Will you kill me? For the first time, when he heard such a request and faced such a task, Kline found himself momentarily at a loss, unsure of what to say. He even began to suspect that there might be a grand conspiracy at play. Bishop Utravský opened his eyes and looked down at Kline. "Kill the version of me that existed in the past." ...Father, please speak without gasping so much... Kline's lips slightly trembled as he expressed his confusion. "Even in myth and legend, no one has ever returned to the past. I believe this commission may only be possible for seven deities." "No," he clarified, "I mean, kill the past that still resides deep within me, the past that has never truly died." "Seeing that Klein still seemed somewhat puzzled, Bishop Utravski slightly hunched forward and said, 'The former me—so passionate about killing and battle—did not die completely with my heartfelt repentance. I can clearly feel him still alive within me, constantly striving to reclaim control over everything. I am constantly suppressing him, hoping that through Masses, penance, and preaching, I can gradually win him over, so that he too will truly embrace the mother goddess's teachings and fully unite with me.' In short, the imprint of the past is too strong, creating intense conflict with the present life, thus giving rise to a personality split... A genuine psychologist, a true keyboard warrior, Klein Moretti, offered his initial assessment, carefully adding, 'This is a psychological issue. I believe you need to see a psychiatrist.' " "I've tried, perhaps you're not aware, that among the extraordinary paths held by the Mother Goddess, there is a sequence known as 'Healer'—the ancient 'cure priest'—who have studied my condition and believe it is not merely a psychological disorder, but one that also includes a tendency toward loss of control. If the past me had ultimately triumphed over the present me, I am certain I would have lost control and transformed into a monster." Utravaski sighed. "You need the Sequence 7 under the 'Audience' path—the 'psychiatrist'..." Klein mused. "Your words have convinced me that you've found a solution, though you're still lacking a suitable executor, correct?" "Yes. Over the years, besides preaching, I've been seeking people and things that could help me. Ultimately, under the Mother Goddess's protection, I obtained a truly remarkable item—said to be a relic from an ancient giant dragon." "Utravski saw that Klein hadn't been frightened away, and with a touch of hope replied, 'It allows the holder to reach the deepest part of the target's mind—perhaps even the very foundation of dreams—and to make specific scenes tangible. Then you can directly see my past self and defeat him through battle. Once he truly dies under those special conditions, he will never reappear again.' How truly remarkable—this kind of treatment for personality disorders in the mystical world! Klein silently remarked, and then asked cautiously, 'Are there any limitations? Or does it impose any harm on the holder? Why do you think I'm unable to fulfill this commission?" Bishop Utravski bowed his head and looked at Caine. "Once the magical object is used, the holder will remain conscious, but the mind—or the dreamscape—has many layers. In the past, I was able to exploit this to deceive you, even to hunt you down. However, after exceeding the designated time—say, five minutes—the magical object will completely disorient you. Your spirit will no longer be able to return to your body, and you will become its offering. "In that case, you'll be a vegetative patient." "Moreover, because the scene becomes fully materialized, if you are killed at the deepest level of your mind—or the very foundation of your dreams—you will experience similar aftereffects, equivalent to true death." "Believe me, I was far stronger than you anticipated." "Ah, so it is... But for me, your question isn't really a problem at all. I am someone who can remain awake and rational even in spirit and dream states—no matter how strongly that magical object seeks to overwhelm me. As long as I have the strength to resist, I can reverse my steps and recite your name, and directly reach the gray mist above. The real question is: how powerful was the previous Bishop Utravský, and how certain am I that I can defeat him? What are the limitations and taboos when fighting within the materialized realm of the mind? After thinking for a moment, Kline said: "How powerful was the Bishop Utravský in his time? I don’t believe I will necessarily lose." The Bishop Utravský's eyes momentarily blurred: "I am a warrior." "I have now reached Sequence 6 of this extraordinary path, and have become a 'Dawn Knight.'" "Originally, he wasn't one of those extraordinary individuals who followed the 'Farmer's Path'... himself had said that it was only after committing crimes and becoming a pirate that the Earth Mother Goddess had been moved to embrace him. Sequence 6, yes—I'm not without hope. The 'Magician' type is one who, once properly prepared, becomes significantly stronger. Moreover, given my unique nature, the deepest layers of my mind or the most fundamental parts of my dreams are, in essence, my natural domains. After a moment of thoughtful reflection, Caine asked: "Will that magical artifact weaken him?" "Yes, but since that's where he primarily operates, the weakening effect won't be severe—merely as if he had already engaged in a particularly intense battle." Utravskiy recalled his previous attempts. "Then I'll have a stronger grasp of the situation... Caine continued, asking: "What should be particularly mindful of when fighting under such special conditions?" "Just as in real battle, effective attacks remain effective, while illusions remain illusions—though one must keep