Chapter 579: The Young Man Rasma Thinks Highly Of!

Chapter 579: The Young Man Lasma Thinks Highly Of!

Hearing this reply, Karen smiled, finding this Temple Elder rather interesting.

"By the way, there is no need to use your sword; you can write directly with your finger."

"Alright, thank you."

Karen sheathed the Sword of Diamance, extended a finger, and pressed it against the squirming stone tablet in front of him.

The tablet was writhing; logically, it should have been soft, but to the touch, it felt exceptionally hard. As Karen began to "write," a mental ripple emanated from the undulating stone, as if it were actively calling out to him.

Those "young role models" who were escorted here for execution were, after all, a tiny minority among minorities. Facing the call of this stone tablet before the Gate of Order, the vast majority of the young members of the Church of Order would never harbor any thoughts of resistance.

Karen released his defenses and willingly welcomed this mental ripple.

Then, at the moment of connection, Karen felt a majestic will sweeping downward.

By all accounts, one should feel a sense of intimacy toward this consciousness, because it contained an extremely pure aura of Order—the very existence that all believers of Order truly yearned for.

However, when this consciousness swept over Karen, an incredibly intense wave of discomfort suddenly surged within his heart.

This discomfort was countless times stronger than walking into one's own room only to find the bed piled high with foul-smelling garbage and swarming with flies and wriggling maggots.

Vaguely, he also perceived a sense of familiarity.

Behind him, the little boy floating in the air saw Karen freeze with his finger pressed against the stone tablet. He did not seem surprised, murmuring to himself:

"What a pure will of Order. Almost all young people feel lightheaded and freeze in place for a long time when they first sense it, even wishing that this moment would never end."

Blegh...

Karen forcefully suppressed the wave of nausea rising within his body.

He finally realized where this familiarity came from. This consciousness indeed harbored an extremely pure aura of Order, but when it swept over you, it felt just like the master of a house stepping into the kitchen before lunch, checking to see what dishes would be served on the dining table today.

When Karen's own hunger addiction flared up, this was exactly how he viewed the souls delivered to the edge of his "mouth"!

It was just that the consciousness within the tablet had been "packaged" so that it would not seem so obvious, but in essence, it was the exact same thing.

We... are all dishes prepared to be served on the table.

Carving one's name upon this stone tablet was equivalent to leaving oneself on the kitchen registry as an ingredient.

Of course, this tablet did not possess any special power; even if you left your name, you would not suffer any additional effects. Yet, its symbolic function was still a function, expressing a high-and-mighty... contempt.

Looking at it this way, that "young man" who had once split the stone tablet in half with a single sword strike might have also felt an insult of being disrespected.

Therefore,

Could that young man have been Grandfather himself?

Karen began to take deep breaths to calm his emotions. Then, opening his eyes, he used his finger to write the name "Karen Silva" upon the stone tablet.

"Alright, we can go in. Oh, right, I must trouble you to carry the bone and this Frost Giant Dragon on your back. According to the rules, I cannot make direct contact with you right now, so I cannot assist you."

"Very well."

Karen picked up the bone and hoisted Lord Ogy up once more.

The little boy sighed with emotion: "Thank God she is still in human form. I can hardly imagine what a massive chore it would be to haul her if she changed back into a dragon.

Please follow me. What is about to be unveiled before you is the true appearance of the Temple. It is solemn, it is stately, it is great, it is holy. It is the crystallization forged by the Church of Order over countless ages, the place closest to the Great God of Order, a true miracle of the world..."

Karen walked inside carrying his "baggage." Before this Gate of Order, he truly resembled a tiny ant in stature. The moment he stepped through, the scene instantly transformed.

The sky here was a deep expanse of stars, beautiful and vast.

Yet on the ground ahead of him, sections of stone inscriptions had collapsed, and there were even several massive meteorite craters occupying half the width of the main path.

This segment near the entrance should have been a forest of steles. Just as many schools set up a wall of honor showcasing their glorious history and prominent alumni at the entrance, the original design of the Temple must have been the same, but all of this had collapsed.

