An Invitation That Cannot Be Refused!

Drip... drip... drip... The sound of water drops fell, accentuating the dead silence. The difference was that this time, it was not in a dream, but in reality. Deep within his soul, Karen unfastened every restraint binding the hunger addiction while simultaneously imprisoning himself. Perhaps because bliss had arrived too suddenly, the hunger addiction was initially uneasy. Like a timid child afraid to climb out of bed, it could only tentatively dip its foot onto the floor to test the waters. In its past contests against two generations of the God of Order, its fate had always been miserable suppression; it had even been treated like a gift parcel by the first god, tossed across an epoch to the second. Yet in the end, instinct took command. After all, it was the very incarnation of instinct. Ripples began to spread across the pond deep within his soul. Gradually, the ripples surged into violent swells. Bubbles burst one after another as churning mire welled up and coated the surface. And Karen himself was slowly engulfed by the mire, which spread upward from his feet. "Karen, what's wrong, meow?" On the steps, Purr looked with bewilderment at the motionless Karen. "Woof." Kevin seemed to realize something. Shock flashed through his canine eyes, followed closely by sorrow. "What?" Purr understood his meaning. "How could it be like this?" "Woof." "Even if he's the High Priest of Order, even if he's the God of Order, this shouldn't have been arranged for him! Even... even if it was his own choice!" The exchange between cat and dog could not alter the unfolding course of events. Ahead, Karen's towering, magnificent divine form stood quietly, yet his divine eyes grew progressively dim. A pitch-black hue, like ink churned among the stars, began to ripple outward, blanketing everything. An aura of absolute coldness and detachment took shape. This was not the first time Karen had fallen under the control of the hunger addiction, but this time, he had ascended to godhood, wielding the supreme rules of Order. A new divine statue began to coalesce once more. Yet what condensed this time was not solemn majesty, but ravenous, bone-chilling greed. Karen took a step forward, walking toward the divine corruption ahead. A terrifying vortex formed around him. Massive amounts of divine corruption were drawn inward, flooding into Karen's body. Voices whispered beside Karen's ears. They were not the prayers of mortals, but the murmurs of fallen gods. Deep within his soul, Karen watched as phantoms of deities were dragged in. Some knelt on the ground, begging Karen for mercy; Some looked about in dazed bewilderment, utterly lost; Some snarled ferociously, lunging at Karen; Yet as dense clusters of rust-flecked chains of Order shot forth, they were all ensnared, strangled, and ground into dust. The previous God of Order had plotted across an entire epoch, leaving behind a feast of monumental proportions for his successor to consume. Karen was now silently savoring these poison-laced delicacies. With every deity devoured, Karen's aura surged upward at a breakneck pace. His divine statue expanded unceasingly. Diss had studied under Eternity for a full six months, and the other great figures of Order had fought alongside their successors to pass on their experience. Yet when the God of Order descended, he had not seized that limited time to instruct Karen in combat, even though he was universally acknowledged as the mightiest god of the previous epoch. Because there was no need. Absolute, overwhelming mass would effortlessly crush all petty techniques. The accumulated nourishment of nearly all the deities of the previous epoch was enough to cultivate a truly terrifying entity. In Heaven, which had previously appeared as an empty void to Karen, a gate gradually materialized, growing increasingly solid and massive. This was not Karen's resting place, but as he devoured more and more gods, this composite existence was moving toward its final end. The commotion here sent shockwaves through the world, striking fear into the returning epochal hegemons. "Which epoch does this being hail from?" "Why is there such a terrifying might?" "Who on earth is it? Just who is it?" "It can't be... that's impossible!" "The God of Order has already fallen! The new god has only just condensed his godhead—how could he possibly reach this level?!" In truth, the epochal hegemons had already guessed his identity. Eternity fought on the front lines, while Light stood behind him. These two were the absolute pillars holding this line of defense together; without them, the remaining forces of