in mind that he may at any moment carry you into several additional layers of dreams, creating situations where truth and falsehood become hard to distinguish," the Bishop of Utravský emphasized. "Therefore, you must at least be a Sequence 6, or certain special Sequence 7s, to successfully complete this commission—and the risks are considerable. Indeed, if it weren't for my personal vow, sworn upon the Mother's Sacred Relic, that before achieving success in missionary work I would never seek assistance from the Church, this task would not have been so difficult." Ah... I'm not at all afraid of layered dreams. Clary remarked, drawing a smile. "Finally, what are the key characteristics of the 'Dawn Knights' in battle?" The Bishop smoothed his face, lined with numerous wrinkles, and sighed. "This is something that must remain absolutely confidential among the extraordinary beings." "However, as long as there are enough battles involved, others often manage to draw conclusions—and the more detailed you are, the higher the chances of success, don't you think?" "Yes." Kline nodded calmly. Archbishop Utravský spoke with a tone of recollection: "The Dawn Knight possesses giant-like strength, capable of filling a radius of forty to fifty meters around him with dawn light. This light not only dispels illusions but also has a subtle effect in driving away spectral shadows and even weakening evil spirits. He can gather a 'Dawn Armor' on his body—akin to a finely refined, full-body suit of armor—that feels weightless and does not impede his movements. However, once damaged, it takes time to restore. He can also summon various weapons; his most powerful is a two-handed greatsword, often known as the 'Sword of Dawn.' It is both sharp and sturdy, and each strike carries a purifying effect." "In addition, the Dawn Knights possess a remarkable ability—the creation of a 'Storm of Light' that can directly destroy human bodies, eliminate vengeful spirits, and wound malevolent entities." While their extraordinary abilities aren't numerous, they are all highly effective, characterized by strong offensive power, solid defense, and immunity to illusions. Their strength lies in the fact that, aside from encounters with spectral shadows, the Dawn Knights remain relatively enigmatic—something that feels strange, unusual, or hard to comprehend. As he listened, Kline mentally rehearsed the battlefield scenario, searching for the most reliable course of action. The "mystery" he referred to meant something strange, odd, or inexplicable. Bishop Utravský watched him silently, neither urging nor pushing. Once he began to form a clear plan, Kline lifted his head and looked up, saying, "Perhaps I can attempt this, but only if I can step away for a few minutes to verify that you haven't been lying." Bishop Utravský responded with mild surprise, "That's quite acceptable." "However, I must remind you once again—though I don't know where your confidence stems from—do not underestimate the past me. He is exceptionally skilled in battle." "I won't take my own life lightly." Kline placed his hand on his chest, bowed, and then stepped out of the Harvest Church, quickly finding a quiet, secluded spot nearby to perform a swift divination atop the gray mist. After receiving an answer that carried some risk but was still manageable, he immediately returned to the real world, spending only a few seconds to ten seconds in the gray mist in total. Subsequently, Kline reentered the Harvest Church and addressed the bishop, Utzlovsky, who remained in place: "I accept this commission." Utzlovsky gazed at him for a moment, then spoke slowly: "Should we succeed, I will not only provide you with the formula for the 'Pharmacist,' but also gift you with a magical item that carries minimal negative effects." Klein was momentarily stunned, then sincerely admired, saying, "Father, you are truly a generous man!" Bishop Utravsky said no more, and from a concealed pocket of his brown cassock, withdrew a peculiar candle. The candle, only half a length, appeared to be wrapped in a layer of human skin, yet several lumps stood out distinctly. Its wick was only as tall as a finger joint, entirely black, and covered with fine, closely spaced scale-like patterns. "Light it with your spirit," Utravsky said, handing the candle to Klein. Klein did not immediately follow this instruction. Instead, he produced a matchbox, struck several matches, tucked them into his pants pocket, lit and then extinguished a few, and tossed them to various corners of the church. Then he adjusted the positions of the paper figures, notes, long strips of paper, the Aztec copper whistle, and various talismans—preparing for the most adverse circumstances he had envisioned. After completing all this, Caren snapped his fingers, and a slender blue spiritual flame sprang from his fingertips. Plink! He brought the flame to the tip of the small half-candle, watching as the dark wick suddenly glowed bright. Everything around seemed unchanged, yet Caren was fully aware that he had entered the realm of the mind. He saw the Archbishop Utrofsky still standing in place, his robust frame over two meters tall, imposing and overwhelming. This penitent archbishop gazed steadily across at him, the muscles of his face gradually contracting, his expression growing increasingly fierce. Then, Caren noticed that the light and shadows around him were rapidly shifting, as though he were witnessing a real, intense battle unfolding. Crash! In the end, the Archbishop Utrofsky collapsed heavily to the ground, blood pouring from him, lifeless. Caren, clear-headed and composed, stared at the scene in silent astonishment, his lips twitching slightly, and silently assessed: "Very professional." But I know this is a dream within a dream.