Chapter 633: Whispers of God

Chapter 633: The Whispers of God

Oaths are often sworn to others, yet their true efficacy lies in binding oneself.

Karen rarely swore in his own name; he preferred the traditions of ecclesiastical circles, taking his vows in the name of the God of Order.

He had no fondness for such formalism, yet he recognized its necessity; as it stood now, if he remained silent, a faint, lingering guilt would trouble his conscience.

She was still nothing more than a fledgling bone dragon, and strictly speaking, she was currently grievously wounded;

once her injuries healed and she grew under the cultivation of the Church of Order’s resources, to say nothing of her other capabilities, the sheer fortification she would grant to his defensive power alone would be nothing short of staggering.

And this elevation of defense would, in turn, produce a wildly exaggerated surge in Karen's overall combat capacity.

Though long accustomed to wielding a greatsword as his weapon, he was no pure warrior; in his style of combat, there had always been a fundamental difference between himself and those who walked the path of close-quarters engagement, like Muri, Philomena, and even Nio.

The immensely vast accumulation of spiritual power Karen possessed allowed him to lavishly deploy all manner of spells in battle, and his innate advantages in understanding and mastering the mystic arts made him far more akin to a spellcaster;

furthermore, he concurrently studied array formations, and with the added blessings of the Rubik's Key, he would—with just a little more time invested in honing his experience and proficiency—become an exceptional grandmaster of arrays;

he might even, once he resolved Purr's predicament in the future and could borrow her strength for brief durations, or allow her to temporarily recover her might to assist him in battle, be counted as a... summoner.

Though he could not, like Aisli, cover both arms in totemic tattoos to summon a vast host of phantom phantasmal beasts, a Purr restored to her full or partial strength would be more than enough to utterly obliterate everything Aisli commanded.

Even if Aisli were to fully mature in the future, without some monumental stroke of destiny, it would be nigh impossible for her to ever find a beast of Purr’s caliber... assuming, of course, one could even classify Purr as a beast.

All of the above accounted only for Karen's primary capabilities; he possessed the conversion of Light-based power, and within his soul space, two towering devotional figures of Order and Light stood in absolute dominion, virtually eliminating the hazard of being influenced, disrupted, or lost to other faiths, all further augmented by the Emmers family line's unique trait of "learning";

in theory, given sufficient energy, time, and capital, Karen could continue to expand in any direction, turning what was once a mere grocery store into a sprawling supermarket.

Yet all of this was predicated on the premise that he possessed enough self-preservation in the crucible of battle; only then could his other talents be unfurled with composure, lest he end up like his Uncle Eisen—unquestionably a spell-judge, yet abysmally weak in a duel.

This was the monumental elevation the little bone dragon brought to Karen: when the shortest plank of the barrel was raised, the baseline of his existence rose with it, leaving him free to focus entirely on pursuing his absolute ceiling.

Heh,

once his wounds were healed, he would find Nio for a sparring session.

He truly looked forward to seeing what kind of expression would cross Nio's face when he stood perfectly still, letting Nio’s fangs gnaw at him to absolutely no avail.

The contract was sealed, and the trial run had concluded;

Karen spoke, "Very well, you are tired, rest now."

All around them, the dragon ribs that sustained the defensive barrier dissolved, and the armor cladding Karen's form began to retract; the little girl returned to his back, and as the ten fingers of her hands withdrew from his neck, they secreted a peculiar, restorative mucus, leaving the wounds already closed; though scars remained, a cosmetic treatment from Blanche should easily erase them without a trace.

"It doesn't strictly have to be the neck next time; you can pierce through my back or my shoulder. You know, in moments of emergency, we won't have the luxury of fusing in a stationary state like before, and the human neck is a fragile thing. I worry that one day you might accidentally choke me to death or sever my head, haha."

Karen cracked a dry joke, but the little girl behind him merely kept her eyes shut, slumped against his back as if fast asleep, offering not the slightest reply, leaving the chill of the joke to settle entirely on Karen alone.

