Chapter 583: Together!

Chapter 583 Together!

On one side stood the high and mighty deities, all-powerful within the tapestries of myth, whose casual remnants from before the last epoch were hailed by modern men as divine miracles.

On the other side lay what resembled the skeletal scraps of a fish dinner, carelessly discarded here by the elves; if this canyon were to be likened to a colossal dustbin, then they were nothing more than a heap of kitchen waste.

As the two realities began to overlap, a violent sensation of tearing manifested.

Yet, this grim tableau illustrated with stark clarity that even within the realm of gods, the law of the jungle remained a bloody, immutable truth.

Though all were gods, Ranedal had groveled before the God of Order, scarcely daring to draw breath, a cowardice that truly could not be blamed on innate weakness.

How could an island youth, whose entire existence had been forged in the crucible of vengeance against the God of the Sea before ascending step by step to divinity, possess a soul that was naturally servile and obsequious?

It was simply that he understood, in the presence of certain entities, a single misstep could easily relegate him to the exact same wretched state.

The disparity between god and god could be vastly greater than the disparity between man and man.

Did you know all this would be here beforehand, Mavaryo inquired, and came here specifically for it?

Karen shook his head and replied, I did not know.

Oh.

Silence settled between the two men for a brief moment.

Observing that Mavaryo chose not to press further, Karen felt a flicker of curiosity.

Hm?

What is it, Mavaryo asked in return.

I imagined you would continue to question me.

You already said you did not know.

And you simply believed me?

Why should I not?

Very well, thank you for your trust.

My trust in you is as genuine as your sincerity when inviting me to be a guest at your home.

Ha, I can only say that if you were to ask which day I might be free to entertain you, it would be exceedingly difficult to arrange; however, if I were to return home from work one evening and find you sitting in my living room, I would gladly step into the kitchen to prepare dinner for you myself.

Mavaryo was an exceptional individual whose uniqueness stemmed from his pedigree; he belonged to the Church yet existed entirely above it, devoid of the cautious sensitivity others harbored, for the environment of his upbringing rendered such wariness wholly unnecessary.

Whenever Karen and Neo undertook any enterprise, they were forced to contemplate the aftermath to absolve themselves of suspicion.

He had no such need; even if he walked openly out of a secret gathering of the remnants of the Light, the Church would merely assume he had been operating as an undercover agent.

This was a species of serenity belonging solely to a natural sovereign.

He knew only one truth: Karen’s arrival at the temple was an accident, and Memphist’s fish-eating was an accident; the events unfolding from two such coincidences were beyond Karen’s capacity to plot or engineer, leading him to attribute it naturally to Karen's sheer fortune and opportunism.

Furthermore, though others remained blind to it, he could sense exactly for whose sake his grandfather, on his deathbed, had left the door open to lay a conversational foundation with the High Priest and the Whip-wielder.

Karen was the very man his grandfather had favored.

Naturally, one cannot discount the influence of his own personal fondness for Karen.

What pleasure was there in spending one's days mingling with ancient dotards, or in being perpetually flattered as a lord while being denied even the right to a family?

He thoroughly enjoyed Karen’s egalitarian treatment, this genuine sense of being regarded as a friend.

What Mavaryo remained ignorant of, however, was that to a certain extent, the reason Karen treated him as an equal was that the two of them, from lineage to personal inheritance, truly were equals.

Do you know of this place, Karen inquired.

I do not, for I inherited only a minuscule fragment of Lord Marchetini’s memories, and furthermore... Mavaryo tapped his own forehead, I have reviewed many historical records concerning the inheritors of the 'Lords'—whom orthodox sects would term God-sons—and have interacted with some contemporary ones. I discovered we all share a common trait; care to guess what it is?

Karen responded, Knowing what ought to be known, and remaining ignorant of what ought not to be known.

It was a platitude, yet Mavaryo nodded with a smile.

Precisely, a perfect description.

To put it bluntly, these God-sons were merely tools; much like Mavaryo, who could harness the power of the Scythe of War and comprehend the underlying principles of various other martial implements and spells, he was granted legitimate duties to perform, and the Church would cooperate with him once his growth was complete, allowing him to play his part in its development and preservation.

Yet they inherited next to nothing of the secrets of that ancient era or the relationships between the gods, a absence that could be described as near total.

