Chapter 684: The Prophecy... Manifests!

Chapter 684: Prophecy... Manifests!

A desolate horn resounded across this region, seeming somewhat out of place with the so-called "civilization" constructed by the surrounding metropolis, yet this "civilization" was so fragile before it, truly paper-thin in the literal sense.

It was even no exaggeration to say that without these horns echoing time and again in the past, "civilization" would not exist at all.

Karen raised his binoculars once more, looking toward the mansion.

Various problems existed within the Church of Order, and many dregs were active within it; even Karen himself and Neo beside him were, to some extent, part of these "dregs";

But one thing was undeniable: every time the Church of Order mobilized on a large scale in the open, what it practiced was bound to be classical idealism.

The Abyss Religion harvested the blood and vital energy of "artists" here to sustain the vitality of their angels; though selective, it still violated the "Regulations of Order," and such behavior deserved severe punishment!

A former sage of the Church of Principles had once left behind these words: Never force the Church of Order to make a public choice, because its choice will certainly make you extremely uncomfortable.

In the world of churches, the Church of Order was a deformed freak, one could even call it a malignant tumor.

The only reason it could exist was... power.

Karen suddenly sighed from the bottom of his heart: "Neo, tell me, if one day the church circles begin to like and accept the existence of the Church of Order, what would that mean?"

Neo, who had just finished changing his clothes and putting on his hat, pondered for a moment and said, "I think I understand what you mean, but in the short term, I cannot express my answer in precise language."

"When the enemy likes us, it proves we have done wrong."

Neo took a deep breath and said, "It's a pity your manservant isn't here, otherwise he would definitely pull out his notebook and start writing rapidly."

As he spoke, Neo turned slightly, cut his own palm with his fingernail, and recorded the sentence in his palm; he liked this sentence very much, and furthermore, he added another line:

When you are lost, your enemy will help you choose your direction.

Well, after this matter is over, he would count his own addition into Karen's words, letting that manservant record it for contemplation and study, hehe.

Neo had discovered a new pleasure, which was watering down famous quotes.

Karen had also changed into his clothes and put on his mask, saying to Neo, "Alright, it's time for us to depart."

Neo shouted, "Great, let's see who is faster!"

"Childish."

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

A succession of violent explosions rang out.

Although this incident could not be considered a war, it already fell within the scope of a small-scale conflict, and the door-kicking, solve-everything approach favored by the Whip of Order squads was clearly inappropriate here.

Every roar brought about the collapse of the mansion's outer defensive arrays; it had been arranged very covertly, but the York City Region did not lack array experts either.

Therefore, this was destined to be an unfair duel; facing the onslaught of the Church of Order on Order's own home turf, the side planning the military operation was simply too affluent in resources.

With the defensive arrays shattered, the interior of the mansion was like a shelled egg, but it was still burning hot after all.

Appearing first were three formations of Falcon Knights, their bodies painted with red pigment.

Wick's gaze was glued to the real-time images coming from the communication array; because it was a "home game" operation, the treatment and standard in the command room were extremely high.

"Um, Mr. Alfred, aren't you worried and anxious?"

Wick noticed that Alfred had remained composed all along; from the start of the mission until now, he hadn't caught a single trace of panic on Alfred's face.

Alfred replied, "I am very anxious."

"But you..."

"I know how to pretend."

Wick: "..."

Alfred added two more ice cubes to his remaining half-cup of coffee, smiling slightly. "You should learn to pretend as well."

"I..."

"Because you cannot predict at which point in time and in which frame you will be captured onto a mural, you must require yourself to maintain an elegant posture most of the time."

"An elegant posture?"

"It is as if people are taking photos of you with cameras all around, and painters are sitting in the corners sketching you; you need to have this awareness."

"Mr. Alfred, this idiosyncrasy of yours really makes me..."

"This is not an idiosyncrasy; this is a high demand upon oneself."

"Yes, I understand, I will learn from you."

Wick took a deep breath, sat back in his position, and then his gaze softened a bit as he looked at the real-time screen.

Alfred pointed at him, reminding, "You had better change your position."

"Why?"

"Because you are backlit."

