The glass greenhouse outside reflected the pale light of the sun, and the vibrant, almost bursting roses stood out vividly even against the thin mist. Inside the bedroom, Duke Nigan seemed to have rediscovered the sense of youth—he had once ridden with his father and elders across vast lands, guiding hounds and chasing wild beasts. Finally, he had reached the summit, and the world around him seemed unusually quiet. At that moment, his mind suddenly buzzed with a surge—joy and ease erupted, then burst again and again, without limit or end. Nigan's body trembled from his waist upward, his vision went blank, and his thoughts ceased. His heart pounded fiercely, as though under immense pressure, like a steam boiler long exceeding its capacity, ready to burst at any moment, spewing out hot vapor. Had ordinary people or exceptionally strong individuals been in this situation, they would surely have suffered myocardial infarction and cerebral hemorrhage, collapsing instantly. Yet Duke Nigen ultimately survived, though his eyes lost focus, his lips dripped with saliva, and his body weakened, gently collapsing onto his lying mistress. The "Wind-Attuned" guards stationed in the two adjacent rooms and the Duke's secretary both sensed the unusual spiritual presence and the mysterious aroma at the same time. The guards suddenly found a violent gust of wind enveloping him, hurling him against the wall with such force that he broke through and created a large hole, entering the bedroom. The secretary, meanwhile, rushed directly toward the source of the mystery—the attic of this house! Along the way, he moved without hesitation, yet the decorative vases and objects on the corridor seemed to come alive, gracefully sidestepping him. As he leapt up the stairs toward the attic, the wooden floor appeared to rise with him, as if gently supporting and aiding his progress. In mere seconds, this well-dressed, handsome young man with golden hair had reached the attic and spotted a figure seated on an old chair. The figure was enveloped in a thick black liquid, as if embodying the sum of all ugly desires and intense emotions hidden deep within the human soul—greed so profound it was willing to sell its own rope of death, hunger so fierce that even fellow beings would not spare it, and lust unrestrained and boundless. This was the demon walking among mortals! The slender secretary remained expressionless, neither launching an immediate attack nor making direct contact, but simply gazing at the figure and reaching back to close the door with polite grace. *Thud!* The wooden door closed firmly. The entire room suddenly felt completely sealed off, as though it could not be breached without great effort and would remain utterly isolated. In that instant, the concept of "closing the door and sealing the room" seemed transformed into "imprisoning this place, cutting off all connection with the outside world." The Apostles of Desire moved, his form swelling and expanding, growing a pair of immense bat wings that emitted soft blue tongues of flame. One after another, fiery spheres radiating a strong sulfur scent coalesced and surged toward the golden-haired secretary of Duke Nigan. The secretary extended his left hand, gloved in white, clenched it firmly, and slightly rotated his wrist. Boom! Boom! Boom! The spheres no longer followed straight lines or parabolic trajectories; instead, they burst outward in irregular patterns, scattering wildly—much like the erratic motion proposed by a botanist for minute particles. Some struck the walls, others the ceiling, some landed beside the frail secretary, while others recoiled, nearly detonating the Apostle of Desire himself. The entire floor was in disarray, littered with shattered and blackened remnants, and the building itself trembled twice. Yet, the mysterious power at play here—the very rules that have been manipulated—remains unbroken. The walls, the aged wooden doors, and the dusty ceiling still tremble, yet refuse to collapse. The "Apostle of Desire" does not falter in the face of his recent failure, nor does he grow agitated by the other's calm demeanor, his restrained desires, which prove unresponsive and unyielding to his influence. Suddenly, a molten crimson flame ignites in his coffee-brown eyes, coalescing into the form of his golden-haired secretary. From his mouth emerges a crude, foul-odored demonic word: "Die!" The foul words echoed throughout the attic. The secretary murmured in annoyance and stepped back. As his form began to dissipate, thick rust-red streaks appeared across his body and face, as though he had been transformed into an iron man left in a damp place for years. He coughed violently, expelling clots of blood thickened with rust. The rust-colored marks on his skin gradually fell away. Cough, cough, cough! "The Apostles of Desire" also coughed, coughing up clots of blood streaked with rust, and the thick, viscous black liquid that had covered his entire body grew noticeably thinner. It seemed that half of the foul words' effect had been transferred from the Duke's secretary to himself! ………… In the bedroom. "The Wind's Patron" lifted the Duke and gently pushed the beautiful mistress aside, in case she