This was also easily understood; the birth of a God-son undoubtedly required the cooperation of the Church’s authority and could never be a random selection—otherwise, it would never have fallen upon Thyssen's grandson—meaning a political background check was an absolute prerequisite.

Secondly, the inheritance was granted to ensure utility, not to permit someone to descend with a hoard of miscellaneous secrets to sow discord, stir up ancient grievances, or challenge the established doctrine.

With so many departmental systems and noble houses within the Church, if ancient secrets and blood feuds were unearthed, how could the current officials and descendants coexist without feeling compelled to avenge their respective system founders and ancestors from the previous epoch?

Or consider policies formulated according to contemporary internal or external circumstances; if a God-son were to step forward and declare that a certain Lord had explicitly forbidden such actions during a clandestine meeting, what would the current leadership of the Church do?

Even secular nations and kingdoms frequently echoed with the sentiment that 'the laws of the ancestors must not be altered,' whereas the Church possessed the literal capability to make the ancestors speak.

Why was the incumbent High Priest able to reverse the low-profile stance of Rasma's reign, consolidating power from below and suppressing the temples from above? A significant reason was the rumor that he was the inheritor of Lord Tyranus himself.

Even the temples were forced to avoid his sharpness, not daring to clash with him directly because they possessed no legal or theological standing; after all, this very Church of Order had been forged in 'his' hands.

Who could understand the Church of Order better than he?

Shall we go down and take a look, Karen suggested, I believe the seals here must be exceedingly robust, so descending for a closer inspection should pose no peril.

Since they had arrived, to leave without a closer inspection would be a lingering regret.

In the past, had Neo proposed such an adventurous course, Karen would have played the role of the one offering refusal; now, however, Karen placed his faith in the Church of Order, knowing that if the place were unstable or unsafe, it would never have been situated within the temple.

Very well, but exercise caution.

Naturally.

Wings sprouted from Karen’s back, while a black starlight manifested beneath Mavaryo’s feet, and together they soared toward the heart of the canyon.

As they flew and observed, even Karen felt a profound, forbidden thrill swelling within his chest.

Mavaryo remarked, They are very clean.

Yes, very clean.

Karen echoed the sentiment, meaning they had been picked exceptionally clean of flesh.

Yet it was truly a waste; to consume the flesh and simply discard the bones in this manner?

Karen reflected that if it were up to him, he would certainly have utilized these bones to brew a broth, not merely once, but at least thrice.

Afterward, he would grind the remains into a fine powder to be mixed with black sesame and water, consuming it for a dose of calcium.

From another perspective, however, perhaps the abundance of those times bred a laziness that disdained the gnawing of bones?

Of course, there existed another possibility: the presence of these bones carried its own specific utility.

With these thoughts drifting through his mind, Karen happened to fly past a titanic skull, from the depths of whose pitch-black eye sockets a peculiar consciousness seemed to project itself.

Watch out!

Mavaryo immediately moved toward Karen, but before he could close the distance, Karen actively retreated a short span, a maneuver that left Mavaryo mildly astonished.

Karen sighed with emotion, Even in death, a god does not perish entirely.

Indeed, they are dead, yet they linger. Mavaryo pointed toward certain patterns etched upon the colossal skeletons, These should be the seals placed by the people of the Church, likely reinforced every few centuries.

A failure of resolution from the previous epoch, left behind as a headache for posterity?

"Perhaps they simply cannot bear to part with them," Mavaryo mused. "I have glimpsed certain secrets of our Church that remain beyond your reach. In some respects, our Order is far more radical and daring than you might ever imagine."

"Just how radical?"

"I cannot say."

"Surely they wouldn't preserve these remains with the intention of researching how to awaken the 'Gods'?"

Mavaryo narrowed his eyes slightly.

Karen froze for a moment, asking in astonishment, "Is that true?"

"I cannot say."

Karen began his descent, intending to inspect the very bottom of the canyon, while Mavaryo kept close pace with him, looking for all the world like two young boys embarking on an adventure through the dark sewers.

Here, each divine skeleton stood at a height roughly equal to that of Rielsa's body, which Karen had once beheld within the Gate of Reincarnation. Yet, stripped down to bare bone and devoid of any identifying features, he could not discern which specific deities they had once been.

