Chapter 674: I Am Hungry Too

Chapter 674: I Am Hungry Too

In the previous epoch, the God of the Abyss had forged a path connecting the Abyss and Heaven. Legend held that his lower body stood within the Abyss while his upper body reached into Heaven, using his own flesh and form to serve as the bridge.

The image of the angel had actually originated from the Church of the Abyss; their earliest duty was to travel back and forth between Heaven and the Abyss to deliver messages, and the wings upon their backs were sacred artifacts of flesh and blood designed to pierce through the barriers of the void.

Yet the concept of the "angel" was not an original creation of the Abyss alone. It referred specifically to messengers, envoys, and beings dispatched by a deity to execute specialized tasks—they were the most loyal servants belonging to a god.

The description of them within the *Light of Order* read: Angels are vessels of will created by the gods.

Here, Order had gone so far as to strip the "angel" entirely from the ranks of intelligent life, placing them countless levels below even the subjugated ferocious beasts; they were merely... works of craftsmanship.

The existence of this collective known as "angels" served as the bond between a god and their church, but from another perspective, it also illustrated that a god and their church did not naturally possess the unified, harmonious relationship people habitually assumed they did.

Puer had once teased Kevin, asking why he hadn't started a little church of his own to play with back then. Even if it failed to develop into a great church, he might have been able to scavenge around and find a few small remnants left behind.

Kevin's reply had been: A church is also a form of constraint upon a god.

It was much like an emperor and his bureaucratic system; they jointly managed and ruled the empire, yet contradictions and checks and balances often existed between them.

An example lay right before them: the fundamentalist factions within the Church of Order clearly adhered to the purest faith and discipleship of the God of Order, yet at this moment, they were an existence that could not see the light of day within the church itself.

The reason the Church of Principle engaged in researching the behavioral patterns of "gods" was, in essence, an exploration into the most rational way for a "god" to exist. That was the "mechanical" mode Cullen had witnessed when "purifying the divine servants"—walking among the rules with eyes closed, responding to the prayers of the faithful with the mere wave of a hand.

But "angels" were, after all, products of the previous epoch. Along with the disappearance of the deities in this epoch, the angels had vanished as well, just as the sunrise and sunset would cease to exist if the sun itself were gone.

But now,

Down below, there lay one. And most importantly, Cullen could clearly perceive that he... was alive!

He was not a corpse; he possessed vitality. Though he was terribly broken, looking like a severely wounded soldier just carried off an ancient battlefield, he was indeed not dead.

The most direct proof was that he could be influenced by the Lax copper coins.

So, what did this mean?

Even a living angel had appeared; was the return of the gods truly drawing near?

Cullen continued his attempt to lower his consciousness. He had come here to investigate, so he naturally hoped to obtain more information, which would provide a greater reference for handling the events to come.

An angel discovered within the territory of Wien, even if it looked "very similar" to the beings depicted in the Abyssal murals, was... well, still property of the Church of Order.

In any case, Cullen possessed immense confidence in the religious chauvinism of the Church of Order.

Furthermore, the existence of this angel likely harbored the secrets behind the return of the gods. Its value could no longer be measured by coupons. Whichever church could grasp more information regarding the return of the gods would be able to seize a greater initiative in the grand upheavals ahead.

However, what Cullen did not know—or rather, what he simply had no time to notice—was that within the suite where his physical body sat, just diagonally above his own back, a figure had slowly materialized.

This was neither a stealthy approach nor an assassination; when he wished to appear here, he simply appeared.

A six-winged angel, his black wings broken and withered, his eye sockets leaving nothing but an unseeable abyss of darkness.

He raised his hand, and a spear appeared within his grasp, its tip leveled directly at Cullen's back.

Everything occurred without a sound.

Cullen had made a mistake... One must not look directly upon a god.

An angel was, after all, the bearer of a god's will.

Cullen's method of lowering his consciousness along the threads, utilizing the power of the Chains of Order to pierce through all the barriers the Abyss had erected here, seemed like the optimal way to spy. Yet in reality...

