Chapter 707: Weirdness Descends

Chapter 707: The Advent of the Uncanny

Three VIP vehicles carrying a twenty-four-member volunteer team arrived on the hillside just outside the barrier.

Two altars had already been erected here, surrounded by personnel from the Interdiction of Space Office, who activated the altars the moment Karen and the others stepped out of the vehicles.

Soon, black voids manifested above both altars, from which the illusionary forms of a white cloak and a harp descended slowly, radiating a milky white and a blue light respectively.

"Minister Karen, please."

"Right, let's head up."

Karen gestured with a wave of his hand, signaling everyone to line up and ascend the altars.

Standing upon the altar for a mere moment would leave a white or blue imprint upon one's palm—a blessing from the sacred artifacts, which could be stored and later unleashed by stimulating the mark when needed.

Richard asked, perplexed, "Why not just borrow the power of the sacred artifacts to blast our way inside?"

Neo quipped, "So, you fancy blowing up a cesspool just for the fun of it?"

"Uh, then why not let us carry the sacred artifacts right inside?"

Neo was thoroughly amused. "You truly are a generous gentleman. Three sacred artifacts inside aren't enough for you? You want to actively deliver more to them?"

"Ah, I see."

"So, you didn't absorb a single word from our previous lessons? Divine pollution, my friend—did you take it for a common gas leak?"

"Well, I was a bit too excited at the time and didn't catch much. Anyway, once I'm inside, I'll just follow orders."

"You should have said so earlier; we could have shared a drink together."

Neo slung an arm around Richard's shoulder as they went up, with Karen following close behind.

As Karen passed the altar of the white cloak, everything proceeded as normal, leaving a white mark in his right palm; yet, the moment he stepped onto the blue-lit altar of the harp, a gentle woman's voice echoed softly in his ear:

"The proposal is currently being refined."

Karen froze slightly, looking up at the shape of the harp above, finally connecting it to that particular artifact spirit—she was the harp of the Goddess Miers.

However, just as Karen was about to step down from the altar, the surrounding blue light suddenly fluctuated, growing noticeably more violent.

The personnel from the Interdiction of Space Office immediately rushed forward to inspect the situation, terrified of any mishap during the artifact's bestowal—an occurrence not entirely unprecedented in the past—while Karen calmly stepped down.

"Minister Karen, are you alright?"

"I am fine."

Karen shook his head and offered them a reassuring smile.

"Thank you for your hard work."

"No, compared to what you are doing, Minister Karen, our efforts amount to nothing at all."

"Minister Karen, we pray for your safe return."

"Thank you."

After exchanging warm and polite courtesies, Karen led his subordinates toward the entrance of the barrier.

Neo sidled up to him and whispered, "What just happened back there?"

"It was nothing."

Neo opened his left palm to reveal a mark shaped like a blue droplet.

Karen opened his own hand, showing a mark shaped like a blue gemstone; in both luster and size, the droplet was entirely eclipsed.

Neo frowned, muttering, "Damn it, this is utterly absurd. Does even the blessing of a sacred artifact show favoritism based on personal ties?"

"It is likely because of Loya."

In truth, not even Karen himself knew that this was actually because of Ragnedar.

"I feel like I've already been contaminated by my own envy. How about I find an opportunity to plot your demise once we're inside?"

"As you wish."

"Heh."

Stepping through the barrier, a colossal castle loomed before their eyes.

Unlike other castles built for outward defense, this fortress was designed to contain something within; at the absolute center of the architectural complex lay the subterranean cavern, its perimeter encircled by massive light rings of three distinct colors, while a black Throne of Order hovered in the air above.

Around the castle's perimeter, eight giants were assisting with construction work—giants of a kind Karen had previously seen inside the temple.

This was a permanent fortification because even if Karen's team successfully completed their mission, it would only quiet the source of pollution to prevent extreme anomalies, meaning long-term monitoring and defense remained absolutely essential.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, clergymen would remain stationed here even a century from now.

Entering the castle and making their way deep inside, Karen led his subordinates to sit near the boundary line of the sealing array, where clergymen immediately brought them food and water.

"Rest for half an hour."

"Yes, Minister."

"Yes, Minister."

At least for the moment, the atmosphere of the team was quite harmonious; after all, Karen's trusted confidants made up half the roster, and everyone understood perfectly well that this was no treasure hunt, eliminating any chance of internal strife over the division of spoils. Their collective interest lay in completing the mission and coming out alive.

Karen ate his bread while gazing at the clergymen within the cavern's perimeter who still maintained their eerie, kneeling postures; before long, his team would be facing them directly.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Young Master." Alfred immediately moved closer to Karen.

