Chapter 715: God of Eternity

Chapter 715: The Eternal God

Curses were bound to be uttered; hatred was bound to be felt.

He had already laid down every layer of psychological preparation for himself, even going so far as to hypnotize himself into a state of ready compliance for the end, only for the fellow patient on the adjacent bed—who had long been covered with a white sheet—to suddenly sit upright.

This sensation was truly too agonizing, akin to that moment when drowsiness runs deepest, just as one is about to embrace the pillow, close their eyes, and settle into a profound sleep, only for a piercing alarm clock to suddenly blare.

All prior preparations had to be overturned, everything had to begin anew, and the sheer irritation of the emotions demanded a violent venting.

Yet, even as he cursed and hated, gratitude still lingered in his heart.

Though this was but a fleeting resonance born across a span of an era under a specific set of circumstances, it was undeniable that "this gesture" by the previous God of Order had aided him.

Faced with the hunger addiction, if that deity could achieve it, why couldn't he?

This was not some damn competitive desire between men; in most instances, what a person feared most was not endurance and perseverance, but rather the dread of never seeing the dawn of victory.

Simultaneously, mankind feared loneliness.

Upon a desolate road, a man gropes his way forward alone, and as he walks, his heart inevitably falls into a void of self-doubt; if at this juncture a silhouette should appear ahead, the warmth and moving comfort of that sight defies description, yet it brings a powerful jolt of spiritual invigoration.

Bern had once told Cullen that he never felt lonely, because he believed that within the Church of Order, there were many, many people like him dedicated to developing the Church to its absolute zenith.

Now, Cullen had glimpsed one as well—and though that figure had once been the object of his disdain, ridicule, and criticism in the past, at this very moment, upon this very path, it was truly only him who could grant solace to his soul.

His hands gripped the edge of the gargantuan palm with a death-lock; Cullen’s body hung suspended in mid-air, while from below, an ever-strengthening suction began to manifest.

He knew his resistance appeared somewhat unrealistic, and he knew that pure spiritual encouragement could hardly exert a direct and obvious impact on objective reality, but at the very least, he would not go down kneeling; even if the final outcome remained unchanged, he would wring out every last drop of his own strength.

Yet, along with the further intensification of the suction, Cullen’s hands ultimately broke free from the giant palm, and he began to plunge downward.

His consciousness at this moment felt as though it were fracturing apart; it was a wondrous sensation, and a gentle one, devoid of the agony of tearing, but rather dividing his memories, his emotions, and his cognitions into separate, individual pages, whose final destiny was to be bound into a single volume, or broken down into isolated chapters and paragraphs according to necessity.

This, too, was a form of cruelty.

In the past, it had always been Cullen utilizing the power of the hunger addiction to devour others; this time, it was finally his turn to experience it.

"Buzz!"

Suddenly, a pair of black wings manifested.

Just before Cullen could fall into the colossal maw of the statue, the wings successfully intercepted him.

It was truly difficult to imagine how, when the foul-smelling ocean formed by the divine pollution had submerged everything here, the Thousand-Charms had managed to survive at all.

Yet it had endured, and not only had it endured, but at this critical juncture, it had also struck out to save Cullen.

Perhaps, to the Thousand-Charms, the environment here was indeed perilously treacherous, but it was... after all, a product of that most vicious and perilous river within the Gates of Samsara.

The vast majority of life-forms learned and supplemented their skills through nurture, but this time, the Thousand-Charms relied entirely upon its instincts from its larval stage.

And this was precisely the reason why the gatekeeper within the Gates of Samsara had chosen it to be his pet.

Its wings flapped rapidly; the Thousand-Charms wished to carry Cullen away from this place, but the perimeter of the soul space had long since been sealed layer upon layer.

Cullen had transformed from the master of this body and soul into an "intruder."

The true master, this colossal statue, had already extended its hand, intending to crush the moth that had flown into its home.

The Thousand-Charms began to dodge, but this was merely an exercise in futility.

Soon, the giant hand locked down the surrounding space, pinning the Thousand-Charms and Cullen to a single spot.

Bitter misery filled the heart of the Thousand-Charms; though following Cullen ensured it could frequently eat its fill,

it truly did not wish to find itself reduced to food in the mouth of another; thinking back on it now, it really would have been better to go serve as a tracker in the Sea of the Abyss, for at least it would still be alive.

It had nowhere to voice its grievances either; who could have predicted that the master it followed would suddenly, one day, become the guest.

The gargantuan statue began to rise; its true volume had not fully manifested just moments ago, but now, it bared its maw, intending to swallow Cullen whole in this fashion.

