17
"You lost," Mr. A said sinisterly.
As if to echo his words, the right arm of a man seated across the round table abruptly exploded. Scattered flesh and blood slid to the floor, thickening the bloody stench that filled the room.
"Ah, damn it," the Shepherd muttered unhappily. Accepting his loss, he tore away the flesh at his shoulder and let his entire right arm drop to the floor with a plop. Now he had only his left hand. "A, since when did you get so lucky?"
"All fortune and misfortune are gifts from the Lord. Praise the Lord."
Mr. A gave two smug little hums and collected the bloodstained banknotes in front of his opponent. He then tightly shielded his hand of Fight Evil cards from another companion, who had lost everything but his head. The fellow was trying to peek with his eyeballs.
"This isn't fair." His head and body had gone their separate ways. A tentacle of flesh swiftly emerged from the severed opening of his neck and latched firmly onto the edge of the table, allowing his head to haul itself back up.
"Not only do we lose a body part every time we lose to you, we also have to hand over our hard-earned savings. This is completely unfair!"
"I could forgo the money." A gave a cold smile, his beautiful face twisting beneath his red hood. "As long as you're willing to do that volunteer work for me. Two hours for every loss. How about it?"
"Volunteer work? Is it difficult?" The Shepherd who had lost an arm and a leg looked taken aback. "I haven't participated yet, but I grew up in the slums, so I'm fairly familiar with poorhouses and charities."
"This isn't a question of whether it's difficult!" Mr. A growled, his expression contorting indescribably. "Those children, those tiny children-the tallest doesn't even reach my waist, and their arms are as soft as cotton. What if I fail to control my strength and tear them apart?! And their eyes, all sparkling, in every color-dark blue, light brown, black. What if I can't resist plucking their eyes out like gemstones?! They don't understand anything. All they do is gather around me and smile, learning to recite the Lord's name after me, their voices like birdsong. What if I lose control and rip out their throats to make musical instruments?! It's unbearable. This is simply the greatest trial the Lord has ever given me!"
"You don't understand anything! It's practically hell!"
He poured all of this out in one breath. As the other two Shepherds listened, their mouths fell open and they stopped playing. Their eyes bulged right out of their sockets and landed on the table with a smack. Mr. A kept muttering without pause, while the two exchanged looks, wearing identical expressions of blank astonishment and hesitant concern.
"A." The head stopped rolling and settled itself properly on the table, speaking in a doubtful tone. "You actually really like those children, don't you?"
Mr. A's eyebrows shot up. "What nonsense are you-"
"If it's hell, then just stop going." The other Shepherd seized the opportunity to flick his fallen eyeball toward Mr. A, attempting to peek at his cards, only for Mr. A to catch it in his fist. "Ow, ow, ow! It's going to burst! Ah!!"
"It's a trial the Lord has given me!" he said. "I won't give up so easily!"
"...I hadn't realized Mr. A had such strong objections to volunteer work. Shall we have someone else take over when we next change the roster?"
"There's no need!" Mr. A shouted without thinking. The two Shepherds simultaneously wore expressions that said, "Just as we thought" and "A never says what he really means." Then all three fell silent for a moment and looked toward the lounge doorway together. Saint Tenebrous Kisma stood there expressionlessly, still holding the door open. Beside him stood the Lord's ally, the Angel of the Abyss, wearing a teasing smile. It was he who had asked the question. Seeing all three look over, he slowly strolled toward the table, approaching as silently as a shadow.
"You actually really like those children, don't you?" There was an almost imperceptible hint of teasing amusement in Edward's voice. "Those adorable little lambs, those lovable children basking beneath my ally's gaze."
"..." Under the Grounded Angel's gaze, Mr. A dared not act out again. He avoided the other's eyes and bit his lip. Only after a long while did he murmur, "...Yes, because they are the Lord's lambs."
Edward chuckled and nodded. "I understand. You'll still be assigned this month's volunteer work at the Charity School. You're quite experienced now." With that, he turned to Kisma, who had remained silent with his gaze lowered to the tips of his shoes. "Is that all right?"
"...Yes." Kisma finally managed a strained smile of his own, then quickly suppressed it. "What are you still doing here? Is today's mass over already, that you have time to sit here playing cards? Leave at once and reflect in prayer. There are still tasks to attend to afterward."
The three Shepherds hurriedly stood up, but their Flesh Magic was suppressed in the presence of a more powerful being of the same Sequence. In their panic, they could only scramble to identify which scraps of flesh on the floor belonged to them and which bones went where, then piece themselves into complete human bodies like three decidedly child-inappropriate three-dimensional puzzles.
18
"My apologies for that spectacle, Your Highness Vaughn." Kisma approached, lowering his head slightly. "Will your Sacrificial Rite this year be held on the same day as well?"
Edward nodded. "Yes. Everything can proceed as usual."
"The offerings have all been prepared. You may inspect them whenever you wish." Kisma drew a deep breath, faint beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "However, we have yet to capture enough people for this year's blood sacrifice to you."