resistance would have been annihilated long ago. Though Chaos, War, and Betrayal were master deities of the previous epoch, they appeared hopelessly fragile before the might of the epochal hegemons. As for the newly ascended god wielding the scythe, even though he demonstrated the strength to contend with Benaves, he was only one being. The remaining pseudo-gods, despite their inheritances and coordination, were ultimately just pseudo-gods, entirely unable to hold down a front alone. Yet one god who was supposed to be here was missing. He was the true protagonist of this final battle. At this moment, even though Karen remained in the unfathomable realm of Heaven, the dreadful power radiating from him had already cast a suffocating pressure over the battlefield. "Light, what is going on here?" Eternity's body was riddled with fractures. He was indeed extraordinarily formidable, surpassing ordinary epochal hegemons, but he had also shouldered the greatest burden in this cataclysmic battle. Now, he had reached his limit. Though he remained incomparably valiant, spear in hand at the vanguard, leading a modest coalition against dozens of epochal hegemons, his form was on the verge of shattering at any second. "This is the destiny of Order," Light replied. "How could he hold back and not come fight?" This was the one thing Eternity could not comprehend. Order had actually resisted the temptation of a duel against him, and had even abandoned the allure of this ultimate battle. From Eternity's perspective, this was utterly inconceivable! "Order only wants to win," Light said. "How utterly boring! Hahaha..." Eternity let out a long roar. Spotting several epochal hegemons preparing to teleport—evidently intending to locate Karen's coordinates—he hurled the Spear of Eternity, cleaving through the space and severing their transfer. A blazing sun appeared as the Sun God's domain enveloped the surroundings, all but supplanting the sun of the mortal world. Tracing back its lineage, it was in fact the origin of Light's inheritance. Benaves revealed his true form: a colossal centipede bristling with countless legs, each foot harboring an entire miniature world filled either with insect eggs or stockpiled sacrifices. A vast ocean took the place of the blue sky as the Water Ancestral God descended from the heavens, as if intending to scour the entire world anew. Volcanoes across the globe were smothered one by one as a titan of flame charged forward, carrying the incandescent fury of the Fire Ancestral God. Spurred by the skyrocketing aura from that mysterious, distant realm, the epochal hegemons finally cast aside their reservations and mutual distrust, unleashing their full might. The pressure on Eternity spiked exponentially. Roaring fractures continuously tore through his body, yet he did not yield a single inch. Instead, he grew even more aggressive than before. "Light, fall back." Eternity willingly severed his connection to Light's blessings, broke from the defensive formation, and charged headlong into the kaleidoscopic world of the epochal hegemons. His divine blood spilled across the battlefield, yet his spear lashed out with even deadlier ferocity. The sun recoiled before its chilling glint; the centipede's legs snapped in succession; the flames withered; the seas churned in reverse. Dalivenro gasped in disbelief. "Has he lost his mind?" Alfred shook his head. "No. He is far too lucid." The epochal hegemons had sensed the Young Master's burgeoning aura and were unleashing everything to break through and stop him. Eternity, on the other hand, had sensed that the end was drawing near. He was casting all caution to the wind simply to seize this final chance to fight his fill. Light ceased his blessings and reached up toward the sky. In that moment, the blazing sun began to fracture. The Sun God let out an incredulous roar. As the ancestral god of this entire lineage, a vast portion of his source was being forcibly carved away by a deity of a later epoch. This was not even pillaging or plundering. It was simply... taking. The God of Light was undeniably the most underestimated of all the epochal hegemons. In truth, he had never even possessed an epoch that belonged solely to him. Yet he had bridged the gap between Eternity before him and Order after him, prompting Eternity to enter self-exile early and deterring Order from fracturing the alliance during his reign. How could such a god ever be weak? Light began to mutter to himself: "Are you certain? You could have survived." "Ah, I see. You're afraid that once he arrives, you won't even have the chance to die." "Very well. In that case, I shan't