"The Fallen Creator?" Dariq's brow furrowed at the moment he heard it. The people of Silver City had always believed in "The One Who Created All, the All-Knowing, All-Powerful God." Hearing such a title adorned with the word "Fallen" naturally evoked instinctive resistance and discomfort. "The Fallen Creator..." This was the name the Sir of the Fool used for the True Creator. So this deity, once thought to be evil, still held such a form. Yet why would the images and temples of this deity appear within the exploration range of Silver City? That region was believed to be a place abandoned by the gods! Or perhaps, even before the gods abandoned it, the faith in the True Creator had already taken root there. Could it be that the holy sanctuary always championed by the Aurora Order truly lay in a place once forsaken by the gods? Aljer thought of many things at once, yet could not reach a firm conclusion, for the history prior to the Great Cataclysm had long since transformed into myth and legend—something that could not simply be described as shrouded in mist. He paused for two seconds, deliberately saying, "We also have another name for the 'Fallen Creator'—the 'True Creator.' " "The forces who believe in Him possess a remarkable path: the 'Secret Prayers,' the 'Listeners,' the 'Hidden Monks,' and, as you mentioned, the 'Shepherds.' " "The Shepherds?" The silent Sun, Deric, suddenly sat upright, his eyes filled with astonishment. He was familiar with the extraordinary path mentioned by the 'Hanged Man,' though in certain sequences, the Silver City used similar terms—such as 'Whisperers' and 'Listeners.' Ah, so that strange, otherworldly statue represented the path of the 'Secret Prayers'... Elder Loviya has already become a 'Shepherd'... her behavior has been growing increasingly odd. Deric suddenly grew concerned about the newly appointed Elder among the Six-Body Council, and about the safety of the Silver City. In previous explorations of the surrounding regions, the Silver City discovered several cities that had been utterly destroyed—only scattered stones bearing words remained, testifying to once-thriving civilizations. These words belonged to variants of dragon, giant, and elf languages, most of which repeatedly described a single entity: the "Evil Deity." The residents of the Silver City involved in these efforts have long speculated that these cities were destroyed by the Evil Deities. Therefore, it is all the more puzzling that the Sun, Deric, should not have been astonished, concerned, or fearful upon discovering that the path leading to the Elder Loviya had been controlled by such a deity. He had returned to his reserved, quiet demeanor, leaving the "Justice" Odile, who had been eagerly awaiting more stories from the Silver City, rather disappointed. ——After so many gatherings and following the recent acquisition of dragon lineage intelligence, her interest in the Silver City had only grown stronger. His reaction was a bit different from what I had imagined... "The Hangover" Alje observed calmly for a while, but gained no further insights. For a moment, he couldn't find a better topic to begin with, and if he asked directly, he suspected "The Sun" would demand payment—something neither simple nor feasible, given his already substantial debts in extraordinary materials. At that very moment, they both heard a soft tapping sound coming from the table. Amid the thick gray mist, Caine concealed his fatigue and smiled gently. "Let's conclude this gathering here," he said. "Your will is our will." "Justice" Odile immediately rose, lifted her skirt slightly, and bowed. "The Hangover," "The Sun," and "The World" each responded in similar fashion. Caine waved his hand, severing the connection, and quietly watched the blurred figures of "Justice" and the others fade into light. Then, he caused the trumpet "World" to vanish instantly, and took up the small insignia he had received from Larnus to study it. "Holding this item grants membership," he recited the words inscribed on the insignia, yet found no change in the object itself. He pondered, then carefully infused spiritual energy into it. A faint glow emerged, swiftly coalescing into a beam that shot outward toward beyond the gray mist. But the beam was immediately rebounded by the endless gray haze. It then dispersed suddenly, transforming into a translucent parchment of palm size, bearing a single line of ancient Fussac script: "Evening of January 4, 1350, in the valley of Barbul." A simple communication device in the field of mysticism? Transmit a message, request synchronization, obtain the latest meeting time and location? Reflecting on the image he had just witnessed, he formed an initial understanding of the insignia's function. "In 1350—next year…the valley of the Babur River, situated just before the Tassok River enters Bekland…the timeline is detailed, yet the location remains vague—spanning well over ninety kilometers of valley terrain…perhaps once we reach there, this insignia will serve as a reliable locator…." Kline turned the pendant in his hands with growing interest, studying the symbols, incantations, and emblems carefully, hoping to replicate it himself. Unfortunately, having parted ways from the Watchers' group, his knowledge of mysticism remained at its original level, and he had yet to gain further opportunities for deeper study. After several minutes of focused effort, he found himself reluctantly giving up. As for the phrase "hold this and join," Kline decided to set it aside for now. If I can become a