Chapter 582: The Land Left Behind by the Gods!

Chapter 582 The Lost Land of the Gods!

From Kevin, Garen had obtained confirmation that the God of Order, like himself, suffered from the backlash of the laws of Order, an affliction that only grew more potent as one’s strength and realm ascended.

He already found himself forced to slice at his own soul with the phantom of the Scythe of War just to resist the hunger addiction; it was difficult to imagine how terrifying that same addiction must have been for someone at the level of the God of Order.

The mind of an ordinary man understands that when the body fails, it must be tended to, let alone this brand of hunger that could override one’s will and oppress a person into becoming a captive to its commands. Garen did not believe the God of Order would have completely abandoned resistance.

Gods, after all, possessed dignity.

Thus, the remedy of the God of Order was to strip the hunger addiction from his own body, giving shape to Ankara.

She was indeed the daughter of the God of Order, a fragment severed from his physical being, and she herself represented a portion of the primal source of Order.

As for the idea that a severed hunger addiction could possess flesh and blood, there was nothing strange in that. Anything touching upon the divine could not be measured by common sense; a mere spiritual imprint left behind by Ranedal could still manifest as Lord Dal and invite Garen to drink ice water.

Within the mythical narratives of the Church of Samsara, there was another tale recorded:

The God of Samsara bestowed a single strand of his own hair upon nine devout female believers. They placed this single hair into a water bowl, divided and drank it, and as a result, all nine women became pregnant and gave birth to nine healthy children.

These nine children later became followers of Samsara, and through their surnames, they developed into families that passed down the church’s heritage for thousands of years.

Therefore, even life itself possessed a different interpretation within the understanding of a god.

But did the God of Order succeed?

Garen felt he had not; he must have failed, because during his last glimpse into the secrets, Garen remembered a dialogue like this:

“Let me see whose name my darling has written.

Oh,

You wrote mine.”

It was a cycle. In a strict sense, the God of Order might truly have used this method to diminish the influence of the hunger addiction over himself for a certain period.

Yet this was not a complete excision in the truest sense… or rather, after the removal, it seemed gone at the time, but after a period had passed, it relapsed.

When Ankara wrote down the name of her father, it actually marked the return of the hunger addiction to his own person through his daughter.

There was another crucial piece of evidence here, which was that Ranedal achieved godhood at the end of the previous era, and the period when he became the white glove of the God of Order was precisely when the God of Order dominated the realm of the gods.

Whereas Ankara was cast into the jaws of the fierce beasts in the middle of the previous era. That is to say, if the God of Order had completed the severing of his own hunger addiction through his treatment of Ankara…

Then Ranedal could not possibly have been struck with terror by perceiving the hunger emanating from the God of Order when he prostrated himself before him.

He had failed.

This was the paradise he had forged for his daughter, but it was simultaneously a lost paradise belonging to himself.

For a moment, a sense of desolation enveloped Garen’s heart.

If given a choice, he would rather believe that the God of Order had been taken captive by the hunger addiction, meaning that he himself, who persisted in fighting the hunger without compromise, could forge a different path; but the reality was that the God of Order had attempted various methods to mount a fiercely violent resistance, yet he had failed.

Could he, then, succeed?

Just how much longer would he have to remain at a standstill with this damned hunger addiction.

Black ink began to swiftly cover everything here, and Garen ceased his resistance, his consciousness driven out completely.

…

“Whew…”

Opening his eyes, Garen found himself still standing in the vegetable garden.

“Oh, goodness, Garen, you’re finally awake! You really scared this cat to death just now!”

Garen’s gaze searched once more for that purple hairpin, only to find that the hairpin was actually moving. It fluttered its wings and flew up; it was actually a purple butterfly.

A wave of intense dizziness struck him. With a thud, Garen dropped to his knees, bracing his hands against the ground. Blood began to flow from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, quickly gathering into a pool on the ground, though it was instantly absorbed by the soil here.

Purr did not panic again, for she knew Garen had recovered, though she still looked at him with great concern.

After the blood flowed for a while, it ceased naturally without any treatment to stop it.

Garen took a deep breath, carefully inspecting his own body. Apart from a slight lack of mental energy, there were no other damages or depletions.

