Chapter 191: Collapsed

Chapter 191 It Collapsed

Karen remembered that he had opened his eyes last night after completing the symbiotic contract, remembered lifting Piuer up himself to place her on the bed and covering her with the blanket, and remembered telling Alfred and Kevin that his symbiotic contract ritual was a complete success but that he did not want to be disturbed right now as he needed a moment to recover.

Alfred had taken Kevin back to his room to rest.

And then he himself... had he gone into the washroom to take a bath?

Moreover, had he fallen asleep while soaking?

Karen moved his body with a sense of bewilderment, stirring up a faint sound of water.

Yes, his last memory of last night remained at the moment he sat into the bathtub, intending to organize his thoughts while soaking, yet somehow he had actually fallen asleep.

Intuition told him that this sleep must have lasted a long time, and when he examined himself, he discovered that several more strands of power had appeared within his body... no, it wasn't that several more had appeared.

If power were compared to a cornerstone, the original reservoir of spirituality within his body had simply become much richer in color.

It was a very peculiar sensation, as if he had suddenly gained a perception of several new kinds of power; they were so unfamiliar, yet simultaneously so profoundly familiar.

The correspondingly long sleep was likely to refill this newly reconstructed reservoir with water, an experience Karen had long been familiar with, as he used to cultivate spells to the point of overextending himself quite frequently.

At this moment, Karen realized that the water in the bathtub he occupied was actually still warm—not the slight warmth that bordered on cooling, but a heat perfectly suited for bathing.

Scooping up a handful of water before his eyes, Karen unexpectedly perceived an aura of light within it.

So, while he slept, the power of light would still operate on its own within his body to help maintain the water temperature?

"Heh..."

Karen shook his head with a smile; it was actually quite nice, as he would never have to worry about falling asleep while bathing and catching a cold again.

Rising from the bathtub, he grabbed a towel to dry his body and changed into his clothes.

While washing up, looking into the mirror, he noticed that he seemed a bit different; it wasn't a change in appearance, for naturally, there was likely nothing left to improve upon regarding his looks.

The change lay in his temperament; though his whole being still looked very young, he exuded a sense of composure, and if described in a way Karen was familiar with, it was probably... refined.

If he were to put on a divine robe and walk into a church, even though he looked quite young, the believers would likely assume he was a newly reassigned priest.

This should be the transformation brought to him by the power of light, and Karen was rather satisfied with it; he had always been somewhat unaccustomed to his own "youthfulness," so if it made him feel more composed, he was glad for it.

Stepping into the bedroom, Karen found that Piuer was not on the bed, but he was in no rush to walk out, nor did he press the service bell; instead, he walked into the study and glanced at the wall clock inside, which read five in the afternoon.

He had slept through almost the entire day, and upon checking the calendar carefully, he was relieved to find that he hadn't slept through a whole full day, but just a single daytime.

There was a thermos beside the desk; as per routine, Xili would come to add boiling water for him every morning, noon, and night.

Karen picked up the thermos and opened the lid of his teacup, inside of which lay pre-arranged tea leaves; having brewed the tea, Karen sat down behind the desk.

Taking advantage of the time spent waiting for the tea to cool, Karen spread open his right palm, and with a slight shift of his mind, a cluster of firelight emerged within his palm, changing into various shapes according to his will.

Then, accompanied by a slight narrowing of Karen's right eye, the exterior of the firelight was dyed with a layer of white, instantly presenting a sacred sensation of a "holy fire."

And right at this moment,

The figure of an old man appeared before Karen's desk.

"You are actually still here?" Karen was somewhat surprised.

"You moved?" The old man was also somewhat surprised, and after looking around, he smiled, "You brought all those books of mine with you, so naturally, I followed along.

After all, the vessel for a mental imprint is within the books, not the house."

Immediately after, the old man looked toward the holy fire in Karen's palm, instantly finding it unbelievable: "You... you have converted to Light?"

"Not exactly," Karen shook his head.

"I knew you possessed the power of light within your body, but this is the first time I have seen the aura of faith in Light upon you. Have you thrown yourself into the embrace of the God of Light?"

