Collapse of the Old Era

Tangli: "Say that again?" Delon: "My Lord is my grandfather!" Both exasperated and amused, Tangli said, "Has the excitement turned your brain to mush?" Delon shook his head. "My head has never been clearer." "Then who exactly is whose grandfather?" "How could I possibly dare?" Tangli understood. She nodded, bent down to take out a drink from the carriage cabinet, added some ice cubes, and took a deep draught. Delon turned in silence to gaze out the window, unable to resist pressing his palm against the glass, longing to feel the world and see if it was truly real. Seeing him like this, Tangli said, "You could pinch me." "No. I can't bear to hurt you." "It's fine. It's just a dream anyway." "Even in a dream, I can't bring myself to do it." "We die tomorrow. If you don't pinch me now, you'll never get the chance." "Hehehe..." Delon suddenly laughed. "What, lost your mind from joy?" "Not because of that. It just reminded me of when we first met back in our youth. I thought then that if I could marry you, I'd gladly die the very next day." "Bah, you old bastard." Driving the carriage, Muri smiled. He was fond of this kind of family warmth. Whether it was the Inmeles family or the Guman family, he loved it all, because he had never had it himself. Yet these last tender moments together were always fleeting. Even though Muri had deliberately slowed the carriage, they still had to arrive before the appointed assembly time. The carriage came to a halt outside the encampment. Delon stepped down first, then reached out to help his wife down. The two elderly people walked toward the camp hand in hand. There was no need for embarrassment, nor was there anything strange or shy about it, for there were many similar couples along the road. In truth, couples where both had been conscripted were not particularly numerous, but instances where one was drafted and the other chose to accompany them were quite common. As long as they were not ordinary people but clerics, permission was granted. Perhaps this was the softest the Church of Order, renowned for its merciless rigidity, had ever been with its rules. Outside the camp gates stood a vast crowd of well-wishers, mostly children and departmental subordinates, the majority clad in clerical robes of Order. Those seeing them off clung to their loved ones in reluctant farewell, while the departing elders generally bore themselves with breezy composure, even comforting them: "What's all this sniffling and sobbing? Don't make a laughingstock of yourselves in front of others." Most had red-rimmed eyes, yet no one broke into wailing. However deep the grief, it had to be forced down. It was like a grand reenactment of the scene at the Gumans' last dinner. Tears were forbidden; this was an honor. Anger was forbidden; this was for faith. Complaints were forbidden; this was the path they had chosen themselves. Everyone wearing the clerical robes of Order understood this in their hearts and needed no outsider's comfort. Yet the more clearly they understood, the heavier that emotion pressed upon their souls. If the battlefield had suddenly erupted before them, they would have charged into the fray without hesitation. But instead, this was truly a meticulously organized meat grinder of lives. People quietly lined up, quietly took their numbers, quietly walked through the turnstiles into the machine, quietly choosing to be crushed. Yet humans, in the end, were beings of warmth. The chimes counting down to the camp's assembly began to toll, urging those outside: enter if you must, depart if you must. In unison, the final words of parting were all praises of Order. "Praise be to the great God of Order." "Praise Order." Every ounce of emotion, reluctance, and lingering attachment was distilled into that single prayer. The solemn, sacred atmosphere washed away all previous tangled sentiment. As the elderly parted from their families and subordinates and stepped into the encampment, they involuntarily straightened their backs, which had been bent by the years, carrying themselves more like warriors—though in truth, they had always been warriors. Sitting on the carriage, Muri witnessed the entire scene. He drew a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. When he exhaled, the smoke must have caught in his eyes, stinging them slightly. No one cried out hysterically, "Why must it be like this?" "Why be so cruel?" "Why tear our families apart?" No one shouted, "This isn't fair!" "This makes no sense!" Nor did anyone protest, "This is a corrupt church's destruction and oppression of human individuality!"