At first glance, atop the towering stone steps stood a majestic gate. Compared to it, the Gate of Samsara constructed by the God of Samsara seemed like a child's toy.
Generally speaking, a gate symbolized a new beginning, for pushing it open meant entering a new landscape. Yet this gate gave off an aura of the ultimate conclusion of all things.
Exhausted and frail, Purr blinked again. When she looked once more, she discovered the gate was gone, replaced by a mausoleum that looked exceedingly familiar to her.
It was the ancestral cemetery located within Allen Manor.
Purr's eyes widened, an incredulous light glimmering in her amber feline eyes.
By what virtue or merit could the Allen ancestral cemetery ever appear so grand and solemn?
Even bearing the Allen surname herself, she felt deeply that it was undeserving of such majesty.
"The end of everything, the final destination of the world?"
Purr gradually came to understand: the Gate of Heaven had no concrete, fixed form; it merely depended on the perception in one's own heart.
Her initial impression had stemmed from Dicarost's descriptions, and in the history of the Church of the Abyss, the depictions of Heaven possessed their own cultural heritage.
Yet in her own eyes, life's true final resting place remained that family graveyard.
Purr struggled to get to her feet. She could sense her own extreme weakness, as though she had returned to that languid, depleted state from when she had been affected by fusing the Finger of Light.
"Dumb dog... dumb dog... dumb dog?"
Purr extended a soft paw and pressed it against the golden retriever's bald head, gently nudging him.
Kevin slowly opened his eyes and looked at Purr.
"Woof..."
"Meow..."
Purr smiled.
Turning her head, she looked back in the direction they had come from. It was pitch black.
The smile on Purr's face gradually faded away.
She had once served as an expedition captain—experienced and exceptional. She had thought she was used to the deaths of teammates and comrades, believing she could take such things in stride. But witnessing an entire organized unit perish together still weighed down upon her heart with immense pressure, especially since... the order had been given by her own mouth.
"Dumb dog, tell me... how much agony must our little Karen be feeling inside right now?"
Kevin gave a strained wag of his tail, lightly brushing against the black cat's back.
Then, he raised his dog head as well, looking upward.
He froze.
Because what he saw was an immense, majestic, sacrosanct... dog bed.
Its style and design were identical to the mat placed right at the foot of Karen's bed in his bedroom.
After a brief moment of stunned disbelief, Kevin slumped back down. Well, he had made peace with it.
Perhaps that mat was the final resting place in his mind.
...
"Is Sister Purr really all right?"
"You aren't lying to me, are you?"
"You'd better not lie to me, or else I'm not doing my homework!"
Little Kanna asked Karen this question every single day, and during this period, she frequently had nightmares at night.
The expedition had been virtually wiped out, and both Count Recal and Dicarost were confirmed to have fallen. Yet the symbiosis contract between Purr and Karen, though on the verge of breaking at the time, had been preserved and still existed.
This proved that Purr was still alive.
Karen could faintly sense her presence now, but it was extremely vague, making it impossible to determine her coordinates. Most likely, only when he truly ascended to godhood would he be able to pinpoint that location.
No matter what, Purr's current condition could not be good.
Yet he was completely powerless.
He could not organize another search-and-rescue team to go there. It was simply not cost-effective.
Yes, it was ruthless.
Emotional instinct constantly told you that life was priceless and family was beyond value, but cold, rational reality forced you to bow your head and weigh lives on a balance sheet.
This was not because Karen had changed. Rather, the predecessors from the 1st Knight Corps who had sacrificed themselves right after awakening, along with the elders of the Church about to take the field against the gods in the next wave, had gradually been elevated to an equal standing.
Though it was inappropriate to call them "family," it was undeniable that everyone carried the exact same weight.
"Mm, Sister Purr really is fine, right? You didn't lie to me, did you, Karen?"
Inside the carriage, Little Kanna began her daily routine of questions once more.
Karen kept his head bowed, offering no reply.
Seeing this, Little Kanna reached out and gently tugged at Karen's cuff. When Karen looked up, Little Kanna froze and did not press further, for she saw that Karen's eyes were terrifyingly bloodshot.
The carriage came to a halt. Karen looked at Kanna and gave the same answer he had repeated these past days:
"She's fine."
With that, Karen stepped out of the carriage.
Waiting ahead was a ceremonial carriage, exclusive to the High Priest.