As for those massive meteorites, if nothing unexpected had happened, they should have originally been hanging in the sky above.

At this moment, a construction crew consisting of hundreds of giants and a host of Order Clerics was carrying out repairs. This construction crew would be fully capable of easily erecting wonders in the real world;

yet here, it looked as though it would take them a vast amount of time just to fix this place up, because as far as the eye could see, there were simply too many collapsed areas.

The little boy let out a sigh: "Are you disappointed?"

Karen shook his head and said, "It is still incomparably shocking."

"I remember you have entered the Gate of Samsara?"

"Yes."

"Then you should have some level of resistance."

"It's different, very different."

"Oh?"

"Because this is the Temple of Order, while the Gate of Samsara is still currently deposited in the Valley of Samsara."

A smile appeared on the little boy's face as he said, "My duty is to guide the youth of our Church in and out of the Temple. Truly, I can always see vitality in young people like you."

"Thank you."

"In fact, this world has never been peaceful. Even though we clerics can see the truth that ordinary people cannot, because of our echelon, the truth we see is not entirely comprehensive.

For instance, right here, seven months ago, an outer god attempted to descend. The Temple sensed it and intercepted him, ultimately slaying that evil god. However, the explosion before the evil god's death caused some damage to the Temple.

My duties are temporarily concluded; when you are ready to emerge, I shall return to escort you out.

Thank you.

You are welcome.

The young boy took his leave.

Karen hoisted Auggie onto his shoulder and strode inside, only to find an azure liquid seeping up from the floorboards beneath his feet as he entered the lobby and descended further.

Do not be anxious; consider it naught but a bath—it serves to cleanse any impurities clinging to your person.

A voice drifted down from above, belonging to a woman clad not in the sacred robes of Order, but in a long scarlet gown.

The azure fluid rapidly rose to Karen's neck, yet he remained motionless, permitting it to submerge him entirely; beneath this liquid, his breath flowed unimpeded.

Truth be told, it evoked the distinct sensation of being sterilized prior to a surgical operation.

After roughly three minutes, the liquid began to recede.

The woman floated down gracefully, a book cradled in her hand, as she spoke to Karen: Follow me.

Understood.

Guided by her, Karen arrived at the fifth floor, a cavernous and desolate space devoid of the many clerks that typically populated other administrative quarters.

The ceiling of the fifth floor was fractured, exposing nearly half to the elements; beneath the solitary sheltered section stood a long desk where three elderly men sat cradling teacups, while beside them a youth stood waiting, a faint glimmer of anticipation upon his face.

As Karen entered, the youth offered him a smile—it was Mavallo, the successor to the Lord.

Go on in.

The woman shut the door behind them, her eyes never leaving her book.

Come, step forward.

One of the elders seated in the middle beckoned to Karen, and Karen complied.

With his first stride, Karen realized that Lord Auggie in his arms had vanished;

With his second, Pu'er upon his shoulder was gone;

By his third step, his surroundings dissolved into a stark, blinding white, and Karen found his garments, his greatsword, and everything else entirely gone, leaving him completely naked.

Do not be alarmed, you are currently within the mirror, Mavallo’s voice echoed. We must subject you to a basic examination. It will neither be long nor troublesome; please cooperate.

Very well.

In a moment, we will need you to release your mental defenses, as we must probe your consciousness space.

Alright.

Standing there entirely unclothed, a wave of discomfort naturally washed over him; without the sanctuary of garments, any posture felt utterly awkward, to the point where one might even forget how they usually stood.

Karen sat down, lowering his gaze as his fingers nervously picked at each other's nails.

...

Come now, how shall we choose?

Rock-paper-scissors?

Very well, let us decide by a match.

Watching this play out, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Mavallo’s mouth.

These three elders were veteran archivists of the Temple; though they possessed no martial prowess, they shared a singular trait—an exceptionally formidable spiritual power, without which they could never withstand the dizzying torrents of vast archives.

