Chapter 314: Guessed the Questions Right

Chapter 314: The Right Guesses

The reporter, Meriye, froze upon hearing these words. In truth, she had already gathered from the countenances of Bishop Warfuren and the other regional dignitaries that this was by no means orchestrated. When Karen and his companions disembarked, she had paid particular attention to the reactions of the three youths trailing behind him; there was undoubtedly a misunderstanding afoot.

However, her sole purpose was to seize upon a bit of news to satisfy her impending deadline.

Now, she seemed to have captured an excellent piece of journalism. The Order Weekly was an internal publication of the Holy Church, and positive news was naturally more favored.

Meriye inquired, "But do you not feel this approach is somewhat too radical, or did the region place immense pressure upon you?"

"Radical? I do not think so." A fitting smile graced Karen’s face. "The coffin possesses another layer of special significance within our Holy Church of Order. My friend Bart—his grandfather serves in the First Knights.

Our arrival in a hearse, beyond expressing our determination to pursue absolute victory, is also a tribute to the ancestors of the First Knights.

They have always been our role models, and we too shall be inspired by them, allowing ourselves to face the impending final selection and the difficulties we may encounter in the future with a more positive and fearless posture."

Hearing his grandfather mentioned, Bart composed his expression, threw out his chest, and assumed a solemn air.

"But is such a gesture not too heavy, carrying a twilight melancholy unsuited to your age group?"

"No, quite the contrary. It is precisely because of their protection that my friends and I, as well as the great Holy Church of Order, can be like true youths, resembling the sun at seven or eight in the morning."

At that moment, it happened to be precisely half past seven.

Meriye cast a glance at her two assistants, one holding a camera and the other a notebook. She was thoroughly satisfied with this interview; even if the script had been prepared in advance, it probably could not have been delivered as beautifully as by the young man before her.

Of course, if this young man ultimately made the twelve-person roster in the final selection, this interview of hers would be entirely worthy of half a page, or perhaps even a chance to compete for the front page, for the words spoken by this young man, and his image, were all too perfect for the front page.

"May I ask your name?"

"Karen Silva."

"Very well, Karen. I would like to take a group photograph of you and your friends, if you do not mind?"

"We are happy to cooperate."

Karen, Bart, Ai Sili, and Ventura stood in a row beside the hearse, and with a click, the reporter snapped the photograph.

Just as Karen thought the matter had finally been smoothed over, Meriye stepped forward once more, pulling him aside to pose for several individual photographs, and finally went up herself to take two photographs with him.

When the interview concluded, Meriye shook Karen’s hand and said, "I believe you will successfully pass the selection."

"Thank you for your blessings, Miss Reporter."

The interview was over.

It was at this moment that Philomena appeared, almost precisely on the dot. She still bore that half-awakened look, while the others consciously maintained their distance from her.

Bishop Warfuren, whose speech time had been severely truncated, showed not the slightest displeasure now. He walked ahead, leading the flock of young candidates toward the underground teleportation array. Because Karen walked at the very front, he was closest to Bishop Warfuren.

"Well said."

"Thank you for your praise, Your Grace. What happened just now was my imprudence."

"Do you know, even my secretary would find it difficult to compose such fine words in so short a time."

Writing beautiful and superficial rhetoric was not difficult; the difficulty lay in weaving political height and sensitivity into that foundation.

Bishop Warfuren smiled and said, "Perhaps you might consider a civil post. I feel that on the path of civil service, you have already displayed sufficient talent."

"My Lord, I am still young."

"Yes, you are still young."

Bishop Warfuren halted his steps, pointing toward the teleportation array that was already being activated, and called out aloud:

"Go forth, youths of the York City Region! Let the people of the other regions witness the excellence of our York City!

The Great God of Order is with you!"

The throng of high-ranking priests behind Warfuren cried out in unison, "The God of Order is with you!"

The five of them, including Karen, stepped into the teleportation array, placing their hands upon their chests one after another:

"The God of Order is with me!"