"I understand now why Mother and that skeleton held you in such high esteem," Lord Auggie said through gritted teeth.

"We are not performing a stage play; you have no need to act as the narrator."

Karen swept his gaze across the surroundings, feeling as though he had overlooked something; after a moment's contemplation, he remembered.

Walking to a particular spot, Karen brushed aside the accumulated snow to reveal Muri lying within, the short blade still buried deep in his chest; his body was already frozen stiff, though his vital signs remained within normal parameters.

Karen dragged Muri out and cast a healing spell upon him.

Before long, Muri stirred and opened his eyes.

"Pull the blade out," Karen commanded.

"Yes, Chief."

Before, forbidding Muri from pulling the blade was because doing so in that condition would only aggravate his injuries, and the wound could easily be tended to upon their return to the main city; now it mattered little, for Karen already felt deeply exhausted.

*Pfft...*

The short blade was wrenched free, blood spurting wide, turning Muri's already pallid complexion an even more ghostly white.

Karen gathered the little girl from his back into his arms and sat down himself, addressing Muri:

"Send word. Have them come retrieve us."

With that, Karen cast a deliberate, warning glance at Lord Auggie, who remained kneeling there, before closing his eyes and letting his head drop.

He and the little girl in his arms both drifted into slumber.

...

*Drip... drop... drip... drop...*

The familiar sound of dripping water echoed beside his ear.

Though Karen did not open his eyes within the dream, he already perceived the shape of it, for he had dreamt this dream far too many times before.

Moreover, it seemed that whenever he came into contact with matters concerning divinity, this dream would swiftly manifest.

Hesitating for a brief moment, Karen opened his eyes nonetheless.

Before him stood the Scythe of War, planted upright.

Beyond the Scythe of War lay a profound, dark pool of water.

Having previously experienced using the Scythe of War to cleave his own soul, Karen no longer harbored the initial terror toward this divine artifact's projection, though a faint, phantom ache would throb across his old wounds whenever he beheld it.

The entirely black scythe swayed gently back and forth, like an executioner making his final preparatory motions.

Karen raised his hand and brushed it lightly along the haft of the scythe, as if greeting an old friend.

Yet today’s dream seemed devoid of anything unusual; everything remained in its familiar, ancient guise.

*Gurgle... gurgle... gurgle...*

The pool began to bubble, and Karen took a deep breath, still remembering the knocking sound that had echoed from the depths of the pool that one time, along with the inquiry of a disembodied voice.

Upon hearing that voice, the physical version of himself in reality had writhed in such agony that his blood stained the bedsheets.

Fortunately, there was no knocking this time; accompanied by the continuous churning of the pool's bubbles, the ground before Karen began to rise.

When it was static, one could not even discern the topography of this place, for everything was shrouded in that silent blackness; the only thing you could notice was the solitary patch right before you.

As the ground ascended, his field of vision began to expand accordingly, and a valley materialized in the lower distance ahead, defined by the darker, deeper blacks flanking the sides and the fainter shade down the middle.

This artistic texture already bore a striking resemblance to the traditional ink wash paintings Karen was familiar with.

Whiteness began to emerge—scattered fragments at first, which quickly coalesced into clusters and patches; time seemed to crawl, yet it also felt incredibly swift; as the white began to rapidly spread outward, Karen beheld the skeletal remains of a dragon manifested there.

Its physique was not particularly grand, likely mid-sized among the dragon race, not even matching the majestic stature of Lord Auggie, yet the sheer oppression it exuded as it lay there was far more intense.

It was a skeleton, it was dead—of this, one could be absolutely certain—yet it felt as though it might awaken at any given second, unleashing a roar that would strike terror into your heart and force your submission.

Connecting this to his experiences before falling asleep... could this skeleton be the Rebellious Dragon God?

*Hiss...*

A sudden, piercing pain shot through Karen's eyes, striking so abruptly it felt as though two awls were being driven violently into his sockets.

"Ah!"

