A coffin of iron black, adorned with strange patterns, stood still at the center, as if subtle ripples were gently colliding in the air without sound. Emlyn White stood in the corner, following the standard ritual procedures—lighting candles, dripping essential oils and corresponding herb powders. The hazy, drifting atmosphere spread out, and Emlyn recalled the requirements for "artificial somnambulism." He lowered his head, began meditating, and repeatedly chanted the name of "The Fool." "The Fool of a time not this one; The enigmatic sovereign above the gray mist; The King of yellow and black, ruler of fortune." As the rhythmic, monotonous chant flowed, Emlyn gradually entered a wondrous state—his body relaxed and inward, as though asleep, yet his spirit lively and light, expanding outward continuously. At this moment, he felt himself drifting upward. Within the ancient palace above the gray mist, Caine sat at the head of the bronze long table, his fingers lightly tapping as he gazed at the spreading circles of luminous screens, calmly observing the figures of those who prayed. Though the images were somewhat blurred, Caine instantly recognized one of them as the vampire Emlyn White. Quite courageous—he had taken the initiative to go purchase a doll—Caine mused silently, offering no response. Previously, Caine had attempted divination to uncover the bloodline's intentions, but received only vague insights; the only certainty was that they had no connection to the Aurora Circle. This piqued Caine's curiosity, yet he remained cautious, choosing not to respond to Emlyn White despite the presence of a high-ranking vampire just beside him. He had no idea whether Emlyn could trace the signs and threaten the mysterious space above the gray mist, nor did he wish to verify it, since the former Amun had only been a duplicate at that time, while the current high-ranking vampire was likely his true self. There’s no need to take risks on trivial matters—even if one wanted to understand the Blood Court’s true intentions—nor is there any lack of alternatives…克莱恩看着处于“artificial somnolence”状态的埃姆林·怀特，轻声自语道：“I can simply delay my response…” He intends to wait until either tomorrow or the day after, until埃姆林·怀特 leaves the protective circle, until the Blood Court abandons the matter, then suddenly respond! But there’s one condition: first, he must use divination to assess the level of risk. ………… “The one who consumes the tail…like that river?”戴里克·伯格 immediately drew a parallel. “The Hunter of Monsters”科林 nodded seriously: “Yes. “This means we may have already entered a river that flows continuously, one that we cannot easily exit. “Fortunately, this should merely be remnants of power left behind by that Angel of Fate. He is not actually present here. "No, not merely possible—but certain, and already so… Darien thought within himself. At that moment, Colin removed a small, dark-red metal tube, opened the cap, and drank from it in a gurgle. His light blue eyes quickly faded, turning silver, until finally they stood upright, reflecting the image of the young boy Jack. A lively, fiery silver glow surged within his eyes, swirling and colliding with intense vigor. Clang! "The Hunter of Monsters" Colin first drove his long sword into the ground, then drew out a straight sword with his other hand, applying a golden, sunlit oil to it. Upon observing this gesture, the young boy Jack's expression instantly changed, as though enveloped in a dense shadow. Before Jack could open his mouth, "The Hunter of Monsters" Colin moved—drawing his long sword from the ground, leaving behind a blurred, ghostly image in place. The golden and silver light shimmered brilliantly, illuminating the entire underground hall, with the brightest radiance concentrated directly before the young boy Jack. After a piercing cry, darkness once again settled over the altar. Young Jack stood motionless, not moving a single step, yet the face that had been pressed against his chest and abdomen was now gone, leaving only a hollow where his organs seemed to pulse and shift. Several meters to Jack's side, Caelen, the Hunter of Monsters, knelt half-squat, his two swords resting diagonally at his sides. Before him, the face had shattered into scattered fragments—eyes, nose, and mouth—each organ twitching and quivering like under an electric shock, then gradually settling into stillness, decaying rapidly as though this had always been its fate. In an instant, Deryck sensed an invisible, watery barrier emerging around him, solidifying without a sound