"Very well," Cresta Cessima nodded, leaning slightly forward. "Then have your oath sworn upon the relic." As he spoke, he bent down and picked up the silver-white box at his feet. The relic? The very one that earned you the title of 'The Sword of the Goddess'? Kieran watched with keen interest the every movement of the senior steward before him. Cresta placed the box upon his knees, and his deep green eyes instantly darkened. With his right hand, he raised it and pressed down—immediately, something within the box, like a delicate instrument, shattered and dissolved, retreating in a tide of fading light. Almost at the same instant, Kieran felt the radiance surrounding him drawn entirely toward the box, as if concentrated within it. Now, the apothecary room was plunged into darkness, save for the elegant gas lamps framed by the metal grilles, and the luminous silver-white box itself—creating an especially eerie scene. "Plink!" With a clear, crisp sound, Cresta Cecima, one of the nine senior stewards of the Night Watch, opened the box and revealed a pure white bone sword resting inside. Yes, a bone sword—right away, upon seeing this short sword barely over a meter in length, Caine instinctively felt certain that its primary material was bone. In the alchemical room where the gas lamps burned silently yet remained dark and dim, the short sword quietly radiated a pure, luminous glow, like the moon suspended high above, offering comfort to the hearts of those in the night, or like a lighthouse guiding direction through a storm. Its surface appeared pristine and flawless, yet upon closer inspection, one could see a dense network of layered symbols and markings woven deeply into the blade—these mysterious patterns forming an inseparable unity with the sword itself. Caine studied the holy sword and suddenly found himself unable to look away. His brown eyes gradually lost their luster, drawn completely into the scene. At that moment, Crête lifted the chest slightly, freeing the pure white short sword from its original position. Kaine instantly regained clarity, finally breaking free from the nightmare he had been powerless to escape. He turned his gaze toward the side and asked formally, "Sir, shall I place my hand upon this holy sword?" "Yes, come closer," Crête's voice flowed like a whispered bedtime story, a lullaby. Kaine stood up, glancing sideways, taking small, cautious steps forward—so dark was it that he could barely see the legs of the senior steward or the slightly worn leather boots of the other. "Stop," Crête said calmly. Kaine halted, standing still, quickly glancing at the pure white bone sword with the corner of his eye, then hesitating and shifting away again. Drawing upon that brief memory of a single second, he bent down, extended his right hand, and precisely placed it upon the holy sword. The cool sensation, neither sharp nor piercing, flowed through his skin into his brain, instantly calming the纷杂 thoughts and worries that had been swirling in his mind—much like arriving in a quiet village after a bustling city, sitting on the roof, inhaling the aroma of harvest, and simply gazing up at the night sky, gazing up at the stars. "Follow me in your recitation," Crescens said in a steady voice. "Of course," Caine nodded. Then, he heard the Senior Steward before him recite in Hermes tongue: "The goddess of night more noble than the stars, more enduring than eternity; I swear to you by my true name and my spirit. I, Caine, from this day forward, shall never reveal the details of the 'Art of Performance' to anyone who does not know it. Should I breach this vow, let it be as you see fit. Witness my oath, please." Caine gathered his thoughts and, following the Senior Steward, solemnly recited the oath in Hermes tongue. In the hush, he felt a subtle, elusive connection forming between himself, that pure white bone sword, and some presence far beyond. He drew the red moon on his chest with his right hand: "Praise the goddess!" "Praise the goddess!" Kryste smiled and bowed in response. Then, he snapped the lid shut and pressed his right hand down heavily and slowly. The blackness instantly brightened, and the gas lamp's glow once again filled the room. Celine noticed that the senior steward's eyes, which had deepened to a dark hue, returned to their original emerald tone at the same moment. He sat back in his high-backed chair, slightly frowning, and asked with curiosity: "Is this a performance of some kind?" Kryste cleared his throat, didn't immediately answer the question, but smiled instead: "What I'm about to say may seem puzzling or unclear to you. I won't explain why—because that involves the Church's secrets. "When you become a Metropolitan Archbishop or a Senior Deacon, you'll be qualified to know... Kline mentally replied, gazing at the dignified Cecima, whose collar stood tall across from him. 'When you become a Metropolitan Archbishop or a Senior Deacon, when you become part of the Church's core, you'll be allowed to know,' Crysta emphasized. Kline promptly nodded seriously, showing his agreement. Crysta placed the silver-white box back beside her feet, then lifted her right leg and said: 'Throughout its long history, the Church's extraordinary talents, generation after generation, have gradually discovered the most effective means of preventing loss of control. 