Lord Mavallo, will you be joining us? one of the elders inquired.

No, Mavallo declined with a polite smile. I shall await your conclusion.

He had not come specifically for Karen, for once their round concluded, another round awaited him.

Nonetheless, once his own turn passed, he would be free to give Karen a tour around the Temple.

True, the stars above were strictly forbidden, but they could afford some leisure below; he had long since missed the days of drinking and conversing with Karen on Fire Island.

To Mavallo, this entire procedure was a mere formality.

The match concluded; the first victor chose Pu'er, the second flashed a grin at the third and selected Karen, leaving the last archivist with a look of utter resignation as he was left to contend with the dragon.

I shall go first, as mine ought to be the swiftest.

One of the elders closed his eyes.

After a brief silence, he began to lick his lips, muttering as if deep in a somnambulant trance:

This fish tastes absolutely marvelous; to think a fish could be prepared in such a fashion.

Oh? This one tastes even better. I do favor the sweet and sour flavors.

Ah, I quite adore this hot and sour one as well. Delicious, truly delicious. Does this require rice? Bread would certainly be ill-suited—ah, there is rice, how thoughtful.

Ohohoho, are there more dishes to come? The vermicelli covering the fish has completely absorbed the broth. Exquisite, utterly exquisite.

Hey, wake up!

Open your eyes!

What are you all clamoring about!

The elder flared up in annoyance, his face still yearning for more.

Lowering his head, he took up a pen and began drafting his report: This cat's memories of tonight have been sealed, yet within its mind, I discovered numerous splendid recollections of consuming fish. It is truly a delicacy; I yearn to taste it myself.

Mavallo spoke up, That can be arranged, Mr. Lister.

Truly, Lord Mavallo?

After all, does the owner of this cat not stand right before us?

But what if the dishes were prepared by a household servant?

Mavallo pressed a single finger to his lips.

Ah, quite so, quite so. Complete the examination first, Lister replied, catching on immediately; until Karen finished the protocol, they could not interact overmuch.

Even so, Lister was already pondering whether he might poach a few fish from the ornamental ponds later on.

Men of their age held modest titles but substantial prestige; no one would raise an eyebrow at a minor indiscretion. What were a few fish, anyway? They could simply blame it on some clumsy giant stepping on them at the outer construction site.

I shall proceed next, for my task will demand much more time, groaned the elder left with no choice but Auggie, his face a picture of misery.

This was a Frost Dragon; it was not that they feared the beast, but rather that they understood the sheer magnitude of a dragon's expanse and the immense toil required to inspect its consciousness space.

Where an ordinary soul might resemble a mere thatched hut, the dragon race could easily erect a towering skyscraper out of raw spiritual mass, while the three of them were, in essence, nothing more than janitors.

Fret not, simply pinpoint the memories pertaining to this day, Lister offered words of comfort to his old comrade. I suspect their memory seals have been meticulously executed. What we fear most is a flawed seal; if we stumble upon things we are never meant to behold, that would be a true catastrophe. I have no desire to be reassigned at my venerable age.

Yes, I understand.

The elder closed his eyes, venturing into Auggie's consciousness space.

Lister, meanwhile, jested, A dragon must taste quite delectable too.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the elder fell into convulsions, his eyes rolling back as his lips puckered, giving vent to a barrage of rapid, unceasing sounds:

Woooooooooooo!

"

Arcing bolts of electricity began to course frantically across his body.

Seeing this, Mavallio immediately struck the old man between the brows, breaking the conscious connection.

"Whew..."

The old man finally stopped convulsing, saliva dripping incessantly from the corner of his mouth.

Furthermore, every strand of his hair stood perfectly erect, resembling a row of telegraph poles.

List: "The memory of this dragon has been locked away by thunder and lightning. It can be considered safe now—stabler, and even harder to break."

The electrocuted old man opened his eyes, glanced at his still-numb hands, and said, "Write the report for me, I can't manage it anymore."

"Alright, no problem." List took the form from before the old man and began to write.