"But why didn't you remind me earlier, sir?"

"Because my photo has been taken, and now it's time for a close-up of you."

"Al... right."

Wick took a deep breath and changed his position.

Alfred stood up, walked slowly behind Wick with his coffee cup, and placed a hand on Wick's shoulder, reminding him, "Feel it carefully; you need to find that sensation where everything you do is being responsible to future history."

"I understand."

Alfred patted Wick's shoulder and asked, "Do you feel it?"

"I feel it."

"Tell me, what is it?"

Wick answered immediately, "It is the heavy weight of historical responsibility."

"You learn quickly."

"Thanks to your guidance, sir."

Alfred bent down, bringing his head level with Wick, who was sitting in the chair:

"Do you know what my greatest dream is?"

"You have always been pursuing a great goal, sir."

"Be more specific."

"To do things for your young master."

"More specific."

"This..."

"In fact, my greatest dream is to do nothing at all and just stay by the young master's side, because that is the core position illuminated by the aperture of history's perspective; I hope to become the background element the young master uses the most."

"So... that's how it is."

"So, your capacity for comprehension just now was rather exceptional. Keep pondering it, and perhaps, in the future, a very crucial duty of mine can be handed over to you."

Alfred had always been looking for ways to lighten his load. What he missed most was the time on the ship when he had first accompanied the Young Master to Wien, and those days at the Allen Estate and the Allen Apartment. Back then, there were few things he needed to attend to himself, allowing him to remain by the Young Master's side almost the entire day. Yet reality forced him to become a jack-of-all-trades, so he did not mind delegating some of his responsibilities whenever he found the right person. For instance, he felt Vick possessed a natural talent for this.

Ah, the heavy burden of historical responsibility... Heh, this mystical, grand-sounding way of bluffing had indeed been perfectly inherited. Or rather, you truly are gifted. In the future, the propaganda and educational work of pulling newcomers into the syndicate can be left to you. Opportunists often manage to appear more radical than true idealists, and they possess an even greater capacity for incitement.

Just imagine, a student of Rasma had not only become the head of the Remnants of Light department and a devotee of the Young Master, but was also specifically tasked with recruiting newcomers for him... Father Rasma would surely be deeply moved by such focused cultivation of his student.

Above the manor, the formation of Falcon Knights began their descent. One squadron wove a massive black net that cast downward, disrupting the operation of various array formations below that violated and sabotaged the order. The other two falcon squadrons began using crossbow bolts to snipe those who dared to rush out at the first moment to check the situation. These people were mostly Abyssal Priests, and those responsible for organization and dispatch. Cutting them down first would dissolve the enemy's subsequent capacity for resistance to the greatest extent.

In truth, they possessed far richer means of destruction, but the mission plan did not demand them. Smashing an ant's nest to pieces was not the primary objective; everything had to proceed in an orderly fashion.

After the Falcon Knights above completed three rounds of reaping, the rhythmic thunder of hooves echoed from the earth below. The garrison knights, clad in armor painted stark white, split into three military columns and launched a crisscrossing charge toward the manor. Fences, remaining arrays, ordinary civilians, and priests alike were instantly ground into dust beneath their undead iron hooves. Along their path of advance, not even the lawns were spared; wherever the hooves trod, vegetation instantly withered, scorched by the fires of the undead.

It was a harvest possessed of a certain aesthetic beauty. The garrison knights were essentially reservists or retirees of the Grand Knights. Though they fell far short of the Grand Knights in both strength and equipment, they were easily on par with the regular guardian armies of any other orthodox church. Under the shearing force of such a charge, even if a relatively powerful Abyssal Priest wished to step forward and intervene, they would quickly be crushed directly by the immense reinforcing effects of the military formation. Individual might, in such a scenario, appeared entirely negligible.

Soon, the garrison knights charging from three directions completed their respective crossings. They had crushed all life on the surface, leaving behind a trail of magma and undead fire in the wake of their charge.

It was at this exact moment that Puya’s figure materialized above the manor.

