Inside the small theater of the Lesma Circus. For a seer, as long as something feels familiar, there's no question of forgetting. Klein pushed gently at the gold-framed glasses resting on his nose, leaned back slightly, and whispered a few words almost silently. Then, feigning a brief rest, he closed his eyes for about fifteen seconds—during which he entered a meditative state and swiftly fell asleep, receiving dream-inspired insights. The scene in his dream was a dimly lit room, with a single candle flickering softly on a side table, and the people seated around him dressed in long black robes with hoods, each wearing iron masks that covered only their upper faces. Purposefully rubbing his brow, Klein opened his eyes and continued observing the animal performances. He had now interpreted the message and understood the source of the familiarity: the image from the dream was of an extraordinary gathering convened by the Elder of the "Eye of Wisdom." There was also a pharmacist with a round, plump face who often reminded others with a sarcastic tone—though he was genuinely kind, he always came across as rather brusque. Could it be that pharmacist? Not really. When had he ever learned to handle animals? According to the night-shift staff's internal records, the pharmacist's clairvoyance didn't resemble the "seer's" ability to finely distinguish emotional hues. Indeed, they were particularly skilled in perceiving the colors of the atmosphere. Klein's thoughts drifted slowly, yet this did not detract from his enjoyment of the stage performance. In his own clairvoyance, the emotional hues of the black bear, the tiger, and the long-haired baboon were indeed unstable—only a moderate stimulus would suffice to trigger an immediate outburst. This indirectly confirmed that the plump man who had just spoken was not merely causing disturbances; he seemed capable of reading the animals' thoughts and understanding their impulses. Yet, with his reminder, although the trainer grew fiercely angry, his face darkened, he still instinctively softened his movements, becoming more cautious, and thus the performance unfolded smoothly. Following this came a simple yet lively theatrical piece, and only after it concluded did the magician make his appearance. Dressed in a tailcoat with a matching bow tie and wearing a tall, imposing hat, the magician immediately performed a trick of spitting flames, instantly drawing applause and cheers from the audience. It was a rather straightforward technique—Clay, whose keen eye had already seen many magic demonstration programs, merely glanced at it and quickly grasped the essence. Next, the magician performed classic acts—such as the box escape, hat-top pigeon, fresh flower reveal, and card tricks—each one a staple of the repertoire. Klein had expected to easily unravel each of the techniques, yet he was astonished to find that at several moments, he gained nothing at all. His attention had been drawn to the very places the magician intended, causing him to overlook the crucial details. Though he himself possessed no extraordinary abilities, the magician’s techniques consistently evaded his perception. Indeed, the key lay in the mastery of attention. Was it the magician’s second rule—fully engaging the audience’s attention to achieve the desired effect? Klein made this internal conjecture, unsure whether it was correct or not. This would only be confirmed through the process of "playing" and receiving feedback. At that very moment, the magician concluded his performance, and the audience responded with enthusiastic applause and sustained cheers, raising the atmosphere to its peak for the afternoon. "Hmm, the third rule—magicians need applause from the audience?" Klein murmured to himself, half-teasing, half-guessing. Just after three, he adjusted the collar of his black double-breasted suit and stood up, leaving the small theater without making any attempt to approach the plump man he suspected was a pharmacist—only quietly noting the man's appearance, for a sudden, direct greeting might provoke an overreaction. Taking the streetcar, Klein returned toward Minsk Street. The car had two levels, each occupied by passengers, and as usual, he chose a window seat on the lower level. As the streetcar moved slowly and stopped frequently, Klein, who had been half-dozing, recalled his earlier inspirations, only to suddenly feel a sharp pang of unease, becoming alert and rational—just as if his dreams had been forcibly intruded upon or if he had been directly contacted by a spirit. At that very moment, he was certain: he no longer existed in the real world. With rich experience, he feigned composure, glanced around, and noticed that the gentleman on the left—dressed in a tailcoat and wearing a top hat—was still flipping through his newspaper, accompanied by two children. A woman in a light blue dress was furiously scolding her unruly, mischievous offspring, while beside her, someone was chewing on bread and sipping tea from a cup brought with them. Everything remained exactly as it had been before. Yet, in the subtle vision he had quietly activated, none of these passengers emitted the corresponding aura colors or emotional tones. They lacked ethereal bodies! Though they were speaking, eating bread, and reading newspapers, they showed no signs of life at all. Was this merely a phantom illusion, or had they suddenly passed away—still moving as if following their pre-death routines? Clarendon struggled to remain calm, turned his head toward the window, and saw the horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians bustling about the street, unchanged, as though it were still mid-afternoon. Yet, they too lacked aura and color. As the carriage moved slowly forward, Caine grew increasingly heavy, growing more and more puzzled about what had actually happened. He lowered his gaze and saw a clear spiritual radiance emanating from him—distinctly different from that of the others around him. At that very moment, he suddenly heard a roar—no, not