Chapter 31: Principles

"First, you must understand that not everything has a 'Criterion'."

In the warm office, two steaming cups of coffee sat on the table. A small dish of nuts, a few apples, a book, and two people. This was Enid’s second formal lesson for Roland.

"Criterion..."

"Yes, Criterion." Enid put down her pen and picked up an apple. "An apple has no Criterion."

Roland glanced at it quietly. The white flame was obliging:
[Apple]
[Criterion: None]
Just like the herbs in his uncle’s pharmacy.

"But if you, or someone else, exerts an influence upon it, then it 'might' align with the Criterion of a certain deity, thereby undergoing some wondrous changes..."

"Influence?"

"Yes, for instance... if this apple were a token of love between a man and a woman." Enid placed the apple in Roland’s hand and paused. "...I mean, for example."

Roland held the apple with both hands, looking composed. "I understand."
[Ha, ha, ha, ha.]

"...Right. This token of love bore witness to their romance. But one day, one of them died in an accident. The other was so overcome with grief that they threw themselves into a river."

Enid raised her arm, pressing her scarred palm against the apple. "Then, this apple might—just might—possess a 'Criterion'. Of course, this is merely an example. In reality, the conditions for a Criterion to emerge are far harsher than what I have described."

"Is it... greater influence?"

"To be precise, it is a greater influence upon all things." Enid was satisfied with Roland’s reaction. She took the apple from his hands and returned it to the tray. "Take the Immortal, for example: achieving greatness to complete the Ring-Ascension Ritual—that, too, is a form of 'influence', however difficult it may be."

"Every move you make exerts an 'influence', and at certain moments, it may align with the Criterion of a deity. But to truly imbue an object with a Criterion or to complete a ritual requires an unimaginably vast amount of influence."

Roland digested this for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Very good," Enid continued. "Items possessing a 'Criterion' have two uses."

"First, as a ritual object to complete a ritual. Once used, in most cases, it will not disappear—otherwise, we would have no churches left to visit today."

"Second, as a 'Coordinate'. The closer you are to a Criterion, the more capable you are of entering the corresponding deity's realm when you fall asleep."

Those without a Coordinate... find it difficult to control where they end up once they fall asleep. The world of slumber is chaotic and disordered; relying on luck is a good way to get oneself killed.

With that, the basic introduction concluded.

"Items attached with a Criterion are extremely rare. The more massive and powerful they are, the harder they are to 'influence'. They are the crystallization of the faith or spirit of every powerful ritualist. Often, the object itself has no value, but the Criterion upon it is as precious as a gem."

Roland watched as she pulled a dagger from her drawer and placed it on the table. The flame leaped in his eyes:
[Executor’s Combat Dagger]
[Criterion: Judgment]
[A fang that followed the Evil-Minded Bat for many years; it has been stained with the blood of many heteromorphs and cultists.]

Enid took Roland’s hand, guiding him to grip the dagger's hilt.

"Be careful not to cut yourself. I’ll have someone make a sheath for you." Enid found his grip on the dagger dangerous. "Carry it when you sleep until you enter the world of slumber—whether it takes two days or two years. Only then will you be considered truly initiated."

Enid cautioned him: "But you must be careful, extremely careful. Once you discover yourself in a place where you shouldn't be—and I mean anywhere other than the radiant Eden of the Father of All Things..."

"You must use a mental anchor to realize and 'tell' yourself that you are dreaming. Then, stay exactly where you are until you wake up. You are not even an apprentice yet; if you get lost in the world of slumber, it is highly likely you will never wake up, or your body will suffer irreversible distortion."

Enid’s description made Roland’s palms sweat. The world of slumber was that dangerous?

"Very, very, very dangerous." Enid countered, "What kind of place is it? Do you remember?"

The world of slumber... 'The gathering place of all human subconsciousness and fantasy, the resting place of gods, the birthplace of heteromorphs, the center of chaotic, disordered storms, a mountain of treasure, and... the starting point of the Great Path.' This was what Enid had said.

"Correct. Therefore, many ritualists obtain knowledge through the world of slumber, and can even acquire powerful items there. But the prerequisite is that they survive the dream."

"From today on, you must sleep with this dagger every night. The Criterion will guide you to where you ought to go, and at the same time, it will protect you, doing its best to keep you from veering off course."

Seeing Roland lost in thought, Enid raised an eyebrow. "This is the world of ritualists, Roland. Danger comes not only from one another but from every dream."

"Every ritualist, upon becoming an apprentice, must endure such trials... some sects do not even provide their followers with items of Criterion—those poor souls have to rely on luck. You cannot imagine how cruel it is."

