The God of Order Descends!

Karen knew very well that the sole explanation for this phenomenon had to be a severe crisis on the God of Order's end. The gods, who were supposed to be released back in orderly waves during the second stage, had instead had their cage thrown wide open, swarming out all at once. This pioneering space was the very first stop for their return. If they could not be intercepted and culled here, gods would once again roam the mortal world. Even if they were not chief gods, they could still form alliances with factions across the ecclesiastic circles, dealing a catastrophic blow to the ultimate battle awaiting in the third stage. Most crucially, though they currently resembled starving wraiths, this was also their weakest moment. Disposing of them here was easiest; once unleashed to seek opportunities for recovery, dealing with them later would be countless times more difficult. Fury flared in Karen's chest—and yes, that fury was directed at the one above. He knew how exhausting and agonizing it was to sit there with one's back turned to the era. He knew that the one who had once suppressed an entire era had long since decayed. But why couldn't he hold on a little longer? Just a little longer? This was not moral blackmail, nor was it a lack of empathy. Under the division of labor in Order, when something went wrong in your sector of responsibility, you had to be held accountable. It was not that Karen could not accept an abrupt transition of eras, the return of all gods, and a final, tragic battle where everyone fought to the death—even if they failed, at least it would become an epic of heroic sorrow. Yet Norton, carrying the will of the Order pantheon, had told him: As a believer of Order, one must grow accustomed to Order's elegance. Very well. Karen had endured the agony and forced himself to adapt to that elegance. But now, in the blink of an eye, the entire situation had collapsed. If everything was ultimately destined to plunge back into chaos, then what was the point of all the prior planning and groundwork? ... Compared to the perilous situation at hand, the Order Elder Legion was, ironically, the calmest and most serene. Beside Karen's grandmother, her old sister-in-arms Lisanmiel chuckled. "Oho, quite a lot of gods coming down, aren't there?" Tangli nodded. "They're certainly doing us honor." "Legion, rise!" "Advance!" Following military orders, the Elder Legion began advancing on their own initiative. This served two purposes: first, to maximize their lethality; second, to clear battle space for the knight orders entering behind them. The elders felt no fear. All they felt was exhilaration and boiling blood. Perhaps in their eyes, victory or defeat was no longer worth weighing. What they desired more was to use their aged, decaying bodies to shoulder a few more burdens for the young and strike down a few more gods. As for the number of gods—the more, the better. They couldn't be bothered to think about the rest. "Praise Order!" "Praise Order!" Praising as they advanced, advancing as they praised. Even if a bottomless abyss lay ahead, they would still fix their eyes upon the radiant light of their ideals in the distance and stride forward without hesitation. Even if they had to fill the abyss with their corpses and lives, then those who came after could at least tread upon their backs and press onward toward the shores of their ideals! It was precisely the Elder Legion's unyielding resolve and high spirits that allowed the other legions to quickly recover from panic. The various knight orders began moving into their combat positions in disciplined waves. All teleportation gates were opened to their absolute limits, with subsequent reinforcements rushing forward at top speed. What had originally been a game of trading pieces piece-by-piece was rapidly devolving into going all-in with their entire reserve. Karen leaped down from the back of the bone dragon and landed behind Diknuo. "Are you confident?" "Not with absolute certainty. There are simply too many." "Understood. I will go to the 1st Knight Order and prepare to awaken the sleepers in the final two layers. Meanwhile, pass my order: all my knights and squires are to drop whatever they are doing immediately and report here." Diknuo took a deep breath. "But... those were reserved for the ultimate battle..." "If we cannot survive this stage, there won't be a next stage." "Understood, High Priest." Kanna swooped low. Karen pushed off the ground, vaulting back onto the bone dragon's back as she flew toward the grand carriage. The High Priest's carriage possessed its own built-in teleportation array; one merely had to input the coordinates and trigger the resonance to teleport. Yet just as Karen locked in the coordinates for the 1st Knight Order, an upheaval infinitely more staggering than before suddenly erupted. About to initiate the teleportation, Karen