were an ally of the attackers. He didn't go to assist the secretary because he was very clear about his sole duty—protecting the Duke of Niggen! In similar situations, one must be wary of having more than one enemy! At this moment, the Duke slightly relaxed, though his strength remained powerful—he still felt weak, hollow, and mentally drained, unable to draw upon his extraordinary abilities. He signaled the "Wind-keeper" to remove the seashell necklace from his neck and held it close to his mouth. The Duke inhaled deeply and then forcefully blew into the small, intricately patterned shell. Hush-hush! The deep, resonant sound of the tide spread swiftly toward the Saint-Wind Cathedral. "With the Bishop's speed, he'll arrive soon!" the "Wind-keeper" reassured first, then turned his back to the Duke, walked toward the window, and leapt downward. He needed to join the Duke's guards outside, and there were still a couple of lower-tier extraordinary beings inside. Duke Nigen gasped, "Seize them—seize them alive, or as spirits! I must know who it is!" Last time, it was Admiral Zilings, the pirate general, who came to assassinate him. This time, however, it was a stranger of Sequence 5. Duke Nigen had not expected to reach such an unyielding, all-or-nothing level of conflict with anyone recently, so he was particularly incensed, deeply resentful. He needed to uncover the mastermind behind this, and summon every resource to shatter the adversary—provided he could find clues on the assassins themselves. After seven or eight seconds, most of the Duke's guards surged forward, encircling Palas Nigen and the "Wind-Attuned" in the center, within the garden's forecourt. "Wait here and remain vigilant," the Wind-Attuned ordered. According to the standard protocol, he should have ensured the Duke's safe evacuation from the assassination site to the secure sanctuary of Saint Wind Cathedral, but he wasn't certain whether there were other enemies in play, fearing a ambush along the way. Most importantly, he worried that if he missed the arriving "Song of the Divine," Esneck, he might find himself in an even more perilous situation. One second, two seconds, three seconds… time passed steadily, the building occasionally trembling, the battle inside intensifying. "Why hasn't the Archbishop arrived yet?" asked the Duke, his breath steadied but visibly concerned. Given the archbishop's flight speed, he should have been nearly there by now—yet the mist in the direction of Saint Wind Cathedral remained undisturbed. The "Wind-Wardens," on high alert, hesitated: "Perhaps… perhaps the Archbishop… perhaps he's not at Saint Wind Cathedral…" He ultimately did not voice the possibility that the Archbishop might not be there at all. At that moment, the duchess's beautiful mistress approached the window of the second-floor bedroom, her eyes misty, revealing a poignant smile. Then, she leapt downward, deliberately landing with her head first on the cement floor. Crashing with a sound that made one's teeth ache, the graceful head cracked open, gushing with blood. She rolled helplessly several times before coming to rest face-up. Her eyes lost all focus, her expression frozen—wild with both terror and madness. Witnessing this, many members of the duchess's guard could no longer restrain their growing fear. Even the Duke of Nigan, without the arrival of the Archbishop of Snec, felt his emotions nearly breaking. "Go! Leave here!" he gasped weakly. The "Wind's Favor" was relieved that he hadn't softened earlier and had instead promptly kicked aside the mistress, otherwise the duke would have been killed on the spot. Now, hearing the frightened command, his heart suddenly lurched. Inside the gallery, the "Apex of Desire" suddenly liquefied, transforming into numerous black shadows darting about the floor. Having thus evaded the attack of the blonde secretary, he reformed himself anew in another direction. Then, he gazed at his opponent, raised his right arm, and gave a slight smile. "No!" The blonde secretary's eyes instantly flared red. In that instant, the "Apex of Desire" clenched his fists. Outside the grand house, the Duke's sense of fear surged violently, flooding into his brain, coursing through his blood vessels, and enveloping his nerves. He heard something shattering, and felt a warm sensation spreading across his back of the head. At the same time, several members of the Duke's guard grew panic-stricken, lifting their specially crafted revolvers or rifles and firing wildly toward the center. *Thump! Thump! Thump!* Yet in this world, there is no "if." The Duke of Palas Nigan, the foremost land noble after the King, the brother of the current Prime Minister, and a remarkable figure of rank 6—truly a major player—died thus. The roses within the adjacent glass greenhouse remained in full bloom. Inside the attic, the blonde secretary clearly sensed something was amiss, and his emotions could no longer be contained. He found himself momentarily speechless, rushing out urgently and opening the sealed room door on his own. Two seconds later, he regained his composure, turned back, only to find the figure draped in black liquid and the portable chest in the corner had vanished.