hold back either." "Indeed. Both generations of the God of Order are cut from the same cloth. Catering to their whims is truly an exhausting ordeal." Casting aside all reservations, Light allowed the melted half of the sun to cascade over his body, coalescing into armor of pure luminescence. The God of Light extended his hand, conjuring a faint dagger. It was an intangible divine artifact condensed from the faith of his believers. Regrettably, few pure believers of Light remained in the world, causing the once-mighty artifact to shrink into a slender blade. "Alas..." Light sighed softly. Yet in the next moment, he tapped the dagger with a fingertip, sending out a resonant hum: "I believe there are countless souls in this world who do not wish to see the gods return, who do not wish to see darkness shroud the earth once more. To all of you, I borrow the light within your eyes." The Church of Order, the Church of Reincarnation, the Church of the Abyss, the Church of Principles... Though their doctrines differed, countless clerics suddenly felt a calling in their hearts at this very moment. After being nurtured across an entire godless epoch, even among the clergy, many wished for the gods never to return. These clerics bowed their heads and prayed in silent communion. The dagger in the God of Light's hand began to swell. In the mortal realm, prayers from countless chapels echoed upward. Because of the Code of Order, the influence of the churches over the secular world had been drastically curtailed. Many of the deities worshiped in mortal chapels had histories of only one or two thousand years; their images were either long distorted or entirely fabricated. Yet the goodwill behind the prayers offered to them was genuine, and Light gathered all of it into his grasp. A greatsword of radiant light ignited, burning like a blaze piercing the dark veil. Perhaps the Church of Light could never represent true light. But the purest light had never dissipated; it had always been there. Boom! Clad in armor and wielding his greatsword, the God of Light crashed into the fray. Where he had once been an omnipotent priest, he was now the fiercest god of war. Chaos, War, and Betrayal exchanged glances, broke from the defensive line, and charged forward into the vanguard. By now, the meaning of the war had fundamentally shifted. It was no longer fought for pragmatic strategy, but for pure self-expression and personal fulfillment. "Have they all gone mad?" Dalivenro could not comprehend it. "What are they doing? Have they given up on living?" Alfred did not join the charge. Instead, he turned his back to the battlefield. Sustained by the divine grace of Tyrannus, he waved his hand, conjuring a dynamic mirror to record everything taking place. "Behold. This is the final madness of the gods." The Scythe of War tore through layer upon layer of space, entering the battlefield under Diss's guidance. Alfred was not surprised in the least. After all, if Master Diss had managed to hold back, that would have been the true surprise. Hum! The Spear of Eternity pierced through the heart of the Fire God. Ignoring the incinerating flames, Eternity drove his spear forward once more, disrupting the laws of the Water Ancestral God, paying no heed to the tidal waves crashing against his body. He cared nothing for his end; he fought solely for this final frenzy. Epochal hegemons fell wounded before Eternity's spear one after another. Every time, he looked as though he would collapse the very next second, yet time and again, he endured. The God of War unfurled his divine kingdom, unleashing countless heroic spirits of battle to lock down the perimeter, isolating Benaves. The God of Chaos plunged his sword deep into Benaves's chest. The Betrayal Knight charged into the centipede's colossal torso. Surrounding epochal hegemons struck in unison. The divine kingdom of the God of War shattered, and the god himself fell. After driving his sword home, the God of Chaos had his body impaled by countless legs, miniature world rifts torn open across his flesh, and his form unceremoniously disintegrated. The Betrayal Knight burned from within Benaves's frame, sweeping flames of Order churning through his interior. "Aaargh!" Benaves, the Insect Ancestral God, let out a roar of unwilling fury as he plummeted. Diss appeared at the most opportune moment, wielding the Scythe of War to sever the centipede's body. Benaves... had fallen. At the cost of three powerful master deities of the previous epoch, paired with the lethal blow of a newly ascended god of this epoch, they had finally traded for the life of an epochal hegemon. On Light's