Cullen did not choose to wait for death a second time; instead, he spread his hands wide:

Strand upon strand of black Chains of Order manifested, yet those very Chains of Order, which could ordinarily bind and lock all things, appeared utterly fragile and useless before this colossal statue.

Cullen did not cease his resistance, continuing to utilize every ounce of his current capability to incessantly summon forth the Chains of Order.

Chains of Order appeared without pause, only to snap without pause, and the movements of the statue were not delayed in the slightest.

Furthermore, many of the subsequent Chains of Order that were summoned actually extended directly from the body of the statue itself.

This implied that this statue, or rather, the hunger addiction, was inherently one of the sources of Cullen’s own power, and the special ability of "Awakening" originated from it as well.

But now, to wish to use its own power to restrict it was clearly unrealistic.

"Roar!"

A low growl escaped from the throat of the colossal statue; its giant maw had already engulfed Cullen and the Thousand-Charms and was about to close shut; at this moment, it had already sensed the official arrival of its own era.

"Chains of Order!"

At the juncture when the absolute final moment was nigh, Cullen summoned a chain shimmering with a golden luster from within the maw of the colossal statue; the very instant his hand brushed against it, he was certain: this was the very one he had been searching for so desperately!

It could assist him in charging the "Awakened ones," allowing them to escape the fate of destined annihilation three days after being "Awakened"!

The God of Order of the previous era had relied precisely upon it to awaken twelve deceased powerhouses, assembling the Twelve Knights of Order who were fiercely loyal to him!

Now that he possessed it, those few coffins he had left behind in the performance hall of the Allen Manor could officially see the light of day once more.

Old Saman, Count Recar—they would all be able to sit up once again and commence their new lives.

Yet, the most laughable aspect of it all was that he had only unearthed it as his own end drew nigh; it had been hidden all along within the body of the statue, which was to say, the deepest recesses of the hunger addiction.

This was a paradox; if he had not restrained the hunger addiction from the very beginning, perhaps this most unique chain would have been triggered long ago, and it was precisely because of his long-standing, continuous policy of suppressing the hunger addiction that it had remained undiscovered by him; yet conversely, if he had not suppressed the hunger addiction, he would have ceased to exist long ago, and even if he possessed it, what meaning would it hold?

Of course,

it held no meaning now anyway.

The chain shimmering with gold was wrapped tightly around his own body by Cullen, and the wings of the Thousand-Charms had already drooped; with the closing of the giant maw, even the final sliver of light within was extracted utterly clean.

"Heh."

Cullen tilted his head back, a smile playing upon his face, as he awaited the final action of being "swallowed."

What did this sensation feel like?

It felt like having just unearthed a chest of treasures in one's own backyard, only to suffer a sudden heart attack from sheer joy and drop dead on the spot.

"Crack... Crack... Crack..."

An intangible force pressed down completely.

Cullen was forced to his knees upon the ground; the sole thing he could do now was to withdraw his wings.

No matter what, the Thousand-Charms had just saved him once; this time, he had no way to save it, and could only cradle it tightly in his arms, letting himself be devoured a step ahead of it.

Memory, emotion, and cognition officially began to separate.

Cullen’s consciousness had already transformed into scattered specks of radiance, beginning to dissipate.

Truly, it was like a living, breathing organism being "translated" into a portfolio of documents; or like an animal in a slaughterhouse, its various body parts severed and dispatched to different food processing plants to be manufactured into the required specialized provisions, its individual existence thoroughly erased.

However, the golden

chain suddenly flickered with a faint light; it seemed to have sensed something, and entered into a resonance with it.

Cullen was actually very clean right now; the previous wave of divine pollution had washed away almost every single appendage upon his person, to the point that even the symbiotic contract had been dissolved.

Yet there exists a single truth, an entity of the most primal origin, and that is... bloodline.

Within the final, fraying remnants of consciousness, Karen—whose end had already come—suddenly opened his eyes once more, though his current state of being was perhaps limited only to the act of sight, and what he beheld was not concrete reality, but a profoundly abstract play of light and shadow.

A bloodline...

The Inmales family belief system?

No, it was not.

The Inmales family belief system, personally bestowed upon Dis by his most beloved grandson, no matter how powerful it might be, could never withstand the direct, devastating impact of divine corruption.

In this era, Dis had condensed three fragments of divinity; he was a true genius, an existence who alone dared to threaten an orthodox holy church; yet he, after all, was not a god.

However, within Karen’s body, there flowed another bloodline, the lineage of the Altar family from his maternal side.

This was a cursed bloodline, even though its ultimate source lay in... the blessing of the God of Eternity.

