Chapter 76: I Want to Watch with My Own Eyes

Chapter 76 I Will, Witness with My Own Eyes

Order is but a mask.

Wear it when you need it; take it off when you do not.

Pu'er noticed Karen's hands trembling slightly. At first, it thought he was in pain, but gradually realized that was not the case, for it observed tears welling from the corners of Karen's eyes, trickling down the edges of the deathly gray mask covering his face.

This sight brought a pang of ache to Pu'er's heart.

It leaped onto Karen, clinging to his shoulder, and extended a fleshy paw to gently wipe away the tear tracks from the side of his face.

"Why weep? Dis arranged everything for you long ago, you ought to feel happy."

With that, Pu'er shifted to his other shoulder, continuing to stretch out its paw to wipe his tears.

"In truth, I could sense his agony over these years. The more of a genius he was, the more agonizing it became, because he walked too fast, so by the time he realized this path was wrong, he no longer had any chance to turn back.

This is the sorrow of a genius."

Pu'er landed on Karen's lap, its two front paws resting against his chest:

"Every elder harbors expectations for the younger generation, regardless of how open-minded they claim to be. Even if they do not say it aloud, in their hearts they always hope their juniors, upon embarking on the same path, can take fewer detours, avoid the mistakes they once made, and walk better, walk further.

I used to wonder, too, wonder why Dis favored you so, a favor that even transcended the bounds of blood relations.

Now, I think I understand a little.

In you, Dis saw the chance to make amends for his own shortcomings.

This is a legacy, Karen.

Dis will not leave you; he will merely stand at the doorway, watching you carry your bags to journey far, his gaze profound and distant."

Pu'er offered its solace, yet it found its words of comfort were of no avail, for the tear tracks it had just wiped away for Karen were already overwritten by new ones.

It leaped onto Karen's shoulder once more, but this time, as it sought to continue wiping his tears, it paused.

No one understood how to console others and console oneself better than he did; he simply had no need for these comforts of its own making.

He could weep now, precisely because he was wearing a mask.

Even so, Pu'er reminded him:

"The mask's purpose has already ended. If you wish, you may take it off."

Karen spoke:

"I will wear it, and wait for Dis to return."

A moment later,

Karen added:

"Dis promised me, he will return."

...

The cathedral.

Having completed the blood sacrifice ritual, Dis stood at the center of the platform, his complexion gradually turning pale.

Rasma leaned against a pew, standing there; at this moment, he was actually the most relaxed of all, because things had long since spun beyond his own control, and in fact, a trace of petty gratification flickered in his heart;

Because, things had likely spun beyond the control of the three standing in the back as well.

Look at them,

Those three sacred temple elders, what state had they just been in:

Tugging at each other,

Arguing with each other,

Obstructing each other,

And finally,

Each falling into a state of shock one after another;

It was practically like a divine servant preaching in some remote mountain village, where the rustics went from disdain to confusion, and finally to utterly dumbfounded.

Rasma took a deep breath, trying his best to maintain a solemn expression, otherwise he was truly terrified that he might burst out laughing.

He used to wonder, wonder why every time he became entangled with matters concerning Dis, he always needed to readjust his state of mind anew; he felt the reason was not merely that they had been competitors in their youth.

Perhaps,

Deep in his heart, there truly existed a sense of adoration toward Dis.

He still remembered his youth, standing at Dis's side, receiving a summons from Elder Geller together;

He had witnessed with his own eyes how Dis, right before the temple elders, likened order to a mask.

Was he influenced by him?

No, because he gradually realized it was impossible for him to catch up to Dis's footsteps; before, he merely felt there was a distance, but now he discovered the man was not even walking on the ground.

What he resented, perhaps, was merely that spontaneously arising sentiment of adoration.

Rasma, after all, was not old Hoffen. Old Hoffen was an old pedant who had spent his entire life on an academic route, living out his days in suppression and dullness, so when he first heard of Dis's deeds, he possessed almost no resistance against it, later even capable of declaring without a shred of concealment that Dis was the man he admired most in his life.

Yet Rasma was different. He, too, had been one of the favored sons; a humble origin coupled with excellent talent allowed him to once be hailed within the church as a rising bright star. To truly force him to adore a contemporary was still somewhat embarrassing.

However,

It was fine now;

Rasma only felt light in body and mind. At any rate, the two volumes of the "Regulations of Order" and the "Light of Order" had both been temporarily discarded onto the ground by him; at this moment, he was merely Rasma, stripped of any other identity.