"Have you ever considered that the so-called aura of faith in the God of Light is merely because a certain part of our own aura happens to be shared with the God of Light? We have always treated what we possess as a gift from God, and have been immensely grateful for it."

The old man showed a bitter smile and said, "You are blaspheming God again."

Without knowing when it had started, the old man unexpectedly felt a sense of being accustomed to it.

Karen opened a drawer, inside of which lay several packs of cigarettes; he no longer smoked now, but he still maintained the habit of carrying a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on his person, while Alfred would always have this prepared in the locations he frequently occupied.

Picking up a pack of cigarettes and tossing it onto the desk, Karen asked, "Do you smoke?"

"I do, though unfortunately, the current me cannot, but the actual colony where the real me went is rich in tobacco leaves, so the real me should be able to enjoy it properly right now."

"Does smoking bring you happiness?"

"Happiness? I cannot describe the feeling; for old smokers, tobacco can hardly be called a form of happiness."

"Indeed," Karen nodded. "If you do not smoke, you originally possess ten points of happiness. If you do smoke, the nicotine within the tobacco steals five points of your happiness, keeping you permanently at the remaining five points of an ordinary level. In order to seek an elevation of happiness, you smoke, and then the nicotine lends you three points of happiness, allowing you to reach eight points of happiness for a brief moment. Once that short period passes, you return to five points again, and must look to borrow from it once more.

You do not blame it for why it stole five points of your happiness, yet you feel grateful for the 'extra' three points of happiness it grants. It clearly stole what already belonged to you long ago, yet you still feel deeply indebted and grateful to it."

The old man fell silent; he naturally understood exactly what Karen was insinuating.

Karen picked up the cigarette pack, flipping it over and over continuously.

"We will find all sorts of reasons to comfort ourselves that we need it, and we will weave all sorts of stories to convince ourselves that we cannot leave it, taking it for granted that it should be a part of our lives.

But no matter how many reasons, how many excuses, how many stories, or how many various seemingly reasonable preachings there are, they are all false.

If you do not smoke it for half a day, you feel uncomfortable; if you do not smoke it for a day, you feel agony; and once you have left it for three days, your head will throb so severely that you will wish to slap yourself.

Only at this moment can you clearly recognize... that you are nothing more than a pathetic slave groveling at its feet."

"How should I put it, I have already grown accustomed to hearing these words from you, but my heart remains steadfast nonetheless," the old man smiled. "Perhaps, in the eyes of God, you are merely a mischievous little lamb, and God will forgive you."

A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Karen's mouth; he knew that when a person no longer chose to engage in theoretical discussion but instead used this method to cover up the topic, it proved that their heart was evading.

"Then, how do you explain this?"

The next moment,

Light flowed forth from Karen's right eye, while the profundity of Order manifested within his left eye.

"..." The old man.

"You can think about it properly again, think about whether your heart is still so steadfast."

"You are an evil god," the old man let out a bitter smile. "You have corrupted me."

"An evil god is nothing more than a dog."

"What?"

"I hope the next time I see you, you can say something different from before."

"So... you wish to gain control over me?" the old man asked.

"Lately, I do indeed wish to know more information regarding the remnants of Light... regarding the current Church of Light. After all, when I cover my left eye, who can deny that I am a devout believer of Light?"

"I feel that you are close to succeeding," the old man said.

"No rush, no rush. According to what you said, you have already been 'corrupted' by me, just like curing food—it needs to be stored for a bit longer to become more flavorful."

"Heh."

The old man left behind a laugh, his figure dissolving away within the study.

"I almost forgot, for the sake of the refrigerator, I still need to go to the cemetery to cook. Sigh."

Karen let out a sigh; the refrigerator hadn't been moved home yet, so he really felt too embarrassed to ask for leave right now.

Just then, the telephone rang, and Cullen picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Pavaro Funeral Parlor."

"Inquisitor Pavaro? Oh no, it is you, Cullen." Mallow's voice drifted through the line. "I obtained your contact information from Fanny. I have prepared some excellent wine and prime tender beef, and I intend to have a barbecue tonight. Would you like to join us, Cullen?"