side, despite weathering devastating assaults from all directions, he disregarded everything else, focusing solely on battering the Sun God. The other epochal hegemons seemed to have reached a tacit understanding: sacrificing the Sun God was an acceptable price to bring this clash to a swift conclusion. At last, the sun fell. Besieged on all sides, Light was riddled with grievous wounds. Boom! The God of Eternity was finally exhausted. His indestructible spear had snapped, yet he still gripped the broken shaft, glaring defiantly at his surroundings. For a moment, none of the surrounding epochal hegemons dared to step forward, none willing to be dragged down with him in his dying breath. "Had I known you were such a pack of useless cowards, I wouldn't have bothered waiting so long! Ah, swindled by Order, and twice at that!" The first time, the God of Order had said: Don't you want to engage in a grand battle against the returning epochal hegemons? As it turned out, myths could not be entirely trusted; they were rife with exaggerations. Naturally, Eternity would never admit that by the standards of myth, he was simply too far beyond the norm. The second time, Order had broken his word and refused to duel him. "One on one, I could slaughter every last one of you. Five at once, I would not lose. Your only skill is using numbers to wear me down! Hahaha!" Eternity turned to look at Light. "Light, you're looking rather pathetic." "I killed one," Light said. "And you?" Eternity fell silent. A kill was a kill. In a battle against overwhelming odds, truly securing a kill was exceptionally difficult. Being immensely proud, Eternity was too ashamed to brag about how many he had merely maimed. "Die quickly," Light urged. "If you don't die soon, it won't be convenient to die at all." "It's pointless now," Eternity said. "Haven't you noticed? That power that was surging so fast it rattled even my soul... it has been stagnant for a long time." "I have an ominous premonition," Light admitted. "As you should. He will do it. Damn it all." "War, Chaos, and Betrayal have all fallen," Light observed. "He deliberately ignored them because they died in battle, sparing him from having to make a move against them. I'm surprised he can still control himself. I thought he had already lost his mind." More than a dozen epochal hegemons joined forces, unleashing terrifying power to bring the battle to a swift end with a single, decisive strike. Eternity did not resist, standing silently in place. Then, everything ground to a halt. Drip... A single drop of water fell, splashed, and scattered. The combined assault of more than a dozen epochal hegemons was cleanly dispelled into nothingness. Karen's divine statue materialized before Eternity. "Heh," Eternity scoffed. "I knew it would turn out like this." Deep within his soul, Karen was submerged in mire from the neck down. Indeed, he had not yet lost control. He had underestimated his current capacity to suppress the hunger addiction. Yet this was merely temporary; as long as he continued to devour, total oblivion would inevitably follow. "Order, we can agree to let the rules of Order govern the new epoch." "The Code of Order, was it? It shall still be respected." "We can acknowledge your supremacy, provided you delineate our spheres of influence." Faced with such an immense divine statue and so horrific an aura, Karen had surpassed the wildest imaginations of the epochal hegemons. After all, he had not merely suppressed an epoch—he had swallowed one whole. When absolute power was laid bare, even the epochal hegemons had to bow their proud heads. Yet even in the past, such compromise would have been impossible, let alone now. Though Karen retained a sliver of clarity, his entire soul was consumed by a hunger that could never be sated. Karen took a stride forward. With an unstoppable momentum, the divine statue forced the vast sea to cleave and retreat. The Water Ancestral God, stranded at the heart of the ocean and already gravely wounded by Eternity, could only stare in despair and horror at Order looming before her. Seeing this, the surrounding epochal hegemons attacked Karen once more. Yet though the statue trembled, cracked, and shed stone fragments, its core remained unshakable. Karen reached out and seized the Water Ancestral God by the throat. The Water Ancestral God invoked the laws of water in a desperate bid to escape, but every struggle was rendered meaningless. Karen opened his mouth. The boundless sea was swallowed whole, followed finally by the Water Ancestral God struggling in vain. This sight plunged the battlefield into dead silence. Dying in