a human roar! Caine quickly lifted his head again and noticed a large black dog standing on the street. Its sharp, gleaming white teeth were streaked with rust-colored blood—exactly the demon giant dog that had committed so many bloody crimes! The black beast rapidly expanded into a towering demon, wings like bats spreading behind it, and spiral, mysterious patterns forming on its horns. It was gazing upward, uttering a single, foul-sounding demon word: "Fallen!" Almost as soon as the demon spoke, Caine was certain of its authenticity—because it now radiated both aura and emotional color, and a strong spiritual luminescence poured out from it. With the demon hound's cry, several figures that had been ethereal suddenly burst apart, dispersing into black mist that rose into the air, obscuring the view. Yet Klein could still make out numerous "real people" now present in the sky and surroundings, each radiating a distinct aura of presence and glowing with the spiritual brilliance of extraordinary abilities. What was going on? Ordinary people were mere illusions, while the extraordinary ones were tangible—had the Watchers and the Sentinels found the demon hound and used a special sealing object to create a battlefield that wouldn't disturb the real world? Was that seal effective only against extraordinary beings, leaving ordinary people unaffected? So, I, who had merely happened to pass by, had been inadvertently drawn into this scene? Klein's thoughts raced, and he had already formed a clear sense of his own situation. This truly was an inexplicable disaster. As he reflected on this, a sharp, piercing cry suddenly rang out—a loud, overwhelming cry. The black mist obscuring the view suddenly dispersed, and the demon giant dog crashed to the ground, its body splitting vertically into two halves. At the same time, all the light in the air converged upon a single object, making it shine like a pure, luminous moon, illuminating the deep darkness around. The demon giant dog, displaying remarkable vitality, roared once more, its body then bursting open, igniting a towering flame of pale blue and deep crimson fueled by its soul and flesh. Yet, as soon as the flame reached halfway into the sky, it lost all brightness and was entirely absorbed by the moon-like object. It vanished silently, and the demon giant dog simply ceased to exist—no trace, no residue remained. Strong indeed... Just as Caine was reflecting, he suddenly realized something: might the official powerhouses notice that there was a wild extraordinary one seated in the carriage beside them, different from the ethereal figures surrounding them? He felt a sudden tightening in his chest, his scalp tingling as he pulled out a paper figure, then shook it gently—just a single shake—and it unfolded into his own form, a version of himself devoid of aura or emotional color. At the same time, leveraging the unique properties of the "body substitution technique," he slipped into the shadow of the paper figure. Just then, Kline heard a soft, slightly disdainful sigh from the street on the other side of the carriage. The sigh carried clear signs of irritation and reluctance. Who? It didn’t sound like the voice of an official extraordinary being. Kline was puzzled, yet he didn’t dare remove his substitute form or peer out to investigate. Soon after, several sets of eyes passed over him, each brief and unremarkable. As the scene faded, Kline noticed cracks appearing in the surrounding void, the space itself shattering like glass. Then, a genuine sense of presence returned—he was clearly back in the real world. He quietly removed the substitute and sat back into his own seat. The passengers on the carriage resumed their activities—reading newspapers, chewing bread, scolding children—unchanged from before. Yet to Klein, they now radiated a renewed presence and emotional tone. Moreover, the streetcar had clearly advanced some distance since earlier. "Apparently, during that special combat setting, time and setting were synchronized with reality. If the battle had lasted longer, the carriage might have exited the influence zone, leaving me alone—alone there… that would have clearly exposed me. Fortunately, Bekland, as the capital of the Universal City, is a place of hope, with high-ranking agents present from all three major churches." Klein thought to himself, slightly relieved. He had originally thought that even once the target was locked in, the night-watchers and substitute penitents would need several days to locate that demon hound—provided, of course, that the target hadn’t left Bekkanland. That was certain, because leaving Bekkanland meant stepping outside the ritual’s scope, which would cause the promotion to fail. For demons, already teetering on the edge of bloodlust, such a failure would likely plunge them directly into chaos. Who would have thought? Just one night and half a day later, the demon giant had been discovered, executed, and purified! It was truly astonishing! This was Bekkanland—this was the true strength of the Three Churches! A sequence-6 candidate on the verge of promotion, merely exposed his identity and left only a minor trace, yet was swiftly found and swiftly eliminated. This was no ordinary demon—this was one capable of anticipating danger! It seems certain seal objects are precisely counteracting this... From now on, I must be more cautious and vigilant! Klein felt he had gained profound lessons. At that moment, he recalled the odd, soft hum he had just heard. "It must be the companion of that demon hound—its master. He remained undetected; perhaps the demon hound's final self-explosion was orchestrated by him in secret... Of course, it could also be a member of some other hidden organization dissatisfied with the official extraordinary beings." Klein suddenly turned his gaze toward the window opposite the carriage, where the pedestrians passing by appeared entirely ordinary—some in wool coats, others with half-high hats, or in vibrant dresses—showing no signs of any anomaly.