"Aaaaargh!"
Amid shrill, agonized screams, Artemis, Goddess of the Moon, pinned in the crack of the doorway, gradually split apart.
One half of her body fell toward the outside of the gate and the other fell inward, crashing down simultaneously with a thunderous boom.
Although Karen knew Artemis was not some pure, gentle, fairy-tale goddess, watching a deity draped in the aura of countless legends meet her end like this before his eyes truly evoked a twisted pleasure akin to trampling upon something beautiful.
Gods could not bleed. Bleeding meant they could be weakened, hurt, and killed. Once they were killed enough times, killed over a long enough period, it would become the norm—moving from terror to shock, from shock to numbness, and then, amidst that numbness, tasting pleasure.
Karen suddenly realized that this deliberate pacing of the early breaches was not only to give himself and the Church of Order a buffer, but also to give the world a buffer.
Tyrannus—what he played was a vast, sprawling chessboard.
A crescent moon rose from within the Gate of Samsara and quickly dissipated.
This was the Moon Goddess proactively releasing the inheritance of her godhood before her fall.
Her remaining two severed halves began to melt rapidly. Rather than turning into putrid pus, they formed a sea of lunar halos, pouring out across a vast expanse.
At first, the soldiers of the Samsara Legion felt intense dread and tension, but as these halos passed over them, aside from a faint discomfort, no harm befell them, putting everyone at ease.
On the contrary, the church's higher-ups, led by Gatekeeper Romir, looked utterly livid, shouting orders to organize personnel in an attempt to erect barriers to halt the spread of the lunar halo.
Yet it was all too late.
After covering the entirety of Samsara Valley, the lunar halo flowed onward into the Sea of the Dead, while the halo inside the gate also rapidly spread into the world within.
Strictly speaking, this lunar halo was not corruption; on the contrary, it was a blessing.
Yet just like the Arte family's bloodline of eternal blessing, sometimes a blessing could become a curse.
Samsara Valley and the surrounding Sea of the Dead formed an exceptionally suitable cultivation environment for the Church of Samsara, while the world within the gate was another major invisible pillar of support for them.
In the past, no matter how heavy the losses the church suffered, given enough time, they could slowly rebuild and nurture their forces again—such as having enough grassroots priests and various undead creatures.
Now, however, this entire region, including the inside of the gate, had been blessed by Artemis before her death, which was effectively ruining the environmental soil here.
This was practically throttling the roots of Samsara's future growth with her own hands, smothering Samsara's future.
"That's truly ruthless," Ukonga said, smacking his lips deliberately to assert his presence. "Turns out a main god can be so petty too."
Little Kanna turned her dragon head back and asked, "Who are you hinting at?"
Ukonga: "..."
Rain began to fall from the sky, suffused with a dense aura of Samsara.
It not only nourished the Samsara priests but also the land, counteracting the lunar halo—at any rate, minimizing the destructive impact on the soil.
Karen said, "It seems the God of Samsara has fallen as well."
This was the manifestation of the God of Samsara's inheritance being projected here. Bestowing the inheritance upon the church was like fertilizing a great tree; nutrients would disperse to every branch and bough.
Karen reached out and caught some rainwater in his palm. When he brought it before his face, the rain vanished.
He was an Order priest, so he was not a recipient of the inheritance's shower.
Even so, Karen examined his palm closely, gently rubbing his fingertips together. Although he couldn't touch anything, an uncomfortable greasiness lingered in his heart.
The gods had fallen, but their divinity still lingered in this world.
Thus, even as gods fell one after another, this world would still grow increasingly filthy.
Pollution would multiply, brew, devour, and one day reconverge in the form of "faith" to birth new deities.
They were like the cancer cells of this world; each seemingly clean kill was merely the prologue to a new cycle.
Mm, in the future, so would he be.
Therefore, killing gods was only the first step. The second step was how to sweep divinity into the eternal trash heap.
"Let's go down."
Kanna descended, and Karen reached the ground.
The surrounding scene felt familiar. After the Rielsa incident last time, he had taken a walk like this to inspect the post-battle situation.
Yet this time, Samsara's losses were far, far greater than during Rielsa's time; even the Gate of Samsara had been exaggeratedly twisted and warped.
