Chapter 289: Returned

Chapter 289: Returned

"Thank you, thank you, all of you, thank you to the great Dark Moon!"

Lema’s father knelt and prostrated himself upon the ground, offering his profound gratitude to Ophelia.

"You must also thank Order," Ophelia reminded him gently.

"Yes, yes, praise the great God of Order, praise the great God of Order! Those wretched scum from Samsara deserve to be killed, every last one of them!"

In the narrative Ophelia had spun, that man from the Church of Samsara had intended to traffic people and extract their souls for a wicked ritual, and his daughter Lema had been the chosen target.

Fortunately, the Dark Moon Guards, who had always dedicated themselves to protecting Dark Moon Island, discovered the plot midway and rescued her. Among them, a priest of Order had also contributed greatly.

To this restaurant owner, knowing this much was sufficient.

As for the gold coins he had surrendered, compared to the amulet Cullen had obtained, they were utterly negligible.

The Gatekeeper had also stated that the remaining value of the amulet would serve as compensation, which implied that the amulet was a gift to him, and he in turn would manage the aftermath and reparations.

After all, one could hardly expect a noble Gatekeeper of Samsara to carry a vast amount of worldly currency in her pockets at all times; in all likelihood, she did not even possess the habit of carrying vouchers.

Stepping out of the restaurant, Ophelia closed her eyes, her expression turning somewhat solemn.

"Where shall we go for a midnight snack?" Cullen inquired, able to guess roughly what was weighing on Ophelia’s mind.

As a member of the Dark Moon clan tasked with protecting the people of the island, she had been unable to lift a finger earlier, relying entirely on Cullen to fight. Yet in the end, she had to bear the gratitude of the victim's father.

Though it was a temporary explanation meant to bring the matter to a swift conclusion, these expressions of thanks still rang with deep irony in Ophelia’s ears.

"Cullen, you were right."

"Hmm?"

"Did you not say to my uncle that the Dark Moon is only fit to reflect the shadow of Order?"

"Those were impolite words, spoken deliberately to elevate my own worth before your uncle. Please apologize to General Taffman on my behalf."

"It is the truth. We all know it is the truth. It is just that even if everyone knows it in their hearts, hearing it under different circumstances brings an entirely different feeling.

I now completely understand why my father was so intent on throwing his lot in with the Church of Order. Even if we are to be Order's hounds, even if we bear chains upon our necks, there are countless wild dogs outside who could not envy this iron chain fast enough.

Only by being strong oneself can one survive. The Dark Moon is still too weak, so weak that in the storm that may soon arrive, it possesses absolutely no capacity for self-protection. My father’s generation, and now my generation, must still strive for the development of Dark Moon Island.

I hope that in one or two hundred years, no one on Dark Moon Island will point at a woman here and call her a mere pariah.

I also hope that the princess standing behind the tree at that time will have the courage to step forward directly, reveal her identity, and sever his head."

The topic grew increasingly heavy.

It was akin to knowing oneself to be unsightly, yet when one's partner chose to leave because of that unsightliness, one would still feel a piercing ache in the heart due to that very flaw.

"What, do you also wish to emulate Dorons, sealing yourself in slumber for a century or two just to wake up and take a look?"

Ophelia turned to look at Cullen, her lips pouting slightly.

She was truly thrown off balance in an instant by Cullen’s manner of diverting the topic, her heavy mood completely disrupted.

"Haha, let us have our midnight snack. Eating helps relieve stress."

"Very well."

Ophelia selected a restaurant with three rows of barbecue grills outside. Standing at the entrance, Cullen was forced to close his eyes by the scorching aroma of spices mixed with seafood, a scent even more intoxicating than when Commor’s soul had surged into his body earlier.

Choosing a corner seat, they placed their order, and soon, platters of charcoal-grilled giant oysters were brought to the table.

The oysters of Dark Moon Island were several times larger than those Cullen had seen in Wien, particularly that white, tender flesh, which perfectly illustrated the meaning of thick and succulent.

Yet Cullen did not touch a single one, choosing instead to quietly pour the fruit wine he had brought back from Lema’s father into a cup and sip it slowly.

