Chapter 456: Fishing?

Chapter 456: Fishing?

"Make the fire a bit bigger... okay, turn it down just a bit more. Yes, right there, keep it like that. These two are for you, so pay more attention to the heat."

"Alright, meow."

Karen sat roasting fish with Purr nestled in his arms. Her two cat paws stretched forward, condensing a ball of flame, modulating the heat under Karen's guidance.

Ventura had prepared plenty of food when they fled, so for now, no one worried about provisions. Given the strength of the people living inside the "house" atop the sea beast, there was no fear of starving on this vibrant ocean.

After all, even if a shark showed up, anyone could just jump down, easily kill it, pull it up, skin it, and eat its meat.

Roasting fish was merely a relaxing pastime Karen turned to when he felt bored. The meticulous Ventura had even brought along seasonings, allowing for far more choices when cooking.

Once the fish was done, he handed it to Purr. Karen then scooped up some water to wash his hands.

"Miss Purr, are you playing?" Icely called out to her.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Purr shouted happily while eating her fish. "I'm going to catch the wolves with my bare paws, meow!"

Fearing everyone would grow bored sailing at sea, Karen had taught them how to play Werewolf.

The results were excellent; everyone took a liking to the game very quickly. Of course, this was also because there were almost no other activities available to pass the tedious time.

Aboard the sea beast, there were Icely, Blanche, Mars, Bart, Muri, Ventura, Memphis, Alfred, and Filomena. Counting Karen, that made ten people.

There were two more: Mota and Ansi.

With twelve players, they were using a setup of four villagers, four wolves, a Seer, a Witch, a Hunter, and a Fool.

Everyone caught on fast, but after just two days of playing, they realized something was wrong. One person's presence severely ruined the gaming experience for everyone else, and that was Karen.

Whether Karen drew a good card or a werewolf card, the opposing side would almost certainly lose completely.

The most classic round involved Karen holding the Witch card. On the first night, when asked whether to save someone, he chose not to save Bart, who had committed suicide as a wolf to frame others, and blindly poisoned Blanche, who held a werewolf card. During the election phase, when two players claimed to be the Seer, Karen revealed his Witch identity, stood directly with the real Seer, voted out the aggressive fake Seer Icely, and before nightfall, instructed the real Seer on which player to check for the final wolf.

It wasn't because Karen's logic was superior; everyone present was quite intelligent, and none of them were fools. The reason lay in playing face-to-face, where everything could be observed. Karen could determine a person's identity simply by glancing at their micro-expressions, tone of voice, and subtle body movements.

Mainly, they were all quite familiar with each other. Even the recently joined Mota and Ansi provided enough observation samples after playing for a while.

Though it wasn't cheating, Karen's "observation" technique left everyone with a terrible gaming experience. Karen couldn't help it either; he couldn't act dumb on purpose after seeing the clues to their identities.

Furthermore, it gave him a headache. He clearly noticed someone clearing their throat and pausing while speaking, but since he couldn't use that to attack them, he had to concoct plausible but fabricated logic to vote them out, which made playing very exhausting.

Subsequently, both sides happily reached a consensus: Karen withdrew from the game, and Purr smoothly took his spot.

Karen also found a way to slack off; he didn't even have to act as the Moderator, delegating the duty directly to Kevin instead.

The Moderator didn't have many lines anyway. Kevin substituted everything with various barks of differing lengths, and flipping his paws up and down could represent affirmative or negative meanings.

Originally, Alfred really wanted to be the Moderator. He felt this "role" suited him perfectly. Announcing life-or-death situations and explaining the rules without any emotion in his magnetic voice would have a beautiful ritualistic aesthetic.

However, he felt too embarrassed to tell his young master not to slack off, so he could only continue to fill a slot in the game. Otherwise, they couldn't exactly let Kevin join the match, could they?

While they started another round, Karen silently pulled out a book. It was *The Moon's Guardian*, which shared its name with a defensive spell from the Lunar Deity Cult, but it was actually a travelogue novel recounting the male protagonist's arduous journey to find the Moon Goddess Artemis.