Cullen knew that Mallow simply could not suppress his curiosity regarding the tactical array in his possession. For those truly dedicated to the study of arrays, even a single day of waiting was an agonizing torment.

"Very well. What time?"

"Whenever it is convenient for you," Mallow replied.

Cullen glanced at the time and said, "It may take a while."

"That is quite fine; our late-night snacks usually begin after midnight."

"That works. And the location?"

"The very factory where you and Gary conversed. Gary and Wind will be there as well, and Fanny and Paige too. Oh, and Quincy."

"Understood. I shall try to arrive as early as possible."

"Haha, no rush. Attend to your matters first. Shall we consider it settled then?"

"Yes."

Hanging up the telephone, he stood and walked out of the study, only to catch sight of Purr riding toward him atop Kevin.

"Oh, you are awake?" Purr immediately inquired. "You did not drain the water from your bathtub, did he?"

"Ah, I forgot."

"Then do not drain it. In a short while, I shall have Dora and Doreen take a bath in your tub; it will be beneficial for their physical recovery. You really are quite extravagant."

"And what about you? Are you alright?"

"I am perfectly fine."

"Has there been any change?" Cullen asked.

"A change? Do you mean this?" Purr brandished a paw, and a ball of fire manifested. "Tier one of the family belief system. Though it is very low, it is an excellent beginning. I can experiment to see what tier I can attain at most within a cat's body."

Because Purr was perched upon Kevin's back, the fireball appeared right above Kevin's head, and subsequently, the fur atop Kevin's head was set ablaze.

Kevin did not notice at first, merely panting habitually with his tongue out in a foolish grin, until he detected a burning odor.

"Oh dear!" Purr let out a loud cry; he had set the silly dog on fire.

Cullen extended his hand, and a puddle of water coalesced out of thin air, drenching Kevin directly. The golden retriever was soaked through; he was unhurt, but a patch of his head had been burned bald.

"Oh, my apologies, silly dog. I gave you a perm without your consent."

Kevin did not blame Purr; instead, he ran off to a distance and began to shake the water droplets violently from his body. Only after he finished did he trot back, squat down, and scratch at his head with his paw.

"Young master, you are awake." Alfred emerged upon hearing the commotion outside.

"Alfred, have Sili take out a bag of the dumplings I wrapped last time from the refrigerator; I wish to take them with me. Furthermore, make rubbings of a few arrays that an Inquisitor might find interesting—not the profound and obscure kind, but select a few you deem intriguing. I wish to take them along.

In addition, study further the description of Kevin's seal within Mister Hoffen's notes. Once you are prepared, I shall attempt to help Kevin lift a portion of the seal."

Upon hearing these words, Kevin instantly resumed his foolish grin; it no longer mattered that his canine head was partially bald.

"Understood, young master. Please wait a moment."

Cullen walked over to a long bench and sat down. Purr followed him, leaping onto Cullen's lap, and inquired:

"What about you? Do you feel anything different?"

"Much has changed, but as for the specific effects, I do not know. However..."

"However what?"

"However, I ought to know tonight."

Alfred worked with great efficiency. Cullen had only been seated for a short while before he approached, carrying a bag of frozen dumplings and a notebook with a red cover.

"Young master, shall I place them in the vehicle for you?"

"No need, I shall take them myself. By the way, I shall be returning quite late tonight."

Placing the items in the vehicle, Cullen drove to the Ivy Cemetery.

Old Saman had not closed up; he was holding a large broom, sweeping the ground. Cullen drove in, parked, and exited the vehicle carrying the dumplings.

"What is this?" Old Saman inquired curiously.

"Dumplings."

"Dumplings?" Old Saman shook his head. "What a peculiar pronunciation."

"This is a new dish I created recently. I have just perfected it and brought it over specifically for you to taste."

"Oh, truly? That genuinely thrills me. I shall pretend I cannot see through your sole intention to merely brush off tonight's dinner."

