Deterrence!

This sudden turn of events completely threw the reunion into chaos—or rather, propelled its atmosphere to an uncanny climax. Karen knew that, in the end, he had been careless. Even though he had spoken with Budalas in his memories before awakening him, Budalas had not truly believed him back then. He had endured, disguised his intentions, and even set the stage with his earlier barrage of rebukes and mockery aimed at Ukonga and the others. His sole purpose was to maximize the impact of this sneak attack at this very moment. Norton had once resolved that if he ever found the successor to the God of Order, he would kill him to return the God of Order's power and continue sealing off the era. When Karen encountered the God of Order descending through his grandfather's body at the foot of the stairs in the Mink Street house, his initial reaction had also been the mistaken belief that the God of Order had come down and flinched. When the God of Order entered his soul space, he had even intended to unleash his hunger addiction to devour him. They all worshipped the god, yet they all wished for the god to remain properly seated upon that pedestal to receive worship. If the god wandered about aimlessly, then nail the god firmly in place, and only then resume their solemn worship. Others lacked this perspective, could never access such profound secrets, and could scarcely attain this depth of understanding. But Budalas had it. As a meritorious High Priest in the church's history, no one Karen had ever awakened in the past could compare to him. And because of this, Karen received this backstab. "Budalas, what are you doing!" Ukonga shouted. "Fuck!" Neo cursed. "By the gods!" Dicarost gasped. Ukonga's reaction was the fastest. He instantly materialized behind Karen, but Karen raised a hand, signaling him not to interfere. Hesitating, Ukonga halted his movement. Karen looked at Budalas face-to-face and said, "I explained it to you." Budalas answered, "I had only this one chance. I didn't dare to gamble." Once knighted by Karen, Karen could end his life with a single thought. Furthermore, a god's capabilities were unfathomable; Budalas knew that this very moment was the only time he stood the slightest chance of success. Now, however, Budalas understood. He smiled faintly and said, "It seems I failed." Budalas slowly withdrew his scepter. The tip had indeed pierced Karen's chest, leaving a superficial wound, but such an injury meant nothing to a figure of Karen's caliber; a snap of his fingers accompanied by a minor healing spell would mend it completely. The magic-dispelling and corrosive effects that could have dealt a fatal blow had failed to manifest, as the tip of the scepter was enveloped in a bronze sheen. *Clink!* A bent copper coin dropped to the ground. At the same time, Luoya's figure materialized. Her back was dyed crimson, and she knelt weakly before Karen. Karen bent down, gathered Luoya into his arms, and asked, "How are you?" "Big Brother Karen, Luoya needs to take a good, long sleep." "Go to sleep, then." "Mm... Good night, Big Brother Karen." Luoya's form dissolved into light and sank into the twisted copper coin. The coin floated up and settled into Karen's palm. The Laks copper coin had served as a divine protective artifact, but the cost was that it could no longer be used for now; it needed to be sent to the containment space for repair. Though Luoya, as the artifact spirit, was heavily injured, once the divine artifact was restored, she would quickly recover. Even so, a dark gloom flickered in Karen's eyes, yet as his gaze settled back onto Budalas, it ultimately melted into a sigh. Budalas let go of the scepter and stood there quietly, seemingly waiting to dissipate at any moment. Karen said, "Come with me. I'll let reality prove it to you." Budalas did not refuse and simply nodded. "Very well." He understood full well that he had lost his only possible chance at an assassination. Now, he could only hope that events would unfold toward the best possible outcome. It was absurd, yet what was even more absurd was that Karen could understand him. And most absurd of all... this assassination attempt against him was the most qualified and flawless test of devotion to Order. This left Karen with anger smoldering inside him, yet nowhere to vent it. "The reunion is adjourned for now. Neo, entertain Dicarost. I'm taking Budalas to see the High Priest." "Sure, no problem," Neo agreed briskly. As Karen and Budalas walked away, Neo caught hold of Ukonga, who was about to follow. "Hey, where do you think you're going? To eavesdrop?" Ukonga replied, "I want to ask what Budalas meant earlier, and what he meant by what he just said." In truth, the best way to conceal the truth was the sheer, preposterous scale of the truth itself. Ukonga still had not pieced it together because his mind had never even drifted in that direction. Who could imagine that among his former roommates, not only were there two Popes of major religions, but also the very god he worshipped? Not to mention those repeated calls of "beloved son," which bordered on far greater blasphemy than Dis's former signature greetings. Neo said, "Wait