Dunne Smith's gray eyes locked onto Caine's, remaining silent for a full minute. Under the weight of that stillness and gaze, Caine did not retreat nor shift his eyes—he steadfastly met his gaze. "You should understand," Dunne said finally, his voice low and emotionless, "that once the potion is taken, there's no going back." Caine smiled gently. "I know that. But I honor the voice within me." First, the "Night Watcher" didn't align with his needs; the "Audience" at the Tarot Gathering, as described, shared the same sentiment. As for the other extraordinary paths, it wasn't clear when—or even if—he'd be able to reach them, so there was no point in waiting. The same logic applied to the "Corpse Gatherer," who was thus eliminated. Only the "Observer" and the "Seer" remained as options. Given that the risks associated with the Sequence Potions are equally substantial, and with no further information available, and considering that both the "Observer" and the "Seer" are equally well-suited, it matters little whether King Rosel wrote this casually or whether he truly regretted not having chosen one of the "Apprentice," "Thief," or "Seer"—either way, it tips the balance in his own heart. Moreover, from his notes, it appears that as long as one fully understands the true essence of "Digestion" and "Performance," the negative impacts of the Potions can be largely mitigated. As for the seductive whispers that drive one to ruin and madness—having personally encountered such enchantments, even without becoming a remarkable one! Klein suddenly felt a bit tense, finding himself at a loss for words. "Captain, you said that after taking the magical potion, one doesn't immediately gain the corresponding esoteric knowledge—but rather, one acquires the qualification to learn and master it. Then, where does the initial esoteric knowledge come from? Did the ancient sages painstakingly discover it at great personal risk, or does it come from somewhere else?" Every time he came down here, he could feel the air was notably fresh, clearly indicating excellent ventilation. Yet, even in this pleasant atmosphere, the occasional breeze still made him feel uneasy. Duan glanced at him, his gray eyes unusually deep and profound in the dim light. He replied calmly: "First, what you've mentioned—exploration, synthesis, and improvement; second, divine grace; and third, well, those unspoken dangers that others can't hear—though they often seem mad ramblings, utterly meaningless—sometimes do convey something mysterious. Yet, as far as I know, anyone who truly listens to them, and listens over a long period, invariably goes mad or transforms into a monster. Of course, we must thank them; their notes are an invaluable treasure in the field of esoteric studies." A humanoid white mouse... the cold seeped from below, and Caine suddenly shivered. His "transformation ritual," which had become his "friendship magic," might now always come with those frantic, terrifying whispers—might bring the same effects? At the crossroads, Dunn neither proceeded toward "Charnis Gate" nor turned toward the "Weapons, Materials, and Archives Library," but instead led Caine toward the church on the left, Saint Serenella. Halfway through, he paused, as though something had stirred, and opened a hidden door. "This is our night-watch team's 'Chain of Gold Room.' I'll send old Neil to check the Nis Gate to collect the herbal formula and corresponding ingredients for the 'Seer's' potion. Indeed, you're fortunate—thanks to the goddess's protection, there should still be two sets of the Seer's ingredients remaining; otherwise, you'd have to wait a long time," said Duan, pointing to the room inside. "You'll stay here and observe Neil as he prepares the potion from start to finish. This is the very foundation of mysticism. Now, please don't move any of the items inside—they may be either dangerous, costly, or both." "With that," Dunn added as before: "By the way, I've forgotten one more thing—your becoming a special one was driven primarily by the need to handle dangers and search for notes. Merit is only part of that, so for now, you still remain a clerical member, receiving the corresponding salary, continuing to carry out the tasks I've previously assigned you, with the added responsibility of learning a great deal about esoteric knowledge under Neil's guidance. You can schedule your own time for this." "Good," said Cline, though a bit resentful about the unchanged salary. According to Dunn, after taking the potion and going through the learning process, one would only then become a full-fledged team member and take part in supernatural event assignments—how one could even begin to write the word "death" was beyond comprehension. Dunn turned around and walked two steps toward the intersection, then paused and added: "There's one more thing." I knew it all along—Cline had already grown accustomed to the captain's such a style. "We've already gathered some valuable insights into the Monks' activities," Dene said calmly. "For the time being, they should be hesitant to challenge us again. But don't let your guard down—yet—we haven't fully confirmed how significant the Antigonus family's notes are to them. From our findings, it's clear they still uphold certain ancient traditions, ones linked to the Solomon Empire and the fallen nobility of that era." "I understand, thank you, Captain," Klein exhaled. That was also one of the reasons he didn't want to wait—every opportunity to become a remarkable being, he seized immediately! Watching Dene walk away and confirming that he wouldn't return, Klein then stepped slowly into the Chain Gold Chamber. The room featured long tables, each equipped with test tubes, droppers, balances, and beakers—strikingly similar to the chemistry laboratories he'd seen in his previous life, though simpler and more ancient. In addition, there were large iron pots, black wooden spoons, translucent crystal spheres, and other items, as well as the ubiquitous dark sigil—a few odd symbols that seemed to lend an air of mystery to the scene. Caine observed everything with keen interest, yet refrained from touching anything unnecessarily. Soon after, the sound of footsteps approached, and Old Neil entered carrying a small silver box adorned with intricate patterns. He still wore his classical black robe, out of step with the current era, and wore a