"Once we step inside, activate the mental chain to coordinate our movements."

"Understood, Young Master."

Just then, a middle-aged clergyman approached Karen of his own accord. Karen remembered his name—Tolisso, a squad captain from the Whip of Order.

"Minister Karen, there is a favor I would like to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

"Once the mission is complete, could I bring my daughter to the headquarters to meet you? Please rest assured, she only wishes to see you up close and won't take up much of your time. She is a great admirer of yours and currently attends the church school. Heh, she likes you very much... after all, you really are quite handsome."

It was a father personally helping his daughter pursue her idol.

Indeed, given Karen's age, appearance, past achievements, and current status, he was immensely popular among the young women of the Church. A prince on a white horse... no, the God of Order favored black, so a prince on a black horse was precisely the mold Karen fit.

"Of course, no problem at all. When the mission is over, I invite you to bring your daughter to join our dinner gathering. I will cook personally."

"Really? That is wonderful! Haha, when my daughter found out her father was going on this mission with you, she was so proud—proud of me. She said she has a great father."

"She is absolutely right, you are. In the future, you can tell

"Minister Cullen, shall we take a photograph for everyone?" A priest, a camera slung around his neck, came jogging over with his assistant.

"A photograph?" Cullen waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. Let us forgo the picture."

When the survivors eventually held that photograph and counted how many failed to return, the image would be far too bleak.

As preparations resumed, Cullen caught sight of several silhouettes standing upon the distant castle watchtower. Delon, Piro, and Hoses—the masters in charge of the formation network.

"Your grandson is among them, is he not?" Piro inquired of Delon, who stood just behind him.

"Yes," Delon nodded, thinking to himself: More than one, in fact.

"They will return safely."

"I only hope they fulfill their mission," Delon murmured.

"I have faith in that boy Cullen. Oh, by the way, the signal has been given from over there. Let us open a breach and let them pass through. Can you manage it alone?"

"I can. It is no trouble."

"Excellent. Then let me witness the Magic Cube Key of the Guman family."

Delon unfurled his palm, and the magic cube materialized.

Cullen and his vanguard already stood upon the altar of a teleportation array. As the phantom of an inner formation began to shimmer into view, this spatial transit—which in physical reality spanned perhaps a mere few meters—commenced.

A low hum resonated through the air.

When the blinding light finally dissolved, Cullen and his companions had materialized within the sealed barrier.

Delon let out a soft sigh, sequestering his magic cube away.

Years ago, he had personally escorted his daughter to the Curia building to board the teleportation array for that fateful mission to the Dingge Region; today, he was personally sending his two grandsons into the blighted zone.

He had assumed he would feel a surge of anxiety or self-reproach, but the reality was a hollow stillness in his chest, like the uncanny serenity before a tempest.

Hoses balled his hands into fists, thumping them gently against the stone parapet.

"My dear Marina..."

Piro’s brow twitched. He exhaled a plume of smoke toward Hoses and asked, "So loath to part with your disciple, yet you did not go yourself?"

"I shall go myself during the second wave, should they fail. What, do you doubt my word?"

"Heh." Piro shook his head. "Going in the second wave is merely having your hand forced by circumstance."

"You..." Hoses drew a deep, sharp breath, speaking with heavy emotion. "I initially proposed that we elders should enter, but the others refused to assent. Had I insisted on going, it would have meant dragging them along by force, leaving them no choice but to follow."

"Spare me the excuses. Is it truly so difficult to face your own heart?" Piro tapped his pipe. "Regardless, once this affair concludes, prepare yourselves to face the Tribunal one by one. This disaster occurred within the York City Region, after all. Meaning, if our Minister Cullen completes his mission and returns alive, he will likely be the very man tasked with prosecuting you."

"Piro, think what you will, but regarding this project, my conscience is clear."

"Your conscience may be clear, but the project failed, and someone must bear the blame. This matter cannot be hushed up, and the Holy Church requires such a gesture to signal to the wider ecclesiastical circles that similar experiments will never happen again, thereby soothing their unrest.

Oh, by the way, why do you suppose our Regional Chief Bishop and the newly appointed Director have not graced this scene to watch them enter?

What exactly are those two occupied with at this very moment?

To have such a foul mess conjured on their own turf—previously, they lacked the authority to interfere with you, but now, are they not even permitted to seize the moment and settle accounts in the aftermath?

Perhaps this might even pave the way for a new statute, strengthening the Region's leverage before the higher special departments, heh."

"Piro, are you offering me a warning?"