From this day forth, the Church of Samsara no longer had the right to call itself an orthodox church.
Suddenly, Karen felt a resonance in his heart.
"Kanna, isolation barrier."
"You got it!"
Not yet having transformed back into a little girl, Kanna coiled her skeletal dragon body, shielding Karen in the center and forming an exceptionally solid isolation barrier.
Karen pressed his palm against his chest and slowly drew it outward—that was where he had once fused with the Dark Moon Bone.
Though having undergone physical reshaping, he had long since lost that trait, yet now, it had resurfaced.
The reason was simple: when the Goddess of the Dark Moon fell, she had not bestowed her inheritance upon Dark Moon Island, but had given it to him.
A faint, dark red glow emerged in his palm, then shot into the ground before him, forming a dark moon halo. From within stepped out the complete phantom of a goddess.
For some reason, seeing this scene, what surfaced in Karen's mind was back when he was merely an off-the-books member of the Whip of Order, greeting Princess Ophelia of Dark Moon Island as she disembarked at the pier.
And the Goddess of the Dark Moon who stepped forth bore a face identical to Ophelia's.
"Heh..."
Karen smiled.
He naturally knew that although Ophelia possessed Dark Moon royal blood, she didn't have any direct relation to the Goddess of the Dark Moon. The reason the goddess took this form was probably that she sensed the most beautiful embodiment of the Dark Moon in his heart was Ophelia.
Though the two had never ended up together, without even an extramarital affair, it was undeniable that he had once briefly lost himself in the night scenery of Dark Moon Island.
The Goddess of the Dark Moon knelt, raising both arms in prayer:
"Praise be to the great God of Order."
She did not treat her inheritance as a gift or boon, because she knew the great Order looked down on her meager offerings and might even consider it an offense. She merely wanted to use this method to personally offer praise and gratitude before completely dissipating.
However, Karen did not yet know that Commander Daan and the others had led the knight orders toward the Moon Wheel, and said apologetically:
"I have always remembered my oath to you. I will fulfill it."
"No, Great One, you have already fulfilled your promise."
The golden page glowed faintly. Karen looked down; Mr. Hoffen had sent the latest report: the Order Knights had launched their attack against the Moon God Church.
Karen couldn't help but sigh inwardly: *So fast?*
"Your great work shall surely succeed, and your ideals will inevitably transform into the most dazzling light to illuminate this world. Praise be to your greatness, praise be to Order!"
Karen pointed to his chest and said, "There is no need to give me your inheritance."
"A bit of filthy dross; please dispose of it as you see fit."
The Goddess of the Dark Moon began stepping backward, her divinity gradually dispersing—the very last trace she left in this world.
It was clear that having achieved her revenge, she appeared light and unburdened.
After the goddess vanished entirely, Karen said:
"Kanna, lift the barrier."
"Mm, are you going to give this inheritance to her?"
"Children shouldn't pry into grown-up business."
"Sister Purr isn't home right now, so I have to stand in for her to stand in for her great-great-great-great-grandniece to keep an eye on you!"
"Then you won't need to come on official trips with me in the future. You can stay home and do your regular homework instead."
"Humph, you're threatening me!"
"And what of it?"
"I didn't see anything."
The bone dragon uncoiled, returning to the form of a little girl.
Karen reached out and pinched her puffed-up cheek.
Romir descended and approached Karen of her own accord, looking solemn and nervous:
"Secretary-General Karen, I hope we can finalize the covenant right now."
First, Samsara's losses this time were too immense, far beyond expectations; second, she had just received news of the Order Knights' latest movements against the space where the Moon Wheel was located.
"Alright, no problem."
"As for the details of the covenant, Order can propose revisions first. We will raise no objections."
The previous covenant had been somewhat too equitable—so fair that the Church of Samsara now felt unworthy of it.
Karen smiled and said, "We will keep that covenant; there's no need to change it."
Hearing this, Romir breathed a long sigh of relief. "Our thanks to Order."
For the next week, Karen remained at the Church of Samsara to represent the High Priest in signing the covenant with Samsara.