"It tastes far better than the macaroni you cook."

"Is that so? I do not believe it."

Cullen stepped into the kitchen and began to boil the dumplings. He then prepared three dipping sauces: one of the thick paste favored by the Vienese, one of chili sauce, and one of pure fruit vinegar.

Old Saman had already set up the small table, and Cullen brought out two plates of dumplings.

Old Saman used a fork to lift a dumpling into his mouth.

"How does it taste?"

"Not bad." Old Saman proceeded to eat a second, then a third...

Cullen, who had originally picked up his fork, hesitated for a moment before placing it down again.

"You are not eating?" Old Saman asked even as he pulled the plate of dumplings from in front of Cullen over to himself.

"I have a gathering tonight; someone else is treating. I shall leave some room in my stomach."

"Heh, that is a very fine habit."

"There are still some dumplings left; I placed them in your refrigerator," Cullen stated.

"Oh? how many more?"

"About a hundred?"

"To think there are still so many. I do not believe it; you are fooling me."

"If you do not believe it, you may go to the refrigerator and count them yourself."

"Count them I shall." Old Saman took up his pipe and tapped it against the table. The pipe exuded a cloud of smoke, and Old Saman reached his hand into it, subsequently drawing out a bag of dumplings and placing them upon the table.

"Hey, there really are this many. You did not deceive me, boy." Old Saman twisted his neck. "How about this: when you come tomorrow evening, drive your family's hearse and transport this refrigerator back."

Cullen lowered his gaze, staring at the pipe.

"The pipe, the recorder—you shall take them all away."

No look of excitement appeared upon Cullen's face; instead, he asked, "Is it to be so soon?"

"Yes, far faster than anticipated. The delegation of the Pamires Faith has already been expelled from the Ankara Hotel by the Church of Order. They are currently residing in an ordinary hotel in York City. This is essentially the final indication. Now, it merely depends on when your upper echelons hand down the ultimate divine decree. Once the decree is issued, the Pamires Faith organizations in all regions will face liquidation."

"Then tomorrow, I shall incidentally have someone come to take your measurements, so we may order your clothes in advance."

"Hmm?"

"What style of funeral do you prefer?"

"Well, I honestly haven't given that much thought."

"Then give it some proper thought tonight, and tomorrow I'll come by to take notes for you."

Old Saman took another bite of his dumpling and nodded.

"Eat slowly, I'll head out first. I'll come by earlier tomorrow."

"Go on, go on. Oh, right, before you arrived, that captain of yours was here. He left something behind. Why don't you return it to him? Or, well, he has to come back tomorrow anyway, so it'd be the same if I gave it to him then."

Old Saman stood up and walked into the small cabin, emerging a moment later with a black mask.

Karen reached out to take it, saying, "I'll go hand it over to him."

On the way from here to the factory, he would happen to pass near Sycamore Street. It was nothing more than a quick detour, and Karen also recalled that his custom-made cleric robes should be ready for pickup. After dropping the mask off at the captain's office, he could pick up the robes while he was at it.

Karen got into the car. Old Saman sat back down in his original spot to continue eating his dumplings. Karen honked the horn three times at him, prompting Old Saman to glare and make a sharp shushing gesture.

Over twenty minutes later, Karen drove onto Sycamore Street, only to find that the spot where he usually parked was entirely filled with vehicles.

"Are they holding a meeting? So many cars."

Karen drove around in a circle, but in a place so large, he surprisingly couldn't find a single parking space. In the end, he had no choice but to drive back out and park right by the side of the main road.

He wondered if he would be fined for illegal parking near the administrative building, and whether a servant's badge could be used for reimbursement if a fine did occur.

With a sharp thud, Karen closed the car door. Looking at the administrative building, which was now a fair distance away due to where he had to park, he could only sigh, gripping the mask as he walked in that direction.

He had taken only a few steps when a terrifying tremor and a deafening roar erupted, sending clouds of dust billowing into the sky.

After steadying himself, Karen stared forward in utter shock.

The towering administrative building of the Church of Order had, right before his very eyes, collapsed.