Klein turned toward the captain's office and saw the door wide open, Dean Smith leaning back against the chair, lightly inhaling from his pipe. With a glance of his gray eyes, Dean adjusted his posture and said, "You're in great shape—completely unlike someone who just finished taking the potion." "Perhaps that's the advantage of being promoted after fully digesting the effects," Klein remarked, casually closing the door and pulling out a chair to sit down. Both Klein and Dean were familiar with the 'role-playing' technique, which allowed them to discuss relevant matters without being bound by their oaths; yet at this moment, neither mentioned it, and after a few exchanges, both fell into a quiet silence. Klein thought for a moment and asked, "Did Lady Cecily leave?" "Yes, as a senior steward, he has other matters to attend to," Dean replied after a pause. "By the way, he took the pair of red eyes left behind by Old Neil." Klein responded with a mix of surprise and bewilderment, asking, "Why?" Deng took a sip of his coffee, paused, and after a long silence, said, "We can't deceive ourselves anymore—our out-of-control team members have actually transformed into monsters. I've already told you that when a monster dies, it leaves behind certain concentrated extraordinary phenomena. If these phenomena become uncontrollable and cause various issues, they must be sealed. That's one of the origins of the sealing artifacts. The internal rule of the Night Watch is that items left behind by out-of-control members are stored at remote locations, to avoid stimulating their fellow teammates." "Understandable," Kline nodded, his tone slightly weighty. Suddenly, he noticed a possibility that the captain had overlooked, and asked with curiosity, "What if the extraordinary phenomena left behind after a monster's death are actually controllable?" Deng looked at him, his gray eyes deep and serene, like the quietest night. He sighed and said, "You won't want to know the answer." "...Klein paused, suddenly grasping a possibility: normal monsters typically leave behind extraordinary materials, which are then used to prepare the corresponding potions. What about the monsters formed when the uncontrolled ones lose control? If the materials they leave behind belong to the controlled type, wouldn't they also be considered extraordinary materials? As this thought struck him, a sudden wave of nausea surged through him, and he involuntarily turned his head, dry-heaving a few times, his vision blurring as a result. How chillingly plausible this speculation truly was! Yet it seemed remarkably close to the truth—indeed, it brought a deeper understanding to phrases like 'to withstand the Abyss, one must endure its corrosion' and 'the guardians are also merely pitiful beings perpetually battling danger and madness.' Might this be one of the reasons the Church has concealed the 'role-playing' aspect? A certain level of recovery? Yet such a practice would inevitably cause the Church's own leadership to diverge from its ideals. Klein could clearly see the shifting hues of his own face in his mind." Seeing his reaction, Dunning suddenly smiled, a glow flickering in his gray eyes. "You can think of it positively—our companions are simply offering us a different kind of companionship. They'll always be with us." As he spoke, Dunning lowered his head, picked up his coffee, and brought it to his lips. Another fifteen seconds of silence passed, and then he leaned back slightly, lifting his head. "And you can rest assured—so long as we can continue sourcing ordinary extraordinary materials, we won't do what you'd like us to." "All right. According to protocol, newly promoted personnel are granted one day of rest. In the afternoon, you may choose whether to practice combat—just make sure to inform Gavyn." Cain nodded gently, took a deep breath, and straightened his posture. "Captain, I've completed the Mysticism course. I'd like to use the morning hours to learn tracking and monitoring techniques." He paused, then added seriously, "I'd like to fulfill my duties as a night watchman as soon as possible." Duan looked at him deeply and remarked, "You're more resilient than I expected. Then proceed as you see fit." "Yes, Captain!" Kline suddenly rose, drawing a crimson moon on his chest. ........ After leaving the Black Thorns Security Company, Kline didn't head straight home to rest. Instead, he took the opportunity to ride the untracked public carriage to Azk's house. Tink, tink. The clear sound of the bell greeted him as Azk, dressed in a white shirt and black jacket, opened the door. A golden watch chain, slanting from the jacket button, connected to a pocket watch hanging at his chest. "You're not working today?" Azk glanced at the sky, noting that the sun had not yet reached its peak. "Due to some special circumstances, I've been scheduled for a rotating rest period," Kline explained briefly. Azk looked at him, as though he had seen something, and nodded, making room. Upon entering the foyer, Cline set down his walking stick, removed his hat, and followed Azk all the way to his study. The study was furnished with a fireplace, armchairs, a sofa, and a coffee table. Cline settled into the chair where he usually sat. Across from him, Azk smiled and indicated the cigars on the coffee table. "Would you like one?" "No," Cline firmly shook his head. Azk didn't press further; instead, he lit a match, held the cigar to warm it, and casually asked, "Has the matter in Morse town been settled?" "This must all be due to your kindness," Cline said sincerely. At the same time, he silently muttered under his breath: Mr. Azk, before you lost your memory, you must have accumulated a considerable fortune—otherwise, how could a lecturer who isn't even an associate professor regularly enjoy cigars? Seizing the moment when the other was busy adjusting his cigar, he stepped forward and said, "Mr. Azk, I have a question I'd like to ask you." "What is it?" Azk asked