Ophelia, on the other hand, ate continuously. She seemed to have truly cast down all her burdens, immersing herself entirely in the pleasure of enjoying the delicacies.

During the interval when one table of oysters was finished and they awaited the next, Ophelia took the damp cloth Cullen handed over, wiped the corners of her mouth, and asked, "By all accounts, you ought to have a greater appetite than I do."

Ophelia was referring to the state Cullen had displayed during the earlier battle, which was no weaker than her own.

Cullen suspected it was because he utilized the power of Light for transformation, but this also meant that although he could unleash a formidable Dark Moon force, he forfeited the opportunity to modify and enhance his own body through the process of cultivation.

One could only say there were gains and losses.

Cullen explained, "I have a weak stomach."

"It matters not. When you watch me eat, I find the food tastes exceptionally delicious."

"Oh, and when I watch you eat, I find you quite adorable."

"There is a line in the journals of Ancestor Bernard: when a woman tells a man he is a kind and good person, and when a man tells a woman she is adorable, it means the other party deliberately wishes to draw a distance in their heart.

Though the ancestor's image has collapsed in my mind, it cannot be denied that some of his words still hold profound wisdom in certain aspects—the wisdom of life experience.

I care little anyway. Since you are unwilling to have me, it matters not how fat I become from eating; I need not worry about failing to fit into a wedding dress."

In truth, Ophelia was a warrior, and no matter how much she ate, it would be difficult for her to truly gain weight to such an extent.

Cullen poured a cup of fruit wine for Ophelia and slid it before her.

"I shall not see you off when you depart. It would seem overly sentimental."

"Mm," Cullen responded. "Once you arrive at the Church of Order and settle down, you can come to York City to find me."

"And then you will invite me to a restaurant in York City to eat Wien soybean paste?"

Ophelia smiled, then continued:

"Rest assured, I will come looking for you in the future. I wish to meet your fiancée, to say to her that I envy her."

Having spoken, Ophelia raised her wine glass toward Cullen.

Cullen raised his glass as well.

Just as the two were about to clink their glasses,

a fresh batch of newly grilled giant oysters was served. Ophelia immediately set down her glass and began to enjoy the feast.

……

By the time Cullen returned to the hotel, it was already very late, yet the captain himself was not in the room, and there was no telling where he had gone.

After taking a shower, Cullen lay on the bed, his mind retracing the events of the day.

In truth, the duration of his stay on Dark Moon Island had not been very long, but so much happened every day that it gave him the illusion of having resided there for an age.

It was time to leave.

Cullen closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

Upon waking, the sky was a murky gray tinged with a smoky yellow; it was likely afternoon, or perhaps even dusk.

Cullen shook his head with some helplessness. His current sleeping hours had been stretched far too long, though he understood this was to replenish his depleted energy.

Yet if things continued in this manner, requiring a full day of sleep for every day of work, it would be difficult to maintain a normal routine.

The captain’s bed remained empty, but the pillow and blanket had shifted positions; the captain must have returned to rest at some point.

Cullen got out of bed to wash up. As he emerged from the washroom, he saw the captain happen to push the door open and enter.

"Have you recently converted to the God of Slumber?"

"Does such a deity exist?"

"Who knows, perhaps one day, sustained by the prayers of all the world's insomniacs, a god of slumber will truly be born."

"Heh, fair enough."

The captain sat down at the edge of the bed and said, "We're heading back tomorrow."

"Mm."

"Bishop Warfulen sought me out for another chat this morning. Say, has something gone amiss between you and Ophelia?"

"Amiss?" Karen shook his head. "We are very good friends."

"Oh, damn it, so my position as squadron commander is out the window?"

"Captain, next time you make that sort of decision, could you perhaps inform me in advance?"

"Promotions always require a touch of surprise to hit the mark, don't they? In my original blueprint, I'd rise to squadron commander with three squads under my wing, while you'd gain your official commission as vice-captain. Whether the actual captain was positioned above or below you would be entirely up to your discretion.

Isn't that wonderful?"

"It is not."

"Fine, I understand. I will let you know beforehand next time."

"You say that every single time."

