Chapter 483: Don't Lose... His Face!

Chapter 483: Do Not Disgrace... His Name!

Although Blazet's influence over Jiragon had been broken, the conflagration had long since been ignited, and unless everything burned to ash, there was no stopping it now; thus, whether the original spark still existed had become utterly meaningless.

Furthermore, the Delan family upon the hillside and Laura's contingent from the Abyssal Cult had by no means chosen to relent, continuing to ensnare and entice Jiragon.

Especially when they sensed that the other dominant, competing force vying for control over Jiragon had vanished, they instantly grew far more exhilarated and aggressive.

The massive, illusory phantom of Tycheson materialized, and that echoing interrogation radiated outward, received by both sides.

...

"Laura, the people of Order have arrived."

"Laura, I feel that if we stay our hands now, there is still time."

Laura fixed her gaze upon the colossal phantom looming in the distance, the angel behind her mirroring her exact movements.

"I feel that success is within my grasp. Once we completely reclaim control over Jiragon, we will depart with it immediately. As for Order, we can offer them an explanation."

"I believe that if we cease our actions now, we could spare the Cult an immense amount of diplomatic trouble."

"Yes, Laura, stay your hand now. This matter has grown somewhat too grand this time."

The angel let out a low growl: "We are subjugating this fierce beast to protect the islanders here. Whatever transpired before has nothing to do with us!"

...

"The people of Order have appeared; they have arrived so quickly."

Anxiety rippled across Miris's face, the hand gripping his cane beginning to tremble.

Celine spoke up: "And then? Are we to just stop now? Our three families have paid such a staggering price for this fierce beast, and Fire Island is now nearly half-destroyed. We must lay claim to this beast!"

Miris glanced at the woman, giving a nod.

Yet in his heart, he thought: Fool, did you truly believe that just because we could clash with the Dark Moon Fleet, backed by the God of Order, we could openly confront the Church of Order itself?

Miris turned around, saying, "I shall take my leave first."

"Are you afraid?" Celine asked.

"Yes, I am afraid. I wish to find a quiet place, if I may?"

"Heh, go then."

Miris stepped into the carriage, and the moment the guards closed the door, he immediately unbuttoned his collar and began to gasp for breath in great, desperate gulps.

"Patriarch, are we heading to the sea now to reunite with the clansmen who were evacuated?" the old butler inquired.

"Find a place. I wish to bathe and change into fresh clothes," Miris added. "Cold water will suffice."

"Uh... as you wish, Patriarch."

...

Tycheson extended his open palms and spoke, "Mavalio, lend me the power of that scythe for a moment."

Mavalio responded, "Forcing yourself into action is dangerous enough as it is. If you borrow the power of the Scythe of War, your body and soul will surely find it impossible to endure."

"Lend it to me."

"I cannot."

"Lend it to me, My Lord."

Mavalio's gaze turned exceedingly complex as he looked at Tycheson, asking, "Why do I feel as though your intentions have shifted once more?"

"My intentions have never shifted, My Lord."

"You need not call me My Lord, I cannot bear it." Mavalio closed his eyes, and within the Black Dungeon Citadel before him, a palpitation-inducing, dark-black radiance began to flicker. "Tycheson, have you truly made up your mind?"

"Initially I had merely made up my mind. Now, I have completely cast away all restraint."

"What do you mean?"

"You have no need to know."

Tycheson let out a burst of laughter: "You know, in my youth, I used to enjoy a good fight. It wasn't until I met him later on that I suddenly lost much of my interest in brawling.

So, you see, now I can only rely on my realm and past accumulations to try and make a few clumsy swings.

If it looks unseemly,

do not laugh."

Mavalio frowned slightly, instinctively sensing that there was something peculiar about Tycheson's words.

Vic, however, began to curse loudly: "You shameless old codger! My mentor has vanished, which makes me miserable enough as it is;

I spent all this time Currying favor with you, hoping you would reassign me to a new position out of respect for my mentor. Even if you step down, your connections should still remain, but here you are, rushing off to throw your life away!

Crossing paths with you two old geezers, how could I be so cursed!"

Vic cursed even as he wept, and then looked toward Karen, whom he was supporting, asking:

"Friend, do you still have any openings on your payroll? Could you spare a bite to eat?"

"I..."

Karen felt somewhat bewildered by the dynamic between these three individuals.

Vic sniffed back his tears, "Friend, you have no idea how bitter my lot is. Right now, I truly cannot find a suitable position, and yet I was supposed to be someone who could walk tall and unopposed among the younger generation of the Cult."