The Church of Samsara proactively added many specific cooperative terms, such as direct teleportation arrays between the two churches, and allowing the Church of Order to station forces outside the Gate of Samsara in the future, effectively yielding partial usage rights of this divine artifact.
This wasn't Samsara getting the short end of the stick, nor was it Order taking advantage of their plight; rather, Samsara no longer possessed the confidence or strength to safeguard this church-guarding divine artifact on its own.
While Karen was busy with work, Little Kanna took Ukonga around the valley to explore caves for fun. Over two eras, an unknown number of undead creatures had accumulated here, among which white-bone creatures were naturally plentiful.
Now, most of them had fallen in battle, leaving the caves unguarded, and Little Kanna happily scavenged quite a few beautiful bones from within.
When teleporting away in the carriage, Karen read the internal newsletter while asking:
"Why didn't you look for gems instead of bones?"
Ukonga beat her to the punch: "She's truly the smartest child I've ever seen. She can actually cultivate puppet clones now."
Little Kanna looked slightly bashful and reserved; hearing others praise her felt much better than praising herself.
Puppet clone spells weren't particularly high-level techniques, but an ordinary person's puppet was just a superficial shell. Karen's abundant spiritual power allowed him to create sturdier puppets, but a bone dragon's puppet... that was truly hard to imagine.
Karen asked, "Did it work?"
Ukonga answered first again, "It worked! Same size, nearly identical physical constitution. She can summon three puppet bone dragons at once."
Little Kanna immediately corrected him, "It's five! Five! I secretly tried it again last night by myself."
Karen asked again, "Can the puppets use spells?"
Little Kanna hung her head. "Not yet."
Karen: "Then keep working hard."
Ukonga said, somewhat exasperated, "Wait, is your family this strict with raising kids?"
Karen glanced at Ukonga. Ukonga mustered up his courage: "What? Am I wrong?"
"Mm, you're right." Karen stroked Little Kanna's head. "Our Kanna is already amazing."
Ukonga exhaled a long breath, as if he was the one who had received the head-pat and recognition.
After a series of teleportations, Karen did not return to the Dingle Region to report on his duties first. Instead, he went to Mink Street.
Now, returning here was quite easy and free for him. In the eyes of outsiders who didn't know the truth, it wasn't slacking off, but rather the Secretary-General repeatedly venturing into dangerous ground at great personal risk.
He didn't head straight home; the carriage stopped outside Piaget's house first.
Just as he stepped out of the carriage, Karen saw his prospective father-in-law, Mr. Bede, already standing outside the door waiting for him.
He had anticipated his arrival, which fit the nature of the Church of the Mural God.
Mr. Bede bowed to Karen. "Greetings, Secretary-General Karen."
Karen stopped, not telling Mr. Bede to stand up, but said, "The Church of Order has already revoked the evil god classification of the Mural God. Now, the Church of the Mural God may resume normal proselytizing."
"My gratitude to the Church of Order, and thank you for your favor."
"The Mural God made sacrifices for the cause of Order. Such compensation is only right."
"The reconstruction of the church will require some support. Could you perhaps..."
"I have already given instructions. You may contact the district head of whichever region you wish to preach in directly to discuss policies with him."
"Yes, thank you for your benevolence!"
In the past, one could at least sense a bit of family familiarity from Mr. Bede; every time he faced Karen, he deliberately displayed a hint of casual familiarity.
Yet this time, an obvious estrangement could be felt. Clearly, Mr. Bede had come to see himself as an executive of the Church of the Mural God, facing Karen, a superior figure, in the capacity of a minor church administrator.
Since he had cast aside the notion of family, Karen would no longer treat him as family either.
Karen entered the hallway and saw Piaget sitting on the sofa, painting.
His eyes were dull and hollow.
However, his body blended very well with his surroundings. When Karen walked in, he sensed an invisible force of repulsion.
Yet when Karen straightened his back slightly, that repulsive force vanished without a trace.
Piaget didn't move, continuing to paint.
Karen walked over to his side and looked at the easel. On the same sheet of drawing paper, images were constantly drawn, dissolved, and drawn anew, like watching serialized illustrations with dynamic motion, yet all contained on a single sheet of paper.
Karen saw a living room inside as well, where Piaget and Linda interacted.
