"So hungry..." The words came out almost like a whisper, as little Jack lifted his head toward Joshua, who wore red-gloved hands. "So hungry..." His mouth opened wide, all the way to his earlobes, his white, evenly spaced teeth glistening with a slightly viscous saliva that kept oozing out. At the same time, he launched forward toward Joshua, moving so swiftly that the scene seemed to leave behind fragmented images. Though highly alert, Joshua found himself slightly caught off guard. He hadn't even fully registered the motion when Jack had already reached him. Thud! The figure with light yellow hair seemed to have collided with an invisible wall, halting just one step away from Joshua. Jack hovered in place, suddenly radiating a glow of deep black tinged with red, steadily seeping and corroding the transparent barrier that blocked him. Behind Joshua and Daryl, Colin—the Hunter—had already knelt on one knee, inserting his straight sword, smeared with a silver-gray ointment, into the ground at some point. Instantly, the entire area where the altar stood brightened, as though drenched in the purest morning light. With a sudden motion, Colin drew his sword, and his figure split strangely, unfolding into multiple overlapping silhouettes scattered around the altar. Each of these figures lifted their swords simultaneously, merging with the nearby morning light to radiate a brilliant glow. Shh-shh-shh! One after another, the straight swords pierced forward, and the morning light surged forth, converging from all sides to encircle the young boy Jack. Amidst the brilliance of a rising sun, the dark and red forms swiftly evaporated, dissolving into the storm-like assault. In the underground hall beneath the altar, the light became exceptionally bright, so bright that Daryl Berg found himself unable to open his eyes. He snapped to awareness, waking from sleep to see the steadily burning fire and the guards diligently watching over the camp. The "Monster Hunter" Colin, seated cross-legged beside a stone pillar, opened his eyes and spoke in a steady tone: "Depart after fifty lightning strikes." Upon hearing this, Deryck looked up toward the sky and noticed that the frequency of lightning had not yet increased noticeably—the darkness still reigned supreme over the land. Thinking of the city ahead, of the fallen divine temple, he found himself growing increasingly tense. After taking a moment to steady himself, Deryck quickly ate, regaining his combat focus. He didn't know what would unfold within that temple… clutching his "Galeaxe," he moved to the middle of the group. Inside the camp, the lanterns draped in thin animal hides one by one began to glow. ………… 15 Minsk Street. Crane heated the water, adjusted the temperature, and settled into a comfortable bath. With the languid afterglow of a bath, he walked backward four steps into the gray mist, intending to confirm the matter of the malevolent spirits through divination. Inside the silent, ancient palace, Caine leaned back against the chair, seriously pondering which divinatory method to choose and how to craft the incantation—something that must adhere to the principles of mysticism, avoiding any form of elimination or subdivision, and yielding sufficient information. After a brief pause, Caine inclined forward, materializing a sheet of paper and pen, and wrote down what he wished to verify: "The spirits within the ruins harbor a strong ill will toward me and Sharon." Unfastening the spirit pendulum from his left wrist, Caine held it single-handedly and began meditating. After repeated low murmurs, he opened his eyes and looked ahead. This time, the yellow crystal pendant was spinning wildly in a clockwise direction! This indicated that the malevolent spirits' ill will was stronger than Caine had originally believed. At that time, neither my spiritual intuition nor Miss Sharon's showed any unusual signs... After all, that malevolent spirit was certainly a powerful interferer in divination and prophecy. He must have been utterly surprised that one of us remained disciplined, free from the cloud of greed, and the other had weathered so many trials, knowing what it meant to "negotiate with a tiger." Klein sighed, and returned to the real world, lying down on the bed. Unfortunately, the heat brought by the "Sun Brooch" was merely a psychological sensation—it couldn't warm the bed. As he closed his eyes before sleep, he felt a sense of regret. ........ South District of the Bridge, Rose Street, Harvest Church. Emlyn White finished smoothing the last chair and straightened up, eagerly declaring to Father Utravský: "I've finished with today's tasks!" Good heavens, the old man—don't keep suddenly assigning me to copy the sacred texts! Emlyn silently prayed in his heart. And by now, his prayer had unconsciously shifted from the Moon to the Earth Mother. Father Utravski stood there, making the vampire seem like a child. With a smile, he said, "You've already begun to feel the joy and relaxation that come from working with dedication and gratitude. Go now, and quietly experience the pulse of life itself, and the pure joy that flows from it." "No!" Emlyn replied reflexively. Father Utravski gazed at him with a gentle smile, said nothing, turned, found a seat, and began his nightly prayers. Emlyn White's lips moved, as if to object, but ultimately he remained silent and quietly left the Harvest Church, habitually drawing the door shut behind him. Back at his current home, he found the house cold and quiet, his parents nowhere to be seen. It was only then, witnessing this scene, that he remembered there