battle was a fate they could all accept. But who could have imagined that one of their kind would meet such an end? "Heh... heh-heh..." A chuckle escaped the divine statue, ringing out like a tolling death knell. Deep within his soul, after devouring an epochal hegemon, the mire crept onto Karen's face. The conversation he had shared with the God of Order surfaced in Karen's mind: "Is it Heaven?" "A place where gods dwell." "The gods will not like it there." "Our invitation cannot be refused." Because the invitation of Order meant devouring you, and then, escorting you to Heaven. *** The devouring of the Water Ancestral God was merely the beginning. The statue of the hunger addiction immediately turned its gaze toward its next target. The Fire Ancestral God suddenly felt a bone-chilling dread. He instinctively fled, unfurling layers of flame domains behind him. Yet these domains proved as flimsy as paper before the divine statue. Though the blistering divine flames scorched it severely, the statue merely melted slightly at its surface, its movement utterly unhindered. Boom! The divine kingdom of fire was shattered with a single fist. One of the statue's hands reached inside, countless rules of Order swirling within its palm. What appeared to be a brutish grab in fact contained boundless unraveling, sealing, and esoteric arts. Every collision between the two was a violent, supreme clash of fundamental laws, yet the Fire Ancestral God was overwhelmed on every front. Fire dragons converged from all directions, seeking to protect their master, coiling around the statue's arm. The statue, which had held absolute dominance, froze, its arm suspended in midair. Looking at his devastated divine kingdom, the Fire Ancestral God's eyes were filled with horror. Never since his birth had he felt so utterly crushed. It was terrifying, shattering all his past confidence. Glancing at the open palm resting before him, the Fire Ancestral God prepared to break away. Yet the statue's palm suddenly liquefied at an accelerated pace, stretching out instantly to bypass every barrier and wrap around the Fire Ancestral God. "How... how is this possible?!" The palm snapped shut, forcibly swallowing the Fire Ancestral God. As the second epochal hegemon was devoured, Karen was submerged past his head in the mire deep within his soul, sinking completely into its depths. "Roar!" Having seized full control over both soul and body, the hunger addiction unleashed a bestial roar. It fed on gods, using the divine statue as its vessel, yet it possessed none of a deity's solemnity. The sole purpose of its existence was to tear away everything that made a god—not merely the outer mantle, but the very essence of divinity. "If you don't want to be devoured one by one, join forces and suppress it!" One of the epochal hegemons cried out. Yet before the message could finish echoing, he discovered to his shock that black mire had pooled beneath his divine form. Two other epochal hegemons suffered the same plight, one burning with divine fire, the other rippling with water. Having devoured the immense divine corruption beneath the steps of Heaven, the hunger addiction had attained absolute superiority in strength. Now, having consumed two epochal hegemons in succession, its might had climbed two tiers higher. This was a curse—a curse tailored specifically for gods. Its prelude had been meticulously orchestrated by the God of Order, providing the initial fuel required to ignite it. The method to resolve it was simple and unique: smother it at its source. Yet once the snowball began rolling, it grew larger and larger until no one could halt its momentum, because the only person capable of exerting control had already drowned in the mire of his soul. The divine statue did not even need to lift a hand this time; it merely stood in silence as the three epochal hegemons were steadily corroded away. The remaining hegemons cast aside all grudges. Powerful ancestral priests attempted to unravel the curse, while ancestral sealing masters sought to bind the statue. Every hegemon sprang into action, some attacking, others weaving seals. The divine statue remained standing, enduring every assault. Pieces of it sloughed off and melted away, yet nothing could shake its fundamental core. "Aaargh!" "Aaargh!" "Aaargh!" After three blood-curdling shrieks that rattled the world, the three epochal hegemons were completely corroded away. The battered, faceless statue expanded dramatically in size. With that, the resolve of the hegemons who had stood united shattered completely. They finally realized that this was their inescapable fate. This was the