The Piaget who was originally sitting on the sofa in the painting stood up, stretched, turned his head, and waved a greeting to Karen outside the paper.
Linda emerged carrying two cups of coffee and placed them on the coffee table.
Karen sighed and closed his eyes.
The next moment, Karen appeared within the drawing paper.
"Aha, Karen, my dearest friend!"
Piaget stepped forward and gave Karen a warm embrace, while Karen gently patted his back.
"Darling, come quickly and look—it's Karen."
"Mr. Karen, please have some coffee."
Karen nodded to Linda, then looked back at Piaget and asked, "Are you living happily?"
"Of course! The person I love most has returned to my side. Every day of my life now is filled with happiness and contentment. And to see you today, Karen... Truly, no matter how exquisite the brush or refined the technique, nothing could ever capture my current happiness."
"As long as you are happy. Well, I must be going."
"What? You're leaving already?"
"I haven't even been back to my own home yet, Piaget."
"Oh, right, my apologies then! Hahaha, I shouldn't hold you up. Hurry on back, Karen, and send my regards to Mr. Diss and Mr. Mason. Darling, didn't you just bake apple pie this morning? Have Karen take some back for his family to try. Karen, you must taste my wife's baking. Her apple pie is praised by all the neighbors."
"Mm, alright."
Karen waited for a while—or perhaps waited for "a few sheets."
Linda packed an apple pie into a gift box and handed it to Karen.
"Thank you."
After expressing his gratitude, Karen closed his eyes, opened them again, and returned to reality.
On the drawing paper before him, Piaget and Linda stood together, waving farewell to him.
And in his hand, he held a small sheet of drawing paper with an apple pie drawn upon it.
Piaget had chosen to seal himself inside the painting, continuing to live a sweet, happy life with his wife, Linda.
This was a form of self-escape and hypnosis, yet he found joy in it.
Neo could have done the same, but he refused to let himself be fooled that way. That was also the root of Neo's perpetual torment: living too unyieldingly, too proudly, and therefore in too much agony.
Karen walked out the front door. Mr. Bede was still waiting in the yard. As Karen passed him, he asked:
"Why didn't you assimilate him?"
Piaget had chosen to exile himself and his wife into the drawing paper, leaving the "Piaget" sitting on the living room sofa constantly painting as nothing more than an empty shell. It would have been all too easy to control, or even... assimilate.
That was, after all, the inheritance of the Mural God.
Mr. Bede replied, "I thought about it, and was tempted. But I knew you wouldn't allow it."
A very straightforward answer. Hearing this, Karen said nothing more and climbed directly into the carriage.
After the carriage departed, Mr. Bede walked back into the living room.
Piaget stopped painting. A bit of life returned to his dull eyes. He turned to Mr. Bede with a self-deprecating smile:
"Karen must be very disappointed in me, right?"
Mr. Bede shook his head and replied, "You will always be his friend. The one he is disappointed in should be me. I can no longer be regarded as family by him."
"Actually, that day at the crematorium, when he handed Linda's urn to me, I knew that in terms of character, he and I were complete opposites. He has always been strong, while I am accustomed to cowardice and escape."
"Please do not say that," Mr. Bede said with a wry smile. "Your self-reproach drags me down with you."
"Hehehe."
Piaget peeled away the drawing paper on the easel, which had been painted over countless times. Beneath it lay a brand-new sheet of drawing paper, completely untouched by a brush.
Mr. Bede asked, "I've always been curious, why did you keep this blank sheet?"
"This is reserved for my best friend. The only thing I can do for him now is paint a portrait of him."
"Then why didn't you call him back just now? He's already gone."
"Because the time hasn't come yet. But soon. Very soon."
Piaget gestured through the air with his brush toward the blank paper, as if working out the composition, then said helplessly:
"What a pity, the paper is too small. What should I do?"
Mr. Bede asked, puzzled, "Can a paper this large still not fit him?"
Piaget shook his head. "Of course it can't. How could it possibly fit him?"
"You must be joking."
"Bede, I'm not. Truly, I'm not. Just wait, soon you will witness it with your own eyes...
His figure
will shroud this world."
Chapter 935