Mr. Luther’s divine corruption had neither crushed the ravenous hunger of Order nor dismantled the Altar family bloodline, which had also been the very source of the Altar family’s tragic misfortunes across countless years; it was simply too precious, and too potent, which was why it had been so frantically pursued, becoming a symbol of covenants and love.

The blessing from the God of Eternity was not only preserved, but it underwent a bizarre mutation the moment it endured the constraint of that golden chain.

A brilliant crimson hue slowly bled outward, as if some latent vitality were truly being awakened at this very moment, carrying a rhythm that throbbed like a beating heart, staining the original golden chain completely red.

The swallowing motion of the colossal statue ground to a halt; its massive torso loomed in place, and its head began to scan the surroundings.

It sensed a peculiar aura, an aura that instilled a profound sense of wariness within it.

The previous era could be divided into three distinct phases; the first phase was the divine war, when the radiant camp of the New Gods launched a crusade against the eternal camp of the Old Gods; the second phase was the era when the God of Light illuminated the world to civilize mankind, which was simultaneously the era when Order rose; the third phase was the era when the God of Order reigned supreme following the mysterious fall of the God of Light.

Because of the demise of the Holy Church of Light, the scholars of divine history abandoned their past preoccupation with proving the righteousness of Light replacing Eternity, shifting their perspective to a general consensus that the disappearance of the God of Eternity had left the Old Gods without a true leader, ultimately costing them the divine war.

Raniedar had once personally told Karen that the God of Eternity had become lost to the world while pursuing the forbidden power of time.

Thus, if one had to rank the three most universally recognized supreme gods of the previous era, their positions were virtually immutable: the God of Eternity, the God of Light, and the God of Order.

For all three of them had, at one point, ruled as the absolute overlords of the divine realm.

Now, the eternal blessing had collided with the awakening of Order.

In the unseen depths of fate, it was as if two former supreme overlords had reached out and touched each other at this precise moment, their foundational origins intertwining.

...

"Boom!"

At the center of a polar wilderness whipped by wind and snow, a fissure abruptly tore open, the thick sheets of ice buckled high into the air, and an ancient temple slowly surfaced from the depths below.

In this place, life did not exist at all, and the supreme god enshrined within this temple had long lost his lineage, possessing not a single believer left in the mortal world.

Yet, the surrounding wind and snow coalesced at this moment, conjuring phantoms of armored giants to serve as an honor guard; above, the illusory silhouettes of soaring mythical beasts appeared, circling and dancing in the air for its sake.

Many more intricate existences manifested anew in the form of phantom shadows.

In all likelihood, no one would ever know that within this forbidden zone of life, such a palace had actually emerged on this very day.

Throughout countless ages and across the changing of eras, it had always been there, and the ruthless chisel of time seemed to have failed to scrape away even a fraction of its grandeur.

This included the string of footprints outside the palace walls, and the thawed patch at the base of the wall where some warm liquid had once dripped down.

Anything associated with it, whether in the past, the present, or the future, would become eternal.

Accompanied by the continuous, echoing rumbles, the great doors of the temple slowly swung open, and a solemn, majestic movement of music resounded through the surroundings, only to be swallowed into nothingness by the grander scale of the blizzard.

This was an empty temple, a dwelling place for a god; but now, it had appeared. It was waiting, waiting for its master to... return.

Pu'er was weeping in little Kang Na's arms, while Kevin lay on the windowsill, completely indifferent to the claw marks on his body—after all, they had been inflicted by Pu'er, so they didn’t hurt.

Kevin tilted his canine head, gazing at the moon in the sky outside the window.

He thought back to that night, when that fellow named Karen had brought two bottles of beer to keep him company while looking at the moon.

He was not an easy person to get along with; he was selfish, suspicious, and cautious, yet at the same time, he possessed the exact antithesis of these traits.

Now, that fellow who had once watched the moon with him, and who had pried into the secrets of his heart regarding the story of the moon... was likely gone.

If time could be turned back, he would probably tell him not to leave Roga City, for the scenery outside wasn't actually all that spectacular.

Because as you watch, the scenery might remain, but the person is gone.

Heh.

A smile crept onto Kevin's canine maw.

He deliberately shifted his body a bit more, doing his best to keep Pu'er from seeing it.

Order is about to return.

But this Order is not the one he was once familiar with either.

Kevin's smile suddenly vanished, his canine eyes blinked, and a hint of moisture actually appeared.

He had experienced tremors countless times at the feet of the previous God of Order, and perhaps few in this world understood better than he just how terrifying that supreme existence truly was; yet with that one, no matter what task you performed for him, as long as it was done well, he would always grant you a reward.