matching round-brimmed felt hat. "Little one," Old Neil said, setting down the silver box and glancing at Caine with slightly cloudy, deep red eyes, "I didn't expect you to choose the role of a Seer. You're just like me—so distinct, so unyielding. Indeed, light the gas lamps and close the dark door." "Of course," Caine replied, holding back a tremor, and one by one lit the gas lamps in the chain hall, restoring the once dimmed light to reign supreme here. Zap, zap, zap—the door closed. He turned and went to stand beside the elderly monk, whose hair was white and whose eyes and corners of his mouth were deeply lined. There, the monk brushed the black iron pot with several odd-looking branches tied in place. The parchment, a warm ochre hue, unfurled inch by inch, revealing words upon it. Klein gazed intently and recognized the familiar Hermes script. Written in ink as deep as blood, the letters seemed to still carry a sense of flow, though beyond that, nothing extraordinary emerged. "Herbalist's Formula: 100 milliliters of pure water + 13 drops of night-blooming jasmine juice + 7 leaves of golden mint..." Klein recited the ingredients aloud, but the subsequent details were just barely obscured by the elbow of the elder Neil. "Pure water is distilled water, and I've prepared it before—no need to waste time on that." As Neil spoke, he smoothly reached for a large, sealed glass bottle with graduated markings resting on the long table. He opened the lid and poured approximately 100 milliliters of the pure water into the large iron pot. Klein remained silent, not wanting to interrupt the preparation, for the potion would ultimately have to be consumed by himself. "Thirteen drops of lavender juice—this can be extracted and stored as essential oil." Elder Neil took out a small brown bottle from a silver box and, with a simple pipette, gently dripped thirteen drops into the large iron pot. A delicate, calming aroma spread throughout, subtly soothing Clary's mood. "Seven leaves of golden mint..." Elder Neil lifted a tin jar with silver patterns, opened the lid, and, with his bare hands, plucked out several leaves, scattering them into the pot. A fresh, invigorating scent became faintly perceptible. "Four, five, six, seven—just right," smiled Elder Neil, glancing at the magical recipe written on the parchment. "Three drops of foxglove juice—don't drink this at random; it will paralyze you, stiffen your body, and leave you dead. In ancient times, it was considered the very best choice for suicide." I'm not stupid... Clary muttered under her breath. Elder Neil switched to a different pipette and carefully added the foxglove juice to the pot, blending it into a strangely invigorating aroma. "Nine grams of dragon's blood powder." Old Neil calmly reached into the silver box, pulled out a transparent test tube, and lifted it so that the powder inside appeared deep black, like iron. He weighed out 9 grams of the powder using beakers and balances, poured it casually into a large iron pot, and stirred it gently with a black wooden spoon—so smoothly that Caine felt his stomach tighten, sensing something uncertain. "Actually, all the materials I've mentioned so far are just supportive; adding a bit more or less won't affect the final outcome. Wouldn't you like me to add a little more?" Old Neil offered a light remark. "The two remaining ingredients are crucial—while the amounts can be slightly reduced, they mustn't deviate too much. Otherwise, your 'promotion' will fail. In fact, their quantities must be strictly maintained; even a small excess could cause serious mental issues upon consumption—severe cases might even result in immediate death." Caine immediately focused his attention, watching as Old Neil retrieved a dark glass bottle from the silver box. "The blood of the Lava octopus, 10 milliliters. This octopus belongs to an extraordinary species, showing clear mutations, with mysterious symbols growing upon its body. Its blood rapidly decomposes and loses its special properties when exposed to sunlight and must be stored in light-proof containers." Old Neil's tone was no longer relaxed; he swiftly and carefully drew 10 milliliters of blood into a test tube. The blood was a deep, sky-blue, occasionally bubbling with ethereal foam, as if connecting to a spiritual realm. "Pour the blood from the tube into the pot; disregard the small amount left on the walls—this is a precaution against excess." Old Neil said softly. As soon as the blue blood entered the iron pot and came into contact with the previous liquid, a hissing sound immediately filled the pot, and the surrounding light took on a soft blue hue, giving Caine a distant, yet familiar, strange sensation—something like an experience from within the mother body, lifting his spirit as if ascending. "The final item: the star crystal, 50 grams." Old Neil’s voice resonated clearly in Caine’s ears, pulling him back to focus and turning his gaze toward the long table. In his hands, he now held a crystal of exceptional purity—viscous and gel-like, resembling jelly from the earth, lacking sufficient hardness. Under the soft blue light, it shimmered with delicate points of brilliance, as though harboring a vast, radiant expanse of stars within. “This is the ideal material for divination crystals—just a little less than the full amount, allowing for minor variance,” Neil said, measuring and carefully slicing off portions with a silver knife engraved with patterns. “Pure water + night jasmine + golden mint leaves + toxic comfrey juice + dragon’s blood herb + lavash octopus blood + star-crystal = a diviner…” At that moment, Caine involuntarily recalled the recipe. With everything prepared, Neil dropped several small pieces of “star-crystal” into the large iron pot. Plush! Instantly, a mist of ethereal vapor rose, enveloping the chain-gold chamber in a hazy, misty glow. Amidst this mist, Caine seemed to see the stars and felt as though being watched by some invisible presence. A few seconds later, the mist cleared, and Old Neil used a black wooden spoon to ladle out a thick, deep-blue liquid from the large iron pot. The liquid possessed an unusual property—each strand remained connected, never separating—leaving not a single drop in the black iron pot. The deep-blue liquid was poured into an opaque cup, and Old Neil pointed to it and said: "There. Your diviner's potion."