"Is that so..."

...

Tycheson's titanic silhouette reached out, plunging into the Black Dungeon Citadel before abruptly drawing back, a massive scythe materialized from the very same illusion now grasped in his hand.

Simultaneously, the physical Tycheson below directly spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, his body swaying slightly, though he quickly stood erect once more.

In the next instant,

Tycheson's colossal phantom materialized directly above Jiragon, the scythe in his hands cleaving straight down toward one of Jiragon's canine heads.

"Boom!"

Jiragon reared its canine head, spewing forth torrents of molten lava in an attempt to resist, but the scythe cleaved right through the flames, striking its head squarely.

"Roar!"

A frenzied howl of agony rippled outward.

Tycheson did not halt his movements, raising the scythe once more and striking down again.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

Under the relentless, successive hacking, Jiragon—having only recently awakened without the time to recover its bloodline memories, knowing only how to fight using raw bodily instinct—was driven backward continuously. Crimson gouges materialized upon its canine head, and in several places, white bone had already been laid bare by the strikes.

At this juncture, Jiragon's normal response should have been to completely unleash its ferocious nature and wage a death-match against the foe before it, but the Scythe of War possessed the property of dispelling the "fog of war." The consecutive strikes essentially served to shatter the external constraints and enticements binding Jiragon.

This ensured that the wounded Jiragon, rather than having its ferocity stoked, began to grow progressively calmer.

Within its mind, the image of a cat seemed to resurface, recalling the words it had once spoken to it, telling it not to harm anyone upon emerging, and to find a place to hide away.

Giragon began to actively retreat, its canine eyes scanning the surroundings mid-withdrawal, taking in a scene of absolute purgatory; an expression of sheer astonishment instantly washed over its face, as if it could not believe that all of this had been caused by its own doing.

…

"Huh? What is wrong with Giragon?" Vik noticed the change in the three-headed hound.

Purr opened her mouth and said, "It is quite kind by nature; it was only because it was bewitched just now that it caused such destruction."

Vik looked down at Purr, then asked Cullen, "Your demon beast?"

"Yes."

"It can transform into a human, right? Heh, friend, you play quite wild."

"It cannot transform into a human."

"It cannot transform into a human? Heh, friend, you play even wilder."

Purr grew angry, her face puffing up.

Vik continued to pull the conversation back to the previous topic: "Friend, seriously, is there still a spot left in your squad? I know for sure you will get a promotion once you return this time. You woned a massive gamble this time! How about it, count me in?"

"No more vacancies in the official establishment."

"Really?"

"Fake."

"Then you mean you do not wish for me to enter your squad?"

"Yes."

"No, friend, if you refuse me, at least find a plausible reason."

"Too tired, do not want to find one."

Cullen reached out to let Alfred support him, allowing himself to step out from Vik’s assistance.

Kevin also ran over excitedly at this moment, prostrating himself before Purr; Purr was still angry with Vik and did not sit upon him.

Seeing this, Kevin immediately barked at Alfred's silhouette: "Woof, woof, woof!"

Cullen asked Vik, "Which lord is this?"

"He once sat at the Round Table as well, though he has now stepped down, and, as far as I know, he does not know how to fight."

"I can tell."

"But his realm of cultivation is exceedingly high."

"I can tell that too."

A man who did not know how to fight, holding a scythe, could slash a Sin Three-Headed Hound into repeated retreat; this realm of cultivation must indeed be extraordinarily high.

In Cullen's eyes, this old man's current behavior was equivalent to holding the most exquisite firearm and using it as a club to bludgeon people.

However, those words he spoke while standing at the front before taking action—why did they give him a strange sensation?

Educating him?

Letting him see what a true believer of Order actually looked like?

In truth, when the old man previously called him an opportunist, Cullen had admitted it; his and Neo's actions this time were a thorough political opportunism.

Yet the subsequent words of this old man gave Cullen a sense of "obstruction," like a pea placed beneath a mattress.

Mavaryo shifted his form forward, and the Black Prison Castle began to dissipate.

Before long, Mavaryo arrived in front of Giragon and raised his hand; the foundation of the Black Prison Castle began to appear beneath Giragon’s paws, directly tethering Giragon’s four canine legs during this rapid construction process.

Giragon prostrated its body, choosing not to continue resisting, tears shimmering once more within its canine eyes.

"You cannot lock it down," Tethysson said.

Mavaryo replied, "But it does not seem to intend to break free by force."

"I want to hack it to death."