When he had completed his instructions and cautiously hinted to him whether he could fulfill his promise to help him deal with the Sea God.

Now, that fellow who had once watched the moon with him, and who had pried into the secrets of his heart regarding the story of the moon... was likely gone.

If time could be turned back, he would probably tell him not to leave Roga City, for the scenery outside wasn't actually all that spectacular.

Because as you watch, the scenery might remain, but the person is gone.

Heh.

A smile crept onto Kevin's canine maw.

He deliberately shifted his body a bit more, doing his best to keep Pu'er from seeing it.

Order is about to return.

But this Order is not the one he was once familiar with either.

Kevin's smile suddenly vanished, his canine eyes blinked, and a hint of moisture actually appeared.

He had experienced tremors countless times at the feet of the previous God of Order, and perhaps few in this world understood better than he just how terrifying that supreme existence truly was; yet with that one, no matter what task you performed for him, as long as it was done well, he would always grant you a reward.

When he had completed his instructions and cautiously hinted to him whether he could fulfill his promise to help him deal with the Sea God.

...While keeping his daughter company, he handed his daughter a piece of candy, clapped his hands gently, and said, "Let's go."

The fate of a primary god was decided just like that.

It was as simple as... stepping out to buy a pack of cigarettes nowadays.

As for this one, he happened to share the exact same virtue as that one; as long as you helped him with all your heart and soul, he would give you a return.

Raniedar, having once been a god himself, knew very well that the notion of "fulfilling a promise," which seemed so natural and right, did not actually hold true in this world, especially when the disparity in strength and status between the two parties was vast; it could very easily degenerate into a hopeless wish.

Yet right at this moment, all of a sudden, one of Raniedar's canine legs began to twitch violently.

His gaze filled with utter astonishment, because he sensed a familiar aura—he could wager that in this world, no, even in the previous era, the majority of deities did not know the origin of this aura!

For it originated from a lost supreme overlord whose faction had participated in the divine war, yet that overlord had never actually appeared on the battlefield, because the very event that marked the end of the era before the last was the vanishing of that supreme overlord!

But he had once searched for the traces of that overlord in a bitterly cold forbidden zone of life, and in the corner of that palace wall, he had even left behind his own mark to show he had been there.

For that overlord, like him, had once pursued the taboos of time.

"Eternity... eternity... the breath of eternity..."

Raniedal opened his canine jaws wide, nearly tumbling from the windowsill. "So, the God of Eternity, he did not fail?"

Within the subterranean cavern.

Leaning against the stone door, Memphis's skin had turned a deathly pale, enshrouded in the divine contamination. He had fallen into unconsciousness, muttering in his sleep, "Kallen... Uncle will wait for you to come out... Uncle won't abandon you..."

A single crimson thread departed from his body, extending slowly until, at last, it sank into that shifting, humanoid pool of black oil.

...

Bang!

A crimson chain broke through the confinement from above, dangling down until it arrived before the colossal statue.

From the mouth of the massive statue, an identical crimson chain seeped out, and the two chains began to interweave and converge.

The statue began to bite, began to swing its massive arms, but he could not grasp the crimson chain, much less tear it asunder.

This was a bond. The previous Kallen had been tortured to death within this very bond, and Uncle Eisen had nearly gone mad because of it.

In truth, the simplest way to sever this bond was to kill the close blood relative who formed it nearby.

Mr. Eisen was already unconscious; one could say that killing him would be effortless. But the problem was that the statue—the hunger addiction—had not yet fully mastered command over Kallen’s body.

Even if he had completed nearly a hundred percent of it, as long as he had not thoroughly devoured Kallen, he could not be considered successful.

The crimson chain began to rise, suspending an unconscious young man beneath it. In the young man's embrace lay a single black feather.

Gradually,

The crimson chain rose out from the breach.

And below, the massive statue let loose an utterly indignant and furious roar! "Roar!"

...

Gurgle... gurgle... gurgle...

Amidst the greasy blackness, a hand slowly emerged. He seemed to be gripping something tightly. Next came the wrist... the arm... the forearm... the shoulder...

Then came the hair, the forehead, the eyes.

Within Kallen's eyes lay an intense craving for life; he was exerting all his strength to crawl outward.

Yet in reality, he was undergoing an excruciating agony. For he was not merely crawling out after falling into a swamp; rather, his body had long been thoroughly dissolved. Every bit of his body that now manifested externally was actually a reweaving of flesh and blood.

Yes, his hands, his head, and every part of his torso were growing anew.

The pain of this growth was countless times more intense than any mere injury.