... There were indeed many people in this world who would shout such things, and who were good at shouting them. It was just that those who would shout had no right to stand here at this moment. Muri took a black crow from his pocket and released it. Before the camp gates shut completely, the crow flew inside. "Hm?" Tangli caught the crow. Delon leaned in and asked, "Does our grandson have more words for us?" "No, it's that boy from the Benda family asking me to pass along a message." "Why didn't he go himself? He drives the carriage for our grandson, but he holds quite a high rank." "Why do you talk so much nonsense?" Tangli glared testily at her husband. Then, as if realizing something while looking around at all the people in their age group, she said regretfully, "I really shouldn't have listened to you and hosted that family dinner. Our Karen was already in so much pain." Delon was puzzled at first, but then realization dawned, and he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Ah, right. My mistake." The blast of a horn sounded, ordering everyone in the camp to take their places, report to their respective battalions, and draw their equipment. Delon opened his arms and embraced his wife. Tangli shed her usual sharpness, letting herself soften and lean into her husband's chest, breathing in a few extra draughts of that familiar scent. Then they separated, exchanged a smile, and turned away. There was no need for blessings, no need for comfort. Perhaps because they already knew the outcome beforehand, everyone could face it with relative calm. Tangli arrived at the shield battalion. After having her identity token verified, she received her gear. The armor had to be put on, for the uniform array runes carved across it helped unify the strength of all the shield-bearers while also facilitating the array masters behind them in applying arrays. Holding her shield, she gave it a knock. Tangli suddenly realized that, barring any surprises, once they reached the battlefield, her old man would cast arrays upon her, waiting until her body could no longer bear the strain and exploded. "Not bad. Considerably more romantic than I expected." From combat squads to sections, platoons, and battalions, they were organized and integrated tier by tier. Finally, just past midnight, they began marching in orderly lines through the teleportation gates toward the assembly point. An elderly female shield-bearer with a scar on her face was in the same squad as Tangli, marching beside her. "I'm Lisanmiel." "Tangli." "Here." The woman handed Tangli a piece of bread slathered in Wien bean paste. Tangli didn't stand on ceremony. She took it, took a bite, and cursed, "I've endured it for over half my life. I really can't fathom why Wien people love eating this stuff so much." Lisanmiel smiled. "You know, when the conscription began, I spent a long time thinking about why I was joining. Even though *Light of Order*, various doctrines, and the color of my robes had long given me ten or a hundred times enough reasons, I still wanted to find a personal motive that suited me, one I could truly understand... "I'm already eighty-five. My husband died long ago. I retired at sixty-five, yet now I still have to put on armor and raise a greatshield. Can you understand my confusion? Or do you have doubts of your own?" Tangli took another big bite of bread and wiped the lingering bean paste from her lips with the armored back of her hand. "I think no one here has a clearer understanding than I do." "You truly are devout toward God." "Naturally. God treats me exceptionally well, too. Oh, damn it, God hates Wien bean paste too." "As I kept thinking, I finally figured it out, and I felt joy for it. With the return of the gods upon us, we aren't fighting for the future; we are fighting to protect the present. "Protecting this world, protecting human civilization... "Protecting Wien bean paste!" Tangli lightly raised her shield. Her newly acquainted old comrade Lisanmiel caught her drift and raised hers as well. Without breaking formation, the two lightly clinked their shields together. "Fight on. For the bean paste." ... Upon arriving at the assembly point—which was not yet the battlefield—the elder legions gathered from every region had to undergo further reorganization. Tangli spotted Mobiten Benda. As captain of the High Priest's guards, he had reached the age limit and applied for conscription; he was serving as a commander. Tangli walked up to Mobiten and said, "Hey, your grandson Muri asked me to pass along a message." Mobiten frowned slightly, then his brow relaxed, a glimmer of anticipation even surfacing in his eyes. "What did he say?" "He said, 'Die quickly, you old bastard, so things can be quiet.'" "Hehehe." Mobiten laughed and