"I am afraid that before you hack it to death, you will exhaust yourself to death first. Let us leave it here for now; if it goes wild again, you can come back to hack it. Now, you can rest, truly."

"Rest? We have barely even started." Tethysson turned around. "I saw through it long ago; it is merely a tool. Those who truly should be held responsible for this disaster are the ones attempting to manipulate it."

Tethysson's colossal phantom turned and ran toward that angel beneath the night curtain; though the phantom produced no sound of footsteps, his approach still carried a terrifyingly formidable majesty.

…

"You have violated the Regulations of Order."

Blood had already spilled from the corner of Laura's mouth, and bloodstains had appeared on the angel feathers behind her; the Scythe of War had destroyed her tether to Giragon, causing her to suffer a backlash.

As Tethysson approached, the two Eternal Fallen of the Abyss, Bran and Dele, whose forms had grown equally colossal, retreated half a step slightly to show respect.

Laura spoke up: "The Fire Island encountered a crisis; we came to rescue the residents on this island. This is a fierce beast that escaped from the Abyss; we intended to guide it back to the Abyss to prevent it from causing further destruction outside."

Tethysson continued, "My eyes are not blind."

Hearing this, Laura replied, "My Lord, the Abyss respects the qualification and power of the Order Sacred Church to maintain the Regulations of Order; I believe there ought to be some misunderstandings between us that require us to elaborate and explain."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Indeed, My Lord."

Bran and Dele chimed in together.

"You have already violated the Regulations of Order." Tethysson raised the scythe in his hand. "You ought to accept punishment."

"My Lord, we are willing to wait for our Sacred Church to come and negotiate with Order, or we are willing to relinquish resistance and return with you to the Order Sacred Church to accept investigation and interrogation."

"The situation is clear, the evidence is ample, no further investigation and interrogation are needed. Now, according to Chapter One, Article Twelve of the detailed rules of the Regulations of Order, I pass judgment upon you... obliteration!"

"My Lord, you cannot do this. We respect the Order Sacred Church, and we also hope the Order Sacred Church can grant reciprocal respect, otherwise our Abyss Sacred Church will lodge a solemn protest with your honorable Church!"

"The qualification of the Order Sacred Church to maintain the order of the world does not come from the respect and support of other Sacred Churches. You are entirely free not to respect and not to support it. Now, I give the three of you a chance; you may choose suicide, and I shall purify your remains and soul remnants."

"My Lord, you are insane."

The angel behind Laura extended its arms to clasp Laura tightly, and its wings immediately flapped, preparing to fly backward, intending to flee directly.

Tethysson chopped the scythe down straight away, without the slightest hesitation.

"Pfft!"

The halo emanating from the angel's wings was supposed to be an extremely sturdy barrier, yet now it was sliced open directly by the scythe; the wing on one side was instantly hacked off, and blood bearing holy light splattered across the sky.

Seeing this, Bran and Dele immediately stepped forward to obstruct him, but Tethysson sliced the scythe horizontally across.

"Pfft!"

Bran's giantized torso was severed at the waist; he instantly uttered a sound of disbelief, for one must know that the hardness of an Eternal Fallen's body had always been their pride and confidence.

Dele's body collided into Tethysson, causing Tethysson's phantom figure to tilt sideways.

Below, Tethysson’s actual right arm began to twist, and his chest caved in visibly to the naked eye, yet he still stood unyielding right there, his colossal phantom restoring its upright posture once more, swinging the scythe backward again.

"Pfft!"

This strike of the scythe sliced directly down toward Dele's forehead, cleaving his entire person into two halves.

A divine artifact was a divine artifact after all; even if it were truly used as a pure scythe, it still possessed an unmatchable sharpness.

Immediately,

The forms of the two Everfallen giants dissipated, and Deli’s soul was annihilated along with them, leaving the two halves of "him" lying there in silent repose.

Severed at the waist, Blan crawled on his hands across the ground, his lower half long since abandoned in the distance; he could only drag his upper body forward in a futile march, leaving a smeared trail of crimson across the field of rubble.

They were now no different from the residents they had crushed beneath their boots in the buildings and streets during their prior transformation.

Her body descending with a ruined wing missing, Laura stood upon the ground, howling in a near-frenzy:

"You must well know the rarefied status angels and the Everfallen hold within the Cult of the Abyss; does this act of yours mean to deliberately provoke a war between Order and the Abyss?!"

Theisen forced the surging blood back down his throat and replied:

"What you ought to consider is whether the Abyss truly dares to declare war upon my Order for the sake of you three!

