In Tingenthal at the beginning of September, the weather had grown slightly cooler, yet the sunlight between three and four in the afternoon still felt warm. Kraen passed through the spiritual wall and the convex window, floating just above the bedroom, gazing down at the pedestrians and carriages moving along the water lily street. At that moment, a man dressed in gray-blue working attire suddenly raised his head and looked directly at him. Kraen was startled and wanted to hide in place, but couldn't find a suitable cover. After circling around, seeing no other option, he tried to make his way back into the house. Yet, as he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that the man's gaze had only briefly passed over the second-floor window, always following a sparrow as it moved, and eventually drifted away in disappointment. Birds were still occasionally visible in the Tingenthal city center. Ah... I'd completely forgotten that ordinary people simply can't see me... Kraen exhaled, feeling as though he had still not fully adjusted to his current state. With confidence growing, he lowered his flight altitude and hovered just above the heads of pedestrians on the still relatively wide street. As the distance narrowed, Caine immediately realized his "gaze" had effectively become clairvoyance—no longer requiring additional activation, though with a limited range. Moreover, beyond the aura and emotional hues, he faintly sensed the presence of each pedestrian's soul, hazy and ethereal, like translucent shadows. Now, in this state, he seemed capable of passing directly through bodies and striking at souls—Caine nodded thoughtfully. Circling once, he prepared to test his limits in speed and surged forward toward the Iron Cross Street. Not long afterward, he came to a stop, having returned once again to the outside of his original apartment. It should have the speed of a regular car, cruising smoothly on highways—just as one would expect. Unfortunately, it still can't freely enter or exit the spirit realm; otherwise, it would be perfect. However, if one gets lost within the spirit realm, the consequences are said to be extremely severe. As soon as Kline completed his self-assessment, he felt a sudden sense of sadness, gloom, and an unspoken weight pressing down on him. He glanced around and noticed that the atmosphere was enveloped in a deep, shadowy hue—unseen by ordinary people and unrelenting even under the sunlight, layered with residual feelings of numbness, despair, and pain, as if tangible. "It's exactly like the experience I had after my last promotion to 'Seer,' when I perceived the iron cross streets—both the central street and the lower street—remained unchanged. I wonder how many years it would take to accumulate such a sense of pressure and dimness." Kline recalled, sighed, and lifted himself higher, eventually reaching the level of the third-floor. There, he finally felt the sunlight and broke free from his low spirits. Klein flew along the lower street, often spotting residents with tattered clothing, expressionless faces, and signs of malnutrition, and even encountered two cases of ordinary deaths due to prolonged hunger, where frail bodies suddenly succumbed to illness. Month after month, countless people suffer and pass away here, yet the bankrupt farmers and the former slaves arriving from the southern continent will soon fill their places... Klein exhaled silently, then changed course and headed south toward the industrial district. There, the city of Tinggen's industrial heart pulses with steel mills, zinc-white factories, ceramic plants, printing works, metal fabrication shops, and machinery manufacturers—each one adjacent to the next. As he flew on, Klein saw towering chimney-like blast furnaces, thick dust suspended in the air, and a grayish atmosphere only slightly better than that of the lower street. The atmosphere here was saturated with fatigue, pain, pessimism, and numbness; workers in their thirties were a rare exception. As Klein was about to lower himself and carefully observe the area, he suddenly felt a profound weakness, a weakness that radiated from within outwards. "My spirit can no longer sustain this state..." A shock passed through him. At first, he rushed to return home, then a better possibility came to mind. I have been summoned here—I will naturally return once the summoning ends! He calmed his mind and carefully sensed his own condition and the surrounding environment. As expected, he discovered a subtle connection between himself and a place that was both infinitely distant and infinitely close. Following this connection, Klein tightly enclosed the Yang Flame Seal, sending forth a strong intention to conclude the summoning. A powerful and terrifying suction surged, and his transparent, nearly intangible form leapt upward, vanishing into the material world. ……an endless expanse of gray-white mist quietly spread, the deep red stars appearing ethereal and still, without a single flicker. Caine reappeared within the majestic palace, towering and grand, at the head of the ancient, weathered bronze table. "However, this method is rather complex and requires some adjustment to reach the desired outcome. Moreover, the members always 'summon' me, which undermines the image of the ' Fool.' Only I myself can currently use it, or perhaps, once I