nodded. "He's right." Forgiveness was out of the question; Muri had never planned on returning to the Benda family in this lifetime. But that didn't prevent him from sending his 'blessings' upon learning his grandfather had joined the draft. Her errand finished, Tangli walked back to her squad and sat beside Lisanmiel. "There are so many people." "Yes, so many." A boundless sea stretched as far as the eye could see. The first and second rounds of conscription targeted only elderly clerics, but across the vast Church of Order, the number of eligible clerics was staggering. Apart from certain special posts reassigned as commanders at various ranks, most old clerics—regardless of how exalted their status or rank had been before retirement or during their service—were now ordinary soldiers. The old man carrying the banner up ahead was the former bishop of the Dinge Region. Tangli tried to spot the square formation of the array masters, but even with her vision and perception, she could not find it. Elsewhere, Delon, who had become a battalion commander, went to report to the supreme headquarters commander, Piro. "Didn't the High Priest come to inspect the Dinge Region camp yesterday? He looked at Liwen and me, probably wanting to chat. As you know, the High Priest has always treated me as his teacher on the path of arrays; on holidays and festivals, gifts and greeting letters were never lacking." "Yet I saw you and Liwen walk straight away. What, were you deliberately refusing to give our young High Priest face?" "Nonsense." Piro clamped his pipe between his teeth and took two fierce puffs. "It was so the High Priest wouldn't feel more terrible." Entering just then, Delon felt his cheeks burn slightly at those words. Piro surveyed the room and shouted, "Is everyone here? Now, we begin reiterating the command regulations..." With the second reorganization complete, the Order elder legions marched toward the battlefield. The battlefield was located in one of the pioneering spaces under the Order faction—Saniros Space. The defining characteristic of this space was its immense area and vast expanse. Its drawback was that it was unimaginably barren; looking out, there was nothing but hard rock, where even mutated demons could not survive. Preliminary preparations and deployments for the battlefield had long been finished. At dawn, the legions swiftly entered their designated zones. Priests began distributing mental and physical stimulants to every formation. These were potent concoctions that severely overtaxed the body. They were all elderly, and the physical constitution of the array masters and spellcasters was generally frail; should any problem arise, taking a potent dose produced immediate effects. As for side effects... they no longer had any need to care for their health. On the perimeter of the battlefield, four knight orders were deployed. The First Knight Order had already fought down to the last man; moving forward, this generation had to fight for itself. Naturally, these four Order knight orders were stationed only as a precaution; according to the war plan, this round had to be endured by the elder legions. "Daan, I don't like this feeling," Commander Xierma said, hovering above the observation point atop a fire phoenix, while below sat Daan astride a Thunderhorn Rhinoceros. "I don't like it either, but those are our orders." "Damn it all, damn it to hell!" Xierma punched the air with force, thunder cracking in the sky. "My father and mother are down there too." Daan said, "You should be proud of them, Xierma." "No, I feel ashamed of myself!" "Ashamed? Did you need to wait until now? When the First Knight Order was deployed wave after wave earlier, why didn't I see you lose control like this? Heh, weren't they all our elders too?" "Save your preaching! I'm ashamed that at my age, I still need my parents to shield me from the front!" "They aren't protecting you. They are protecting Order." Daan urged his rhino to turn around, raising his sabre and gesturing toward Xierma in the sky. "Return to your post. After this time, the next round will be ours." "Hah! If you've got the guts, don't fight my order for the turn!" "I won't fight you. I already promised the High Priest that my order will hold the final wave." "You... how could you agree to that?" "Because the High Priest said everyone is willing to face victory, but very few have the courage to face potential defeat." ... Administrative Temple. Alfred walked into the tea lounge and saw High Priest Krede sitting on the floor. "High Priest, regarding this round of the divine war, will you..." Holding a wine cup in his left hand, Krede waved his right hand dismissively. "I