Near the very floor of the abyss, however, Karen spotted a succession of colossal bells. These instruments floated suspended in mid-air, lacking any markers of time, yet their heavy pendulums swung in slow, rhythmic measures.

The closer one drew to them, the more a profound tranquility settled over the soul, for they were actively absorbing every drop of negative emotion.

Beneath these great bells lay over a thousand concentric circles woven from banners, at the heart of which stood a sacrificial altar. Upon the altar flickered the burning, sacred Fire of Order.

Along the rock faces flanking both sides of the canyon below, countless magical formations were etched, though they remained quiet and unactivated for the time being.

Mavaryo bit his lip upon beholding the sight.

Karen broke the silence. "This truly is... the treatment reserved for the Awakened."

There were relevant descriptions of this very phenomenon within Mr. Hoffen's notebooks on magical arrays.

"You are well-acquainted with the First Knights?" Mavaryo inquired.

"I am well-acquainted with magical arrays," Karen clarified. "The Cult is genuinely treating these divine skeletons as subjects for awakening. But can things like these truly be brought back?"

"No, this is a process of nurturing."

"Nurturing?"

"What you said is correct; the First Knights employ a similar method to preserve remains, nourishing whatever lingering spiritual power resides within the corpse to the greatest possible extent.

The technique used here is identical, but the underlying purpose is altogether different."

A sudden understanding dawned on Karen. "To ensure the meat does not spoil?"

Mavaryo seemed slightly unaccustomed to Karen’s remarkably erratic leaps of thought, yet he nodded regardless. "Yes. Because once they spoil... it becomes exceedingly troublesome. For a god is..."

Mavaryo trailed off.

Karen finished the thought for him: "The greatest source of pollution."

Mavaryo offered a somewhat helpless, bitter smile. "Your absolute trust in my words leaves me rather touched."

"During my trials within the Gate of Reincarnation, I witnessed Rielsa. To be perfectly honest, her visage utterly shattered my perception of what a god is."

"In truth, Rielsa can no longer be considered a god; she is merely an empty vessel left behind by one. The entities here cannot be considered gods either; I fail to sense even a shred of divinity within them."

"Yes, quite so."

Despite the sheer number of these colossal skeletons, their intrinsic worth could not begin to compare to the single bone of the Goddess of the Dark Moon that Karen had absorbed, for that relic had still throbbed with a remnant of true divinity.

"What do you make of all this?" Mavaryo asked. "Were they all devoured by Ankara?"

Karen replied, "You know, children might be picky eaters, but parents generally are not."

"Is there a connection?"

"Because the food a parent brings home is always precisely what they themselves desire and enjoy eating."

Mavaryo fell silent.

Karen knew these deities had indeed been consumed by Ankara, but in substance, they had been consumed by the God of Order himself.

His grandfather had always maintained that the God of Order existed in a state of perpetual hunger, and these ruins stood as the ultimate testament to that belief.

The Temple always prided itself on being the place closest to God; if so, what would typically be kept within arm's reach of an ordinary person?

Sweeping his gaze across the surroundings once more, Karen realized that even if no development, research, or experimentation were conducted here, the skeletons would serve a terrifying purpose in times of absolute need—such as an outbreak of war—merely by being hurled into the territory of a hostile cult.

Karen closed his eyes, attempting to sense the atmosphere of the place. Suddenly, a faint tugging sensation manifested within his mind—no, it was not a single pull, but many.

The thousand charms that formed the wings upon his back began to hum a warning; a distinct itch spread through them. Because this form was fundamentally fused with the Chains of Order, it was not the wings themselves that itched, but rather the Chains of Order perceiving a chorus of faint, distant summons.

Karen could not help but recall the time he had "awakened" Loya. That had been his first attempt at an awakening that defied all natural laws, for Loya possessed no physical body; he had merely gathered her scattered consciousness from the forms of those wretched girls.

Opening his eyes, a look of profound gravity settled over Karen’s features.

Even though this place was meticulously sealed by the Church of Order, deep within these pristine, statue-like divine skeletons, dark undercurrents had been flowing continuously, and they were exceedingly violent.

They—no, it should be phrased as "They"—had been yearning for an "awakening" all this time.