Fortunately, Kallen's threshold for enduring pain had always been remarkably high. What was more, right now, he was the victor!

Yes, though it was a far from spectacular victory.

He had lost his soul space, where an almost frenzied statue now resided.

Rather than calling it a victory, it was more accurate to say he had escaped.

But what of it?

He was still himself, he was still Kallen. The hunger addiction could only continue to roar in fury within the deepest recesses of his soul; beyond that, it could do nothing at all.

He remained, as ever, his own master!

"Heh... heheheh..."

Kallen smiled, but a fresh wave of severe pain was instantly triggered. Because his organs had not yet finished growing back, the motion of laughing caused a chain reaction.

Finally, though it was impossible to tell just how much time had passed, the sensation of pain across Kallen's body vanished completely.

He "crawled" entirely out from that pool of blackness.

Hah... hah... hah...

Lying face up, Kallen began to breathe in deep, ragged gulps.

He wanted nothing more than to think of absolutely nothing and have a good sleep right here, but he suddenly remembered that someone else had not left, but was waiting for him.

"Uncle..."

Kallen forced himself to crawl up. This body felt immensely heavy, perhaps because he was not yet accustomed to it—like a creature that had lived its whole life in water suddenly arriving on land.

He staggered forward. By his ears, he could seemingly hear the murmurs of the contamination. Their concentration was much lower than before, but they still existed and would gradually re-coalesce.

However, Kallen now seemed able to hear the "voices" of the toxic strains speaking.

Yet he had no mind to ponder such things now. He reached the stone door and saw Uncle Eisen lying there motionless, his face covered in frost.

Kallen knelt before him, reaching out to cup that freezing face. "Uncle... Uncle... Uncle..."

Kallen knew that if this man before him had not stayed behind to wait for death with him, he would never have had that final chance at life.

There was no response. The man kept his eyes closed, utterly unresponsive.

Kallen took a deep breath. His newborn body had not yet formed the physiological response to secrete tears; he could only keep his mouth open, continuously emitting sounds of fury and grievance from his throat.

At last, Kallen calmed down. He raised his hand and spoke in a solemn voice: "Order Awakens."

Yes, even if you are dead, I will resurrect you. Now, I can grant you a true new life.

A chain shimmering with gold emerged from Kallen's palm, coiling toward Mr. Eisen. But to Kallen's shock, the "Awakening Spell" actually failed.

The chain shimmering with gold returned into Kallen's body, and he stared at it all in disbelief.

Why did the Awakening fail?

Was there no longer any spiritual power left within his uncle's remains?

Having died within the contamination, had the corpse been completely corrupted?

Or had he, in order to save Kallen, drained the very power of his own bloodline?

Kallen raised his hand, intending to cast a detection spell to check the remnants of spiritual power within Mr. Eisen's body. But unlike before when the chain had emerged directly, this time, even the simplest detection spell could not be used!

The spell could not be used?

Kallen tried again, only to find to his astonishment that not a single shred of spiritual power existed within this body of his.

Everything seemed to have reverted to the way it was when he had first awakened in his bedroom at Number 13 Mink Street.

He could possess the ability to "awaken" corpses, but back then, he had not even been a divine servant.

It was entirely understandable for such a situation to occur in a brand-new body.

Kallen felt no despair over this, for to him, retracing the path he had walked before was an incredibly simple matter. It had not actually taken him very long to cultivate to his current level, and that was even under the premise of him deliberately suppressing his pace so as not to go too fast.

He had not lost all his power to become an ordinary man; he had merely moved into a better, cleaner house, and simply needed to carry the furniture from the old house back into it piece by piece.

But right now, Kallen had no heart to investigate his new body, nor did he have the emotional state to draw up any recovery plans for himself.

He pressed his hand against his forehead. "Richard, I'm sorry..."

When a person is in a state of extreme grief, their mind becomes a chaotic mess. The only thought in Kallen's mind right now was how he was supposed to face Richard in the future—it was he who had caused Richard to lose his father.

That cousin of his, who always looked out for himself above all else, yet from the very beginning had truly

treated him as an older brother.

Just then, Mr. Eisen, who had been lying there completely motionless, suddenly opened his eyes.

Seeing the young man weeping before him, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, crinkling his frost-bitten face, though the pain was so intense that the first sound he made was not his nephew's name, but rather: "Ah... it hurts..."

Karen froze, briefly wondering if he was hallucinating, until he raised his head to look at the man lying before him, and their eyes met.

"Uncle, you are not dead?"

Mr. Eisen nodded in response, continuing to endure the searing ache of his cracked skin, and said, "I... I was just asleep."