until everything is settled before asking." Dicarost chimed in at once. "Right, right, wait until business is taken care of first." Ukonga frowned. "But you two only have three days." Dicarost nodded. "Then keep me company. Can't the three of us have our own reunion? With those two gone, it's actually much more relaxing." Ukonga conceded, "True. Budalas went a bit too far." Dicarost shrugged. He didn't mind Budalas staying behind to keep scolding and ridiculing them—he genuinely didn't care about that. But with Karen present, he felt suffocatingly suppressed. Neo produced a sheet of spell paper and, with a slight slip of his fingers, folded a white crow. "Huh?" Brushing his palm lightly over it, he turned the white crow black and released it into the air. "Let's go. I've called someone to take us to the Pastry Shop Quarter. We'll find a more comfortable spot to sit down and chat." *** Inside the office, Richard was attending to his work. Sitting across the desk was Philomena, gnawing on braised chicken feet. Beneath the desk were two large buckets filled with braised snacks lovingly prepared by Grandmother. Just then, a crow flew inside. Philomena looked up and snatched it. Greasy fingerprints smeared across the crow, rubbing off a large patch of black and revealing a touch of white beneath. Richard set down his pen and asked, "What is it?" Philomena answered, "He wants you to take them whoring." *** Alfred walked through the Administrative Temple with a book in hand. Gazing at the murals depicting Tyrannus lining the walls, he was already pondering and designing how his own likeness should be composed in the future. This would be his future office. *A fine environment with great style.* A small stream meandered over. Alfred followed it into the tea seating area. The High Priest, covered entirely in frost, sat there like a creature in deep hibernation. Even when Alfred walked up right before him, he remained motionless. "High Priest, I have brought the book you requested." Alfred arranged the book neatly upon the coffee table. The High Priest gave no response. After standing respectfully to the side for a while, Alfred decided to cast off his restraint. He sat on the opposite sofa, took a cigar from the humidor, lit it, drew another book from beneath the coffee table, and opened it. Puffing on his cigar while reading, he leaned back slightly from time to time to take in the temple surroundings. This was, after all, the true core of power in the Church of Order. A voice suddenly spoke: "Comfortable?" Alfred set down his cigar, closed his book, stood up, and replied respectfully, "Very enjoyable." "Listening to the Lord's teachings and administering the Lord's will is an immense honor." "You speak truly. This sense of participation, devotion, and achievement is something others can never comprehend. They likely think one simply happens to stand closest to the Lord." "Indeed, that is so." The High Priest did not ask why Alfred could be so relaxed before him. There was no need to ask; he had already heard Karen's assessment of this manservant. He himself was the past version of Alfred, and Alfred was the future version of himself. "Read it." "Very well." Alfred did not ask which book. He turned directly to the notebook bound in black leather with gold lettering and began reciting. From beginning to end, the High Priest sat frozen in place without moving a muscle, but Alfred could sense that he was listening with utmost attentiveness. No telling how much time passed, but Alfred eventually finished reading. He closed the book, exhaled a long breath, picked up the wine bottle before him, poured himself a glass, and drank it in one gulp. He felt immensely happy. After all, he was expounding doctrine to Tyrannus himself. "Who wrote it?" "I compiled it from the words spoken by my young master." "*New Light of Order*?" "Yes." "Where is the novelty?" "In a fresh perspective of contemplation." "What is the difference?" "The value lies in the very act of this new cycle of reflection and dialectic—in looking back to re-examine, rather than deliberately chasing novelty and distinction. I do not believe that arriving at the same conclusion as the old doctrines renders it meaningless. On the contrary, it is gratifying. It proves that the truth has withstood another trial, allowing us to hold our convictions with greater steadfastness." "Yet at times, we must seek swift results. What I wish to see is not the ultimate conclusion, but the ultimate resolution." "This book is not yet complete. I believe that by the time it is finished, new methods will emerge." "I look forward to it." "Thank you." A quill flew out from behind the sofa, drifting gently until it came to rest upon Alfred's lap. Alfred took a deep breath, doing his best to steady his breathing so that he wouldn't appear overly excited and disgrace his young master. According to legend, Tyrannus had used this very quill to write the *Light of Order*. "Continue writing with it." "Thank you for your legacy." "It is I who should thank you for carrying my legacy forward." The quill began to draw spontaneously inside the cover. Soon, seventeen emblems took shape: four were