"And I am always referring to the next time."

"Captain, do you desire promotion that badly?"

"Who doesn't? Though what I truly yearn for is real authority, which is why I'll never pursue a clerical desk job—far too dry and tedious. Oh, right, Bishop Warfulen bade me inform you that roughly half a month after our return, a selection trial will commence. The Church intends to scout a cohort of exceptional youths, likely related to the trial quotas for the Gates of Samsara. York City District will be sending five candidates."

"That many?"

"Every major district will select five candidates, and they will undoubtedly be gathered afterward for a final round of elimination. Furthermore, Bishop Warfulen reminded me to tell you that the assessment focuses primarily on trials of the soul within illusionary realms, so you ought to prepare yourself during this period."

"I understand."

If it were an all-around evaluation, Karen was confident he could pass the York City District selection within this age bracket. However, once the elites from every district converged for the ultimate trial, he possessed no absolute certainty.

After all, within the vast Church of Order, anything could be lacking except geniuses.

Strictly speaking, Dis in his youth had also been one of the geniuses birthed by the Church of Order, though his eventual trajectory had failed to align with the Church's designs.

In this world, it was not only he who possessed miraculous encounters, not only he who held resources, and not only he who possessed talent. To outsiders, geniuses seemed scarce due to the sheer distance between them; yet in the eyes of true prodigies, the arena always felt exceedingly crowded.

However, if the selection focused specifically on the soul, Karen truly had nothing to worry about.

Even if exceptional talents in that domain existed, he could simply lie back and do nothing, yet still comfortably secure a spot in the top twelve. That was beyond any shadow of a doubt.

If someone of his caliber could not even crack the top twelve within this age group, then the various orthodox churches might as well pack up and sleep, waiting for the Church of Order to unify the entire ecclesiastical circle after a sudden explosion of talent years later, making the Great God of Order the sole deity of this world.

"Still, I find it strange. Why has Bishop Warfulen suddenly turned so benevolent toward you? From his perspective, you effectively snatched away his grandson's prospective bride."

"Ophelia and I..."

"Yes, yes, I know. But to snatch her away and then reject her—isn't that an even greater humiliation?"

"Captain..."

"We are merely discussing the facts. Putting you on the selection list voluntarily is one thing, but leaking the exam questions to you in advance? Sigh, I truly cannot fathom it. Tell me, did you perhaps don your grandfather's mask to deliver a dream-visitation to Bishop Warfulen?"

"No, I do not wear that mask now unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Oh, then what happened last night? You slept for another whole day, so something definitely transpired."

Karen related the previous night's events to the captain.

After listening to the account, the captain pursed his lips and remarked, "Sigh, so in the end, no one was killed. Heh."

"There was no way to kill them."

"I know, but you are still holding back too much."

"It is because I cannot yet properly control my own strength."

"That is no issue. Pick a time after we return, and I shall serve as your sparring partner. I know you must be itching to strike me right now, so I am offering you a perfectly legitimate excuse."

"Then you are barred from using the power of Light, Captain."

"Uh-huh." Neo's smiling expression stiffened slightly. "In your dreams."

"That is unfair."

"Alright, I see it now. You truly do want to hit me."

...

The following morning, everyone finished packing their luggage. The porters of the Bernard Hotel used carriages to transport the baggage to the teleportation point ahead of time. Luggage had to be packed separately for transit, and living creatures were strictly forbidden inside.

Karen suspected this measure was closely tied to costs.

Likely only an orthodox church could afford to display such immense extravagance atop a standard teleportation array.

No further conflicts arose as the two churches withdrew. In truth, since the conclusion of the negotiations, the hostility between the opposing personnel had diminished significantly over the past few days. Many had even exchanged parting souvenirs prior to their departure.

To stretch the point a bit further, perhaps some untimely sparks had even ignited.

Richard, for instance, had exchanged souvenirs with a young priestess from the Church of Samsara.

She had gifted him a silver bracelet—not a sacred relic, but hand-forged and imbued with an elegant sense of design.

In return, Richard had presented a gemstone, a protective magical artifact of decent quality given to him by his grandfather, Delon.