Richard, leading a contingent of clerics, had long been waiting there. Once Karen mounted the carriage, he began assisting him into the ceremonial robes exclusive to the High Priest.
Krede was still officially in office; Karen was still technically the Acting High Priest.
Yet doing this now was not intended as deliberate overstepping or posturing. Certain formalities were truly not meant for oneself, but for others.
Richard poured Karen a glass of ice water and said, "High Priest, everything is arranged."
"And at home?"
"Once things wrap up here, we'll head home."
"Mm."
Flanked by ceremonial clerics and accompanied by Sandy soaring through the skies, the ceremonial carriage rolled into the former station of the 9th Knight Corps in the Dinge Region with supreme majesty.
The proud knight corps had temporarily yielded their station.
Clad in the splendid robes, Karen stepped out of the carriage and manifested his Dharma Body, radiating the full majesty befitting the High Priest without reserve.
All around him stood densely packed ranks of elderly clerics. Most were gray-haired; the rest who appeared slightly less aged had merely used special techniques to preserve their youth, but in truth, none were young.
They were the recruits of the first and second waves, scheduled to step onto the battlefield tomorrow.
The group here in the Dinge Region was only a portion. Other regions, including the Wien Region, had also completed their mobilizations; tomorrow, they would be collectively teleported to designated sectors and organized into formations.
Preliminary training and drills had already been conducted, though there was no need for them to be overly elaborate. Diknuo, the commander of the entire second phase of the Divine War, had formulated a "foolproof" procedure.
For the most part, all they needed to do was obey orders, sacrificing themselves in waves and formations to contribute their utmost power.
Hah, what a bunch of fools.
"Greetings, High Priest."
"Greetings, High Priest."
The Dinge Region was the final stop on Karen's tour of inspection.
Krede, the reigning High Priest, had deliberately washed his hands of the affair. For someone at the pinnacle of the Church of Order, witnessing these scenes over and over was unadulterated torment.
As a leader, he had to categorize believers by age into tiers of relative expendability, sending them to their deaths.
Krede had simply holed up in his tearoom, giving up on everything.
Yet someone had to shoulder the burden. Someone had to lead them through the proceedings. Karen, the Acting High Priest, had no choice but to fully exercise the authority and duties of the office.
Because these people... wished to lay eyes on their High Priest one last time before departing. More accurately, by looking upon the High Priest, they wanted a final glimpse of the Church of Order and the faith of Order for which they were about to lay down their lives.
Karen crossed his arms before his chest. His true form and his Dharma Body spoke in unison:
"Praise be to the great God of Order."
Without realizing it, Karen had altered his prayer, abandoning his former refusal to say those words.
As someone living through this tragedy, perhaps at this moment he found himself secretly wishing that the God of Order truly would spread open His arms to welcome these devoted believers.
Yet reality was frigid and merciless. The doctrines of Order taught people to do many things, but they never taught anyone to dream.
Below, every elderly cleric stood with eyes brimming with tears, crossing their arms in unison to respond:
"Praise be to great Order."
"Praise be to great Order."
Someone had likely coached them beforehand. When you truly rose to the summit of power, subordinates naturally accommodated all your preferences, including Karen's abbreviated phrasing of the prayer in public.
Yet this scene was by no means a rehearsed farce. Elders who would sacrifice themselves on the battlefield tomorrow had no reason to demean themselves with flattery now.
God was indeed great and supreme.
Yet what sustained their willingness to sacrifice their very lives was not a god, but the purest faith in Order itself.
This battle had been initiated an era ago by the God of Order, with branch gods throwing themselves into the fray wave upon wave. Now, they too were warriors—warriors standing shoulder-to-shoulder with their god and their lords. Everything was for Order.
Among the crowd, Karen spotted Piro and Levin. He had intended to speak with them, to say a few more words, but they merely smiled at Karen, then turned and vanished into the sea of people.
In the face of monumental events, idealized build-ups, transitions, and developments could never keep pace with the swift tide of change.
Karen turned, reentered the carriage, and hurriedly shed the High Priest's ceremonial robes.
Richard stood to the side, not disturbing Karen. He knew his cousin had been thoroughly exhausted throughout this period.
Karen fell asleep. It was not a deep slumber; even when walking under his own power to transfer carriages, his consciousness remained dazed and murky. His way of relaxing was simply to escape.
He suddenly understood why Neo had always been so fond of spirit-numbing potions. The greatest agony was when you desperately wanted to hide, yet your body and mind remained frighteningly lucid.