'And at the heart of this method lies the name of the potion—it is not only crucial, but also the key.' Glimpsing Kieran's thoughtful expression, Crystalline continued, "We've found that the names of the potions point toward certain groups, each of which exhibits distinct, convergent behavioral patterns. In short, the potion names contain specific rules—different potions have different rules—and when we strictly adhere to the rules inherent in our own potion, the risk of losing control is minimized." "Something like my 'Diviner's Code'?" Kieran asked at the right moment. This still wasn't as clear or accessible as my explanations for 'Justice' and 'The Hanged Man'... Meanwhile, he silently chided himself. "Yes." "Kreshta gave a positive reply," saying, "When we adhere to the corresponding behavioral guidelines, we appear to embody the kind of group described by the potion's name—meaning we are 'performing' the profession indicated by the name. That is what we call 'the art of performance.' You should remember that each person's spiritual essence is unique and distinct. While the core aspects of the behavioral guidelines remain consistent when compared to others who have taken the same potion, the specific boundaries and nuances vary from person to person, thus making others' experiences merely reference points." This, indeed, was a point I hadn't realized—something I hadn't noticed before. Kaine spoke sincerely, saying, "Thank you for the reminder. I'll keep that in mind." Kreshta smiled and added, "These are experiences accumulated over generations." "After employing the 'method of embodiment,' we don't merely master potions—we truly internalize them, as if digesting the food we consume. When you fully digest the potion and absorb its lingering mental impressions, you'll experience a unique, extraordinary sensation, won't you?" "I understand. The word 'digest,' indeed, is very apt..." Caine pretended to be thinking. After Crescendo had elaborated further, he carefully asked: "Madam Cecily, since the name of the potion is key—like a key—how did the earliest extraordinary beings originally acquire these names? I've heard that they were inscribed on the亵渎石板?" "Yes, that is correct," Crescendo replied calmly. "However, the inscriptions reflect ancient names. Over time, the evolution of potion names has sometimes stemmed from divine revelations, and at other times, from the summaries and insights of the extraordinary beings themselves." Klein nodded slowly,抿ing his lips. "My Lady Cecily, if the 'method of performance' is so effective, why hasn't the Church informed every night watcher?" "Indeed," Cryste replied seriously, "this is a secret of the Church—one you will understand when you become a Cardinal or a Senior Prelate. Now, return to the upper floors, notify the other night watchers, and have them come down one by one. I need to complete the final step of my examination." Is it to ensure that even Fley and the others don't reveal the 'method of performance'? Klein pondered, then rose and bowed according to the customs of the night wardens, and departed. He walked down the corridor and up the stairs, returning to Black Thorns Security, where he found Dune lightening his pipe at the entrance to the underground, having waited for some time. With a slight lift of his mouth, Klein said, "Everything should be fine now, My Lady. I've asked Fley and the others to come in one by one for a conversation." "Well, this is the final step—this also shows that nothing went wrong earlier," Duan stowed his pipe and recounted the situation to the Night Watchers' lounge. As he watched Fley and Xiga descend deeper into the underground, Kline suddenly remembered something and quickly added, "Captain, should we also replace Lu Yao, who's on duty at the Charnel Gate, and Leonard, who's monitoring the Asylum? Oh, and don't forget Coen Li, who's on leave." Duan paused, then gently pressed his temple, saying, "I forgot about that... But honestly, things won't be too complicated. One of the advantages of having a Senior Steward personally inspect the matter is that we won't need to send telegrams to the Hall or handle the usual paperwork—he can give us his verdict right on the spot, and provide us with the recipe and primary ingredients for the 'Clown' potion." "That does sound quite favorable," Kline couldn't help but grow increasingly excited about what was to come. …One and a half hours passed. After Cohen Li stepped out of the Alchemical Chamber, his face still solemn with clear signs of doubt, Kline was called down again to face the Senior Steward once more—"The Sword of the Goddess," Crystallia Césima. This time, the nobleman with golden-brown hair and emerald eyes did not sit—he stood there, allowing the cool underground air to gently brush his black coat. Both of his collar stands were raised high, casting his chin into shadow. He looked at Kline and smiled slightly. "Kline Moretti, Night Watcher," he declared, "by the name of the Goddess, I formally inform you that you have passed the Hall's assessment." "Congratulations," he added. "With your achievements, you are now eligible for promotion—your rank is elevated to the extraordinary being of Sequence 8."