"Roland. If you want to back out, this is your last chance."

After speaking, she slowly poured two cups of tea, waiting for the boy's answer.

Of course, Roland had no intention of refusing. He not only needed the identity of an Executor, but the beautiful, surreal dreams Enid had described were constantly alluring him, sparking countless wondrous fantasies—much like the enchanting, dreamlike stories Miss Nina used to tell him.

It was another layer of existence, filled with color. It was far more interesting than his brief, dull, grey life. He longed for witches riding broomsticks or ancient castles floating above the azure sky.

Therefore, he would hold onto the dagger.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Enid said, "Come in."

Looking toward the sound, the person entering had a face Roland recognized: Fernandez. The square-jawed priest who had been scolded twice.

Enid stood up and gestured toward Roland: "From now on, at the Bureau of Supervision, you will be in the same unit as Roland Collins, with him serving as your deputy."

"Yes, Chief Justice."
...Chief Justice?

The male priest walked straight over, raised his arm, and gripped Roland’s hand with a serious expression. "I am Fernandez. Fernandez Devinson."

"Roland Collins."

"Welcome to the Tribunal! From today on, you have new brothers and sisters."

Roland’s palm was pinched in pain, his arm shaken up and down, causing his entire body to tremble like a rag fluttering in the wind.

"Mr. De-de-de-devinson..."

"No need for 'Mr.', from today on, you have new brothers and sis—"

Here we go again. He repeated himself, squeezing Roland’s palm until it throbbed. The emotionless enthusiasm made one’s skin crawl. Brothers and sisters, sisters and brothers...

"Alright, Mr. Devinson. Do you work at the Bureau of Supervision?"

"I am assisting," Devinson said, glancing at Enid before adding, "Starting today. You can call me Fernandez."

Roland certainly didn't believe that Mr. Devinson 'happened' to join the Bureau of Supervision on the same day as him. The Tribunal and the Bureau of Supervision were not exactly on friendly terms. It was likely that Enid, in order to help him adapt, had dispatched an Executor to lead him temporarily and assign him some simple, low-risk tasks at the Bureau... It was all for his sake.

Strange. "Was the previous newcomer also..."

"Of course not." Enid spoke up from the side. "You haven't circled, and you aren't an apprentice, Roland. There are no simple tasks in the Tribunal. You must familiarize yourself first, and then let Fernandez teach you combat and firearms."

"Rest assured, your salary will be paid on time; we do not have a habit of defaulting."

She had Roland hand the dagger to Fernandez. "Make a sturdy sheath," she commanded. Then, she took money from her pocket and pressed it into Roland’s hand. "This is your salary and subsidy for the week—probationary Executors earn less than full ones. If you run short, let me know."

"Fernandez will coordinate the specific work hours with the Bureau."

"Also. Fernandez, take him to collect a set of clerical robes."

Fernandez gripped the dagger backhanded and bowed slightly. "I will handle it, Chief Justice." He then looked at Roland, gripping his arm with his other hand. "Come with me, Roland."

...

The lady in charge of the clerical robes was very old. She had a face covered in wrinkles and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. She was quite short, with thin arms and a thin neck. Although she walked with a light, airy gait, her voice was piercingly sharp, and her tone was stern.

When Fernandez Devinson brought Roland in, the lady stared at him for quite a while with her hands behind her back. Roland felt as if he were being pointed at by the tip of a dagger.

"That little girl Enid found someone even more fragile than herself." Her tone was filled with amusement. "I hope you can follow the rules of the Tribunal, you... what was your name again?"

"Collins. Roland Collins, ma'am."

"Oh, quite well-mannered."

She reached out and squeezed Roland’s limbs: his arms, legs, then his shoulders and neck. Her hands were like iron pincers. "Your body is much weaker than the average man, sigh." As she spoke, she seemed to think of something, suddenly looking up at the taciturn Fernandez, her eyes narrowing. "...Enid should find herself a man, too."

Fernandez: ...
Roland: ...
[I like this old lady.]

"Ma'am," Fernandez muttered.

"I know, I know." The old woman waved her hand impatiently, shooing the man away like a fly. "If one isn't smart enough, isn't talented enough, isn't..." She glanced at Roland. "...isn't pretty enough... how could they be Enid’s man?"

[I really like this old lady.]
-Move the text away, it's blocking her face.

The old woman stepped forward, scrutinizing Roland’s face, her expression becoming very strange. "Tsk, tsk, that face of yours really is... why didn't I, back in my youth..."

[Embrace her and kiss her forehead, and tell her.]
[You are still young, my dear.]
-I’ll do that when I decide I want to die with you.