Because he had been in an injured state for too long recently, even spending a considerable amount of time in a wheelchair, Garen was now very worried about accidentally rendering himself heavily injured once more.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Garen conjured a pool of water in his palm to simply wash his face. Just as he was preparing to tell Purr what he had just seen, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

This was a basic courtesy; the coming person had intentionally made noise to let him know in advance.

Of course, it could not be ruled out that the person had already been standing there for a good while and only made a noise to inform him once they saw he had recovered.

“What happened?” Mavalio walked over, seeing Garen resting on the ground, and asked with concern, “Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

“No, I was just wondering if I could take some seeds back to transplant them.” Garen reached out and gently shook a vine in front of him.

“Though I don't understand planting and cultivation, I know that if the plants and animals here are transferred outside, there is a high probability they won't survive.”

“Even if the plants degenerate and the fruits don't taste as good, they should still be much better compared to ordinary varieties.” Garen clapped his hands while standing up. “Someone of your high standing wouldn't understand the joy of picking out the expensive things to eat at a high-class banquet.”

“It seems I have lost out on a lot of joy.”

“Indeed. By the way, why are you here?”

“The fish have been caught, so I came to see how you were doing over here.”

“I almost forgot, I just felt that wandering here felt truly wonderful.”

“Then I shall head back first to make preparations. I am looking forward to your culinary skills.”

“Thank you.”

“Meow.”

Once Mavalio had departed, Garen asked as he picked the fruits and vegetables he needed:

“When did he arrive?”

“Don’t know. The environment here is special, and his status is special too; my perception definitely wouldn't be accurate against him. But this guy seems decent, like he wants to make friends with you.”

“He is very lonely.”

“Oh, I see. Little Garen, I find you are very good at making friends with autistic people like Philomena. What do they call that, a friend of the autistic?”

“Every person has a need to obtain recognition. Rasma was the same.”

“Oh, alright. Trust me, sixty years from now, there will also be a group of old people recalling their youth and comparing you to the light.”

“Sixty years, that sounds very distant.”

“Trust me, it passes in just a brief moment, like taking a nap, meow.”

“Yes, you are just a young maiden who has taken three naps.”

“Even though I know you are teasing me, I am still happy to hear it.”

Garen returned cradling the selected fruits and vegetables. Over by Lister, the pot had already been set up and the fire lit; the preparations were entirely complete. When it came to the matter of eating, this old man truly possessed great faith.

They had caught two fish. One resembled a ribbonfish, but it was considerably longer and wider than a ribbonfish, and there were still slight remnants of the lightning attribute upon its scales—one had to know, this was after it had been cleaned.

The other fish looked like a bighead carp, quite large in size. It seemed it wasn't dead yet after being cleaned, its mouth opening and closing, while some parts of its body still exhibited fragmented invisibility effects.

Garen enjoyed cooking, but facing such ingredients, it was truly his first time. It wasn't that he hadn't used points to buy special ingredients like lizard-dragon meat before, but those were all processed chunks of meat.

Yet, a fish was, after all, a fish; it was simply a matter of following the standard procedure.

Having swiftly processed and cut the first fish, Cullen felt the watchful gaze of Leeds, who inquired, "Are you planning to deep-fry it?"

Cullen shook his head. Deep-frying ribbonfish was a rather popular method, even in this world. Once fried, the bones became quite crispy, making it suitable not only as a main course but also as a snack for children.

However, deep-fried food held little sway in Cullen’s personal culinary habits. Adhering to his own routine, he prepared a large platter of braised "ribbonfish" instead.

Taking a bite, Leeds immediately pronounced, "This requires a staple. Rice."

"Is there any?"

"There is!"

From beneath the princess dining cart, Leeds actually managed to rummage out several small wooden buckets of rice. Scooping some out, he gave it a brief rinse before placing it into a flat-bottomed pan. He set it over the charcoal fire to boil. When it was nearly done, he dropped in a pat of butter, stirred it thoroughly, and let it continue to simmer.

Cullen noticed this display but said nothing. This manner of eating carried a vague reminiscent flavor of lard-mixed rice, though lard-mixed rice was typically prepared by adding the lard, soy sauce, and chopped scallions to stir into the rice only after it had finished cooking.

The head of the large "silver carp" was severed by Cullen to brew a pot of fish head soup. Though there was no tofu to pair with it, the white radishes from the vegetable garden served the purpose splendidly.