Casting aside the various shackles brought by identity, he was now actually able to appreciate the Dis of this moment from the perspective of a "free" soul.

Finally,

Accompanied by yet another flash of light from that rudimentary teleportation array beneath the platform, the middle-aged Dis returned here once more. The teleportation array beneath his feet shattered in its wake; this was, after all, a "two-use" construct.

Furthermore, teleporting through various arrays in high frequency within a short span of time brought an immense burden to the middle-aged Dis as well. His body had already become semi-transparent, leaving only the divinity fragment at his chest still retaining a distinct luster.

It was like a "heart" in another form, sustaining the framework of the middle-aged Dis for now.

Immediately following,

The middle-aged Dis's body began to dissipate, turning into glittering dust that gradually drifted away.

In the end, only that single black divinity fragment remained, held in Dis's hand.

Dis examined it while speaking:

"Want it?"

This tone was akin to pulling out loose change while strolling down a street to taunt a beggar by the wayside.

Yet Xiti still gritted her teeth and walked over.

The losses suffered by the Temple of Order had already occurred, so what truly ought to be grasped now was the harvest that could currently be obtained.

Xiti walked right before Dis, looking at him, her hand outstretched.

Dis cast a final glance at the divinity fragment in his hand, then a glance at Xiti, and then, with utter casualness, took this divinity fragment and

Dropped carelessly onto the ground.

Fragments of a godhead were not so easily shattered, and as it struck the floor, it was instantly shielded by a faint halo of black light, yet the sheer, unvarnished disdain conveyed by that single act was unmistakable.

Siti spoke, "Dis, sometimes there really is no need to completely infuriate a person."

Dis shook his head and said, "I dislike basing my hopes on whether or not a person has been provoked by me, and besides, you misunderstand—the object of my contempt is not you, but these three so-called divine fragments that have tortured me for so long."

With a casual flip of Siti's palm, the godhead fragment levitated and settled into her grasp.

And at this exact moment,

Upon Dis's face, the veins had begun to bulge sharply.

Whether it was his previous act of dividing himself into three, or that bloody sacrificial ritual, both had exacted a tremendous toll upon him.

Furthermore,

There was yet another monumental drain on his strength, one that the three elders present and Lasma remained entirely unaware of.

And that was...

Outside the cathedral now, most members of the Whip of Order were propping themselves up against the ground, trying to soothe the internal injuries caused by the sudden, forced retraction of their spells.

Simon gasped for air, cold sweat dripping down his face,

And within his mind,

A single passage echoed without surmise:

"Our God of Order is not a true god at all. Everything he has ever done was merely a means to achieve godhood!"

To hear such maddening whispers within the Holy See meant one's faith was beginning to falter, that one was being "contaminated."

Simon knew all too well where the source of this pollution lay; it was right inside the cathedral before his very eyes.

He pursed his dry lips, surrounded by a crowd of his subordinates and colleagues, all of them panting heavily, yet Simon had no way of knowing how many among them had, like him, also heard that blasphemous murmur;

Perhaps,

Even among the outer ring of scarlet-robed clergy who had erected the grand array, had any of them heard these words as well?

So, just how vast was the reach of this contamination source this time?

In truth, none of this was what terrified Simon the most, for similar incidents of corrupted faith were not entirely unprecedented and were hardly a novelty among the great churches, but what truly struck dread into his heart was this:

He was actually hesitating whether or not to report it.

...

"What comes next, Dis?"

Geller asked, his gaze fixed upon Dis.

For a single man to condense three separate fragments of a godhead was a feat utterly unheard of, yet Dis had accomplished it.

But no matter how peerless the genius, they still possessed their inherent limitations.

For a genius, more often than not, belonged only to his specific era, whereas the accumulated legacy of the Holy See could span across entire epochs.

This was precisely why Geller believed Dis had chosen to negotiate;

Because Dis himself knew that it was impossible for a single individual to take on the entirety of the Church of Order alone; he simply could not do it.

A saying had long circulated within the Church of Order: order exists only upon the fist.

Dis's fist was not yet hard enough, and besides that, he possessed a massive vulnerability—he had a family, and more importantly, he cared for them deeply.

Geller felt that if Dis chose to enter the Temple of Order, leveraging the advantage of his three godhead fragments, his status within the temple would rise with remarkable speed.

Surpassing himself, Niven, and Siti was an absolute certainty, and perhaps years down the line, it was not impossible for Dis to become the one who would ascend the Seat of Order for the next generation.

Which meant, the first person beneath the God of Order.

