannus herself remained beyond the era and had yet to return. Therefore, to the gods, the only real meat in sight was this massive allied army. They did not match the three chief gods' tastes, and the efficiency of digesting and replenishing from them was poor, but at this stage, there was no room to be picky. *Hum!* Night fell, blanketing everything in pitch-black despair. *Hum!* Clusters of volcanoes erupted across the ice plain. *Hum!* Lightning cascaded down, bringing wails of dead silence. The three chief gods vied with one another to pounce upon their prey! Siberain, the supreme commander of the allied army, stood with his mouth agape. He could not believe that events would veer in such a bizarre direction. Yet, similarly, he was left with no choice, able only to issue a mournful order: "Defend! Counterattack!" *** Karen had not expected that the very thing Daan and his fellow commanders dreamed of would be experienced first by the legions of other churches. It was black humor at its finest—the Order Knight Orders were not the first in line to battle the returning gods. Sitting in his wheelchair, the High Priest pointed toward the brilliant, dazzling explosions erupting ahead and asked a question he had posed earlier: "What do you think of the scene before us?" Karen smiled and replied, "It's making me hungry."