A lightning bolt split the sky, illuminating the dark stone walls. Darien Berg carried a leather satchel, held a "Galeaxe," and stood with nearly ten teammates outside the archway. Looking up, he noticed that between the stone cracks, the dry, crumbly earth had sprouted dense clumps of resilient weeds, their fine, flowing stems resembling human hair. At that moment, he heard a soft footfall and turned his gaze toward the gate. As the interplay of lightning and darkness unfolded, a tall figure slowly approached, carrying two concealed straight swords across his back. Then, one after another, the viewer caught sight of his pale, disheveled hair, his weathered, deep-set eyes, the deeply etched, ancient scars, and his enduring brown coat and linen shirt. This was Colin Iliath, the leading member of the "Council of Six" of Silver City, a powerful "Dragon Slayer." After greeting, Derek unconsciously turned his gaze to the chief's waist, where a leather belt was divided into numerous compartments, each containing small metal bottles of different types. This was a hallmark of a "Sorcerer-Hunter's" experience and expertise. Derek had heard his parents mention that "Sorcerer-Hunters" were skilled at identifying the vulnerabilities of various monsters, recognizing the properties of different materials, and, under a specific meditative state, could combine these elements to craft tailored magical potions, holy ointments, essential oils, and special seals. By administering these through ingestion, application, or use, they achieved effective control over their targets. In a sense, an experienced, well-informed, well-prepared, and responsive "Sorcerer-Hunter" was often the decisive force against most monsters—the number and variety of metal bottles at their waist reflected their experience and breadth of knowledge. Of course, these are only a portion of the extraordinary abilities possessed by the Hunters. Alone, these qualities are insufficient to earn them the titles of "half-gods" or "saints." Colin surveyed the room, confirming that all team members had arrived, and then spoke in a low, steady tone: "Light the lanterns, and move out." The two team members immediately lit the wicks within the lanterns, allowing the soft, diffused glow to filter through the thin leather. In the bright days of Silver City—where lightning strikes occur every few seconds and the surrounding monsters have been repeatedly cleared—candles are typically unnecessary. However, once they leave Silver City and enter the deeper, darker regions, they must maintain a steady supply of light. Should a period of darkness exceed five seconds due to a lapse in lightning, the team is likely to come under attack from monsters. Intense combat was not the most terrifying scenario; the most vivid memory from Darien's parents' stories remained etched in his mind. At one point, while exploring deep into the darkness, their candles had not been replaced in time due to the battle against the corrosive undead surge earlier. As a result, they endured a profound, deep darkness for eight seconds—until the lightning returned and the candlelight reappeared. Startled, they found that only five of their original eight teammates remained; the other three had silently vanished without a trace, never to reappear again. Taking a deep breath, Drik tightened his grip on the "Galeaxe," walked steadily at the center of the group, and followed the leader toward their designated destination. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the plain dotted with black grass, transforming it into a haunting oil painting. A small exploration party of ten exceptional individuals walked along a path strewn with jagged stones, advancing deeper into the black grasslands. As the lightning faded, the thick darkness surged back, nearly engulfing them entirely. The dim candlelight pierced through the leather, wavering and faintly clinging to the areas around them. …… The Eastern District, in a greasy, budget coffee shop. Klein found Kolle, as agreed, who was currently spreading artificial cream on his toast. He glanced at the crumpled cigarettes resting on the table and smiled. "New ones?" "No, old ones—never smoked them again, but I always carry them with me, occasionally taking them out to smell them. Honestly, this reminds me of those days of wandering around. Back then, I truly felt I might die at any moment." Kolle's tone carried a touch of apprehension. Klein produced the fresh twenty-sou coins he had exchanged earlier, placing them on the table as he sat down. "I was very satisfied with the information you provided last time." Without waiting for Kolle's modest reply, he turned to the counter. "A bowl of oatmeal bread, two slices of toast, a piece of butter, a serving of stewed beef with potatoes, and a cup of tea for one penny." "Mr. Moriaty, you didn't have dinner yesterday, did you?" Kolle paused, holding the bill. Klein shook his head and smiled. "I'll be quite busy shortly—I may not have time for lunch." "He had to pretend to be enthusiastic and serious, after all, he'd been given a hundred pounds from Prince Edsack. Old Cole didn't press further—he remained vigilant, scanning the room, and carefully tucked the cash into his coat pocket. 'Regarding the matter I asked you to investigate last time, the reward for Azk Eggs comes from several underworld bosses and certain intelligence dealers—I'm not sure who specifically commissioned them, though reaching out to them has proven difficult.' 