Chapter 288: Someone Above!

Chapter 288: Someone Above!

The negotiations between the two great churches had concluded harmoniously, the measure of that harmony being that what one party desired, it had fully obtained.

In the center of the small rotunda, dancers clad in the traditional attire of Dark Moon Island moved gracefully, accompanied by a nearby band playing a soothing melody.

Members of both churches would be departing Dark Moon Island in a matter of days, so arranging this social gathering was only natural.

The war was over, and life, inevitably, would go on.

Cardinal Creed of the Church of Order sat with his legs crossed, leaning back into the soft upholstery of his chair, occasionally closing his eyes to rest and occasionally opening them slightly to appreciate the dance.

Seated beside him, Gatekeeper Romir of the Church of Samsara kept her hands folded over her knees, her back detached from the chair as she occasionally exchanged words with Creed.

Creed’s responses amounted to nothing more than a slight nod or a soft chuckle.

Below them, a crowd of bishops from both Order and Samsara toasted one another and chatted about everything under the sun—literature, landscapes, wonders, and even the upbringing of their descendants—the only topic they tacitly avoided being the current political landscape of the churches.

The losers would not bring it up to invite humiliation, choosing instead to maintain their dignity as best they could;

The victors preferred to display their restraint, for bestowing respect was, in itself, a form of pleasure.

"The people on Bastin Island..."

Romir voiced her request.

Creed offered a vague acknowledgment and said, "Order will grant them a secure environment and ensure they have no contact with the outside world."

Bastin Island was an outer defensive outpost of a Samsara holy land, garrisoned by a small army of believers numbering only thirty-six, who controlled a defensive formation.

After the Knights of Order breached the holy land, they sent an envoy to the garrison on this nearby island, demanding their surrender.

And so, they surrendered.

Yet for reasons unknown, the news received by Samsara Valley was that these thirty-six believers had slain the envoy of Order, vowing they would rather die for Samsara than live in dishonor, and had all fallen in battle.

The Church of Samsara had even used them as paragons and role models for propaganda, a campaign that was continuing even now.

After reclaiming power, the old-money families were eager to purge and strike at the previous faction, exploiting this false report to tell the faithful that Samsara was actually powerful and its believers unyielding; the defeat was solely due to the poor leadership of the former administration and the sneak attack by Order.

In short, it was not that our people were incompetent, nor our faith lacking, nor our god weak; the blame lay entirely with the predecessors.

Those thirty-six believers who supposedly chose death over surrender were the ultimate proof.

The absurdity lay in the fact that, during postwar contact with Order, Samsara discovered to its horror that the glorious martyrs they had championed were still alive, having all chosen surrender without a single casualty.

It was deeply embarrassing.

"What I mean is..."

Romir stopped mid-sentence.

Some people were better off dead than alive.

Creed shook his head slightly and said, "Order cannot do that. However, please be assured that Order highly values its friendship with the Simosen family and trusts that Samsara will recover swiftly under your leadership, forging a close partnership so such tragedies do not repeat."

"Of course. The unpleasantness is behind us; its only purpose is to remind us to cherish this hard-won peace."

"Indeed. Strife is always temporary; peace is the eternal theme we pursue."

"To peace, then? A toast?"

"Very well."

Romir raised her glass with both hands.

Creed lifted his with one.

The two smiled at each other and took a sip.

"By the way, there is one more thing. The current expansion of the Church of the Moon Goddess is increasingly overlapping with our parish, and I worry it might cause unnecessary friction. I hope Order can step in to mediate."

Hearing this, Creed smiled. "Order only intervenes when believers impact ordinary people and society. Conflict between churches is not within our scope of intervention; Order respects the autonomy of all major churches."

"If that is the case, then something unfortunate will surely transpire between Samsara and the Moon Goddess."

"That is truly sorrowful news. Peace will be trampled once more, which breaks the heart. Of course, if a massive storm brews, Order will step forward as a bystander to reiterate the call for peace."

Romir smiled and nodded. "Samsara supports Order in presiding over such matters."