"Hardly. How could I possess such benevolence? I am merely watching the spectacle. Seeing you plagued by misfortune and embarrassment brings me joy.

Should Cullen and his crew fail, the guilt upon you lot will instantly multiply;

Should Cullen succeed, you might as well prepare to serve as the stepping stones for his meteoric rise. That Chief Bishop has long been laying the groundwork for this very outcome."

"It matters little to me," Hoses smiled faintly. "If I must be his stepping stone, then so be it. I hold that young man in high regard, and I pray he emerges safely. If the time comes for him to indict me for my transgressions, I shall cooperate fully. Piro, do not look down on a man's honor."

"Humph."

"As for you, you truly have walked into sheer fortune. To blindly stumble upon such a magnificent student."

"Envious?"

"Extremely."

"Once you are stripped of your office, go and teach the youth properly. The affairs of gods are beyond your management; at the very least, tend to the affairs of mortals first."

Hoses fell silent.

Delon listened to the dialogue between the two retired elders throughout, confirming his own suspicions. So long as Cullen safely executed this mission and emerged alive, the path forward for his grandson would be shattered wide open.

Will our Guman family...

also give rise to a Grand Priest?

The scene of Cullen and his vanguard being transported into the interior of the seal was being broadcast live through communication arrays, watched intently by other regions and relevant departments of the Holy See.

As for the York City Region itself, under the respective mandates of the Chief Bishop and the Director, every personnel member not deployed on active duty was gathered collectively to view the broadcast. One cathedral hall after another was packed to capacity.

The moment Cullen and his unit officially crossed over, the priests rose as one to offer their prayers.

Influence and cohesion were forged precisely through such accumulated moments. It was impossible to replace every post with one's own trusted cronies; once the inner circle grew too vast, it ceased to be an inner circle at all.

Yet, if one could cause their influence to seep downward through every microscopic fissure, then wherever that influence reached would effectively become the domain of their authority.

Within the Chief Bishop's office, Byrne was reviewing newly delivered dossiers, all containing the scandalous indiscretions of personnel tied to the God-Creation Project. He understood this political mechanism perfectly; even if everyone knew you were being punished for the project's failure, the official charges were best kept separate from the project itself.

Before him, the communication array displayed not the footage of Cullen's entry, but rather the live feeds from the various cathedral halls.

The adjudicator, his attendant, gently laid out the documents he had just compiled, saying with a smile, "Chief, you are truly magnificent to Minister Cullen."

"Because the lad is worth it," Byrne took a sip from his teacup. "I originally intended to absorb him into my former position. If he were to become a 'Rat,' I believe he could have climbed to the position of Pope within that covert cult, and without requiring generations of successive effort.

Now, there is no need. He has a grander path to tread, and I shall do everything in my power to propel him upward. It is only right that those elites at the top should also taste his foul temper when he strikes them down with the Code of Order in the future, Hahaha."

Byrne set his teacup down, his gaze narrowing slightly.

Once Jasper’s term concluded, Cullen would in all probability succeed to the position of Regional Director. By the time Byrne himself retired, the next Chief Bishop would be utterly incapable of suppressing Cullen. He would emulate Sus; before his retirement and departure, he would dig the pitfalls clean for his successor.

And Cullen would become that exceedingly rare phenomenon in history: a Director of the Whip of Order who dominated the supreme authority of an entire region.

The York City Region would become Cullen’s region.

However, Byrne did not orchestrate all this merely to allow Cullen to become a local lord of a regional faction. His vision was far from so narrow. What he sought to fashion was a grand design: when Cullen eventually ascended further, any priest subsequently promoted or transferred from the York City Region would bear the indelible brand of the Cullen Faction—the so-called York City Clique within the Church of Order.

This signified not merely a rock-solid foundation in the rear, but also an inexhaustible reservoir of talent, granting them the credentials to gradually expand and enter the crucible of high-level factional struggles within the Holy Church.

The incumbent Grand Priest, Norton, had risen by this very rhythm. To this day, the Phalan Region was still referred to as the "Norton Region."

"Very well, I have finished reviewing the materials. Take them away."

"Yes, Chief."

Byrne opened a drawer and drew out a sheet containing a list of names.

"Since you possessed the audacity to write your name at the very top, then I shall aid you, pushing you even higher."

Byrne then opened the volume of the Light of Order resting upon his desk, turning directly to the page depicting the God of Order sweeping across the Divine Burial Ground.

Upon those few lines of text, there clearly remained the faint, lingering indentation of a fingernail scratch.

This single trace moved Byrne even more profoundly than the very first name written upon that list.

"We are all worshipping the God of Order, yet you... you are learning from the God of Order."

...