Faceless One by the end of this year, I'll use it as a cover to observe; otherwise, I'll simply leave it. Kline murmured this silently to himself and shifted his focus to the matter of advancing to the rank of Magician. The true roots and sap of the misty tree-being from the "Sun" side should be solid... If luck holds, we'll be able to secure the spinal fluid of the malevolent-patterned black leopard this week—Sequence 7, mid-tier, now clearly visible and tangible... Hmm... How exactly should the "Magician" role be enacted? As he pondered this, Caine began to consider the specifics. Having lived through the experiences before and after his resurrection, he instantly grasped the essence of the "Clown," and thus, over the past month, he only needed to continuously embody the role in daily life—gradually absorbing it without needing to summarize or refine it based on feedback. When, finally, he kills Lan'urush and achieves his initial act of vengeance, with a smile tinged with tears, the "Clown" elixir will naturally be fully integrated. This differs from the initial process by which Caine absorbed the "Seer" elixir—quite a unique circumstance. Now, however, the performance of the "Magician" will revert to the earlier, more conventional approach. What is the true essence of the "Magician"—to deceive with appearances? Well, according to Zarathustra's account in the Great Emperor's journal, although the main current of this path isn't fate, it still has a certain portion belonging to it—so, here too, there should be corresponding content, right? For instance, it may seem at times that one can influence fate to a certain extent, only to discover later that it's all illusion, mere magic, just deception?" Caine rubbed his temple, wrapping his remaining spirit around himself and sinking into the gray mist. ………… In the Saint George district, within a two-bedroom apartment. "Good thing I've also prepared an extra place like this; otherwise, I'd have no idea where to hide." Folsie stared at the mirror, brushing her hair. "Yes…" Thu lay in bed, weakly responding. "I just read in the newspaper that Larnuus has passed away. But since this involves divine matters, it won't end that quickly—we'll have to stay hidden for a while, er, no—actually, it's you who needs to hide, not me. I'm a straightforward clinic doctor, a best-selling novel author!" "Vorth applied a simple makeup in front of the mirror. For a moment, Thore found himself at a loss for words, and slowly sat up. "Thankfully, I'm smart enough and have enough experience. When I went to inform someone, I didn't directly mention anything about the 'true Creator' or divine nature—instead, I described it as extremely dangerous, with a rapidly shifting target, and a sense of plea toward a malevolent deity, etc. Otherwise, I wouldn't dare stay in Beckland anymore. Getting involved in high-level conflicts is truly exhausting and perilous—I simply don't want to take on any more tasks from Miss Odile!" "Is that so?" Vorth asked without turning around. "Hmm..." Thore paused for a few seconds, then said, "Actually, we might not even need to bring up the divine aspects. Since Miss Odile's side has already uncovered the details, the Goddess's Church will surely have done so too. They should have already eliminated that 'giant' by now, right?" "I can't confirm that," Vorth replied without any hesitation. Thore stared, then sighed deeply and slowly. Vorth paused mid-action, turned her head and said, "Most of this mission has been handled entirely by you. I won't share the reward with you—200 pounds total, plus your savings of 70 pounds. Even after deducting my commission, we're very close to securing the first exceptional material for the 'Sheriff's' potion!" "But the police's 100 pounds won't come in so quickly," Hu murmured. It wasn't that the police were slow to pay—they simply couldn't access it directly. She had to go through the friend who had submitted the leads, since that person was officially recognized as the reward recipient. Given that she believed the matter would inevitably draw significant attention, she simply didn't dare reach out to that friend in the near term. As for whether that friend might pocket the substantial reward, she felt confident. The friend had already helped numerous less-visible reward hunters with similar cases, and if he were to simply absorb the payment outright, he would have been gone long ago—somewhere in one of the dim, narrow alleys. "But that will ultimately be yours," Fotherstun paused for a moment, asking seriously, "Once you've saved enough money, you'll reach out to that masked man, assist him, and purchase the materials from him?" "No, unless absolutely nothing else is available—unless there's absolutely no hope." That was Hugh's reply. ........ Queen District, at the luxurious manor of the Count Holberg. Audrey was still savoring the evening gathering when she suddenly saw her personal maid, Anne, approaching with a piece of paper. "Madam, your telegram," Anne smiled, "from Bayland's coast." Alfred's? Audrey eagerly took it and read carefully: "Dear sister, the seven-colored lizard you requested arrived at Prince's Port last night. I've instructed them to deliver it to your country estate outside the city." Had it arrived last night? That earliest today, no later than tomorrow, it should arrive at my manor... Audrey turned her head to watch Suzy engaged in a battle with the snacks, offering a gentle smile. "Suzy, the gift I've prepared for you is on its way." "Woof?" Suzy looked puzzled at the mistress.