It was just like a meeting within the Church of Order; even if the high-ranking divine officials sat in the front rows, the low-ranking officials in the back would never dare use their consciousness to launch any sort of probe, because that constituted the most direct affront!

And Cullen's method was, in fact, an affront to this angel—especially since he was still alive.

He could not move, and his life hung by a thread; otherwise, the Church of the Abyss would not have risked so much to nurture him in York City. But an angel's method of killing was not confined solely to frontal combat.

The spear tip thrust toward Cullen's back. Suddenly, Cullen finally sensed something. His consciousness began to retract, but a terrifying suction force abruptly erupted within the stone coffin, forcefully pinning his consciousness in place.

In the room above, the spear tip was blocked a mere palm's width away from Cullen's back.

Because behind Cullen, the phantom of an old man had appeared. His hand gripped the spear tightly.

The two sides entered a state of wrestling at that moment. This was a clash occurring through a specialized medium of existence; one upheld the conviction of a god, while the other had condensed a fragment of a godhead.

Evidently, the angel had no way to break through the protection offered by Diss to carry out this sneak attack that should have succeeded.

The angel's figure began to fade gradually. Though no hint of spirit could be captured within his eye sockets, the corners of his mouth curled into a slight arc.

He produced a sound.

It was not Macra language, but because it was a spiritual entity, the "meaning" did not require language to be conveyed.

He said:

"I am hungry."

Diss's phantom silently continued to stand behind Cullen. He possessed no self-will, only the instinct to protect his grandson's soul.

Ultimately,

The angel's figure dissipated completely, as if he had never come at all. And indeed, even if the most experienced investigators from the Whip of Order were to search this room, it would be impossible to find any trace of his presence here, for this was a "spiritual journey."

How could footprints be left in reality at a place one had only visited in a dream?

But this was not the end. This investigation had been initiated by Cullen himself, which was equivalent to actively choosing a specialized race track mode; next, he would naturally have to endure the opponent's counterattack upon this very track.

Below, the consciousness that should have been withdrawn was trapped as a dark aura emerged, exerting a swift pressure and infiltration.

Several of the high-ranking Abyssal divine officials who had originally been guarding the innermost core area opened their eyes at this moment. They sensed some changes within the stone coffin, yet they could not grasp them at all.

For there were no signs of an intruder, nor was there any substantial abnormal movement.

However, a fierce clash had already unfolded.

Cullen now had a most decisive choice, which was to sever the portion of consciousness he had released. This would inflict a tremendous injury upon his soul, and there was a high probability he would have to sit in a wheelchair for another half a month.

But Cullen did not choose to do so. It was not out of a fear of being injured, but because under the influence of the copper coin, when that mass of black appeared to swallow his consciousness whole, the other side continued to convey with absolute candor that what he wanted was far more than just this!

A hungry person salivating before a table of delicacies—even if he did not say he was hungry, you would know what he intended to do next.

Cullen continued to retrieve his consciousness, forcing a collision. A region that originally should have been impossible to break through was unexpectedly forced open.

This was intentional on the part of the opponent—frightening a small animal so that it would run back to its pack, allowing him to follow along and feast to his heart's content.

As Cullen's consciousness began to rapidly retract, the opponent followed closely behind.

You want to come, do you?

Fine,

You may come.

Cullen did not hesitate in the slightest; his speed of retraction was swift and resolute, and the opponent pursued just as fiercely.

By the time Cullen's consciousness returned to his own body and he opened his eyes, he saw that the white Chains of Order retracted from the wooden box had been laced with a patch of black spots.

It looked... soiled.

[A god is the ultimate source of pollution.]

The closer an existence was to a god, the higher its toxicity and capacity for pollution.

The chains sank beneath Cullen's feet and disappeared, and the black spots vanished along with them.

But in the next instant, a black circle appeared at the center of Cullen's brow, and a voice echoed beside his ear:

"What kind of body is this?"

From the voice, you could not discern his gender; of course, angels themselves were incapable of reproduction—a piece of handicraft, what need had it for gender?