told you, stop informing me of these matters. Send Karen." "Understood, High Priest." "Give Karen my apologies," Krede said with a bitter smile. He didn't want to go; he didn't want to face it. Originally, he had no right to evade it—once he donned the High Priest's robes, there was no escaping the responsibilities he had to bear. Fortunately, someone else was also wearing them now. "You don't need to apologize to my young master. The young master... cannot run at all." Failing to catch the true meaning behind the words, Krede continued drinking. "Dammit, I wish I were among this batch right now!" Alfred stepped out of the tea lounge, sighed, and picked up a quill to attend to the day's administrative affairs. Yet as he wrote, something went amiss; the script began to quiver. Alfred released his grip, and the quill danced across the desk. "What... are you so excited about?" ... *Splash!* Karen splashed water over his face. In the mirror, the blood vessels in his eyes had grown increasingly dense and red. Little Kanna sat obediently behind him, watching as Karen, freshly washed, was assisted into the High Priest's robes. "Mmm, if you don't want to come, you don't have to. After all, you've already seen them." "This is life, Kanna. Not every hurdle can be dodged. Many times, even knowing you will fall, you still must keep walking forward." "Why? I don't understand." "Because there is no second path that allows you to bypass it, and you cannot stop." Karen walked to the doorway of the imperial carriage, which had flown through the teleportation gate and arrived above the battlefield. Looking down from above, he saw disciplined, solemn legions below. The scale of the legions was enormous. Though Karen had long known the numbers, witnessing it with his own eyes still surpassed his imagination. Fortunately, he was looking from above, so he couldn't see their white hair or the wrinkles on their faces. On the central command platform, Diknuo and his assistants bowed in salute toward the carriage in the sky. "Kanna, let's head out." "Okay!" The form of the bone dragon manifested once more. Below, all the elders looked up. Though the black figure atop the dragon appeared minuscule, everyone knew who stood upon it. A young man, the most brilliant youth in the history of the Church. He was the Church's hope, its present, and its future. Old comrade Lisanmiel said, "Several of my great-granddaughters adore the High Priest. Total devotion, body and soul." Tangli said, "Not surprising. Good genetics." The bone dragon soared over the colossal battle formations, carrying Karen on a final inspection. Karen did not search carefully for where his grandfather and grandmother stood, because sitting below were countless grandfathers and grandmothers. And as High Priest, far from being able to protect these elders who had dedicated their entire lives to the Church and their faith in Order, he had to spur them on to burn the last embers of their lives. Krede had lost his nerve; he had hidden away, finally realizing what an excruciating burden Norton had left him. Yet, Karen had no way to hide. *Boom!* Just then, directly ahead—due east according to the coordinates of reality—the celestial canopy shattered, and colossal figures strode forward toward this place. Diknuo glanced at the time. "Ten hours ahead of schedule! Pass the order: legions, prepare for battle! Command the falcon knights to take flight and escort our High Priest away!" Yet at that very moment came another terrifying roar. *Boom!* The sky to the west shattered as well, and a horde of titanic figures swayed forward, marching toward them. Diknuo's expression instantly tightened. "Why are two rounds appearing at once? How could this happen? Order the Order knight orders to deploy immediately and establish divine war defenses! "Simultaneously order all rear-guard knight orders to prepare for battle, and open the teleportation gates at once!" *Boom!* *Boom!* *Boom!* Section after section of the sky collapsed. If this pioneering space was compared to a sand table, then now, the domed lid enclosing the sand table was being completely smashed to pieces. The gods were marching here from beyond the era, on the verge of returning! Originally, the plan was to deal with them wave by wave, round by round. Yet the reality was that all the remaining rounds had converged here at once! Consequently, the four Order knight orders stationed on the perimeter as a precaution were suddenly far from enough. The bone dragon roared, "Why did so many come all at once?! Are all the rest here?!" Karen, however, snapped his head upward, glaring toward the heavens above, and shouted a demand: "What happened to you?!"