'Field Intelligence Nine,'克莱恩 nodded. 'That's sufficient. We don't need to go deeper—too risky.' Old Cole exhaled in relief and then added, 'A couple of days ago, someone at a budget hotel on Gold Cloak Street spotted a man resembling Azk Eggs, and reportedly, he matches the photo on the reward notice quite closely.' ...克莱恩 felt a sudden jolt, yet smiled instead of being alarmed. 'Then what? Did I just manage to secure this reward, only for it to end there?' 'Then what?' With the leads in hand, many bounty hunters had quickly rushed over, but found nothing—well, they mentioned that there were signs of a struggle in the room. Old Kole struggled to recall the information he had gathered. The intelligence would surely have gone to MI9 first… Was there an undercurrent of competition between Mr. Azk and them? He didn’t know what the outcome might be. Klein glanced at the owner who was bringing over the tray of breakfast, and deliberately paused before saying to Old Kole, "You wait here and take me to Gold-Draped Street—perhaps I can find some clues." It was now past the early morning breakfast hour in the eastern district, and the budget café was sparsely populated. "Very well," Old Kole agreed without hesitation. "Fifteen and a half pence." The owner placed the breakfast on the table—though the beef in the potatoes was modest, it had been stewed until very tender, clearly prepared in advance. The rich aroma drew Old Kole to his lips, prompting him to take a natural swallow. After paying, Cline picked up his fork and spoon, and said to Old Kole, "Go on." "There aren't many people anymore seeking out the followers of the Fool, aside from a few stubborn bounty hunters... many unemployed textile workers—some even male workers—have left the East District..." Old Kole listed them off. "What?" Cline swallowed his beef and raised his head, "Left the East District?" "They've probably found other work, though I can't quite track down where exactly they've gone," Old Kole replied truthfully. "Do their families know?" Cline asked. "Some have taken their unemployed family members with them; others have no family of their own, having come from outside to seek work in Beckett." Old Kole had already conducted some investigation. The selection of these individuals seems off... Cline noted it down and continued listening to Old Kole's account of what's been happening in the East District while eating. After settling on the time for their next meeting, he set down his utensils, wiped his lips, and picked up his hat, saying, "To Gold-Draped Street." ………… Inside the only budget inn on Gold-Draped Street. After receiving two pence, the landlord led Caine and the old Cole toward the room where the man believed to be Azk Egers had once stayed. "Many bounty hunters have come in recent weeks, heh—quite a few, actually—so I've managed to earn quite a bit. I've kept everything just as it was," the landlord explained, opening the door with a key and pointing inside. Upon entering, Caine immediately noticed the overturned chairs and scattered fragments of fabric, but beyond that, there were no other signs of a struggle. With a keen intuition, Caine directed his gaze toward the floor beneath the bed. After gazing for two seconds, he stepped forward, bent down, and tapped the bed surface. A few dust particles rose into the air, and a small, light-gray mouse leapt out from beneath the bed. It appeared perfectly normal, with no visible issues, yet in Caine's spiritual perception, the mouse's aura was reduced The mouse turned a corner and climbed up the wall, exposing its abdomen to Caine's view. There, the flesh was a greenish hue, oozing pus, and the internal organs beneath were clearly decayed. Caine thoughtfully drew back his gaze and, addressing the older Kole who had completely failed to notice the mouse, said, "Has the reward for Azk. Eggs been withdrawn?" "No," Kole firmly shook his head. Caine examined the scene once more and then stepped forward, "Then let's go. There's nothing of value here." ........... 15 Minsk Street. After a day of bustling activity outside, Caine settled into bed early and entered the world of dreams. Fragments of the dream—sometimes continuous, sometimes fragmented—drifted past, and suddenly he became aware of being awake, realizing he was dreaming. Some force had invaded my dreams... Caine maintained his earlier drowsy state and casually observed his surroundings. He found himself in the countryside, surrounded by fertile fields. A river rushes in from afar, winding around a cliff ahead. One face of the cliff is bare, revealing pure white rock that, from a distance, appears exceptionally holy and serene. At the river bend, around ten men and women in black coats or dark jackets, each carrying various tools, gather near a concealed underground entrance—among them is Ikonse Bernard, a familiar of Caine's. White Cliff Town... the Strathford River Bend... the Heart of Mechanism... They're exploring the Amun family's tomb? But why has this scene appeared in my dreams? Caine finds himself puzzled. At that moment, he notices the surface of the river shimmering, quickly forming a line of white words: "Your loyal servant, Arodes, reports on the exploration." ...Caine's mouth hangs open, momentarily unable to speak, while a voice echoes in his mind: "You said you'd make a good mirror—what's the point of being a double agent?"