The agony belonged not only to the body but to the soul itself, as if attempting to brutally gouge away his external perception permanently at this very moment.

Karen fell to his knees upon the ground, letting out a wretched wail.

Yet precisely at this juncture, Karen caught the sound of footsteps—footsteps approaching from the distance, seeming to pass right beside him before gradually receding away.

By degrees, the pain in Karen's eyes began to fade.

He tried to open his eyes to look toward the location of the dragon bones, but the moment he prepared to make the movement, that unbearable agony returned once more.

Karen was forced to lower his head again.

Such submission did not align with his usual temperament; in the vast majority of situations, he would rarely retreat willingly if enduring it remained an option, but this time was different—this struggle was akin to tightening a noose around one's own neck with one's own hands.

If one were to keep pulling the rope tighter toward death while shouting declarations of never giving up, it would look utterly foolish no matter how one viewed it.

A majestic voice resounded at this very moment, as if history had torn through the seal of the ages and transcended written records, forcing its presence forward in an exceedingly stubborn manner.

That was the voice of the God of Order.

It felt somewhat distant, not by his side, but rather ahead and below, right where the dragon bones lay.

Karen had already envisioned the scene in his mind: the God of Order standing before the dragon bones, speaking to that deceased draconic corpse:

"All along, I have disliked this world. Now, I shall awaken you to help me shatter it entirely, and remold it into a form that pleases me.

Order... awaken."

A terrifying manifestation of will awakened at this precise instant, and following closely in its wake was a horrific tremor, along with a dreadful dragon's roar that seemed capable of suppressing every miscellaneous noise in the world!

...

"Ah..."

Karen let out a groan of pain as he opened his eyes, but though they remained open for a long time, his mind was still an absolute blank.

It took a considerable while before Karen’s consciousness recovered from the shock of that draconic roar.

He saw a girl's face very close to his own; it was Philomena.

"You're awake?"

"Mm..."

Karen gave a soft murmur of assent and surveyed his surroundings, discovering that he was in a guest room at the Sunset Hotel, not in a hospital.

"Actually, you've had your eyes open for a long time, but when I called out to you just now, you never responded."

"My brain hadn't restarted just then, but it's back to normal now."

"Blanche checked your body; she said your external injuries aren't severe. Minister Neo and Mr. Alfred also came to see you, and their views aligned—you simply need rest."

"Then you..."

"They are all very busy, but they presumably felt there were no other suitable tasks to assign me, so they had me look after you."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you want to get up?" Philomena extended her hand, intending to offer support.

"I'll do it myself..." She hardly knew how to care for anyone, and Karen had no desire to prolong his bedrest because of her nursing. Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Karen asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Seven days."

"Seven days?" Karen was thoroughly astonished. "I originally thought it had only been a day."

Was it because of that single dragon's roar that he had been stunned into unconsciousness for so long?

Moreover, if he were to speak of this, it was unlikely anyone would believe him; could he really say that in his dream, he dreamed of a dragon and was then shocked directly into a coma within the dream by its bellowing?

Nevertheless, a prolonged sleep had its benefits. Karen inspected his physical condition and found that his recovery was progressing excellently; the overexertion at the soul level had already been mostly restored.

"Is there anything happening? I mean regarding work."

Hearing this question, Philomena froze for a moment.

"What is it?" Karen asked.

Philomena replied, "I wasn't prepared, and I certainly didn't expect you to ask me about work."

Although she had been on duty all this time, the job seemed to have very little to do with her.

"Actually, the two of us are much the same," Karen said to comfort Philomena. "Just speak freely."

"The investigation is ongoing, with people being arrested and released continuously... and, uh, well, that's about it."

"Alright, I understand."

In truth, this was already sufficient; it meant that during his period of unconsciousness, the task force's operations had run smoothly, and Alfred and the others had even bypassed the reporting process to greatly enhance efficiency.

Yet Karen felt no sense of loss; he had always rather enjoyed this feeling. Furthermore, the task force's work this time was primarily intended to put on a show and reap benefits, since the true assassin had already been "secured" by him.

