Chapter 347: The Chosen One

Chapter 347 The Chosen One

The banquet was not grand, yet it held an undeniable prestige, with even the waiters clad in the divine robes of Order.

This did not imply that Pacio’s grandfather had conscripted church officials as household servants; rather, the elderly Master Jemal still served as the vice-principal of the Saint Antis Higher Theological Academy.

Whenever his estate required extra hands for a gathering, the student union cadres could instantly mobilize a workforce to assist.

It was not an assignment, but a voluntary act.

Pacio’s parents did not work within the Dingle Region, leaving only his grandparents at home.

According to protocol, Karen and the others were led by Pacio to pay their respects to the elders, a couple who radiated kindness—or at least an impeccable semblance of it—and possessed great erudition, offering tailored words of encouragement and ambition to each young guest.

With the formalities concluded, those inclined to socialize drifted toward company, the epicureans sought out the delicacies, and those who favored tranquility retreated to quiet corners.

Karen selected a seat near a window, diagonally opposite the orchestra, which was currently weaving a tapestry of soothing melodies.

Ventura approached with a heavily laden platter, asking, "Captain, are you hungry?"

Karen shook his head.

"I noticed you barely touched your lunch, Captain."

"Too much coconut milk; I'm not hungry."

The coconut milk from earlier that day had been a blended beverage rather than pure juice; while not overly rich, its high sugar content left Karen still feeling quite sated.

"Are you truly not eating?" Ventura pressed once more.

"Eat a bit more yourself, and eat my share on my behalf."

"Understood, Captain!"

Ventura chose a table near the serving station and sat down to focus entirely on his meal.

Leaning against the wall, Karen idly toyed with the coin Mentor Pilog had gifted him; its cool surface felt remarkably soothing against his skin.

Lying on a beach chair beneath the blue sky and white clouds by day, and reclining here by night with a glass of iced lemonade and music—today had indeed been a flawlessly relaxing interlude.

However, because Karen’s gaze remained fixed absently in one direction, the young woman playing the violin mistakenly assumed he was staring at her, her face flushing crimson.

"I've noticed you are a man who quite enjoys solitude, yet you aren't exactly a recluse."

Muri seated himself opposite Karen, then glanced toward the violin player. "Am I blocking your view?"

"No." Karen shook his head, shifting his posture. "Socializing is a need, and like any need, it has its limits. We've been crowded together almost constantly of late; that particular need is fulfilled, so I wish to cherish the chance for solitude, for solitude is a need as well."

"Ah, then should I leave?"

"If you have nothing better to do, stay."

"Well, I have nothing better to do."

As a waiter chanced to pass by, Muri snapped his fingers and retrieved a glass of red wine from the tray.

"My family owns an estate here too, with a view much like Pacio’s, but the elders at home dislike living here, so it remains empty. You can bring your fiancée here for a holiday in the future; just say the word."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. I like this place, and I am certain my fiancée will too."

"It shows. I have been to Wien, and only after visiting did I understand why the Wienese of centuries past were so keen on piracy. In a place so bleak and cold, if one doesn't engage in something fierce and hot-blooded, the soul itself freezes over."

"True, the climate of Wien is indeed a torment."

"Hey, Karen!"

"Karen, you're here!"

Leon and Laure appeared a short distance away; evidently, they too had been invited to the evening banquet. Spotting Karen, they walked over together.

Yet, upon recognizing the man sitting across from Karen, the expressions of both men instantly grew constrained.

Muri turned to look at them, then questioned Karen: "Friends of yours?"

"Yes, indeed." Karen stood up to introduce them. "Leon, Laure, my friends from York City."

Muri glanced at them without rising from his seat:

"Hello, I am Muri."

"Hello."

"Hello."

In truth, Karen knew that Leon and Laure likely recognized Muri, but it was equally clear that Muri had no idea who they were.

Though all were scions of privilege, the gulf between them remained vast—the difference between the capital elite and the provincial circle.

"Karen, we are going over there to greet our elders, so we'll take our leave for now. Let's talk later," Laure said.

"Alright, let's talk later."

Laure and Leon departed.

Muri took a sip of his wine, paying them no further mind.

As Karen resumed his seat, Muri smiled. "I originally thought an exceptional person like you would be too lazy to entertain them."

"They are good people."