Yet he had chosen to refuse, and it was a refusal that brooked no argument.

Was it because... he feared being consumed?

What on earth am I thinking!!!

Geller snapped awake, a sudden shiver rippling through the very depths of his soul.

As an elder of the Temple, why would he harbor such an utterly irreverent thought?

Was it because the true genius of the Holy See before him had chosen to abandon the God of Order?

For one could believe that genius was fleeting, but it was impossible to deny that a true genius inevitably possessed insights a common "mediocrity" could never grasp; with a simple lowering or raising of his head, he could behold a vista others would fail to see in a lifetime.

Geller began to steady his turbulent emotions, making up his mind that once he returned, he must find a way to break his oath, while simultaneously erasing as much of his divine perception regarding today's events as possible.

His eyes closed, then opened once more;

Geller spoke:

"Dis, what do you intend to do next?"

You have self-detonated one godhead fragment, surrendered another, and conducted a blood sacrifice; you are already severely weakened, and this exhaustion is irreversible.

Most importantly,

Even though you have yielded one, you still bear another upon your person right now.

For a moment, Geller felt a twinge of anxiety on Dis's behalf, genuinely admiring this young man who had once stood before him so full of high spirits;

Years ago, when Lasma—who had risen brilliantly through the church school system all the way to the core of the Holy See and was hailed as the rising star of Order—stood beside him, Geller had felt that Lasma appeared utterly mundane by comparison.

And even when that young man spoke words of high treason, Geller had still chosen not to punish him, harboring no real anger toward him in his heart;

Perhaps, even then, he had a premonition that this junior before him would, before long, be sitting beside him in the Temple of Order, sipping red tea and debating the true essence of Order.

Because when you already view someone as a "peer" or of the "same echelon," certain jests can be made.

Whether a jest goes too far depends heavily on the status and position of the one making it.

However, Geller quickly found peace again; did the man before him really require his worry?

Everything that had transpired in the cathedral today had far exceeded what he had imagined before arriving; Dis must have already arranged everything.

Dis pointed to the godhead fragment in Siti's hand, the very one he had previously "bestowed" upon her,

And said:

"The past will influence the present, but the past can choose to be forgotten; yet once the future is lost, the past will also lose the very foundation of its existence."

This was a warning, and all four people present understood it perfectly.

This fragment came from the middle-aged Dis, the Dis of the past, meaning that although the fragment was now in Siti's hands, the one who truly commanded it was still the Dis of the present.

The godhead fragment Siti held right now could be detonated by Dis at any moment.

In fact, even if it were delivered deep into the Temple, this connection could not be severed, because to sever its link with Dis would be equivalent to denying its very existence.

Dis's face continued to pale significantly.

"I am very weak now, both in body and soul, having entered an irreversible state of decline.

Therefore,

I shall choose to return home, and upon my own bed, after completing my self-sealing, I shall enter a deep slumber."

I shall retain only the faintest sliver of consciousness—perhaps just enough to briefly stir.

I must watch over my family, to see them live out their days in peace and happiness.

If they are denied peace, if they are stripped of happiness, if they fall victim to retribution...

This fragment of the godhead you bear back with you will instantly detonate.

And I, too, shall rise from my bed, passing through the Gates of Order to descend upon the Temple of Order.

"The Church of Order does not stoop to such petty novelties," Niven spoke. "Retribution will not fall upon commoners, particularly when your family has already been drained of all spirituality by your own hand, forever severing their prospects of entering the Church."

Diss twitched his eyelids and said, "I have told you, I harbor no fondness for entrusting the future to mere promises. Thus, I choose to watch with my own eyes."

"The term?" Geller inquired.

"Until this vessel of mine thoroughly decays, loses its vitality, and I meet my end.

If, until that hour, my family continues to live in peace and happiness, then the fragment of the godhead currently within me shall also be reclaimed by the Church of Order, by your hands, upon my demise.

Unlike you, I possess no interest in relying upon the Temple of Order to prolong my existence; indeed, for a vast duration, the very length of my lifespan has been a matter of profound vexation.

Had I perished in my youth, or vanished in middle age, the predicament might have proved far simpler to resolve.

Therefore,

Judging by the years and the degeneration of this flesh, how long can I remain bedridden? Ten years?

Ten years, twenty years, thirty years—to your sort, none of it holds any grand significance, does it?

It is the God of Order I resent, yet I have never harbored resentment for the Church itself."

"Very well, I believe you, Diss," Geller replied.

Niven nodded in accordance