My Cult of Order will, at any cost, defend the Laws of Order, defend the Light of Order!"

The angel behind Laura spoke: "For the Cult of Order to be so tyrannical, do you not fear provoking a boycott against Order within the ecclesiastic circles? Has Order already forgotten the lesson of Light?"

Theisen raised his scythe once more,

And said in a low, resonant voice:

"Regrettably, yes. We were wrong. I know not what has come over the Cult of Order, that it could actually allow you to forget its original tyranny!"

"Swish!"

The scythe fell.

Holy light erupted from the angel's form, seeking to ward off the blade, but the sheer might of the sacred artifact utterly suppressed the holy light's resistance, steadily crushing it downward.

A pendant flew from Laura's chest, projecting the figure of an elder clad in abyssal sacred robes—a spiritual imprint sealed within.

Upon his manifestation, the elder instantly assessed the current situation and spoke to Theisen:

"I believe this is a misunderstanding."

"The evidence is conclusive; there is no misunderstanding."

"I believe there is still room for negotiation."

"The Laws of Order are the final result of negotiations between Order and the entire ecclesiastic circle."

"Her identity is of great importance to my Abyss; I hope you can spare her life."

"The Cult of the Abyss has signed the instrument of ratification for the Laws of Order."

"If she dies, my church will issue an official letter of protest to your Grand Priest Norton, and your Grand Priest will deal with you."

"Our newly appointed Grand Priest dislikes me immensely, but regrettably, my status and position are highly exalted, and in all probability, I have but a few days left to live. Once I am dead and your letter of protest arrives, no matter how much Grand Priest Norton dislikes me, he will stand against the Cult of the Abyss for the sake of my death!

If you wish to wage war, I suggest the phrasing in your official letter be even more vehement.

Or, pray disclose your name here and now, and I shall report to the Cult that you are the mastermind behind this. You can gamble on whether the Abyss will surrender you as a sacrifice."

The elder closed his eyes and chose the self-dissolution of his spiritual imprint, ultimately failing to provide his name.

"Elder!!!"

Laura let out a despairing shriek.

At last, the holy light radiating from the angel behind her completely collapsed; the scythe fell, shattering body and soul alike, as pristine white angelic feathers drifted away like swirling snowflakes.

Theisen turned around, his massive figure shouldering the scythe now betraying a deep weariness, yet when he reached the hillside, he still swept the scythe across directly, shattering and collapsing the ancestral figure of the Delan family that stood upon the slope.

With this accomplished, Theisen shouted:

"According to the Laws of Order, the pirate families participating in this foul ritual, their patriarchs and three generations of immediate kin, may choose suicide to atone for their sins within three days, while surrendering their intact corpses as proof.

Should any defy this, the Cult of Order shall erase their entire family and all traces pertaining to them."

Having done all this,

Theisen looked at Giragon, who remained "locked" in place weeping, and then toward the location of the formation hall; in the end, he abandoned the thought of attempting to hack this ferocious beast to death, for he felt the scythe in his hands growing heavier and heavier, nearly beyond his power to wield.

The massive figure returned to its initial position.

Vic spoke up immediately: "Disperse your dharma body quickly and rest, perhaps there is still a chance!"

Theisen spoke: "Have you seen it before?"

Vic replied instantly: "I've seen it, I've seen it. You are magnificent, you are truly magnificent."

Theisen said: "You ought to have seen it."

Vic picked up the thread: "Yes, yes, I've seen it, I've seen it, but even if my master hadn't vanished, he would only amount to half of your majesty.

So can you end the dharma body now, come down to catch your breath, and take a few pills? Perhaps you can last until the directors of the church hospital arrive to treat you and prolong your life; at least you could hold on until you leave your last words to speak your mind, like being unable to rest easy about a child like me, and requesting a rearrangement of my duties?"

Theisen spoke again: "But you have forgotten, otherwise you would not have become what you are now."

Vic scratched his head: "I haven't forgotten my master's earnest teachings; I remember every single word master said, including giving an extra tip when encountering someone with a child at the brothel."

Theisen smiled faintly: "Remember, this is what a true believer of Order should look like!"

Vic was practically on the verge of wailing, crying out: "I beg of you, disperse the dharma body before you speak, will you? Your current consumption is simply too great. I know, I remember, I remember, I will remember it for generations to come."

A touch of reminiscence drifted into Theisen's gaze,

He lowered his head,

Looked at Vic,

And said with utmost earnestness:

"Do not disgrace... his name."