Karen remembered how, midway through that conference, they had provided him with extra rations, and how the three of them had subsequently slipped away into small rooms to sneak food during the meetings. Even after Leon learned of his identity, he had not harbored resentment over the external rumors.

Such matters, however, lay beyond the scope of Muri’s considerations.

In Muri's view, one required either equivalent status or talent to earn his respect.

"It seems I must retract my previous statement."

"Which one?"

"Regarding solitude and reclusiveness."

"In truth, this is survival," Karen said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "You have simply always skipped that stage."

"Yes, I admit that due to my family background, I may lack a certain empathy for your circumstances." Muri swirled his wine glass. "Sitting here is rather tedious. Why don't we find a secluded grove of coconut palms and have a fight?"

"A fight?"

"Yes."

"I prefer to sit here and listen to the music," Karen replied with a smile. "You didn't come over here just to pick a fight with me, did you?"

"No, I was merely a bit bored. If you're unwilling, then forget it."

"Let us just listen to the music. Once we enter the Valley of Samsara, our nerves will be taut again."

"True enough." Muri felt his pockets and asked, "Do you have any cigarettes on you?"

"I do."

Karen handed his cigarette case and lighter to Muri.

Muri opened it, drew one out, bit down on it, and struck a flame. "These past few days have nearly stifled me; that wretched hotel at the training base doesn't even provide cigarettes."

"Ha." Karen smiled. "Let us go for a stroll outside."

"Alright." Muri smiled as well.

The two captains stood up and departed without disturbing the others, walking toward the rear of the estate until they found a quiet, secluded grove of coconut trees.

"What a pity, I brought no weapons. Does it matter to you?" Muri inquired.

"It is fine. Merely a way to pass the time, not a true engagement."

"An engagement is only worthwhile when one brings a measure of earnestness, is it not?"

Muri cast aside his cleric robes, revealing the musculature of his upper torso, upon which scars were clearly etched beneath the moonlight.

Bhutto was equally muscular, yet his skin bore no such marks.

"Since my youth, my grandfather tasked my uncles with training me in isolation. I was raised on blows."

"That, too, is a manifestation of love."

"Ha," Muri laughed. "How do you manage to talk such nonsense with a straight face?"

Karen shook his head.

Muri cautioned, "Will you not remove your clothes? Returning to the banquet soiled later would be unseemly."

"It matters not, so long as they do not get soiled."

"Very well, very well. I quite admire your dry manner of speech. If a man like you could be beaten to the ground, it would surely afford me far greater pleasure."

"Come."

"Then here I come."

Muri bent his knees and crouched, his muscles tightening in an instant. A radiant buckler materialized upon his left arm, while a menacing short sword appeared upon his right.

Behind him, a tattered phantom manifested.

"You possess a family faith system?" Karen asked, perplexed.

"Long ago, yes, but no longer. My family surrendered everything to the Church of Order ages ago. The shadow behind me—he is my ancestor, but also a devout believer in Order.

What I use is not a family faith system, but a technique. However, it requires my lineage to awaken it."

Karen nodded, understanding.

The ancestors of the Benda family had done the exact opposite of his grandfather, Diss. The former had brought their family faith system into the Church of Order, whereas his grandfather had severed his family faith system from within the Church.

Puer had once remarked that if the Allen family continued to decline, what awaited them was a fate no better than that of breeding stock.

In truth, the ecclesiastical circles were no different.

So many systems, so many traditions, so many departments—whence did they come?

Had they all devised them on their own?

Ha, how could that be.

"Buzz!"

Muri charged forward.

Karen spread his hands, and four chains of Order materialized on his left and right, hoisting his body entirely. As Muri lunged, Karen retreated swiftly.

When Muri drew near once more, Karen swept his left hand, and a wall of fire forged from the flames of Order pressed directly toward Muri.

Muri rammed it forcefully with his shield, his body cloaked in a dull yellow luster as he broke straight through the flames of Order. Yet immediately following, he beheld three cages of Order arising beneath his feet, before his front, and above his head.

"Roar!"

With a low growl, Muri slashed the cage of Order before him with his short sword. However, as his figure leaped out, a thicket of spears of judgment suddenly materialized all around his body.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A succession of explosions echoed, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Karen cast his gaze downward, bringing his hands together as a prism-like barrier materialized beneath him.