The story ended with the protagonist looking down at the reflection of the moon in a pool, realizing that the Moon Goddess had been by his side all along—a very cliché ending.

But Karen could understand it. The purpose of handling it this way was likely to pass censorship.

Otherwise, if the protagonist truly found the Moon Goddess Artemis, describing a deity and interacting with one would be troublesome. The cults frequently fought wars over their own mythological narrative systems, so how could they allow anyone to write about them willfully?

This book no longer belonged to ordinary public publications; it was considered a semi-official publication certified within the Lunar Deity Cult. The reflected theme was very correct—the protagonist was a devout believer of the Moon Goddess, and all his actions were to seek an audience with his faith.

However, the ending could be entirely ignored. The main appeal of this book lay in its travelogue content, which offered a glimpse into the customs and people of that era, and also involved circles within the churches.

The author was a figure from two thousand years ago. In this book, there were still descriptions of traces of the Light Cult. After all, the Light Cult had not yet perished back then, though it was evident that deletions had been made.

Two thousand years ago, the Light Cult held the position that the Order Cult held now, so it would certainly be portrayed positively. But now that Light had perished and the remaining believers were defined as remnants, it wasn't suitable for them to appear too often or too positively.

Karen read with keen interest, losing track of time until he was disturbed by the arguments over there.

Sighing, Karen shook his head. After finishing a game of Werewolf, blaming each other and passing the buck was completely normal.

Purr ran over huffily, took a sip of coffee from the cup in front of Karen, and complained:

"How detestable, meow! Filomena was actually a wolf pretending to be the Seer, can you believe it?"

"What's hard to believe about that?"

"She deceived my feelings," Purr said, deeply vexed. "I was the Witch, and I even stood by her side and voted off Alfred."

Alfred walked over at this moment and spread his hands. "I laid out the logic for you. It was impossible for me to be a werewolf card, but you just wouldn't believe it."

"But she's Filomena! She barely speaks during regular games, and when she gets a villager card, she usually gets voted out as a lurker, yet she actually dared to pretend to be the Seer!

Also, Radio Elf, your speech was very poor, and your last words were also very brief."

Alfred said helplessly, "I tried to speak as little as possible because what you good players want isn't the truth, but emotion."

Karen closed his book and asked, "How much longer until we hit land?"

Purr replied, "It's still early, but tomorrow we should be able to find a slightly larger second island to rest and regroup. We just don't know if it's inhabited or deserted."

Alfred asked, "I'm quite curious, by what means do you determine the locations of islands?"

"Just like how you can understand Karen's other language while I can't. Can you explain that to me?"

"It is a feeling that is hard to describe."

"Well, my answer is the same."

"I want to go ashore and take a bath," Karen said.

Purr pointed at the "house" and said, "You can take a bath here too."

"After bathing here and coming out, it still feels like my body is coated in salt grains. It's uncomfortable."

"Young master, the wounds on your body?"

"They're mostly healed, thanks to Blanche." Karen stretched, picked up his fishing rod, and prepared to fish.

"Next round is starting, hey!" Icely called out.

"Coming, meow!" Purr immediately ran over, turning her head as she ran to shout, "Radio Elf, hurry up!"

Alfred sighed. He didn't really want to play games. If he could choose, he would rather sit with his young master and read books, where he could also pull out his notebook to ask the young master for guidance on some matters.

"If only Kevin could speak."

Hearing this, Karen continued to untangle the fishing line in his hands, unconcerned.

"Perhaps."

...

"If only this child could speak."

Richard extended his finger, teasing little Elisa in front of him.

The woman smiled and said, "When children learn to speak, they aren't as cute anymore."

"My mom said the same thing about me. She said I was very cute when I was little, but not so cute after growing up."

"What mother doesn't love her own child?"

"She's different. She lives a rather confident and self-centered life. Well, I understand her." Richard skipped over this topic. During his teenage years, his mother was mostly in Sumpo City.