without looking up. Klein paused, gathering his thoughts. "One of my colleagues has turned into a monster—unstable, uncontrollable. I wonder if his soul has also been corrupted." He wasn't certain whether Mr. Azk understood the meaning of 'unstable,' so he had prepared a clear explanation and description, ready to elaborate should the other ask for clarification. Azk stopped his current activity, lifted his head, and looked steadily at Klein, nodding with emphasis. "There's no doubt about it." "When such a situation arises, you must carefully assess the situation. If the immediate cause of his instability is directly inspired by a demon or a divine entity, then you should strive to avoid spirit communication—this could very well prove fatal." "Thank you," Klein breathed out, somewhat disheartened. When he was staying at Neil's house, he was emotionally unstable and forgot to perform the spirit communication, and Mr. Dunne-Smith didn't remind him either, so he completely missed the opportunity. Now, reflecting on it, the captain hadn't simply forgotten—he had deliberately omitted mentioning it. Caine silently pondered for a few seconds, then moved on to speak about his earlier experience: "Mr. Azk, when I tried to divinate the origin of the haunting incident in the town of Morse, I saw a pyramid tomb extending downward, inverted. My companion told me this symbolized death, and that only its descendants could achieve such honor." Azk had just set down his matchstick and picked up his cigar cutter, then suddenly paused, remaining motionless for a long time. He sat back, leaning against the sofa's backrest, his expression unusually solemn. After a while, he spoke softly: "This feels familiar to me, though it hasn't brought back any specific memories." "I'm truly sorry," Caine sincerely remarked. He still hoped that the insights gained from the divination would further awaken Mr. Azk's memories. Azk tore open his cigar hat, shook his head with a wry smile: "If recalling past events were truly easy, I believe I would have long since found a way to escape my fate." "Of course, I must thank you for your thoughtfulness, for always remembering me." He paused and added: "By the way, I'm planning to leave Tinggen soon." "Why?" Klein asked in surprise. Didn't they have an agreement to work together to uncover the hidden forces that have been shaping my destiny and stealing the skulls of my children? Azk held his cigar, sighed, and explained: "The target may have sensed my growing attention and pursuit. With no significant developments in recent times, I've been left with little to go on. Therefore, I intend to temporarily leave Tinggen and head to Beckland—first, to search for traces left behind before my memory faded, and second, to allow the target to grow more relaxed and less vigilant." "Indeed, Mr. Azk, his most recent episode of amnesia occurred near the University of Beckett... Unfortunately, you won't be able to take over my duties in investigating the Red Chimney house. Klein nodded seriously: "I will keep a close eye on this matter. As soon as the target takes any action or is exposed, I'll immediately notify you." "Well, Mr. Azk, how shall I keep you informed in a timely manner?" In Klein's mind, if Azk were a descendant of Death or somehow connected to Her, his power type should align closely with the "Bierbearer" sequence—definitely capable of producing something akin to the "Dale Messenger." In other words, this would serve as indirect evidence of Azk's connection to Death and his status as a descendant. Azk took a long draw on his cigar, thought for about fifteen seconds, and then removed a piece of jewelry from the inside of his left sleeve. It was a delicate, antique copper whistle, adorned with numerous intricate patterns that gave it a deeply mysterious charm. "This is an item I've carried with me since I woke up in Beckland. All you need to do is blow on it, and a messenger uniquely belonging to me will appear." Azk held the bronze whistle carefully, explaining in detail. Has this bronze whistle still been functional after so many years? Is it a magical artifact? Klein was both astonished by the fact and delighted to have indirectly demonstrated Azk's connection to the Death God. Azk glanced at Klein, then brought the whistle to his mouth and demonstrated. He forcefully inflated both cheeks and blew hard. Though no sound echoed throughout the room, Klein immediately felt a sudden chill and coolness. He quickly tapped his left teeth, and one after another, hazy white bones rose from the floor beside him, forming an eerie fountain. A few seconds later, a spectral creature materialized in the living area. It is composed entirely of white bone, with blazing black flames flickering in its eye sockets, standing nearly four meters tall, gazing down at the slightly under-one-and-seven-fifths-meter-tall Caine. As Caine watched the figure nearly piercing the ceiling, a moment of bewilderment flashed through him: "Mr. Azk, might your 'messenger' be a bit exaggerated?" Azk showed no awareness of Caine's thought, merely smiled and said, "After delivering the letter to it, blow the bronze horn once, and the summoning will be complete. It will then swiftly deliver the letter to me in a secret manner." With that, Azk gave a slight flick of his wrist, tossing the ancient bronze horn toward the opposite side. Caine reached out with his right hand and caught it precisely, feeling the touch cold yet gentle. Thanks to the "Clown" potion... he silently exhaled, wiped the horn's mouth clean, and blew hard. Without a sound, the massive messenger dissolved into slender, hazy strands of white bone, sinking into the floor. ……… The Tasok River flows through Bekland, leaving behind numerous piers. Alger Wilson stepped off the passenger ship, dressed in the robes of a storm cleric. He saw the bustling harbor, with countless laborers sweating under the heat, the scene vibrant and lively. "Long time, Bekland," he murmured silently.