symphony of the gods' demise, orchestrated by two generations of the God of Order at the cost of their own lives. Perhaps leaving tragedy and despair to one's adversaries was the true elegance of Order. Some hegemons continued their frenzied assaults on the statue. As supreme beings of their respective epochs, they could not accept failure, much less acknowledge their own impotence. Other hegemons scrambled to scatter their inheritances, hoping to grant themselves a chance to return after endless ages; Still others abandoned all resistance, wandering through the world to take in the familiar yet alien landscapes one final time. Every reaction manifested at once: emotional, rational, and utter resignation. The Church of Principles had long devoted itself to researching the humanity and divinity of the gods, but here, there was no longer any need to distinguish between divine despair and human decay. Beneath the terrifying oppression of the statue, the epochal hegemons were left with no room for contemplation—only their final choice before death. The statue grew ever taller, and the rhythm of its feeding accelerated. First, it swallowed those launching hysterical final charges; next, it engulfed those attempting to seed their doctrines and inheritances. In the end, those who had taken a leisurely stroll to admire the scenery managed to linger a moment longer, gaining a modest advantage over their peers. Hum! The divine statue grew inconceivably colossal, towering high above the entire world. Even if ordinary mortals could not see the spectacle in the sky, their hearts felt heavy, as though a mountain were pressing down upon their heads. Yet the statue remained unsatisfied. Chains of Order extended outward from its form like a web, covering every corner of the world. Inheritances of churches, remnants of secret realms, ancient ruins, slumbering totems, smothered sparks... Every trace of divinity and every seed that might one day foster godhood was ensnared by the chains and devoured. The God of Order had told Karen that he had already swept the room clean. And what the statue was doing now was thoroughly disinfecting and sterilizing the entire room. Just as with the flaw in the Church of Order's awakening arts—if a corpse were purified, it could never be awakened again. Though in essence this was merely the insatiable hunger of the beast refusing to leave a single scrap behind, judging actions rather than intent, its conduct was indeed realizing the ultimate ideal of the followers of Order: To erase every trace of the gods from this world, causing this parasitic, distorted construct to crumble completely, ensuring they could never return. The world would soon enter a period of frailty. Having endured a godless epoch, the churches had already experienced widespread regression. Yet this was merely the weakness of convalescence; once the root cause of the affliction was excised, a new human civilization would inevitably rise anew. It would no longer mark epochs by the deeds of gods; history would no longer be recorded through divine chronicles, but by mankind itself. The God of Eternity watched this unfold, his heart surging with emotion. Back in Wien, Karen had woven him and Light into the rhythm of Order, acknowledging his historical stature. He had originally thought it was a forced tether to compel him into the camp of Order, but in hindsight, he had truly benefited from it. The end of the godless epoch, or rather the dawn of a new civilization, traced its roots back to Eternity igniting the torch on Mount Anlamende to dispel ignorance. Though he knew his original intention had not been that noble, intentions... could always be revised. One didn't even need to tamper with the forbidden power of time to do so. The chains of Order spreading from the statue arrived before Eternity. Indeed, Eternity was not directly devoured. The statue granted him dignity. Though this was not the true intent of the hunger addiction, fear was enough to teach a beast propriety; For even with Karen completely submerged, it still feared doing anything that might severely provoke him. That young man had once scorched his soul with the fire of Light in the washroom of the Yorktown Funeral Parlor; he had contested it time and again, never conceding defeat; he had even stood upon its head, proclaiming his unyielding dominance. The hunger addiction knew all too well that the God of Order had released it—it had not truly succeeded in devouring him. "Alas..." Eternity sighed. Even now, he regretted not having fought Order, though the other party likely hadn't cared in the slightest, their vision having long