As for the body of the fish, Cullen sliced it into delicate fillets to create a pot of hot and sour fish. Every variety of chili was available here, though sour mustard greens were nowhere to be found. There were other fermented pickle-like substitutes, yet none possessed the flavor Cullen required. Consequently, he utilized the red sour berries he had gathered. While it was a pity to go without the authentic sour greens, the acidity proved virtually indistinguishable from the real aged variety.

For three people, the meal did not need to be overly elaborate. Under such circumstances, culinary skill became secondary; what everyone truly focused on and enjoyed was the essence of the food itself.

Cullen declined the buttered rice Leeds offered him, choosing instead to focus entirely on drinking his soup.

Pu'er possessed its own individual dining tray, into which Cullen would place morsels of food. Much like Leeds, the cat was eating with immense delight.

An atmosphere akin to a picnic naturally invited conversation. Mavalo wished to speak, but despite clearing his throat several times and shifting his posture, he could not quite find the right opening.

Cullen thus took the initiative, asking Mavalo, "I am curious, what are you usually responsible for?"

Mavalo replied, "Strictly speaking, I have no specific duties. Usually, wherever I am needed, that is where I go."

Cullen responded, "Then you are a brick of the Order, to be moved wherever you are required."

Leeds laughed and said, "Lord Mavalo does not belong to any department, nor would the higher-ups ever place him in charge of one. His identity is far too special. He is rather like our..."

At that point, Leeds held his tongue.

Cullen did not press further to ask "like who among us?", but instead diverted the topic: "Can you take leave whenever you wish, then?"

"That is not an issue at all. My primary task at present is to grow, while tending to a few minor matters. Taking leave is quite convenient."

"Then when you have the time, you can come find me in York City. I will prepare another meal for you with my own hands."

"Would next week be acceptable?"

"Next week might be a bit rushed. As you know, there will be a series of matters awaiting my handling once I return. After all, this time, something befell the household of our Chief Bishop."

"The first of next month, then?"

"Next month, my department should be initiating a new round of operations. Everyone has been comfortable for so long; it is time to return to work."

"I understand. You were merely being polite with me."

Cullen nodded. "Indeed. I did not expect you to take it so seriously."

"Hahaha." Mavalo burst into laughter. "I once had a home too, but after my grandfather passed away, that home of mine ceased to exist."

Leeds served himself a bowl of fish soup, then added a little more to Pu'er’s tray. The man and the cat exchanged a look and a smile, recognizing a kindred spirit in one another.

Mavalo exhaled a long breath and asked, "Do you know? When I attended my grandfather's funeral and my family members all knelt and bowed to me, my heart was truly in agony."

"The psychological foundation for that had been laid long ago, had it not?" Cullen found nothing strange in this; even Thyssen had to refer to his own grandson as "Lord" in the presence of outsiders.

"Yes, but even with the preparation, witnessing myself being violently pushed out left me deeply saddened. Originally, I could still harbor a dream, but now that dream has been punctured."

"You will get used to it."

"Yes, one gets used to it."

"Mr. Leeds," Cullen turned his gaze to Leeds, "are you married?"

Leeds shook his head and said, "No, I am not married, nor do I have children."

"Is it because your work forbids it?"

"It is not because of that. Though the Temple is isolated from the outside world, it is not devoid of human touch. If the Temple Elders wish to marry, they can do so; how could we be forbidden?

It was simply that I delayed during my youth, and by the time I reached middle age and truly began to consider the matter, I discovered that I simply could not find a woman who cooked better than I did.

The thought of choosing someone at random, only for her cooking to fall short of mine while I remained responsible for preparing her meals every day, made marriage seem utterly tedious.

Captain Cullen, what about you? Are you married?"

"I have a fiancée."

"Oh? Does she know how to cook?"

"Not particularly well."

"Then you are truly pitiable," Leeds expressed his deep sympathy.

"The dishes might not be refined enough, but when she prepares them with her own hands and brings them before me, it evokes a different feeling entirely. Delicious food always requires the assistance of one's mood."

"Captain Cullen speaks with great reason. Perhaps I am simply old. Well, or perhaps, I am still very young and naive."

Mavalo spoke up, asking, "Cullen, do you intend to continue working within the Whip of Order?"

"Yes, I like my current post."