Karen propped his right palm against his forehead and knelt down on one knee.

That voice exuded a matter-of-fact sense of control: "I am very satisfied with your body, because it has allowed me to find the environment I was once familiar with; it suits me well."

However, the owner of the voice did not notice that when Karen knelt and his knee met the ground, he did not make much of a sound, because Karen did not want to make too much of a physical disturbance to "awaken" that Deep Sea priestess who was still performing her service.

"So, are you the physical sacrifice offered to me by the believers?"

The angel's voice continued.

"This sacrifice, I accept. I shall swallow your soul and enter your body."

The black circle that had originally existed only at the center of his brow began to spread rapidly, and dense black circles began to appear all over Karen's body, these black circles turning and contracting on their own as if they were alive.

Karen asked in a low voice: "Who on earth are you?"

"I do not know who I am either; I only know what my mission is, and you will merge into my existence, burning out heat for my mission."

The black halos covering his entire body began to be filled with color, and then rapidly flowed back, surging toward the position between his brows.

Like an accumulated barrier lake, an opening was breached.

"Boom!"

With a roar, an opening was violently smashed into Karen's soul space.

A six-winged angel

Appeared within Karen's soul space.

Standing before him was Dis.

"Order..."

The angel seemed to be contemplating why a believer of the Abyss would prepare for him a body guarded by an elder of the Temple of Order.

But there was no answer to his contemplation, because although he was alive and could emit some sounds and demands, he had not truly awakened and had not yet engaged in normal communication with the outside world.

The angel's wings spread wide, forming his own domain, and under this oppression, Dis's body began to retreat continuously, but after retreating a certain distance, he stopped, as if he had held his ground.

This meant that the pressure given by the angel could only achieve this much, and there was no way to completely crush Dis and occupy this place.

"A spiritual imprint... is merely a spiritual imprint. If your true self were here, I might be unable to do anything, but with just a spiritual imprint, you cannot stop what I want to do."

A black circle appeared beneath the angel's feet; in reality, a black circle also appeared beneath Karen's feet.

This was a starlight, also a type of array formation; not long ago, Karen had discussed with Delon how to maximize the effect of soul-type array formations, and the teaching Delon gave was to use the method of guiding and receiving.

At this moment, this angel was personally demonstrating it.

Therefore, it really was no wonder that various holy churches had reverse archaeological projects, because in many respects, today's level truly could not compare to the past.

...

In the stone coffin, that Laks copper coin on the angel's body also emitted a luster, and the angel's consciousness began to conduct through it, first coming to Karen's feet, and then entering the soul space.

Within Karen's soul space, the body of the six-winged angel was gradually growing larger, and the majesty from the soul consciousness also continuously manifested.

...

"I perceive a change."

"Me too."

"Same feeling."

Below, the high-ranking priests of the Abyss noticed the anomaly one after another; this time, the feeling was extremely clear.

One of the priests sitting in the absolute center lowered his head, cast a glance at the position of the stone coffin, and his attention swept across that copper coin in particular; a look of pain immediately appeared on his face, which he then forcefully suppressed.

"It is the effect of the copper coin. Everyone, do not investigate; under the blessing of Lord Angel, the confusion effect of the Laks copper coin is very remarkable."

"Yes."

"Yes."

...

"I like your body; it is the artwork I have been searching for. I am infatuated with it, I need it, and I will also cherish it, because this is the most fundamental respect for a piece of art."

Karen's voice came: "What is your mission?"

The angel raised his head, seeming to search for the source of the voice; he did not answer Karen's question directly, but said:

"Quite a good soul strength, like a fine piece of blue crystal art; I am even loath to chew it to pieces. What a pity, I am destined to destroy it; this is the sorrow and helplessness of an artist."

Accompanied by the falling of the voice, the blackness around the angel began to expand outward rapidly, and Dis's figure began to retreat continuously, yielding more "territory."

However, the angel still did not find any trace of Karen.