transcended such trivialities. A halo flickered as Eternity surrendered his godhead, while Richard was enveloped in a stream of light and sent descending toward the earth. "Surrender them," Alfred commanded. The members of the Order lineage were already bound to Karen in life and death; they had no room for objection. Of course, even without such control, resistance was impossible now. It was far better to act with grace, even if only to project the image of striving for an ideal and securing a proper place in history. The godheads of the Order lineage were surrendered one after another, swept into the statue by the chains. When the chains reached Diss, they dipped far lower than they had for anyone else. Diss spoke: "I can take your place, my child." The statue trembled slightly. Its deferential posture did not mean it was willing to accept any doubt or challenge. Diss's gaze grew heavy. He was hesitating—not out of distrust toward Karen, nor out of attachment to his divine throne, but because of an unsettling realization. Having devoured the gods and condensed all divinity, would the hunger addiction still choose its final resting place? Alfred spoke up: "Master Diss, please believe in the Young Master." Diss closed his eyes and chose to surrender his godhead. Light looked up at the statue and said, "I never believed you could truly succeed, but whatever you choose to do, I will assist you." Light surrendered his godhead, beginning to dissipate just as Eternity had. He kept his promise to Neo, refusing to send his successor down like Eternity, resolved to perish alongside him. He truly intended to carry Neo into oblivion with him. Yet a chain from the hunger addiction whipped out, striking Neo away and sending him tumbling down in an envelope of energy. Light had not broken his word, and Karen had not intervened in Neo's suicidal choice, but the hunger addiction had taken it upon itself to act, desperate to avoid provoking Karen. Poor Neo, bearing the illusory relief of finally being able to die, was once again safely returned to the earth. "Ooh..." Little Kanna reverted to her original bone dragon form. In the defensive battle, Light had forcibly pinned her down to serve as an anchor for the line, which had been a form of protection. Now, she had lost the dazzling, colorful flair belonging to the Rebel Dragon God. "Karen, you owe me lots of sparkly diamonds..." Dong! An intangible toll echoed across the world and within every heart, as if heralding the definitive conclusion of the age of myth. Heaven, upon which Karen had deliberately left a seal, resonated with the call and was forcibly summoned forth. In the past, even the God of Order had needed the power of the God of the Abyss to forge a path to Heaven. Now, before the absolute might of the divine statue, even the mysteries of Heaven were an object to be seized at will. Towering steps, a solemn gate—everyone beheld that supreme symbol of finality. "Meow, woof!" Little Kanna flew over in excitement, spotting Purr and Kevin on the steps, and scooped the cat and dog onto her back. At that moment, all the chains of Order reaching across the world began to retract. The statue did not expand any further, becoming instead denser and more distinct. This clarity stemmed from its will, which could now be distinctly perceived. It was forging a new self upon the foundation of Karen—or rather, it had finally achieved its own renewal without provoking Karen. This time, it had finally won. In its protracted, failing struggle against two generations of the God of Order, it had laughed last. The Gate of Heaven stood tall and majestic. When the hunger addiction gazed upon it, its form gradually stabilized, locking its appearance into place so that onlookers saw it as fixed, no longer shifting at whim. For the hunger addiction was now the mightiest being in existence; its will could supplant the rules of the world. According to Order's design, the hunger addiction should have ascended the steps, walked through the gate, and brought an end to both itself and the age of myth. Yet the hunger addiction raised its hand. Heaven began to crack. It was destroying Heaven—destroying the only thing left in this world that could threaten its existence. Despair gripped the crowd. The hunger addiction was usurping the fruits of victory won through the immense sacrifices of two generations of the God of Order. It had swallowed the gods and devoured the age of myth, yet in the end, it would merely spawn a new era of divinity. It would condense all past chaos into a single entity, and then radiate infinite chaos outward from that one. The world had not been changed