"I believe that once you return, you should be due for a promotion."

"Thank you for your blessings."

"It is not a blessing. After all, you have performed a meritorious service, have you not?"

"Yes, haha, I almost forgot." Cullen reached out and lightly tapped his own forehead. "No, it is that I ought to have forgotten it from the start."

Leeds joked, "Even if you remember it, Captain Cullen, you must never speak of it aloud. I have no desire to go keep old White company. Oh, my dear old friend White, the thought of his impending long journey makes my heart ache so intensely, it feels completely blocked. No, I must drink a few more bowls of fish soup to smooth things out."

A few pristine white unicorns approached, actively seeking to be close to Pu'er.

"Meow!" (How annoying!)

Having her enjoyment of the fine food interrupted, Pu'er’s temper flared violently.

Leeds smiled and said, "Unicorns possess an affinity for pure women."

Pu'er rolled her eyes at Leeds. Having lived for two centuries and still being deemed a pure woman was not something she considered a compliment.

A swarm of small, winged sprites flew over. They began picking up the fish bones from the ground, carrying them away.

Leeds introduced them, saying, "They are responsible for maintaining the cleanliness here, so it is quite alright. Do not bear any psychological burden; spit out the bones and food scraps freely, they are very happy to tidy them up."

This was no falsehood. For these sprites, certain tasks were rituals passed down from their ancestors, though they had long lacked the opportunity to practice them. Perhaps in their eyes, this was a "miracle" that belonged to them.

This was much like many sacrificial rituals in the real world that might appear ignorant; it was possible that their god had simply vanished or that a deviation had occurred in the transmission of the ritual. Yet to their ancestors, it had been effective, whereas by the time it reached the descendants, nothing remained but the procedural shell of a ritual.

Hm,

Wait.

Cullen suddenly realized a problem: if the original task of these ancestors of the sprites was to dispose of food scraps, then in the past, who could have possibly been here to dine and eat?

This was a paradise belonging to Ankara. What they processed ought to have been Ankara’s food scraps. But what did Ankara eat during his infancy?

Cullen stood up and said, "You go ahead and eat. I would like to take a walk."

"I will accompany you," Marvallo said, standing up.

Puer and Lister showed no intention of leaving.

After the two had walked a certain distance, Marvallo noticed that Karen was following a sprite burdened with fish bones. "Are you curious as to where they take the food scraps?" he asked.

"Yes," Karen nodded.

Continuing their pursuit, they soon found themselves deep within a dense forest, well beyond the conventional boundaries of the castle.

Karen began to hesitate about whether to press on, heaven only knew just how vast this place truly was.

But before long, Karen spotted a returning sprite, evidently heading back to the clearing where they had dined to gather fresh fish bones, which meant the disposal site for the scraps was just ahead.

Karen and Marvallo marched onward, yet as they walked, both sensed something amiss when a wall of black mist materialized before them.

"A barrier?" Karen murmured in confusion.

Marvallo shook his head. "It resembles a masking miasma more than anything else."

"Shall we go in and look?" Karen suggested.

Marvallo hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. "Very well."

The two passed through the invisible miasma, only to be immediately lashed by a bitterly cold wind, before them lay a precipitous cliff.

Two sprites fluttered past, hurled the fish bones from their hands into the abyss below, and then cheerfully turned back to repeat their task.

Karen stepped forward a short distance, pressing himself almost right against the precipice, and peered downward.

The chasm was profoundly deep, its bottom entirely hidden from sight, yet within the pitch-black depths, he discerned an array of dark silhouettes seated in profound silence.

Karen conjured a fireball within his right hand and cast it forward, the sphere bursting midair into a shower of sparks that illuminated the canyon.

Seated against one side of the gorge were colossal skeletons, their statures as immense as mountains.

Karen suddenly felt an impulse to laugh, as his preconceived notions clashed violently with this deeply disruptive vision, striking him as utterly incomprehensible.

These grand and majestic skeletons had all once been high and mighty deities;

yet now, they were quietly tucked away inside a little girl's snack trash bin.

Karen finally understood why the Church of Order had sealed this region, and why they had renamed it in the mythological narratives.

For what the Church of Order desired to entomb was by no means the setting of Ankara's childhood memories;

this place, in truth, was another divine burial ground.

The Lost Paradise—the land where the gods were lost!