"Order is with me."

...

When the light of the teleportation array vanished, Karen found himself standing upon a plaza. Before the plaza stood a magnificent sculpture, reaching a hundred meters in height.

The sculpture depicted a bald man, his arms resting behind his back like a wise sage, gazing into the void of the distant expanse, lost in deep thought.

Bart spoke up, "One of the four retainers of the God of Order, Ogulev."

This place was the Temple of Ogulev.

Ogulev, in the Light of Order, was hailed as the bearer of wisdom and experience among the four retainers. He was the shadow standing behind the God of Order; in the early records of the God of Order (the unexpurgated version), it was the God of Light who awakened the God of Order.

Yet the God of Order did not plunge directly into the camp of Light upon being awakened. During this interim, there was another period of years—a journey of tempering indispensable to every god before becoming a god.

This journey was long, sufficient for a family to thrive for several generations, yet it was frequently overlooked; compared to the lifespan of a principal god, which was easily calculated in epochs, this experience truly appeared far too brief.

In the mythological narrative of the Light of Order, Ogulev followed the God of Order very early on, using his experience and wisdom to help the God of Order complete his transformation and rise.

There were even conjectures that Ogulev himself was a deity.

He had recognized the existence of the God of Order, willingly assuming the status of a deity to become a retainer to the God of Order, submitting beneath the radiance of Order.

This seemed a losing bargain: to forgo being a god merely to be a retainer.

Yet, considering the divine wars that broke out frequently in the previous epoch, where ordinary deities fell in droves, and the God of Order’s slaughter of deities at the end of the previous epoch, it was difficult to say that Ogulev’s choice was wrong.

It was akin to the difference between the presidential secretary of the Wien Empire and the next district chief of York City.

Ai Sili spoke, "The Grand Hall of Ogulev is not in Wien, nor is it in reality, but upon an island of void. This island is situated in the void space; it is said that Ogulev entered the void space by the divine decree of the God of Order to intercept the fierce beasts that might be born within."

Bart, however, countered, "There is another saying: that Ogulev was exiled here by the God of Order."

Karen lifted his head, looking upward. The sky above held no sun, nor any stars or moon, but looked rather as though it had been stained by splashes of colored ink.

Looking around once more, one could discern a forest of array banners in the distance, and falcons soaring in the remote sky; evidently, there was a garrison here, resembling an outpost.

By now, dozens of young figures had already appeared upon the plaza, and young candidates continued to emerge from the arrays continuously, all in batches of five.

Thus far, no examiner had come forth to organize them, and the candidates who had arrived were all observing the environment here.

"Want some pastries?"

Ventura produced the pastries his grandmother had made with her own hands, distributing them to everyone around. Karen, Bart, and Ai Sili all accepted, but when Ventura walked up to Philomena with a pastry and offered it to her, she remained motionless.

"Eat a little something to replenish your energy," Ventura said.

Philomena continued to ignore him, even though everyone was well aware that she could, in fact, hear.

"Rest awhile."

As Karen spoke, he sat down.

Bart walked toward a squad of patrolling soldiers in the distance, bringing back two water skins from them to share with everyone.

Ai Sili spoke, "The void space is an area where it is easy to lose oneself. The existences born here are all highly skilled in illusions; it is said that the illusion beast Compacini was born here. I surmise the upcoming final selection will surely make use of the environment here."

With his right hand, Karen popped the last bit of pastry into his mouth, then picked up the water skin with his right hand to take a sip of water. His left hand remained concealed within his sleeve, the magic cube spinning continuously within his palm.

Then, Karen lifted his head, looking once more upon that magnificent statue,

and said:

"This island itself is a massive ritual circle, with the Ogurev sculpture serving as its nexus, and the plaza where we currently stand is the central zone. My deduction is that for the impending final selection, the defenses here might be drawn back, leveraging the peculiar layout of the void space to channel us into the trial array."