This place was effectively a massive septic tank of methane gas. If one were to introduce even a single spark to it...

Karen could not help but mock himself inwardly:

Grandfather, the next time you blow up the Temple, please take me with you.

Right at that moment, Mavaryo abruptly lifted his head toward the space above, declaring, "A consciousness is scanning this area. We must leave at once."

Karen caught himself by surprise. "Have we been discovered?"

"Certain 'gazes' and 'perceptions' require no specific provocation. Our entry here must have been deemed a threat, automatically triggering the operation of a certain divine artifact. Its fluctuations were sensed by the 【Scythe of War】, which then transmitted the warning to me."

Rasma had spoken similar words, which was why he could do nothing more than read newspapers in Mink Street, unable to send any external correspondence.

This was the Temple, after all; the stars above housed either Temple Elders or enshrined divine artifacts. It was entirely normal for a sixth sense to manifest under such conditions.

Mavaryo cried out in alarm, "It is the 【Bell of Warning】! The last time it rang was half a year ago, right before the Temple was bombed. It is about to lock onto our position. I shall attempt to delay it using the 【Scythe of War】."

Hearing this, a prickle of guilt stirred in Karen’s heart. Could it have been triggered by the idle jest he had just made in his mind?

Together, Karen and Mavaryo soared out of the canyon, leaving the shroud of miasma behind as they swiftly broke through the dense forest.

Purt and Liszt were both sprawled out upon the grass, their bellies distended, evidently having eaten to their absolute satisfaction.

The moment Karen appeared, he scooped Purt into his arms, while Mavaryo reached down to hoist Liszt by the collar. Together, they flew with haste toward the teleportation array.

Upon reaching the site of the array, Mavaryo snapped his fingers; the formation flared to life, and the group was instantly returned to their point of origin.

Only now did Liszt find his breath to ask, "Were we discovered?"

Mavaryo nodded, offering a terse, "Yes."

Liszt slapped his thigh in a panic. "This won't do! I forgot to pack up my things and bring them back!"

Mavaryo replied, "There is no need."

"But won't that leave evidence behind...?"

"Evidence must certainly be left behind."

Liszt's expression froze for a moment, before his face crumpled into a mournful wail. "No, Lord Mavaryo, you cannot do this to me."

Mavaryo looked at Liszt and said, "In a few years, I will be assigned to a deputy position within a research department. When the time comes, I shall have you reassigned back to me under the pretext of research."

"But, my Lord..."

"Whether you are willing to take sole responsibility for trespassing into a restricted zone or not, it is impossible for me to be exiled alongside you. You understand this well."

"At that time, I shall remain in the temple, and then I shall see who dares defy my countenance to orchestrate affairs on your behalf. Or perhaps, you may never return, and there will be no need to return?"

Lister opened his mouth, then nodded vigorously: "I understand, my lord, boohoohoo..."

Mavallo offered consolation: "Very well, weep no more; consider it a holiday abroad."

"No, my lord, I merely regret the fish soup I left for you all. Had I known, I should have drained it dry; now it is quite wasted."

...

Old White stood before the teleportation platform within the temple, clutching a large suitcase in one hand and a ticket stub in the other, his heart steeped in profound desolation.

Merely for casting an extra glance upon that seal, he now faced the grim fate of banishment—a consequence born entirely of a game of rock-paper-scissors. Had he the chance to choose anew, he would rather inspect that dragon's consciousness, even if it meant being blasted to a smoldering crisp.

Just then, Old White espied Lister walking toward him bearing certain belongings, and for a fleeting moment, a wave of warmth surged through his chest as old tears welled in his eyes.

"I truly never imagined that now, when everyone else shuns me, you would actually come of your own accord to see me off.

Old friend, I express my most sincere apologies for those past grievances we shared; I was wrong. Alas, I may never have the opportunity to make amends for the hurts I caused you before.

That you could come to see me off fills me with utmost gratitude; as for the items, I shall not take them, so pray keep them for yourself."

Lister: "..."

"Old friend, farewell. I hope that within our lifetimes we may meet again; I shall write to you, truly.

Now, you must accompany me no further. My teleportation array lies just ahead and is about to activate; this parting point suffices. My old friend, is there anything else you wish to say to me? Speak quickly, for time grows short."

"Together."