"Hmm, the same problem again this year." The Angel of the Abyss showed no displeasure. "I understand. The churches and military won't always let you abduct people, not even condemned prisoners. What do you intend to do?"
"...We have decided to intensify our search for offerings that will satisfy you. If we truly cannot gather enough, we will take people from the East Borough." Kisma was already well practiced at handling such matters. "But those offerings are generally guilty of little more than murder, arson, or petty theft. Their quality falls short of your requirements, so we can only make up for it with quantity. And you do not accept pure souls."
"Excessively abundant vitality makes my stomach turn, and souls as pure as blank paper only nauseate me." Edward sighed regretfully. "I cannot stomach them. Give those to my dear ally. I still prefer souls steeped in heinous sin and humans who have degenerated beyond all moral restraint."
"As you wish." Now knowing where he stood, Saint Tenebrous quietly scolded the three Shepherds still piecing their flesh together all over the floor, telling them to clean the room and leave at once.
"Do you have anyone in mind to preside over this sacrifice?"
"The officiant..." Edward Vaughn looked thoughtful and spoke calmly. "Richard found an excuse to stay in Intis. This year, he still has no intention of overseeing the Aurora Order's sacrifices to me and only wants to handle the rites within the sect. Last time, you assigned the Saint of Darkness. Let's keep it the same."
"The Saint of Darkness is leading the Pilgrimage for the latter half of this year. He departed over half a month ago and probably won't make it back in time," Kisma reported truthfully. "Either the Saint of Secrets or I should be in charge. I will inform you promptly."
Once they had settled the relevant matters, Saint Tenebrous politely took his leave. The three Shepherds had long since put themselves back together and quietly departed as well. The little lounge was silent and dim, every breath clearly audible. A high, small square window cast a beam of pallid sunlight into the room, offering a faint glimpse of an equally gloomy, overcast sky. Somewhere far away, an unidentified bird called.
Edward stood quietly for a few seconds, then pulled over a chair and sat down. He placed his walking stick on the table and silently recited the True Creator's Honorific Name.
"The Lord that Created Everything, The Lord who Reigns Behind the Curtain of Shadows."
"The Degenerate Nature of all Living Things."
A presence descended without a sound. Dark red blood spread from the pitch-black corners like malformed hands, flowing around Edward's chair. As it advanced, it swallowed the walls, table, and chairs, transforming the modest lounge into some living thing built from writhing flesh. Great, blood-drenched mouths split open across the floor, endlessly uttering ravings that tempted their listeners into depravity.
The flesh on the wall shifted, and a blood-red Vertical Eye abruptly opened.
"Good evening, my ally. It's a pleasure to see you capable of thought."
Edward emerged from his prayer and settled into a comfortable posture. He gazed at the enormous eye occupying the entire wall as though he were not facing an indescribable horror, but relaxing in a public square at night. "I expect to advance to Sequence One this year. Have you found that missing Sequence One characteristic?"
The blood-red eyeball turned, and the opposite wall transformed into a gaping, bloody maw.
"Moon."
"Moon? Followers of the Primordial Moon? That band of battered remnants actually has the means to keep a Sequence One Devil characteristic." Edward considered this for a moment. "I'll still need your help concealing things when the time comes, in case anything unexpected happens."
The blood-red Vertical Eye blinked, and the mouth opened. "Ritual?"
"That's right. Nine massacres and the blood sacrifice of an Angel. I've completed five massacres and devoured an Angel of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. My dear friend Roselle made an enormous contribution to my digestion. My thanks to him. Unfortunately, he's blocked my prayers now and can't hear my praise," he said. "Although I haven't had an opportunity to digest the potion since then, my condition has been stable for over a hundred years. I'm more than seventy percent confident that I'll advance successfully."
"All right," the True Creator replied.
"I have a feeling my advancement won't pass unnoticed," Edward added. "Once I succeed, I intend to return to Intis and see what that unconventional believer of mine is up to. When the time comes, I'll have to entrust the schools and hospitals here in Loen to your followers."
"All right."
"Remember to assign more people to help. Shepherds make free volunteer workers and doctors." Edward thought for a moment, then could not help reminding him, "Have the oracle prepared beforehand. Don't start proselytizing the moment they arrive again. Attracting believers of the True God is a minor matter; damaging the facilities and buildings is a major one. Don't brush it off! Otherwise, I'll sacrifice the ledger to you."
The True Creator fell silent for a moment. In the blink of an eye, all the flesh and shadows receded, and he swiftly left the little lounge.
TBC
*A transitional chapter featuring the Aurora Order's harmonious, delightful daily life.
*I made up the Devil Pathway's ritual for advancing from Sequence Two to Sequence One based on the original work.
*Ding, character profile update-Edward's definition of a "friend": someone who helps him and whom he helps, who kills him and whom he kills, who trusts him and whom he trusts, who suspects him and whom he suspects, who moves forward alongside him, and who ultimately pleases him with their death.
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