"We're here, cousin."
Richard's voice finally pulled Karen back to reality.
Ahead stood the villa of the Guman family.
Karen stepped down from the carriage and walked inside at a measured pace.
As always, it was his grandmother who opened the door. Smiling, she came over, took Karen's hands in hers, and chided him for having gotten thinner and looking so worn out lately.
Karen forced a smile and replied courteously.
In the living room, the members of the Guman family all rose to welcome Karen. There was another person present as well: Eunice, wearing an apron.
The Gumans had not originally invited her; Karen had asked her to come.
Eunice took the initiative to stand beside Karen, exuding closeness while remaining perfectly dignified.
Delon's aged face broke into a smile. This pair of grandson and granddaughter-in-law was truly well-matched; merely looking at them brought warmth to one's heart.
Philomena stood beside Richard, using her palm to surreptitiously measure the distance between herself and Richard, comparing it against the space between Eunice and Karen.
She was studying them, focusing on Karen and Eunice as the ultimate role models, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could never capture the subtle essence.
Richard noticed her little scheme and leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "We're not like them."
His cousin's temperament happened to mirror that of his fiancée: carrying slightly more genuine affection than a mere political marriage, yet lacking the cloying sweetness of passionate lovers.
Marriage did not strive for hysterical passion, but for suitability.
The dining table was laden with a sumptuous feast.
The maid, Xili, had also come to help. She and Madame Tangli were the head cooks; Eunice was in charge of desserts and pastries; while Philomena was responsible for putting on a show of helping while incidentally inhaling the kitchen fumes.
In stark contrast to the lavish meal was the oppressive atmosphere around the table.
Because once this dinner concluded, Delon and Tangli would leave this home to report to the staging area in the Wien Region.
Tomorrow, they would be on the battlefield.
On the battlefield of the Divine War, there were no blessings... because there was no survival.
It felt very much like a funeral held ahead of time, except that the two people who were supposed to lie in coffins receiving condolences were seated at the table.
Madame Tangli looked around the table, patted the tabletop, and asked, "Hey, I say, can't everyone cheer up a bit?"
Delon immediately chimed in, "Right, cheer up a bit."
No one knew how to be cheerful, and so everyone turned their eyes toward Karen.
Similar scenes had been replaying before Karen constantly over the past few days.
He felt as though he had returned to the Inmeles Funeral Parlor on Mink Street, except that this time, as he arranged funerals, he was dressed in the robes of the High Priest.
He was sick of it, weary of it, exhausted, and beyond numb.
Yet no matter how suffocating it was, he had to force himself to face it.
Karen raised his wine glass, wearing a smile, and said, "Cherish the present, and cherish what will become a memory later. I hope that in that memory, everyone's face carries a smile."
One by one, everyone raised their glasses and smiled.
Richard began livening up the mood, telling jokes that had everyone laughing out loud—loud, yet carrying a hollow, jarring ring.
It was an exhausting meal, and both fortunately and unfortunately, it finally came to an end.
Dessert was served, and the atmosphere around the table reverted to how it had started.
Karen bit into a gold coin in the pudding set before him.
Madame Tangli and Delon immediately began clapping, saying it was a symbol of good fortune.
Karen retrieved the gold coin, pressed a kiss to it with his lips, and slipped it into his pocket.
Had another family faced the exact same situation, the atmosphere might not have been like this. The only blame lay in the fact that the concentration of Order believers in this household was simply too high.
The gods were, after all, too remote, nor was there top-down oppression from the Church. Individually, each could rationalize and come to terms with it, but gathered together, it became mutual torment.
Madame Tangli remarked self-deprecatingly, "I told you we shouldn't hold a dinner party, but this old man refused to listen, insisting on gathering one last time to take a photograph and have a portrait painted. You old geezer, look at you, look how you've tormented the children! It really would have been better to do as I said—leave a letter and report in early."
Delon shrank under her scolding, keeping his head down without a word.
Karen said, "Even if it lacks a certain carefree detachment, it's far better than leaving behind regrets."
Delon said, "The High Priest is right."
Madame Tangli stood up. "It's about time. We should go."
"Right you are."
Delon stood up after her.
The others moved to stand and see them off, but Madame Tangli raised her hand, pouring out a potent aura of pressure:
"Stay seated, all of you. Don't see us off. At a time like this, you have to let me indulge my stubbornness."