dark, while the remaining thirteen were faint. These represented the four attendants and the twelve Order knights; the extra one was the emblem of a dragon. As of now, one attendant and three knights had exiled their godheads. In other words, with this pen and this book, one could summon these exiled legacies to return. Alfred pressed his lips together, feeling the staggering weight of the items in his hands. Who could have imagined that a mere aberrant demon in a Luojia City broadcasting station a few years ago would one day command the legacies of so many exalted figures? Once all the emblems darkened completely, it would signify the definitive end of the previous generation. And they would leave their most precious treasures to the next. Alfred whispered, "Thank you." "I like the phrase you wrote on the final page: 'The curtain falling on the Era of Order must naturally be drenched in the blood of Order believers, but this is by no means an end; I believe it is a far greater beginning.'" "I wholeheartedly agree with your words." "He is very busy. For now, take his place in keeping me company." "It is my honor." "Go out now. Call that person in, and then let your master attend to his duties." "Yes." Alfred stood up, walked out of the tea space, and stepped outside the Administrative Temple. Just in time, he saw his young master ascending the steps with a masked figure. Mobiten saw them but did not bar their path. In Karen's current position, he possessed the authority to bring a stranger to see the High Priest. Most of Mobiten's attention was fixed on the carriage driver—because the driver was his own grandson. Muri paid no attention whatsoever to his grandfather, acting strictly as a driver, while treating his grandfather as nothing more than a guard at the door. This left Mobiten feeling a trace of loss, yet even greater delight. A hereditary family office was an honor, yet it was also a shackle. At least within his lifetime, he had witnessed that shackle shatter. "Young Master." "Alfred, have you finished meeting with the High Priest?" "Yes, Young Master." Alfred looked toward the masked figure. "By decree of the High Priest, let him enter. Young Master, you may proceed with your upcoming tasks." "Understood." Karen turned, walked down the steps, and headed toward the carriage he had arrived in. Inside, little Kanna sat with her cheeks puffed out, looking thoroughly huffy. Kevin lay beside her, gently flicking his tail against her from time to time to comfort her. When Karen stepped back into the carriage, little Kanna couldn't help saying, "Next time, even if it's a reunion, I want to go with you." "Alright, alright," Karen said, reaching out to pat her head. Just then, Muri turned from the driver's seat and asked, "Minister, are we heading back now?" "No, to the War Institute." *** Budalas stepped into the Administrative Temple. He was intimately familiar with everything here. Though a thousand years had passed, in the church's vast history, a millennium was truly nothing. Guided by the stream, Budalas arrived at the tea area. He took off his mask and faced the frozen figure before him, who wore the High Priest vestments he knew so well. Budalas did not bow, and Norton did not speak. Just like that, one High Priest sat while the other stood. Finally, Budalas closed his eyes, tears trickling down the corners. Sometimes, silent communication struck far deeper into the heart. Norton used the reality of his own deathly resolve to demonstrate it to Budalas, and that was the finest proof. A smile appeared on Budalas's face as he murmured, "I never imagined that against the backdrop of such a catastrophe, our church—from our God, to the exalted figures, to the faithful—could display such beauty. "I am guilty. I questioned the Lord, and worse, I committed blasphemy against Him." Budalas bowed deeply toward Norton. "Greetings, Lord Tyrannus." Norton still said nothing. Budalas said, "It is time for me to go to work." *** Priests in the War Institute watched as the Secretary-General walked into what was once the Cardinal's office—now the Acting High Priest's office—leading a dog on a leash. Soon, the secretaries and adjutants inside filed out and shut the door behind them. Crede sat in his chair, watching Karen, and raised a hand dismissively. "Speak. What important business brings you to me?" "In truth, nothing special. I merely wish to express my attitude to you." "Your attitude?" A smile brushed the corners of Crede's mouth, though it was visibly laced with a sense of offense. "I acknowledge your status as Acting High Priest, and I acknowledge your succession to the position of High Priest in the future. From the bottom of my heart, I will recognize you as the High Priest of our Church of Order." Crede asked, somewhat puzzled, "Is that all?" "However, I require an attitude from you in return. I need you to ensure that on certain matters, my thoughts and decisions will be carried out unconditionally by you." Crede rose to his feet, glaring at Karen. He could accept the unspoken rules of being a transitional High Priest, but that did not mean he could tolerate Karen laying it bare right to his face! This was an insult—an