In other families, perhaps the parents had a poor relationship, or the parents divorced and the child went with one of them. For him back then, his mother left and rarely returned, while his father was so taciturn that he had absolutely no presence in the house. The atmosphere Richard experienced was entirely that of being orphaned.

"Commander, won't you come and look at this child?" Richard said, cradling little Eliza in his arms as he stepped before his superior.

Neo held a burning cigar between his fingers. As Richard brought the infant closer, he muttered a thoroughly annoyed "get that away from me," even as his fingertips nipped out the ember.

"Isn't she lovely, Commander? I've never seen Miss Eliza's photograph, but I imagine Miss Eliza must have been just as beautiful when she was small."

"If your father ever beats you to death, I shall happily testify on his behalf in an ecclesiastical court that you thoroughly deserved it."

"Oh, come now, Commander, you wouldn't truly mind. Besides, Karen isn't even around, so what use have we for such decorum?"

"You and Karen are absolute opposites."

"Sigh. I have always felt Karen lacks the verve of youth. He is about my age, yet he gives off the distinct aura of a patriarch. I don't think it's healthy, and I worry his body might fail him—though, to be fair, his constitution is indeed rather frail."

Neo looked down at little Eliza, his expression entirely devoid of emotion.

Toward this baby girl, he truly felt nothing; this was no feigned cruelty, but a genuine dislike for children, nor would he ever anchor his grief for his late wife onto an external vessel.

"Commander, won't you tell me the story of you and Miss Eliza? I've heard bits and pieces from the others, but I want the details. When I retire, I'll write a book and live off the royalties."

"Perhaps we needn't wait for your father to act. I am currently considering reporting you as a battlefield casualty myself."

"Don't be like that, Commander. How many points is a pension even worth? Besides, it would go to Karen anyway, so you wouldn't gain a single thing."

Suddenly, Neo raised his hand.

Richard fell silent instantly, gesturing at the same time for the woman sitting in the distance to keep quiet.

Neo tilted his head back, his gaze piercing upward.

He detected a powerful ripple of energy, akin to a guiding beacon and a summons.

After a brief silence, Neo spoke: "The beasts are being driven back into their cages. I am going up to take a look; you two remain here."

"Understood, Captain. I shall ensure their protection, without fail!"

Neo instructed coldly, "If danger arises, save your own skin and run. There is no need to die for them. Harboring them is already mercy enough."

Richard blinked, offering no reply.

Neo then stepped beyond the barrier of the isolation array, unlatched the cellar door, and emerged onto the roof.

By nature, the Mipos Archipelago belonged to a warm, pleasant region of hospitable climes; yet now, it imparted a stark, dismal chill. Raising his eyes to the sky, he saw that although it was daytime, the expanse above was completely choked by a dense shroud of dark clouds.

Taking a deep breath, Neo, as a blood-addicted aberrant demon, caught the heavy, iron tang of slaughter in the air—he could scarce imagine how many souls had to perish to forge such a thick concentration.

Furthermore, the grievances drifting across this island would, if left unchecked to fester, easily become a breeding ground for aberrant demons and corruption.

"Dong... Dong... Dong..."

From the distance came the tolling of a bell.

Neo leapt from the roof, slipping stealthily toward the sound.

Upon reaching the next high vantage point, Neo discovered a horde of entities radiating a ferocious, violent aura, marching in neat columns behind the great bell.

Flanking the path, God-officials and martial warriors of Samsara—looking perfectly respectable in their human guises—stood guard, maintaining the grim order.

After days of relentless slaughter, Neo was certain that survivors still hid upon this island, but the vast majority of people... including the greater part of the livestock, were already dead.

The energy ripples undulating from these lost ones were astonishing; each resembled a ravenous beast newly gorged, their eyes glinting with an ominous crimson luster.

Such an ecclesiastical ritual, conducted at the expense of so many living souls—including countless innocents—was strictly forbidden by the "Regulations of Order."