Karen stood up, and as if recalling something, he asked, "Did Commander Daan come looking for me?"

"No."

"Mm, is there an isolating array installed in the room?"

"Yes, it was Mr. Alfred's request. Every bedroom and living room has been arrayed; he said this will become standard practice in the future to ensure your safety... and your secrets."

"I see." No wonder his conscious probing could not even leave this bedroom upon waking.

Karen walked to the bedroom door and opened it, only to see someone standing—no, sitting right at the threshold.

A broad, thick backside blocked the doorway like a sluice gate.

Karen raised his foot, gave a light kick, and asked with a frown:

"Why are you here?"

The one sitting at the doorway was unexpectedly Lady Oggie.

Karen truly had no desire to see this female dragon; she was immensely tedious.

Lady Oggie turned around. She had been pierced by Karen's sword three times, and her skull had nearly been split open, yet she looked completely unscathed now; one could only say that the physical resilience of an adult dragon was indeed terrifying.

"I was reassigned here to assist with the task force's work, and the specific duty allocated to me is to protect your safety while you are unconscious. You are the task force leader."

"I thought the Whip-Bearer would have called you back to be flayed."

"I didn't commit any error. This is what you promised to help me conceal. That assistant of yours, the one named Alfred, has already submitted a report in your name, and I am credited with merit."

Speaking to this point, Lady Oggie seemed worried that Karen might misunderstand something, and immediately explained:

"It wasn't that I intended to tell that subordinate of yours everything. Even though he claimed to be your most trusted aide and one of our own, I wanted to maintain some secrecy, but while he was chatting with me, he guessed so many things that there was no longer any point in continuing to hide it, so I could only recount everything that happened that day."

"That doesn't matter," Karen waved his hand. "Could you please go out to the hallway now to act as a bodyguard?"

Lady Oggie fell silent, but she did not offer any rebuttal either. She stood up, walked outside the hotel suite door, and closed it behind her.

"She fears you," Philomena said. "I can perceive it."

"You two actually conversed?" Karen was somewhat surprised.

Philomena shook her head: "No, it's just the way she looks at you; it feels somewhat familiar to me."

"It is nothing, just a normal coma following a soul overdraft; everyone should be quite used to it by now."

"Mhm, used to it indeed, because the radio goblin, that pleasure-seeker, and I all have absolute faith in your soul's capacity for recovery, hehe meow."

"I intend to take a bath."

"Oh? A bath first?"

"Is something the matter?"

"Should you not go and look at the little bone you brought back first?"

"She is here?"

"Yes, right in the second bedroom. Strictly speaking, she is a piece of physical evidence, so she naturally had to be kept by the special investigation task force first. However, that great mother dragon has already made a statement for you, saying that you two have signed a master-servant contract, which Alfred submitted along with everything else. If all goes as expected, that little bone will be bound to you in a partnership. That way, our household will actually be able to afford a dragon, haha meow! Do you know, even in the past, I never once imagined I could keep a dragon!"

"She is not my pet," Karen reminded, for his relationship with the little bone dragon was one of equals.

"Then am I your pet?"

"No, you are my family."

"So, you need not worry about that at all. I shall treat her as family. Even if Alfred failed to coax the truth out of that great mother dragon, Kevin has already seen through the secrets she harbors. We have struck gold; she is definitely family, meow!"

"The specifics of the matter I shall recount to you in detail later."

Karen walked to the threshold of the second bedroom and pushed the door open.

A young girl sat upon the bed, her white hair cascading over her shoulders, her countenance tranquil. She was still clothed in that ill-fitting robe of the Order, which he had hastily tailored for her.

Then,

Karen's eyes instantly narrowed.

The little girl sitting on the bed had rested her right arm across her knees, while a large golden retriever beside her held her tiny arm clenched firmly in its jaws.

Raniadal favored roasted dragon meat, and a bone dragon possessed no flesh;

But a dog, after all, loves to gnaw on bones.