after all. What Diss had feared had ultimately come to pass. Yet no one could stop it now, for it was the most terrifying existence in the world. As the fissures spread, Heaven steadily collapsed. Before long, the sole final destination would be wiped away. "In the end, nothing changes," Dalivenro muttered. "What was the point of all our efforts?" Morindi asked. "Praise Order," Bern whispered. A profound sense of powerlessness enveloped everyone. Alfred tossed aside the New Light of Order and threw away his quill. Seeing this, the onlookers could not help but sigh. Had even he lost faith? Yet in the next breath, Alfred cupped his hands around his mouth: "Heh-heh... heh-heh..." A prelude resonated from Alfred's lips. Purr stared at Alfred in astonishment. "The radio goblin..." From the Book of Principles, Old Hoffen chimed in with harmony, just as Alfred had played on the day Diss first awakened him in the cemetery. Yet what first surfaced in Alfred's mind was the night Master Diss had taken the Young Master and him to execute those on the list. He had carried a peanut-tube radio on his shoulder, dancing alongside the Young Master on the deserted street. Back then, the Young Master had carried an unbearable weight, while he himself had harbored profound anxiety. Two lost souls had found mutual release in that fleeting moment. Next, the memory of his first encounter with the Young Master rose in Alfred's mind—not at Mrs. Molly's house, but within Mrs. Molly's dream. Jeff, the thief; He had been scared to death by Mrs. Molly during his burglary, and when the Young Master made contact with Jeff's remains, he sensed Mrs. Molly and fell into the dream abyss. On that day, he had been shaken to his core by a Young Master who was still an ordinary mortal. Later, he studied the script and language invented by the Young Master, even mastering the art of calligraphy—all so that he could become the second person in this world capable of reproducing that sacred hymn. "Young Master, no matter when, Ah Fu will always believe in you." ... In the endless darkness, Karen kept his eyes closed. By now, he had lost all sensation; from soul to flesh, he was completely submerged and dominated by the hunger addiction. Yet at this very moment, Alfred's singing reached his ears. "There are no saviors from on high, no gods or emperors on whom to rely..." It seemed as if everything had returned to the very beginning. Back then, he was merely an ordinary mortal, fragile and insignificant before Mrs. Molly's gaping maw. Yet there were always things that could bestow the purest strength upon you. Karen's lips parted slightly, and he began to sing along to Ah Fu's tempo. No one could replace Ah Fu's place in Karen's heart. He was the one person in this world who understood Karen best, the true anchor on Karen's path of faith. Gradually, cowardice dissipated, and courage returned. The paralysis akin to sleep paralysis was swiftly filled with strength. Karen's eyes slowly opened. ... The statue of the hunger addiction froze. Half-collapsed Heaven came to a standstill. The statue trembled violently, but soon settled into calm. The previous God of Order had completed his part. Now, it was time for me to complete mine. The statue of the hunger addiction gradually reverted to Karen's likeness. Step by step, he ascended the stairs to the very summit, reached out, and pushed open the Gate of Heaven. Beyond the gate lay true finality. Karen stepped inside, turned around, and took hold of the massive gate with both hands. He would close the gate himself. Suddenly, Karen recalled visiting Piaget that night after dining with his family and friends. Piaget had not let him inside, instead sitting in his wheelchair behind the door, looking out at him through the crack. Mural God Rielsa had painted the end of the God of Order; Piaget had painted Karen's end. Through the crack in the door, Karen's gaze swept over everyone outside: from Ah Fu to Muri and Ventura, from his silent grandfather to Neo, who had been exiled to the rooftop of the Yorktown Stock Exchange building and was snoring soundly... From Kevin to Richard; From Purr to Eunice; The glance over familiar faces lasted only an instant—or rather, there were too many sights to take in within that single moment. The people he knew were merely a tiny fraction; what he saw far more of was the secular civilization nurtured across an entire godless epoch. The former gave Karen the urge to stay behind; the latter gave Karen the reason to make his final choice. "Praise... Order." Karen exerted his strength, and the massive gate slowly drew shut. Finally... Bang! — End of Book.