extraordinarily grave insult! In truth, Karen had not wanted to do this either. He could have used countless subtle methods to slowly digest and maintain the tacit understanding between himself and Crede. The issue was that he was no longer willing to expend excess energy on such matters. He believed that after meeting Tyrannus, Budalas would certainly receive the answer he sought. After that, Karen had to ensure Budalas could exercise the authority of the High Priest by proxy. "Karen, do you know what you are saying?" "I know." Karen released the leash in his hand. Kevin took two paces forward and shifted into human form. His gleaming bald head reflected the office light with blinding brilliance, while a majestic, overwhelming divine pressure forced Crede back down into his seat! "You're... the deity from Mink Street!" Karen looked at Crede with utter composure and said, "In truth, my surname is not Silva. My real surname is—Inmeles." "You... you..." That surname meant that the entity named Dis would stand unconditionally behind this young man. And that dog—no, that deity—was already playing the role of a dog before him. This was Karen's display of power: built upon the foundation of his already outstanding personal qualifications, backed by the support of the absolute peak combat power remaining in the Order faction. Crede closed his eyes. After a short silence, he slowly opened them. "I understand." *** Two days later, inside the Acting High Priest's office, a high-level telecommunication conference commenced. Crede sat at the head of the table, Karen sat at the secondary seat, and on the other side sat Budalas, wearing a mask and sporting an altered appearance. Karen was merely attending the meeting; afterward, he would represent the High Priest on separate visits to the Church of Samsara, the Moon God Church, and the Church of the Abyss. Crede felt uneasy sitting here. It was not because of Karen—though Karen had unceremoniously used a dog to threaten and intimidate him that day, all of that still fell within Crede's realm of comprehension. What truly tormented him was this Secretary-General to the Acting High Priest, appointed personally by the High Priest's own decree. Facing this secretary made Crede deeply uncomfortable, as if sitting at the head of the table before him was an act of profound disrespect. The telecommunication array engaged, and three clear figures appeared on the other side: the Hierarchs of the Church of Thunder, the Night God Church, and the Church of Netherfire. The chief deities of these three faiths had fallen upon the ice fields not long ago. Yet that did not prevent them from convening with the Acting High Priest of Order now. In the past, everyone believed they lived in piety, but once that cloak was ruthlessly ripped away, they realized they had always lived in reality. Since their own gods had fallen, they could only pray that the other gods would not return either. Budalas stood up and, on Crede's behalf, announced the agenda of the conference: "Our Church of Order will publicly support the Night God Church's vengeance against the Church of Crystal; "Our Church of Order will publicly support the Church of Thunder's judgment against the Church of Black Rock; "Our Church of Order will publicly support the Church of Netherfire's annexation of the Church of the Storm. "Your gods have already eradicated the foundations of these three churches upon the ice fields. They are now at their most vulnerable, and this is the moment for you to carry out your gods' will. "Gentlemen, we expect you to issue declarations of war in a timely manner." "And if we refuse?" "Does Order take us for subsidiary faiths?" "Since when do we take orders from Order?" Budalas calmly closed the document he had just read aloud and said, "For the first two churches to issue declarations of war, our Church of Order will deploy the Order Knights and provide military supplies to assist, ensuring your campaigns proceed smoothly. Furthermore, our Church of Order will announce an equal alliance with them and sign non-aggression pacts. As for the third church, we will offer only verbal support." Budalas tidied the papers, tapping them lightly against the desk with a crisp clatter, and smiled faintly. "Of course, it does not matter if you disagree. However, you had best pray that our Church of Order succeeds in intercepting the return of the remaining gods. If we fail... "Once the God of Crystal, the God of the Storm, and the God of Black Rock successfully return, their first target of vengeance—and that of their churches—will undoubtedly be our Church of Order. "Yet there is only one Church of Order. Who, then, will be the second, third, and fourth targets of their wrath?" Budalas leaned forward slightly. An invisible pressure radiated through the telecommunication array, clearly felt on the other side. Now, the one feeling uncomfortable was not just Crede, but also the three Hierarchs. They felt as though this priest speaking on behalf of Order's Acting High Priest possessed a formidable presence not one bit inferior to High Priest Norton himself. "Heh. "Fools. "Did you truly naively think you still had a choice?"