"Heheh." The last old man let out a schadenfreude laugh. "Once I examine that young man, our job will finally be over."

...

Garen sensed a wave of consciousness attempting to make contact with him.

Offering no resistance, Garen opened up his conscious space.

He knew full well that his own memory had not been sealed, but creating the illusion of a sealed state was not difficult for him—especially since he knew exactly how overbearing the seal Rasmar had left on Lord Augie was, which granted him much greater room for maneuver.

When that wave of consciousness entered his conscious space,

The Garen within the conscious space slowly opened his eyes, and behind him, the figure of Diss gradually materialized.

Garen muttered to himself, "I cannot strike too heavily; I must only leak a tiny sliver of aura to create the impression of being on the correct path to condensing a divinity fragment, simulating Rasmar's current realm."

"The difficulty is immense, but it is worth taking the risk to try."

Standing behind Garen in the robes of a temple

"Mmm, it appears Rathma does not wish for his second student to endure such treatment."

"Indeed, he has been aggrieved."

"Gentlemen, lest we forget, Rathma is the most promising candidate to next condense a divine shard and enter the sanctuary. Barring any misfortune, he will sit here in the future, sharing tea with us.

Furthermore, once he condenses that divine shard, we will still require his cooperation to resolve the matter of Immeris; his relationship with Immeris is far from ordinary.

In this affair, truth be told, none of us can be certain of the choice he will ultimately make. After all, who would be willing to incur such immense risk just after condensing a divine shard?"

"Mmm, then regarding this matter, we must see that he is satisfied."

"Not merely satisfied, but doubly so. This young man... what was his name again?"

"Karen Silva."

"Which department is he from?"

"The Whip of Order."

"The Whip of Order, is it? Ah, Foden is Norton's direct lineage. I worry that if we make demands of him in the name of the sanctuary, it might yield the opposite effect."

"We give Norton face by not directly intervening in ecclesiastical affairs, so Norton must, in turn, show us sufficient respect.

Besides, it is not as though we are issuing a direct command to the Whipper-in. Send word down to have this Karen's dossier pulled and forwarded to our Whipper-in; he will understand the meaning."

"Under normal circumstances, the Whip of Order would surely commend this Karen. I worry the intensity won't be enough, that they won't grasp your intention of wanting it doubled."

"That is simple. A duplicate set."

...

"Whipper-in," Marine said, walking in while cradling a document. "This is a document transmitted to you from the sanctuary."

"Oh."

Foden accepted the document and opened it, discovering Karen's dossier inside.

"Marine, what commendation have you drafted?"

"Yes, in accordance with your instructions, aside from honorary commendations and token rewards, Karen will be promoted from Captain of the Action Brigade of the York City District Disciplinary Investigation Office to Deputy Director of the office."

"Mmm, that will suffice. Let it be so."

Foden nodded in satisfaction, waving his hand to signal Marine's departure.

Not long after Marine left, she returned, holding another document in her hands: "Whipper-in, it is another document transmitted to you from the sanctuary."

Foden furrowed his brow, took the document, and opened it, only to find it was Karen's dossier once more.

This forced Foden to compare it with the previous document, discovering they were identical—completely identical duplicates.

After a brief silence, Foden spoke: "The reward must be elevated further. The merit he achieved this time is indeed immense, coupled with his prior contributions to restoring organizational work for the Whip of Order in the lower districts. We also need to promote a young role model within our system; let us make him the primary choice."

"Then should we have him serve as the Director of the Second Office of the Disciplinary Investigation Committee?"

"Does that district even have a Second Office?"

"No, only the First Office has a staff that could barely be considered complete; the others are currently being organized and established. As you know, the system beneath the grand districts was neglected before and now needs to be reconstructed, all of which requires time."

Foden looked at the two dossiers laid upon his desk, pondering for a moment,

before speaking:

"Let him be the Director of the First Office instead. After all, the personnel are familiar and the operations will run smoothly; let us not send him to break barren ground."

"Then the original office director..."

"Have him reassigned as the Director of the Second Office."