gain deeper understanding, I can design a spell that both summons the 'Fool's attendants' and simultaneously points directly to me..." "...Am I born a mere laborer? Why does every spell have to point back to me? Couldn't I instead create a more specialized 'attendant'—somewhat like a messenger—responsible for receiving and distributing materials?" Klain's thoughts flowed continuously, generating one idea after another, yet constrained by his current strength and level of knowledge, he could not yet bring them to life. His frailty grew more pronounced, and with no further time to spare, he wrapped himself in spiritual energy, simulating the sensation of falling into the gray mist. In the blink of an eye, he found himself back in his bedroom, greeted by the bright sunlight streaming through the curtain seams. He surveyed himself, confirming that the "Yang Flame Seal" had not been carried with him, but remained suspended above the gray mist. "Once I've rested properly and repeat the previous summoning ritual at dawn, I'll bring the 'Yang Flame Seal' back into the real world. Oh, if only that state could last a bit longer—then I could swiftly inspect the homes with red chimneys. As it stands, however, I still can't maintain it. After just a short flight and checking a few houses, I'm forced to return to the gray mist, rest for half a day, and end up with the same low efficiency." Kline walked to the desk and extinguished the candle that had been quietly burning. After tidying up his belongings, he didn't immediately dissolve the spiritual wall, but sat down, pulled out paper and pen, and began writing—a letter to Mr. Azk! After pausing for several minutes, Caine wrote: “…I’ve recently received intelligence that one of the seven Pirate Admirals, Admiral Zilings, has entered Bekland. He possesses a remarkable artifact known as ‘The Thirsting Hunger,’ which grants abilities similar to those of the Shepherd. The Shepherds are Sequence 5 extraordinary beings who consume and summon souls, gaining corresponding powers as they do so. It’s said that they can only shepherd a limited number of souls at once, though they may replace them as needed…” “…Admiral Zilings has a wide array of extraordinary abilities, but I’m still unclear about his intentions in Bekland. The intelligence suggests this may involve a particularly significant and magical item—one so powerful that it could elevate Zilings to the rank of a high-sequence extraordinary being, or even make him comparable to one…” Caine described Zilings’ situation through a somewhat fabricated source of information, since he was certain Mr. Azk would never seek confirmation from someone of the rank of Night Watch Captain or above. Here, he didn't directly ask for help; instead, he casually mentioned it, urging the other party to be cautious. Whether or not Azkard eventually lends his assistance, this subtle preparation won't go amiss! Should such a moment truly arrive, it will then feel more natural. Klein slowly exhaled, beginning to draft the main content of the letter: "The mastermind behind everything has yet to take further action, and I still haven't uncovered any relevant clues. I've reached out to you primarily to seek your insights on the 'sacrificial rite'—during a recent assignment, I encountered something very similar..." With the description of 'the Sun' and now Azkard's response as a point of reference, I should be able to attempt the 'sacrificial rite'—and in return, it would become a 'bestowal' rather than a mere 'summoning'. This approach would likely be more effective for exchanging materials and items. Hmm, I hope Azkard remembers this aspect of knowledge. Klein gave a slight nod, set down his pen, and didn't sign the letter. There was only one copper whistle, and he was certain Mr. Azk would not mistake the sender. Therefore, Cline was careful not to leave his name. He folded the letter, glanced at the ceiling height—about three meters—and hesitated slightly before picking up the whistle from the bed. Just right—let it sit there, waiting to receive the letter! In his mind, he emphasized this thought, raised his right hand, placed the whistle to his mouth, and blew hard, puffing out his cheeks. The whistle remained silent, yet Cline immediately sensed a sudden chill in the air around him. With his spiritual sight activated, he saw a series of translucent white bones rising like a fountain from the desk, growing taller and taller. These bones quickly coalesced into a spectral, immense creature, its head penetrating deep into the spiritual wall, seemingly extending far beyond sight. Gazing at the white bone thighs and body, at the arms hanging down and the open right hand, Cline’s lips twitched slightly, and he tossed the folded letter upward. The massive, white bone hand swept forward and firmly grasped the letter. At that moment, Caine immediately picked up the bronze whistle once more and blew upon it. The monster instantly dissolved, fragmenting into slender white bones that settled upon the desk and then faded into the air, vanishing. Having completed these actions, Caine removed the ethereal wall, then, as a sudden breeze blew up, strolled slowly toward the wardrobe, placing the whistle back where it belonged. Next, he hurried to the bedside and collapsed, falling unconscious the moment his body touched the soft mattress.