The Falcon Knights began collectively utilizing spells to erect mental defenses for themselves, while the knights below immediately drew prepared psychic potions to replenish their reserves. Of course, these actions were effective only because Puya was intentionally steering clear of them; they merely needed to counteract the slight ripples of leakage. If Puya truly lost control, with her current strength, she was fully capable of conjuring a localized "Scourge of Desire."

For she now possessed two true forms, and a third form was presently calling out to her from the underground below, while the Order Church's "Forbidden Space" seemed to have encountered a problem...

Karen felt that the Order Church would not be so bored as to provide training for the artifact spirits within the Forbidden Space, but to ensure their existence, the Church did indeed grant corresponding soul-type or attribute-aligned crystal vessels. Yet the Order Church was simply too wealthy, and the divine artifacts within the Forbidden Space were far too numerous, which led to these artifact spirits spontaneously forming an atmosphere resembling a "cultural town" inside. They would converse, they would learn, they would progress, and they would even form interest groups of their own accord—such as the "Prison Break Society."

Puya had clearly received a great deal of instruction within, and at this moment, she could unleash the power of the divine artifact to a much greater extent. After all, the Source of Sin merely suffered from an excessive quantity of copper coins; it had absolutely nothing to do with being damaged. Furthermore, it was the coffin-sealing masterpiece of the Master God Lax before his fall.

"O copper coins created by the Master God Lax, I accept your summons by my right as an artifact spirit. Now, I command you to exert your full power... Source of Sin—Beguile!"

The two copper coins beside Puya unleashed two beams of light toward the ground below, striking essentially within the same area. Simultaneously, the copper coin within the subterranean stone coffin also released a beam of light to correspond with them. In this instant, it was equivalent to the overlapping effect generated by three Lax copper coins under the direction of an artifact spirit being unleashed all at once.

The crowd of Abyssal Priests who had been surrounding the stone coffin preparing for teleportation immediately fell into a vortex of greed, and Miliven was no exception. While others began shouting "My Lord," "My Faith," or "Sea of Abyss," Miliven screamed, "Heaven, Heaven, Heaven!"

There were many high-ranking priests here. They should not have succumbed so suddenly, nor should they have been so pathetic; otherwise, those planning the offensive outside would not have deliberated and plotted for so long. But how should one put it? They had placed a Lax copper coin at the very core of their position, which was tantamount to bringing a bomb that could be detonated by the enemy at any moment directly into their command room.

A sudden explosion with a resounding boom was a perfectly understandable outcome.

Above, Puya looked like a mischievous girl as she curled her finger toward the ground below:

"Good children, come out and play!"

This single call was like lighting the final bonfire. The subterranean Abyssal Priests, who had already changed into robes of Order and garrison armor, one by one seemed to see the ultimate form of their desires before their eyes. They began to sprint upward, heedless of everything.

On the surface, the garrison knights, who had finished reforming their ranks, found the scene somewhat surreal as they witnessed this. They had already raised their blades and lances, and the undead warhorses beneath them were already pawing the ground impatiently. It could be said they had made sufficient preparations and granted enough respect to welcome a true enemy. Yet the enemies rushed out in a chaotic swarm like a pack of fools, wearing greedy smiles, completely ignoring them.

The knights grew angry, feeling insulted. If a battle was only of this level, it was truly unworthy of the hard work they had put into sneaking into the city district in the dead of night.

The command was given, the charge commenced, and the assembly of Abyssal lords clad in the attire and armor of Order began to be ruthlessly trampled and sheared apart.

Two figures appeared in mid-air one after the other. It just so happened that the garrison knights below were launching their assault, while the Falcon Knights above had begun their outer-perimeter circling, coupled with Puya's deliberate "veiling"... It was a script designed by their own house, and the appearance of a "window of opportunity" at this juncture allowed Karen and Neo to enter this place soundlessly in the most arrogant manner possible.

At this moment, beneath the manor, two people had not gone out. One was Kanrei, who had regained clarity at the final moment relying on a sacred artifact on his person. Realizing what was unfolding before him, tears instantly flooded his face, yet he did not hesitate in the slightest. The first thing he did upon waking was to dispel the seal originally imposed upon the angel. For this, his body began to suffer the backlash of the seal, trembling violently:

"Lord Angel, we can no longer help you return home. Now I grant you freedom. Please accept the guidance from my Lord, and journey upon the road home by yourself!"