was a vampire gathering in the Beckettland region tonight. "Their behavior is truly disgraceful. As noble vampires, they should rest properly in caskets or remain within their own rooms. Why do they mimic humans, holding all these gatherings? Even dancing!" Emlyn murmured with disdain. As he spoke, he ran a hand over his abdomen, swallowed, and decided to change his clothes to attend the event. "The O'Drill family is truly admirable—having such pure human partners, running several hospitals, with a constant supply of fresh blood, drinking whenever and however much they please." Emlyn donned his tall black hat and hurried out of the house. In the west district, within a bright, villa-style home. Emlyn lifted a glass filled with crimson liquid and took a long, eager sip. Indeed, it was carefully selected—he closed one eye and sincerely admired it. At this moment, in the dance floor, couples of handsome men and women embraced and danced to the romantic music, occasionally spinning in circles, occasionally strolling together. "What's the point of all this?" Emlyn stood at the edge of the second-floor railing, gazing down at his fellow kindred below. As the largest city in the world, Beckland housed numerous vampires who had seamlessly blended into human society, hidden within every profession. Those who could not suppress their innate tendencies toward destruction and bloodlust were either sent to ancient castles deep in the mountains or eliminated internally before official supernatural organizations like the Night Watch or the Enforcers could discover their traces. Emlyn watched his fellow kindred growing more vibrant with each passing night, and felt increasingly that he shared no common language with them. At that very moment, tonight's host, Casimir O'Drake, approached with a glass of wine, smiling and asking, "Enjoying the wine tonight?" "Of course," Emlyn replied, "its host is quite young and full of energy." Emlin straightened his posture, assuming a noble bearing. At first glance, Casimir Odray appeared to be a well-bred middle-aged gentleman, but Emlin knew he had surpassed two hundred years of age—he had once witnessed the reign of King Roxel in Intis, and later, fearing that his neighbors might notice his unusual longevity, had moved to Run. Hearing Emlin's praise, he smiled and said, "Indeed, the lady who lives here is young, wounded by a thief and nearly losing her life. Fortunately, she encountered me, and this has become the necessary price she paid for her recovery. You may sample the wines over there—those from Baylan and Feneport, each with its own distinct character." "Feneport? Oh, my goddess! The people there love chili so much that even their blood carries a sharpness that I find unbearable—my goddess…" Emlin said, pausing suddenly, his expression instantly becoming呆滞. Casimir's lips twitched slightly, as though he hadn't heard a word. In the awkward silence, he cleared his throat and said, "Emlyn, that was just your impression. By the way, my grandfather would like to see you." "Your grandfather?" Emlyn blinked, then widened his eyes. "Nebias, the Elder?" Nebias Odrade was a powerful vampire active in the Fourth Age, but the passage of time had turned his life brittle, and he now lay dormant for long periods in a cold coffin. Casimir nodded firmly. "Indeed." Then he turned and walked toward the staircase on the second floor, without considering Emlyn's possible objection. Emlyn followed hesitantly and uneasily, wondering what Nebias the Elder might have in mind. Could it be that he finally realized that vampire honor was more important, and had decided to help him overcome Father Utravskii's psychological influence? As they walked, Emlyn White grew increasingly hopeful. Following the stairs down to the underground area, Emlyn White passed through several secret doors and entered a spacious gray hall. At the center of the hall stood a heavy coffin crafted of black iron, adorned with numerous symbols and magical inscriptions. After Casimir Odra reported, a deep, resonant, and elderly voice slowly emanated from within the coffin: "Emlyn White, do you know why I have summoned you?" "Respected Nibais, I believe your intention is to help me overcome psychological suggestions," Emlyn replied without hesitation. The underground hall fell momentarily silent. Several seconds passed before Nibais Odra, lying within the coffin, chuckled warmly. "One of my objectives is indeed to assist you—but not by my own hand. I have just awakened from a long dream, guided by the revelation of the Primordial." "The Primordial? Has He—has He awakened?" The expression of surprise was not Emlyn's, but Casimir Odra's. After the great upheaval, did the Primordial only respond to major events? Emlyn was puzzled. "Not yet," said Nibais in a low tone. "The Primordial has told me that the End is drawing near, and we must prepare for it. And you, Emlyn White, are one of several key figures in the Primordial's revelation." "The End?" Casimir asked in surprise. Yet Emlyn had only one thought: I, Emlyn White, have been mentioned by the Primordial! I am a key to the bloodline's survival through the End! Nibais didn't address his grandson's questions, but continued: "Emlyn White, I now entrust you with a task." "Please go on," Emlyn felt unusually humble, still without any sense of arrogance despite having just heard those words. Nibais Odras spoke seriously: "Find an opportunity to pray to 'The Fool.'" "Ah?" Emlyn doubted he had heard correctly. Nebes added gravely, "It's only recently that the title of 'The Fool' has begun to be widely known."