Creed asked in return, "Has Samsara recovered sufficiently?"

"The families still retain some accumulated foundation," Romir said.

"Good."

The Church of Samsara desperately needed an external victory to stabilize morale and the current situation; they had chosen the Church of the Moon Goddess and were preparing for a small-scale conflict. If Samsara won, solidarity could be restored.

What Romir requested was for Order to suppress the Moon Goddess when they sought retaliation, and Creed had agreed.

Just then, a bead within the bracelet on Romir's wrist suddenly cracked.

Each bead in this strand represented the soul of an outstanding descendant of the Simosen family; if a soul perished, its corresponding bead would break.

Whose bead was this?

Ah, right, Commer.

He seemed to be dead already. Was his soul bound by a contract? With whom?

Oh, Pede.

Sigh, how troublesome.

Romir placed a fingertip on another bead and said apologetically to Creed beside her, "Excuse me for a moment."

With that, her eyes closed, and a gray starlight array appeared beneath her feet. She remained sitting there, yet she was no longer there.

Seeing this, Creed tapped his fingers gently against the coffee table.

"Tap... tap... tap..."

...

Caren, wearing the silver mask, experienced a violent disruption in his aura as wisps of Order energy began to spill from him. Immediately after, his body began to tilt forward, collapsing.

Pede, sprawled on the ground, showed a look of wild joy on his face. His uncle had succeeded!

Seeing this, Ophelia drew her Blade of the Dark Moon, preparing to strike.

However,

Halting mid-collapse, Caren's body suddenly tensed. His right leg flexed and kicked forward violently, his left hand pressing down to grasp the hilt of the great purple sword as he lunged toward the prone Pede at extreme speed.

Before the smile could fade from Pede's face, he found his vision rapidly filled by the oncoming greatsword.

The mask on Caren's face vanished at that moment, revealing his cold, piercing gaze.

Instinctively, Pede reached for the pendant on his chest, attempting to channel his spiritual energy into it, but it was clearly too late. Caren's blade was faster!

But at that exact moment, a gray barrier manifested, blocking Caren's sword. Intending to shatter it with momentum, Caren did not lessen his strength, yet the seemingly ordinary barrier proved so despairingly resilient that it did not budge an inch despite the immense force applied.

A burst of starlight appeared beside Pede, and from it stepped an old woman in a gray divine robe—Romir, the Gatekeeper of the Church of Samsara.

The moment her gaze fell upon Caren, he felt a sudden suffocating sensation, as if the neck of his soul had been gripped tightly.

Damn it!

Caren cursed heavily in his mind. He had laid the groundwork and launched a highly sudden ambush, but the Samsara Gatekeeper had appeared at the final second, thwarting his assassination attempt.

Just a snippet, just a tiny snippet more!

What Cullen had not actually expected was that it was not Peide who had notified Romier; rather, it was the soul of Commer, which Cullen had previously obliterated within his own body, that Romier had sensed.

With her contracted soul annihilated, she would naturally think of Peide.

Romier’s gaze narrowed slightly, and between her and Cullen, a gray speck appeared. This tiny point suddenly tore open, and a terrifying propulsive force blasted Cullen’s entire form backward through the air.

This was no longer a contest on the same level; it was not a case of beating the child only for the elder to show up—this was the grandmother’s generation arriving directly.

Upon landing, Cullen thrust his greatsword into the ground to counteract his momentum. He knew clearly that the opponent did not truly intend to attack him; she only wanted to push him away.

Romier looked down, casting a glance at Peide lying flat on the ground, before raising her head to look at Cullen opposite her, who was clad in the Robes of Order.

She knew the strength of this grandnephew of hers; for his age, he was already considered excellent, not to mention that he had also signed a contract with Commer.

Yet despite this, he had still been beaten to the ground by the young man before her. If she had not arrived in time, her grandnephew would already be dead.

The first reaction in Romier’s mind was not the protective rage of a guardian, but an immediate realization that this young man’s status within the Church of Order was surely extraordinary.