Delon chimed in, "Yes, yes, stay seated, stay seated."
And so everyone remained seated, watching the two elders walk to the doorway.
Karen pulled the golden page from his pocket and tossed it over. Madame Tangli caught it.
Stepping through the door, they arrived in the courtyard.
"Phew..." Madame Tangli took a deep breath. "Old man, that feels a bit better at last."
"Heh heh." Delon gave an agreeable laugh.
His guilt ran the deepest, for his wife was going to the battlefield simply to accompany him.
Madame Tangli held up the golden page, where lines of text appeared. "Oof, looking at this makes my head spin."
Not just anyone could read the text inscribed upon it; it required profound mastery of arrays and exceptionally high mental strength.
Delon took it from her and read aloud: "'Delon, relay this to Tangli for me as well: unable to come in person, I bid you two farewell in this manner.'"
Madame Tangli asked, "Why did he tell you directly to pass it to me?"
Delon: "Probably because he knew you couldn't read the letter."
"Is there more? Keep reading."
"That's all."
"That's it?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"True, it's enough. Getting Diss to deliberately send a message isn't easy."
"He probably only did it for Karen's sake."
"Old man, you're just jealous of him."
"Hahaha." Delon laid the golden page on the ground, then took his wife's hand. "I can't compare to him, but I'm not jealous."
Madame Tangli smiled, letting her husband hold her hand as they walked to the gate.
Karen's carriage drove up. Driving it was Muri. "Seniors, by Young Master's orders, I'm here to escort you to the assembly point."
Because this was a family gathering and they were family, Muri had also altered his form of address, not calling Karen the High Priest.
After climbing into the carriage, Madame Tangli touched the interior furnishings and asked, "Is this the carriage of the High Priest?"
Muri looked back and answered, "No, this is the carriage Young Master used previously. The ceremonial carriage isn't here."
Delon also touched the cushion. "Even this material is luxurious enough—using top-grade array materials to craft seats."
"I think it's still not enough. He's the High Priest, after all; how could he look shabby?"
"True enough. Our Karen is already considered modest."
Muri deliberately drove the carriage slowly. Inside the cabin, after a brief lull of silence, Delon spoke:
"My dear, I've wronged you."
Tangli rolled her eyes at Delon:
"Look at how many across three generations of our family wear the robes of Order. I'm not doing this purely for your sake; it's also for the children, and for the children's children.
If we die first, maybe a few more of the children will survive.
I only hope your God of Order isn't lying to us.
He said He wants a world without gods. We're stepping up, so He had better see that goal through to completion.
Otherwise, it'll truly be unfair to an outsider like me."
Delon said, "The Lord will achieve it."
Muri said, "Young Master will achieve it."
Delon chimed in, "Right, I believe our High Priest, our Karen, will lead the Church to achieve it."
Tangli's gaze narrowed sharply, and she said to Muri up front, "Say that again!"
Delon shivered at her sudden sternness, not knowing why his wife had abruptly lost her composure.
"Young Master will achieve it."
Madame Tangli slowly parted her lips, then pinched the flesh of her husband's thigh with all her might. Accompanied by Delon's howl of agony, Tangli confirmed this was not a dream.
"Say... say it again."
"Young Master will achieve it."
"Heh-heh, heh-heh-heh, hahahahaha..."
"My dear, don't be afraid, I'm right here."
"Afraid? Afraid of my ass!
This old woman is bursting with drive right now! Where are those gods? I can't wait to go hack them all to pieces!"
"Don't get agitated, my dear, don't get agitated. When we're on the battlefield, we must follow orders—follow orders! We can't go acting recklessly on our own."
Madame Tangli leaned close to her husband's ear and whispered a sentence.
A dead silence fell inside the carriage.
Muri continued driving the carriage, glancing back at the cabin now and then, only to see Delon sitting frozen, looking as if he had suffered a sudden stroke.
"Hey, hey, hey, my dear?"
Seeing that her husband hadn't recovered after so long, Madame Tangli couldn't help reaching out to pat his cheeks.
Even after slapping his face until it was red and slightly swollen, Delon remained in a daze.
"My dear? My dear?"
Two streams of blood trickled from Delon's nostrils. Delon gave a violent snort, sucking them back in, then gripped his wife's hands tightly, shouting in wild exhilaration:
"Hahahahahaha! My Lord is my grandfather!"
Chapter 959