"Bang!"

The ground collapsed beneath Karen's feet, and Muri erupted from below, slashing furiously. He shattered the prism, yet as Karen's figure retreated, more and more prisms appeared before Muri.

If he could break through seven in a single breath, Karen would thoughtfully provide ten more immediately.

For a long time thereafter, Muri resembled a wild bull, ceaselessly shattering Karen's various techniques one after another, while Karen, maintaining proper distance, hurled down spells he previously had little opportunity to employ.

Muri intended to rely on this method of consumption to deplete Karen's reserves of spiritual power.

Karen discerned Muri's intent, but he paid it no mind; after all,

"The curl of that lip means you are definitely thinking of a girl, and certainly not your fiancée."

"Why must a martial artist like you possess such delicate thoughts?"

"Must a martial artist always be boorish?" Muri shook his head. "Our family has held the hereditary title of Captain of the High Priest's Guard for generations. That position truly isn't won by mere muscle. There are too many people to observe from that seat—not just the High Priest, but everyone else as well.

Besides, the Department of Psychology at Dingle University was actually co-founded by one of my ancestors."

"Is that so?" Karen said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I happen to be interested in psychology as well. We can exchange thoughts more when the opportunity arises."

"Alright, no problem... Hey, you changed the subject. It seems to be a girl you fancy but cannot be with. Do you know what pure beauty is? It is only that which cannot be obtained."

Karen picked up his ice water, took a sip, and said slowly, "Does your grandfather dislike you?"

Muri froze.

"Your family is highly prominent, but growing up within it, your life has actually been very oppressive. You weren't happy at all."

"I am quite optimistic and cheerful."

"Which means you are resilient. If I haven't guessed wrong, your unhappiness might be related to your mother. You must have grown up in an environment lacking maternal love. I suspect that due to your mother, your grandfather isn't particularly satisfied with either you or your father?"

"Who told you that?"

"Coincidentally, I also enjoy reading psychology books in my spare time."

"Ha, hahaha." Muri burst into laughter. "Damn it, I have nothing to say to a man like you. You're right. My grandfather is a very strict man. I must excel far beyond my peers just for him to truly see me as a grandson."

"The grandfather in my memory is the exact opposite of yours. No matter what I wished to do, he was always willing to help me achieve it."

"You did that on purpose."

"I did."

"Tell me, do you envy my family background? For instance, my grandfather's status? I want to hear the honest truth."

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"There is no need to lie to me."

"I am not lying, truly."

"Heh, fair enough. I accept you as a friend."

You misunderstand.

As the banquet neared its end, Pasio stepped forward to offer his final words of gratitude, thanking everyone for attending his birthday celebration and such, which finally reminded quite a few people:

Oh, so today was his birthday after all.

...

"My Lord, the candidates have been chosen."

The elder seated in the chair slowly opened his eyes. Kneeling before him was the photographer from that afternoon, who also held another identity as a Class-B department director within the Order of Order's divination system.

"Who are they?"

"One is a youth from the York City Region named Ventura. His parents are deceased, and his grandparents are low-level clerks in the York City Region's administrative building.

The other..."

"Why have you stopped speaking?"

"The other is..."

"Is it my grandson? Seeing how you hesitate so."

"Yes, My Lord. The other is your grandson, Master Muri."

"Mm."

"My Lord, based on the known conditions, the two of them were calculated and tested to be the most suitable candidates to replace those two as vessels. However, your subordinate could attempt to alter..."

"You said they were the most suitable, did you not?"

"Yes, but..."

"It is all for the Order of Order. This is Muri's honor, and the honor of my Benda family. It shall not be changed."

...

Returning to the hotel and taking a shower, Karen had just lain down on his bed when Ventura once again cradled his bedding and set up his makeshift mattress by the bedroom door.

"Ventura, do you intend to follow me back home in the future as well?"

"No, Captain. You have people at home, so I do not worry. But out here, with only you and me in the suite, I cannot put my mind at ease."

Karen could only let him have his way.

Before extinguishing the lights, Karen drew the photograph from his divine robe's pocket, his fingertips brushing gently over Ventura's blurred silhouette.

"Ventura, do you think your luck is good?"

"I have always felt that I am very fortunate."

"Oh?"

"Before I was even born, I met that grandfather of mine, and now, I have met you, Captain."