For the past year, the Church of Order had served as the punitive blade constraining other faiths from overt, large-scale interference in human society.

Yet all of that had shifted the moment the Church of Order itself initiated the Holy War.

Neo suspected that even if he gathered all the evidence and presented it to the high authorities, the upper echelons would never call the Church of Samsara to account for the atrocities in the Mipos Archipelago.

How else could the Church of Samsara, previously at an absolute disadvantage, launch a counter-offensive to this very place?

As a loyal God-official of Order, Neo would sooner die than believe this was achieved without the clandestine backing of his own Church.

Suddenly, Neo sensed a gentle aura emanating from a certain direction; it was the site of the palace where he had once resided, the highest peak of the main island.

The phantom image of a Gate of Samsara had manifested above the palace, actively purifying the malevolence of the area.

"The slaughter is done, and now you help clean up the blood. Should I praise you for being so exceptionally tidy?"

Neo hesitated. He had originally intended to return to the cellar for another two or three days, waiting until the Samsara faction had corralled all the lost ones and normal folk arrived to establish a new rule before showing his face to initiate contact. But when he sensed a white flower blooming above the palace, dispelling the grievances at an accelerated pace, he was forced to halt his steps.

For this was the aura of Light, and a remarkably rich, seductive aura of Light at that.

Neo took a deep breath, a trace of rapture stealing over his features as he murmured in spite of himself:

"How exquisite..."

...

"Lord Lango, I believe what you are doing is entirely futile," Pede said, standing behind Lango.

"It is not my wish to do so, but rather the desire of the other entity within me; he is a devotee of the Light." As he spoke, Lango's eyes shifted, and a disdainful smirk touched his lips. "Lango, there is no need to explain anything to a fool like this."

Pede countered, "I must remind you that while some heritages of the Church of Light are preserved within the Gate, the Church of Light has already perished in the world outside. Employing Light arts here is a taboo."

"I merely signed a soul covenant with Lango; I am nothing more than a tool. Furthermore, I suggest you respect my bond with Lango, for I chose to follow him out of my own free will. If you dare address me without proper titles again, beware lest Lango severs your life with a single stroke."

"You..."

"Do not think so highly of your position. Consider this: aside from bearing the surname Simosen, what else do you possess to be proud of?"

Pede chose not to argue further, stating instead, "I shall go check on the containment of the lost ones over yonder."

With that, he made his way down the mountain.

"Why trouble yourself by venting anger on a child?" Lango remarked.

"Lango, my anger is directed at the entirety of the Church of Samsara. The world outside the Gate, with its flesh-and-blood bodies and genuine creations, is so utterly magnificent, yet your Church of Samsara knows not how to cherish it, trampling it so callously instead."

"It is for survival. No matter how elegant a man may be, he will turn coarse when driven by the need to survive."

"Lango... do you think he has arrived yet?"

"I cannot say. He might still be hiding somewhere. As you know, though this is an island, its expanse is vast; we cannot turn over every stone. If he remains concealed within a place shielded by an isolation array, it would be even more impossible for him to perceive the aura of Light you are currently radiating."

"I believe he lives. Judging by the lingering aura of Light left in the ashes of those two corpses, the caster's proficiency is exceptionally high. This is an attribute that transcends mere strength; it is akin to a lineage within the power of Light. Hehe, his vessel is perfectly suited to bear my own essence."

"He is a life of flesh and blood as well; how can you find the heart to covet his body?"

"Just as you said, Lango; for the sake of survival, I do not mind turning coarse."

"Will he take the bait?"

"He will. I crave his body, and he likewise will desire my pure Spirit of Light."

"But this is already the nth attempt, and still there is no bite."

"Time remains. We can try a few more times."

"Then let us call it a day," Lango said.

"Very well."

Lango folded his arms, drawing the power of Light entirely back into his form. Yet just as he prepared to turn around, a faceless, blood-red countenance materialized directly behind him:

"My, my, doing a spot of fishing, are we?"