The second person who had not gone out was Miliven. The lost Child of God had received the protection of her inheritance. Just as those few figures stood within Karen's spiritual world, as a Child of God, the presence of the God Nochi also existed within her spiritual world. It was the power of the God Nochi that allowed Miliven to regain clarity, and the first thing she did upon waking was to condense a yellow lightning bolt in her palm, striking it directly into Kanrei's back.

Kanrei had never dreamed that he would suffer a treacherous strike from one of his own at this moment. He turned his head in bewilderment, and seeing Miliven with clear eyes, he asked in confusion:

"My Lady, why?"

"The one I faith in is my true Lord."

Miliven offered no further explanation. The spell's effect expanded. Kanrei, who had been eager to undo the seal just now, was already heavily injured, and at this moment, he finally could not hold on. A large hole was blown into his chest, and his body slumped down.

Immediately after, Miliven looked at the angel who had sat up from the stone coffin after being freed from the seal:

"You are an angel from

Once the order was given, Vick looked toward Alfred and asked, "A ten-minute interval, is that enough?"

Alfred nodded and replied, "It should be sufficient."

...

Beneath the earth, seeing no response from the angel, Miliven shouted anxiously, "Hurry up and leave!"

"Ha!"

With a violent lunge, Neo sent Miliven flying. Fortunately, her reflexes were sharp; she braced her body against the wall to absorb the impact.

"Who are you?"

Miliven did not recognize Neo.

Neo, however, turned his gaze to the angel seated within the stone sarcophagus. He reached out his hand, intending to touch the copper coin hanging upon the angel's chest.

Yet, from within the coin, Loya's voice resonated:

"If you touch it now, you will lose yourself entirely."

Neo withdrew his hand instantly. He knew Loya spoke the truth; his split personalities had already materialized within him. If he were to suffer the stimulation of the Source of Sin once more, the entities inside his mind would all plunge into madness, and he might truly cease to exist. It was unlike before, when he had first regained his consciousness and could play with it at whim; one could only say he was no longer the man he used to be.

At that moment, the copper coin floated up on its own, guided and controlled by Loya as it flew toward its true master.

Neo spoke to the angel sitting in the stone sarcophagus, "He said that if you don't want to go back, he simply won't want you anymore."

Qianmei was struck with absolute horror.

In an instant, the angel’s body bolted from the stone sarcophagus, flying toward its master as well.

"Snap!"

Karen, who had lost to Neo in this childish game of pursuit, reached out and caught the copper coin flying up toward him from below.

It was, at long last, in his hands.

Karen placed the copper coin into a pre-prepared sealed pouch designed for isolation. Just as he secured it, he sensed a formidable aura surging up from beneath him.

The angel approached at a breathtaking speed. In the next breath, Qianmei detached from the angel's body, leaving the vessel to fall freely, while the spirit itself plunged directly into Karen’s body like a wandering child returning home.

"Thud!"

The impact was not physical in nature, yet it caught Karen entirely off guard. Furthermore, having been nourished by the angel’s remnant soul over the past few days, Qianmei had grown far more robust and tangible, undergoing a highly extraordinary transformation.

"Hum!"

Driven by the powerful inertia, Karen's figure rose rapidly, finally bursting through the earth and into the mid-air.

By now, the garrison had completed their slaughter and withdrawn, while the Whip of Order squad had not yet entered the premises.

Thus, the grounds surrounding the mansion below were a desolation of magma and undead fire left by the charging phantom steeds, littered with fragmented corpses, many of whom still wore the divine robes of Order and the armor of the garrison.

As Karen hovered in the air, Qianmei was desperately trying to curry favor with him. It sought to show Karen through actual deeds that it was willing to remain his servant forever—no, to become a part of him for eternity, to become his... wings!

"Swish!"

The wings unfurled!

But this time, as they unfolded, they were no longer the mechanical black hue of old that relied on the efficacy of a sacred artifact; instead, they were six wings bearing distinct feathers and a radiant, holy aura.