Just then, a series of faint finger-tapping sounds reached Romier’s ears, and she knew exactly where the tapping originated.

"What happened here?" Romier asked.

"Grand-aunt, he..."

Just as Peide was about to speak, his mouth was sealed shut by an invisible force.

In front of outsiders, how could family titles be bandied about? Romier knew that her grandnephew’s mind had been thrown into complete disarray.

Romier’s gaze turned to Cullen, indicating that the object of her inquiry was him.

Cullen sheathed his sword. Though he knew the figure before him was not the true entity in the flesh, he understood even better that, even now, he was by no means a match for her.

"He injected the consciousness of another person into the body of an ordinary girl, violating the Code of Order. I was enforcing the Code of Order to place him under arrest, but he resisted."

Cullen knew that if the opponent wished to kill him, it would be as simple as crushing an ant. The higher the tier of existence, the more overwhelming the advantage over lower-tier strength. He did not believe the Gatekeeper of the Church of Samsara was a purely administrative official.

But fortunately, even if he was an ant, he was an ant wearing the Robes of Order.

Romier directed her gaze behind her, spotting the woman hiding behind the tree.

She knew that what this young man of Order said was true, because this grandnephew of hers had always possessed such a perverse hobby.

Romier extended her hand, and the woman’s body was drawn directly over, forced to kneel before Romier.

Following that, the woman’s expression contorted in agony as a cluster of milky-white luminescence emerged from the crown of her head, leaving behind within her body a faint cluster of light that seemed ready to extinguish at any moment.

Romier shook her head. Instead of extracting the woman’s consciousness entirely, she lightly closed her fingertips as if crushing a lump of flour; the woman's consciousness shattered completely, turning into nourishment and returning to her body.

The faint light that had remained now grew slightly larger. Though still very weak, it was much better than before when it was on the verge of fading out.

Romier’s palm released a soft gray light, providing a round of nourishment to her soul and body.

"Her soul is not entirely extinguished. I have helped her consolidate it. When she wakes up, she will return to her original self."

"Mmph! Mmph!"

Seeing this, Peide’s eyes widened as he began to struggle fiercely, but his mouth was sealed, and he could not speak.

Romier waved her hand, and with a sharp slap, Peide was struck unconscious, lying on the ground motionless.

Immediately afterward, two flashes of light appeared, severing both of Peide’s ears.

"A child being disobedient is a failure of my discipline. I apologize for the trouble caused to you."

At that moment, the pendant at Peide’s chest detached from his neck, flew before Cullen, and landed on the hilt of the sword in front of him.

"This is compensation from Samsara—compensation for the hard work of the Officer of Order in maintaining order. The remainder is compensation for this girl; please deliver it on my behalf."

The victim had been saved.

The criminal had been punished.

The enforcer’s labor fee was given, and the victim's compensation was provided.

A whole sequence of procedures, all completed.

Though it was still a pity in his heart that he had failed to kill the man, Cullen knew that with the opponent settling the aftermath to this extent given her exalted status, it would be meaningless even if the case were brought to the high command of Order.

After all, what more could one ask of them?

Cullen could only cross his arms over his chest and say to the Gatekeeper:

"Thank you for your respect for Order."

"Thank you for your dedication to maintaining order," Romier said, looking at Cullen. "Perhaps you could tell me your name."

"Cullen Silva."

"I truly envy the Church of Order; every generation lacks no talent," Romier said with a smile. "When you come to the Valley of Samsara, you can bring this to find me. I like promising young men."

With that, Romier’s figure vanished directly.

Cullen was stunned for a moment. Was it... over?

Ophelia stepped out at this time and asked, "Cullen, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I just need a moment's rest." Cullen took the pendant in his hand, still unable to comprehend how the opponent could handle the matter so decisively.

"She doesn't care about such a small matter," Ophelia said. "She is a true ruler. She cannot afford to distract herself with such trivialities right now."

"Doesn't care?"