froze. He walked out onto the open platform before the carriage entrance, lifted his head, and looked upward. "Are you... joking?" ... The Church of Order had kept the second stage of the divine war under complete secrecy, with the Whip of Order fully mobilized to shroud all intelligence. Yet with such massive troop movements and a battlefield of this scale, combined with almost every orthodox church in the ecclesiastic circles being coerced by Order into contributing war resources, contact was inevitable. Thus, the leadership of foreign churches could not remain entirely in the dark. In truth, while the orthodox churches were busy with their primal game of big fish eating little fish to expand their domains, each kept one eye glued firmly to Order. Everyone was eagerly anticipating just how this greatest church of the contemporary era—one that had struck terror into the hearts of the entire ecclesiastic circles—would take its final steps toward extinction. They were a pack of wolves, gnawing on fresh prey while glaring with bloodshot eyes at the former king of beasts. The Order 1st Knight Order had been virtually depleted; Order's greatest foundation was gone. Yet even without the 1st Knight Order, the Church of Order remained monstrously powerful. Consequently, foreign church leadership grew all the more fascinated by Order's attempt to use contemporary strength to relay the defense against the returning gods. They exhausted every method and strained every nerve trying to spy on the battle that would reshape the power structure of the contemporary ecclesiastic world. However, very soon, their vision... became blindingly clear. The fragmented battlefield intelligence they had racked their brains to obtain suddenly arrived right before their eyes. An iron curtain flecked with rust descended slowly from above. Inside the temples of the Church of Samsara, the Church of Principles, the Church of the Abyss, and every other church, the figures depicted in the murals shifted from standing proudly to kneeling prostrate, and from holy solemnity to weeping in despair. The faith-guarding sacred beasts possessing ancient bloodline inheritances seemed to sense the awe etched into the depths of their ancestral memories. Casting aside their usual arrogance, they curled into the corners of their enclosures, shivering uncontrollably. The mythological scriptures of every church recorded in writing the cruelty and bloodthirst of the God of Order at the end of the previous era, but the written word ultimately lacked warmth and immediacy. Reading it, one could never truly grasp that chilling terror capable of making souls shudder, faiths bend, and gods kneel. Though the God of the Crypt had fallen, the other hidden gods who had been biding their time now let out roars of sheer despair. Every ancient ruin, living being, and inheritance tracing back to the previous era felt that colossal, crushing weight bearing down from above. It was supreme. It was sovereign. Its shadow had once stained an entire era, becoming the dominant hue of the era that followed. The regions governed by the Church of Order erupted into the greatest frenzy. Within every person, their faith in Order surged with distinct resonance—like a summoning, yet also like a comforting touch. Sounds echoed even from the temples of the branch gods who had fallen long ago. Though deceased, the imprints they left behind still reacted instinctively on their behalf. In the God Burial Ground quietly attempting to latch onto this world, countless remains of demon gods wailed. As if driven mad, they strained with all their might to sever the God Burial Ground from this world once more, desperate to flee far away. The world beneath that shadow was not a place they dared tread. Beneath the Steps of Heaven, Kevin, who lay prostrate keeping Purr company, suddenly lifted his head. "Woof—!" Kevin let out a long, drawn-out howl, barking until his voice turned hoarse. Purr looked up at him, only to find tears streaming from the silly dog's eyes. Inside the pioneering space, the gods striding forth from all directions abruptly ground to a halt as one. At first, they were merely bewildered; then, they grew apprehensive; and now, they began turning back in droves. Their noble divine voices were choked with despair, like a band of convicts newly escaped from prison, now weeping and screaming to be locked back in their cages. Because out in the open world... was him! ... At the high altar of the newly established Church of Light, Neo sat soaking in holy water, nursing a drink. Beside him, a cluster of old loyalists and young zealots of the Light were counseling him, urging him to attend more public functions, demand more subsidies from Order, or seize the prime opportunity presented by the power vacuum left behind as Order crumbled under the weight of holding back the returning gods, thereby breaking free from Order's grip