Barth and Eisley followed Karen's words, shifting their gaze to observe, though neither was particularly well-versed in ritual arrays. They could not fully grasp the intricacies of what he described, yet both found his reasoning entirely sound.

Ventura spoke up, asking, "What would be the purpose of doing that? To increase the difficulty of the selection?"

"I suspect it might be for the sake of verisimilitude," Karen replied. "The Church likely hopes to use this selection test as a means to let us experience the environment beyond the Gates of Samsara beforehand, even if it is merely a semblance. I have heard that even for the Order of Samsara's own people, every cohort entering the Gates faces a considerably high probability of misadventure, let alone outsiders like us from a foreign church."

"My father shared that very sentiment," Barth said. "However, he also mentioned that once the final roster of twelve is determined and before we enter the Gates of Samsara, there should be a separate, short-term training course. In his view, our Church has long since possessed a structured plan for the trials beyond the Gates. This plan was likely finalized before the treaty negotiations with the Order of Samsara—no, perhaps even before the outbreak of the war."

Karen nodded in agreement. If that were the case, the Church of Order possessed clear and definite objectives regarding specific entities or factions within the Gates of Samsara.

The so-called trial was not a matter of dispatching twelve young talents of Order inside to try their luck; it felt more akin to... hiring porters?

Eisley spoke up next. "My father had a similar hypothesis. Therefore, he believes that beyond the Gates of Samsara, we will need to form teams to accomplish certain key objectives. Consequently, there is a very high probability that this final selection will lean toward a cooperative team format."

Beside them, Ventura was listening with rapt attention, munching contentedly on his pastries.

Karen could not help but sigh inwardly; the children of high-ranking officials truly possessed a tremendous advantage when it came to information channels.

Even the dog at his own home had once dumped trash there, but if one were to ask it about the specific situation inside now, it would be utterly clueless.

Just then, a flock of falcons flew over through the sky, each seemingly draped in a divine robe—robes tailored specifically for falcons.

"Those are divine robes with specific elemental defensive properties," Barth introduced. "They were fitted out of concern that the falcons might lose their way under the influence of the void space. Normally, however, the falcons in the knight orders are armored. During wartime, depending on the varying battlefield conditions, the array masters and spellcasters within the legion would grant them temporary, specialized enhancements."

There were roughly sixty or so falcons in the sky, and at that moment, a massive three-headed falcon descended, kicking up a violent gust of wind as its talons struck the ground.

From the broad back of the three-headed falcon stepped a military officer accompanied by a squad of guards.

When he spoke, his voice resonated swiftly across the entirety of the plaza:

"Greetings. I am Punk, the garrison commander here, and I will personally oversee your final selection. I expect you to adhere to my discipline, and I hope you have a pleasant stay."

An exceedingly stiff and dry opening speech.

At that moment, Karen noticed two contingents marching in neat formation toward the plaza. One was a company of three hundred soldiers clad in black armor, while the other comprised clergymen drawn from various diverse branches.

The soldiers immediately fanned out to encircle the outer perimeter of the plaza, while the clerical contingent split in half; one half appeared poised to conduct security screenings, while the other began warming up the ritual arrays.

"Next, there are three matters that must be clarified beforehand.

"First, the security screening. You should all have experienced this before. I am aware that many among you possess formidable family backgrounds, but I am sorry to say that by the time you are to enter the Gates of Samsara, your family backgrounds will be entirely useless. Though the Order of Samsara was just thoroughly thrashed by us, they are now more desperate than ever to save face.

"The security personnel under my command are vastly different from those you encountered during your regional selections. Every single one of them has seen active battlefield service.

"If you wish to cheat, I allow it, provided you are not detected by my inspectors.

"Once you pass the security screening, you will receive your number plates.

"Second, the risk factor of this final selection is exceedingly high. I cannot guarantee that I can rescue you in time should an accident occur midway through. Therefore, I hope you will not choose to stubbornly hold on when you ought to concede, as doing so might truly result in your soul being obliterated or you turning into an utter idiot.