Inside the Whipper's office, icebergs loomed on all sides.

Forden had just lit a cigar, and within the communication array before him, footage from the sealing site of the Yorktown region was playing.

"It's this brat, huh."

Holding his cigar, the Whipper left his desk and walked up to the projection. He held a report in his hand, which informed him that more than half of the volunteers Cullen had selected this time were his own direct subordinates.

In truth, to the Whipper, the issue of divine pollution was indeed serious, but at his height, it was not some earth-shattering affair; he only gave it a passing glance.

Yet watching this scene brought the past back to the Whipper.

A similar emergency had occurred back then. They were still quite young, and Norton, who was not yet the Grand Priest, had simply said one thing:

"When it's our turn to go up, don't even think about hiding in the back."

That time, their group had entered a subsidiary church in the capacity of an investigation team.

Incited by their pontiff, that church was preparing to break away from the control of the Church of Order. From the standpoint of Order, it was a rebellion.

Norton had led them to raid the temple where the pontiff resided, captured him alive, severed his head, extracted his soul, and roasted it with the Fire of Order before all the clergymen of that church until it completely dissipated.

That had been a massive gamble. There were countless ways the investigation team could have been wiped out that night, but they chose the hardest and most dangerous path, successfully turning the tide, quelling the rebellion, and maintaining the bound relationship between that church and the Church of Church.

"This kid... is indeed rather interesting."

Checking the time, Forden left his office. He had another meeting to attend, one where he would preside over the deployment of the civil war process within the Desert Church.

After Forden left, a massive dragon head slowly surfaced from within the icy pool.

"Gurgle... gurgle... gurgle..."

Draconic breath exhaled, churning up giant bubbles.

Lady Augie's gaze was also fixed on the image within the communication array, while the Whipper's previous soliloquy echoed in her ears.

She knew clear well that this meant a fellow like Cullen had officially entered the Whipper's field of vision.

When the Whipper found someone interesting, it would not be long before he might ask this interesting person just how much longer it would take for them to become active before his eyes.

She understood the Whipper's temperament all too well, just as the Whipper understood the Grand Priest's.

...

A similar sentiment was uttered at this moment upon a certain star within the Temple of Order:

"Heh, this young man chosen by Rasma is indeed not bad. To Order, he is utterly loyal."

...

"Achoo!"

Richard let out a loud sneeze. "Why is it so cold here?"

Neo replied, "It's not the physical temperature, it's the temperature of the soul. We haven't even entered the sinkhole yet, but the chill of the soul has already struck."

Cullen commanded, "Everyone, activate your divine robe arrays to the maximum, and turn on your protective holy artifacts immediately. If you feel anything unusual, report it at once!"

"Yes, Minister!"

"I like these clothes." Richard touched the fabric of the divine robe. "My grandmother would definitely never be willing to buy this for me."

"It really is too expensive," Memphis said.

Richard smiled and said, "But would you believe it? My grandmother would definitely be willing to buy it for Cullen."

Memphis nodded. "I believe it."

On Neo's end, he tore off a few loose threads, using brute force to violently catalyze the array effects of the divine robe further, though the price was that this robe might only last a single day before being completely ruined.

Richard could not help but remind him, "Minister Neo, you're being too wasteful like this."

Hearing this, Neo turned to him and said, "It's fine, you can cherish your shroud well."

Richard: "..."

"Philomena, Minister Neo," Alfred issued an order through the mental chain.

Promptly, Neo and Philomena advanced ahead of the rest, entering the area where the kneeling clergymen were located; they were responsible for scouting the way.

Those kneeling clergymen showed no signs of abnormality, looking like dead men.

Everything, absolutely everything, seemed profoundly quiet. Yet if it were truly quiet here, how could they have ended up looking like this?

"Let us proceed."

The group began to move forward, walking among the kneeling clergymen.

Without the slightest ripple, Cullen and the others arrived at the entrance of the sinkhole.

Marina could not help but say to Queto beside her, "If only it could stay this quiet forever."

Queto nodded and responded, "Yes, I hope so too. Let there be no other accidents, so we can just peacefully and stably..."

Alfred's voice rang out in the depths of their hearts through the mental chain:

"Do not speak such words, it invites trouble easily."

The two young experts looked at each other, somewhat unable to understand the meaning behind Alfred's words.

"Everyone sit down, rest!"

Everyone sat down. Ahead, Neo and Philomena, who were already waiting at the entrance, were slightly surprised.

What surprised everyone even more was that Minister Cullen and Alfred were both still standing.

Cullen looked toward Alfred. He had let Alfred command, but he could not understand why Alfred would