and rising anew. Unfortunately, Neo possessed zero interest in any of it. The only reason he had re-established the Church of Light was that, on an afternoon a year ago, he had taken the advice offered by that book fairy named Old Hoffen. This church was rebuilt solely so he could inherit the Light's legacy with greater legitimacy; and inheriting the legacy was so that, when the moment came, that God of Decency would not have to stand alone against all the hegemonies of past eras. Neo was driven purely by singular purpose; he could not be bothered with expanding outward. He understood the Light, loved the Light, and acknowledged the Light. But regrettably, after several rounds of purges by his own hand, true believers of the Light were few and far between in this church, which was instead overrun with opportunists and ambitious schemers. As he drank, his glass suddenly shattered. Neo looked up blankly. Without warning or prelude, a beam of sacred light shone down upon the roof, as if coating the temporary hall where the reigning Pope resided in a thick layer of crystalline radiance. Neo stood, summoning the papal vestments with a gesture and donning them. "The Light manifests! The Light manifests!" "Praise the great God of Light!" "Lord! O Lord!" "Get lost! All of you, out of my way!" Neo kicked aside the person praying in front of him, strode out of the hall, leaped into the air, and landed atop the roof. The once-clear sky was now blanketed by a layer of dark rust. And the beam of light beside him seemed to pour down through an opening intentionally torn amidst that rust. "Hehehehe... Hahahaha..." Neo burst into laughter. He saw his release—a conclusion that was fully justified, utterly irrefutable, and one that neither his wife nor that fellow could criticize had finally arrived! "Eliza, I'll be coming to see you soon." ... In the Frigid Lands, within the Palace of Eternity. Diss sat on the steps below the throne, while above, upon the throne, rested a wisp of the God of Eternity's divine intent. The Principles Notebook lay open before Diss as Old Hoffen tirelessly turned pages and scribed. Diss was studying. His grandson Karen only flipped through ancient texts to study spells and formations during meals. By comparison, he, the grandfather, possessed a far superior attitude toward learning. For what he was reading was not a book, but the memories of Eternity. Karen had been the one to bring Diss to this palace. Strictly speaking, a week after Karen departed, Diss should have left as well, because Eternity's divine intent could not endure his reading for long. This was something the God of Eternity had acknowledged himself. Yet what the God of Eternity had never anticipated was the bewildering course of action Diss took: whenever this wisp of divine intent neared collapse, Diss would sacrifice his own divine power to stabilize and preserve it. Then, through Old Hoffen's translation, his learning efficiency soared. Eternity's wisp of intent was like a candle; whenever the wax burned low, Diss would cut his own finger and feed it with his own blood. By the candle's glow, Diss read and studied. Eternity was furious—livid beyond measure. How could his lofty, exalted self tolerate such desecration and violation? A hegemon of an era, held captive in a secret chamber? Yet Diss ignored Eternity's roars, warnings, and threats, remaining utterly immersed in the sea of knowledge, unable to pull himself away. There were only two ways for Eternity to break this stalemate. First, send word to the inheritor of Order to resolve it; but that option was effectively useless, given that they were grandfather and grandson by blood. The second option was to descend with his full power. He couldn't send down merely a fraction like last time, or he might lose the fight; yet if he descended completely, his peak state could only sustain a single battle. That would reduce the grand clash of hegemons he had anticipated for an entire era into a duel against this newly risen god. And so, Eternity's wisp of divine intent remained imprisoned here. Nor had Diss stepped outside for the better part of a year. The ones suffering were the Order priests in the Crypt world who had been continuously blessing and repairing the divine body Diss left behind. No matter how hard they worked or how many resources they poured in, they were always a hair away from full restoration. The reason was simple: Diss created a deficit every so often. Essentially, the Church of Order was paying tuition for their own newly risen god—or rather, funding his advanced studies. For a long time, Eternity's wisp of intent had quieted down, adopting an "out of sight, out of mind" silence. Today, however, the wisp suddenly flew into a frenzy. Seated upon the throne, the phantom of Eternity bellowed: "Order! You broke our agreement! You went back on your word!" The violent soul tremors ruffled Old Hoffen's