This meant that Karen was still hiding, and it meant even more just how vast this soul space truly was.

Karen's voice rang out again: "Tell me, what is your mission?"

The angel raised his hand and reached forward; a long spear appeared, held in his grasp.

"Buzz!"

The long spear was thrust into the ground by him, and in an instant, the black area began to expand even more violently.

"Tell me, what is your mission?"

Finally, in some positions, the expanded blackness had pressed against the critical boundary.

The angel began to speak: "I was originally dead; my body broke free from the ruins of heaven and fell into the abyss; the abyss collapsed, and my body flowed out from the sea of the abyss.

I do not know how long I floated, nor do I know how many ages I wandered.

I must have been a resting place for migratory birds, a support for coral reefs.

Until...

I suddenly woke up again.

The music of heaven no longer echoes, the boundlessness of the abyss is also gone, and all the most precious things that once remained deep in my memory no longer bear their former traces."

The angel's voice was high-pitched and full of emotion, like a wandering poet performing a passionate recitation, or like a singer building up the prelude along with the accompaniment.

And at this moment, the other three directions within the entire soul space had already finished filling with blackness, leaving only the area where Dis was and the tiny region behind him waiting for the final filling.

Karen's voice, this time certain to be coming from there, demanded:

"What I am asking is, what on earth is your mission!"

The angel opened his arms, and the surrounding blackness began to boil, as if this place had turned into an opera house stage:

"The departure of the gods took away everything of mine, causing me to lose the meaning of existence; my awakening means that the steps that once walked away have finally embarked on the return journey.

Although I have not yet truly touched this world, I have already perceived its paleness and tedium.

It is like a blank scroll, far too clean, waiting to be filled with color."

Under the immense pressure, Dis's figure began to retreat, retreat, and retreat again, causing the last piece of "pure land" he guarded to continuously compress.

The angel continued to chant:

"Heaven will once again play magnificent movements, the abyss will surge forth and billow anew; the brief silence is only to welcome an even more splendid new chapter."

The gods are about to return, descending once more in their own grand manner.

And the sacred mandate I bear,

Is to pave the way for the advent of my Lord.

I shall guide his faithful, raising high the bonfires to illuminate the path of my Lord’s return.”

“And the precise method? The God of the Abyss—how exactly shall he return?”

The angel lifted his proud neck,

And spoke:

“The Sovereign God who possesses the most intact and formidable divine legacy shall seize the vanguard of return;

My mission is to aid my Lord, so that he may return before the God of Light!

My Lord

Shall inaugurate an epoch belonging solely to the Abyss!”

Karen finally obtained his answer, though it remained incomplete. The angel had not disclosed the precise mechanism; it was highly probable he was merely a fragment of the method, or perhaps, the manner of return differed for each deity.

“There is something you might not know: the Church of Light has already perished.”

“The Church of Light… perished? Then which is the most powerful church now?”

Before Karen could reply, the angel raised his finger once more, pointing toward the final, isolated domain:

“Once I have usurped your vessel, I shall have ample time to reacquaint myself with this current world. For now, I am famished.”

Karen’s form finally materialized from that last unfilled domain, but he did not emerge alone; stepping forth alongside him from that very space was a towering, majestic figure.

The six-winged angel, initially colossal and shrouded in divine aura, was instantly reduced to nothing more than a minuscule winged ant by comparison.

Within the angel’s originally hollow, dark eye sockets, a flicker of light finally surged, yet it was entirely consumed by sheer horror.

He began to fear, he began to tremble, his wings instinctively folding inward as his arms wrapped tightly around his own body—a lamb awaiting slaughter, groveling before a giant, utterly incapable of summoning even a shred of defiance.

His jaw dropped wide, letting loose a long, drawn-out wail: “Ahhhhhhhh…”

His face twisted toward the side, his gaping mouth beginning to warp as he uttered choked words laced with a sobbing tone:

“The God of Order has already returned…”

Karen clenched his fists tightly, speaking in a voice that sounded as though he were desperately suppressing something profound:

“I… am famished as well.”