From Karen's perspective, this was a transaction so unprofitable it defied reason.

Yet Richard thoroughly relished that electrifying sensation.

The two churches had just fought a war, their enmity as irreconcilable as fire and water. Against such a backdrop, any mutual affection between young men and women belonging to opposing camps was deemed taboo.

Yet taboos invariably brought an extraordinary rush of pleasure, intoxicating those involved and highlighting the perceived grandeur of love.

To put it plainly, in matters of romance, regardless of the angle, the ultimate purpose was always to please oneself, allowing one to indulge in greater enjoyment and comfort.

"How did you manage to move so quickly?" Karen asked.

"That is because you have been asleep these past few days. Memphis was too shy, absolutely refusing to accompany me to the Mermaid Theater, so I could only wander about aimlessly on my own. That was when I caught sight of her."

"What is her name?"

"Belya."

"Did you obtain her contact details?"

"We can write letters. Corresponding via the teleportation array is highly efficient."

"That is quite expensive."

"It is fine, do not worry. I have already provided her with an envelope stuffed with a considerable amount of voucher credits, more than enough to cover her postage."

"Mm, you are indeed thoughtful, and remarkably generous."

"Naturally. When pursuing romance, one cannot afford to be as stingy and petty as my father."

Karen glanced at Memphis, who stood nearby, and inquired:

"How exactly was he stingy?"

"Heh, initially my mother thought my father was a grounded, dependable man. Only later did she discover that he listened to his family in absolutely everything—a precious darling cradled in my grandmother's palms."

"You seem to have strayed from the point."

"Oh, have I? Well, my mother always complained that she gained absolutely nothing by marrying into our Guman family. Ah, it’s all rather pointless. You agree that my family background isn't bad, right? It wasn't easy for me to finally take a liking to someone, so I couldn't afford to be stingy."

"Do you have enough points?" Karen asked.

"Oh, I borrowed some from Memphis. After all, I bought her quite a few gifts; I practically purchased a whole round of the Dark Moon Island's local specialties."

"You really are generous."

"It's not a matter of being generous or not. That girl looks like just an ordinary Priest of Samsara, but I know she must come from one of the great families within the Church of Samsara. There are several grand families like the Seamonsen family within the Church of Samsara; my instincts and detailed observations couldn't be wrong.

The more I give, the more she will think I am honest and sincere, the more successful she will feel at playing ordinary, the more intriguing she will find me, and consequently, the more interested she will become in me."

"So that was the foreshadowing?"

"Yes, why, what's wrong?"

"You pursued her because you saw through her identity?"

"Not at all. At first glance, I just thought she was very beautiful. Then, after realizing her identity, I instantly found her even more beautiful."

"Alright, I hope your father approves."

"My father is just a block of wood. What does his approval or disapproval matter? As long as my grandmother agrees, it's fine."

"Fair enough. Next time war breaks out, the two of you can plunge your blades into each other's chests face-to-face. The imagery will surely be quite aesthetic."

"Hey, we could change the imagery. For instance, I could have my grandfather petition the higher-ups to arrange a political marriage for me. In any case, I am willing to sacrifice myself for the great God of Order."

The two conversed as they walked alongside the carriage to the summit of the mountain. Throughout it all, Mr. Memphis's face...

Grew dark at times, and even darker at others.

The teleportation gate opened, and everyone prepared to step through in batches.

Before stepping onto the steps of the portal, Karen looked back and saw a slender silhouette standing in the distance. She had said she wouldn't come, but in the end, she had succumbed to her sentimentality.

Taking one last look at the sea of Dark Moon Island, the scenery of Dark Moon Island, and the people of Dark Moon Island,

Karen turned and walked into the portal.

"Buzz!"

After two successive teleportations, Karen and the others returned to the basement of the York City Ecclesiastical Affairs Building.

The crowd emerged from the basement and arrived onto the street, gazing at the cars passing continuously before them and the towering skyscrapers rising ahead, feeling as though a lifetime had passed.

Karen spread his arms, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath: "I'm back."

Richard: "Haha, I'm back!!!"

Memphis: "Mm, back at last."

—

End of Volume