"Once the selection commences, there is very little I can do to intervene. Please gauge your own limits wisely. You must understand that you are all still young and have a brighter future ahead. If something is beyond your reach and your strength is insufficient, do not force it.

"Should the number of casualties turning into idiots become too high, the pressure on me will be immense, and I have no desire to invite the enmity of your parents and mentors. Please, show me some mercy."

As these words fell, quite a few candidates present broke into smiles.

However, the smiles on everyone's faces were largely courteous and formal. To be qualified as a chief examiner and to command an elite fortress belonging to the Church within the void space, Punk's status was beyond question. His choice to deliver these words in such a blunt, unvarnished manner meant that the danger of the final selection was, in truth, genuinely immense.

Karen spoke up, "It appears that during the previous interviews, the boasting was a bit too grand."

Eisley shrugged, while Barth remained noncommittal.

Ventura, however, countered, "I thought what you said was excellent."

"One's own safety remains paramount," Karen said. "Not to dampen your enthusiasm, but it is best for everyone to keep a clear head. Alright, that is all I will say."

The others nodded one after another, signaling their agreement with Karen's perspective.

Punk's gaze swept over the surroundings as he continued, "Third, there are a total of one hundred and twenty participants present for the selection. After passing the security screening, relying on the number plates in your hands, you may freely form teams. The requirement is six members per team. Each team will centrally verify and submit their respective number plates to obtain a team designation. The final selection will be conducted in a squad-based format. The two squads that endure until the very end of the trial will comprise the final twelve-man roster."

This meant that the twelve-man roster was not a collection of individual slots, but rather two entire squads—essentially, just 'two' slots.

Upon hearing Punk's third announcement, expressions of sheer excitement instantly erupted on the faces of Eisley and Barth.

Eisley came close to letting out an ecstatic cry, and Barth clenched both his fists tight. Their parents had guessed the exam topic correctly!

This was precisely why they had waited so early at Karen's funeral parlor to depart together; this was why they were willing to follow Karen's instructions to ride the hearse to the administrative building; and this was why Eisley's parents had gone to the length of personally coming to examine the Karen family pet.

The topic they had wagered on was the format of the final selection, and based on this format, having an entity in the team whose strength towered significantly above everyone else was of the utmost importance!

Furthermore, there was another non-negligible contributing factor: the scene where Karen had carried Richard up the mountain had indirectly proven that Karen was a highly reliable individual, someone willing to shoulder responsibility for his friends.

It could be said that although the young cousin Richard had ultimately failed to pass the regional selection, the role he played had continued to exert an influence up to this very moment.

Indeed, Richard's utility seemed to always manifest itself passively.

Ventura, meanwhile, looked toward Karen with cautious trepidation, his hands nervously pinching the bag which contained the remaining pastries his grandmother had made with her own hands.

He possessed no family status or background to support him, and he worried that Karen might reject him. He was well aware that as the strongest individual, Karen possessed the authority to decide the team members. Under normal circumstances, Karen would undoubtedly prioritize those with the greatest strength or the best family backgrounds.

What he did not know, however, was that in terms of personal connection, he, Ventura, was actually the closest to Karen, and he had long since been factored into the core of Karen's own squad.

Karen did not keep them in suspense. His gaze directly swept over Ventura, Eisley, and Barth as he spoke:

"The four of us will be together."

At this moment, it had to be said that within the hearts of Ventura, Eisley, and Barth, a deep sense of moving gratitude welled up.

With a soft thud, the perennially drowsy girl, Philomena, tilted her body sideways toward the direction where Karen and the others sat, speaking as if in her sleep, "Pull one more person in."

Karen spoke up, "No, it is pulling two more people in."

Hearing this, Philomena opened her eyes, looked at Karen, and asked very calmly, "What did you say?"

Karen looked back at her, answering with equal calm:

"Get lost."