pages. Diss finally withdrew his gaze, closing his eyes as if savoring what he had learned. "Order! It was agreed! When you descended, you were to fight me first!" Diss asked, "Has he come down?" "Yes, he has! He descended ahead of time! The transition between the old and new era has already begun!" Diss rose from the steps, closed Old Hoffen, and tucked the book under his arm. Precious study time was always fleeting. Since the God of Order had descended, it was time for him to return and claim his divine body. The ultimate battle was about to begin; he had to go aid his grandson. "Then you can descend as well," Diss said. "It's too late! He came down early, while Light and I require considerable preparation to descend, or our vessels cannot withstand it! He blatantly disregarded his promise to me—he simply didn't want to fight me!" "Was your promise made with him?" Eternity's eyes went wide. Across the entire Frigid Lands, winter and spring shifted in rapid succession, interspersed with the rumble of thunder and the chill of autumn winds. Diss smiled. "Your promise was made with my grandson." "My promise was made with the God of Order!" "Indeed. My grandson is the God of Order." "I can only assume he grew cowardly!" "Perhaps he simply felt the battle was meaningless. When it comes to inheritors, he had already won long ago." "Yet he threw away even the chance to battle a fellow hegemon of an era?!" "Each generation has its own duties to fulfill. He has already completed his mission; what follows belongs to the next generation to inherit." "He is a madman! You Order believers are all madmen!" Diss shook his head. "It is only because this world is inherently abnormal that we appear mad by contrast." ... Hum—! The Sword of Chaos slashed through the vast pioneering space, yet stitched it together at the same time before plunging deep into the ground. In an instant, the four boundaries of the pioneering space transformed into an Order Cage. Even the sheer multitude of gods were trapped within like ants. Karen remembered that Whip-Wielder Foden used to enjoy playing with ants. In his collection room were numerous glass observation jars containing rare ant species of every kind. It seemed the God of Order shared the same hobby. The only difference was that his collection consisted of gods instead of ants—though to him, there was likely no fundamental difference. After all, throughout the entirety of the previous era, he had treated the gods in precisely this manner. A towering, majestic figure descended. Not just within this pioneering space, but across the entire world, all existence reawakened to the terror of being dominated by the brand of Order as the former hegemon returned. Below, the Order priests who had been prepared to fight to the death fell to their knees in reverence before their sole god: "Praise the great God of Order!" "Praise the great God of Order!" A battle that had seemed utterly hopeless was completely overturned by the God of Order's descent. Raging Flames of Order swept outward, incinerating the fleeing gods one by one. They had nowhere to run and no means of escape, yet before this former sovereign, not one possessed the courage to turn back and fight, even unto death. Standing upon the grand carriage, Karen looked upon the most colossal figure he had ever beheld. He felt neither excitement nor elation, for the God of Order's action meant exhausting the very last remnants of his strength right here. All of this had been meant to be preserved for the final, ultimate battle. The 1st Knight Order was spent. Just as this generation stepped forward to clear away all obstacles for the ultimate clash, he had descended. This did not seem to align with the original plan... yet perhaps the original plan had been this all along, for he had been the one who drafted it. At the same time, this meant that in the original plan, the God of Order was to descend, fight to the death in the ultimate battle, and then Karen would inherit the divine spark of Order to become a god and see the battle through. Now, when the hegemons of past eras returned one after another, he, Karen Inmeles, would have to stand directly on the front line! Karen spoke aloud: "Order, do you know what you are doing?" The voice of Order resonated from the depths of Karen's soul, spoken through the hunger addiction: "I have looked upon this world with my own eyes. I said before: I love this world. I forged it with my own hands, and I have guarded it." Karen: "So..." "And they..." The God of Order did not watch the gods perishing one after another in his Flames of Order. Instead, his gaze swept over the dense ranks of the faithful below. Those aged, white-haired believers were currently leaping with joy like innocent children. Though they were old men and women, in the eyes of the God of Order, they were indeed the youngest of babes. "...are inherently part of this world."