"Yes, she probably doesn't care whether Peide lives or dies, even if he is her descendant."

"What about that soul?"

"That soul? His contracted soul?"

"Yes, also surnamed Simosen. Oh, she doesn't care about that either?"

"Is that soul still inside your body?"

"Gone. After it penetrated the power of purification, the soul was already mostly dissipated, so it didn't cause much of an impact on me. Well, mostly because my faith in the God of Order is firm enough."

When he had first arrived in this world, he was able to squeeze an evil god out to act as a dog.

Let alone now, when his body gathered multiple forces of faith. Commer Simosen wanting to deal with him by seizing his body was truly courting death.

"Since it's gone, she won't care either," Ophelia said. "This matter is but the smallest trifle in her eyes. If it weren't for the close distance, she might have been too lazy to even show up."

"It seems you understand her quite well."

"My father didn't shed a single tear for the deaths of my two brothers either, did he?"

"Fair enough." Cullen pointed his finger at Peide, who lay unconscious on the ground. "What about him?"

"We can't kill him now."

"Yeah." Cullen nodded, walked over to Peide, and planted a boot directly onto Peide’s face. The unconscious Peide remained motionless, save for the nosebleed that began to flow.

Romier had already completed the punishment and made compensation; if he were to kill him now, he would have no leg to stand on.

Mainly, this would be an overt slap to the face of the Gatekeeper of Samsara. The price would be too high; the opponent would only need to report this to the Church of Order, and the high command of Order would deal with him.

The most fortunate thing was that Peide had not seen what he shouldn't have; he had hidden it well all along. Commer’s soul had indeed seen many things it shouldn't have, but he was already gone.

"He will wake up on his own in a while." Cullen suddenly thought of something. "Ophelia, are there wolves in this forest?"

"How could there be wolves?"

"That's a pity then."

Karen picked up the pendant hanging from his sword hilt. Going to the Valley of Samsara, how was he supposed to get there? Oh, that trial slot to enter the Gate of Samsara? It seemed it was set to begin next month.

But the problem was, how should he sign up? Could the captain pull some strings for him?

Though, it seemed that even if he sold the captain off, the man wouldn't have nearly enough influence to pull those kinds of strings.

After all, there were only twelve slots for the entire Church.

Furthermore, he had even caused the captain to lose out on becoming a mid-tier captain.

Karen smiled faintly, walking over with the intention of picking up the sleeping young girl, Lema, but Ophelia beat him to it, hoisting the little girl onto her shoulder with a single hand.

"Karen, in truth, have you been hiding your true strength all along?"

"I really only broke through recently."

"Recently?"

"Last night while I was sleeping."

"Which means, when I said those things to you earlier, you actually had the ability to silence me forever?"

"I never thought about doing that."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're not lying to me?"

"Ophelia, there is one thing I can assure you of: I have never actively sought to deceive you about anything."

Whatever wild schemes you came up with in your own head regarding the captain has nothing to do with me.

"Alright, I believe you. Now, let's take her back. It's just the right time to grab some late-night supper."

"Eating again?"

...

The Small Rotunda.

The magic array beneath Romir's feet faded away, and she opened her eyes.

She looked at Cardinal Crede sitting beside her, speaking apologetically:

"Just now, a junior of mine made a mistake and was disciplined by an Order Cleric named Karen. He did a fine job."

"Is that so."

"I truly envy the Church of Order; every generation never seems to lack for talent."

"Heh, that is precisely why we in Order are willing to select and nurture the young talents of your Samsara."

"Then I am deeply grateful. My Samsara will certainly cooperate and support this matter with all our might."

Crede smiled and said, "It is only right."

This was nothing more than a trivial matter; Romir did not dwell on it, nor did Crede pay it much mind.

The two of them continued to discuss the upcoming collaborative policies between their respective Churches.

Ultimately, the banquet concluded in a friendly atmosphere, and the leaders of both sides rose to depart. A vast entourage of bishops followed behind Crede. As they descended the stairs, Crede suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing the entire crowd of bishops behind