of breaking. Almost simultaneously, he felt as though he had stepped out of the rushing river and returned to the shore. Gazing at the eerie underground hall, at the suspended statues, and at the small boy Jack, his face twisted in agony and now unconscious, Deryck felt a surge of relief and exhaled deeply. He knew they had finally broken free of their repetitive lives. Derek was very clear that, although the final resolution appeared simple, it might take dozens or even hundreds of repetitions—without prior awareness of the issue or without any prompts—before the subtle clues emerged and a solution was found. In this process, even a single lapse of caution could prove fatal; Derek could never be certain whether the lives lost would be reclaimed or would simply "reawaken" by the fire, only to die later, once the crisis was fully resolved. Even more serious, people consistently repeated the same choices: without memory or experience of the problem in the first instance, they would likely fail to detect any anomaly even on the hundredth or thousandth attempt, becoming completely lost within the cycle of repetition, until the normal passage of time outside their lives reached their final endpoint. Thinking of such possibilities, Derek deeply appreciated the "Knight of Fools," grateful that He had restored his memory and provided the necessary guidance. Turning his head, he saw that the members of Joshua's exploration team were calmly inspecting the surrounding area, as if the six previous expeditions had never occurred at all. Perhaps only upon returning to Silver City would they realize they had missed a significant part of their lives... Daryl silently mused. At that moment, "The Hunter," Colin stood up, walked back to the young boy Jack, and removed another small metal bottle, pouring the dark, viscous liquid directly onto the hollow chest and abdomen of the boy. The liquid quickly solidified into a semi-transparent film that adhered to the wound, stopping the bleeding. "Heinm, Joshua, you take charge of him," Colin ordered, his voice steady despite the surge of emotion within him. In his eyes, this was the hope for Silver City to break its curse and fulfill the prophecy of survival! Huff... Daryl had intended to quietly thank the "Fool," but found no corresponding gesture of prayer to offer. ... The Royal Quarter, in the luxurious manor of Count Holberg. The rich dinner shimmered with an inviting glow under the many candlelights. Unlike what newspapers and magazines often portray, the evening meals of noble households were not formal or requiring silence. It was a rare occasion when family members gathered together, and they enjoyed casual conversation over their meals, sharing light topics to strengthen their bonds. Audrey cut a piece of beef from her family's own pasture, observing Lord Hall's expression, and with genuine curiosity, asked, "Father, what has been happening lately with Prince Edsack?" Her intention was simple: if there was nothing noteworthy, she would feign having heard some unverified, inconsequential rumors—something quite common among the nobility. Lord Hall's knife and fork paused as he raised his eyebrows. "Have you heard anything?" Indeed, she had! Reading the eagerness in her father's tone, Audrey smiled lightly and replied, "Some rumors—seems they're true." Count Holbein rubbed his temple and said, "It's not anything particularly serious. 'Audrey, I know your thoughts, so there's no need to hide this from you—it's a fairly ordinary royal scandal, in short, the Prince of Edsack has fallen in love with a commoner." "This has resulted in the death of a noble descendant, and the royal family has kept the matter under wraps, hoping to minimize the impact." Countess Holbein took a sip of champagne and remarked, "It seems he's still not quite mature." Mother's criticism was so gentle... this does sound rather suspicious... Has the Prince of Edsack truly become involved in a serious crisis, one that will bring unfavorable changes to Beckland? Audrey looked puzzled, smiling, "This makes me wonder—why should a story about freedom and love involve the death of a noble descendant?" Hibert Hall was intently slicing through the tender steak, musing with interest, "This reminds me of the intricate love stories among the followers of the Storm Sovereign—where it's quite common for men to duel for a lady's honor." "That's a tradition now enshrined in the museum," Count Hall countered his eldest son's assertion. Audrey seized the opportunity, carefully adding, "In my memory, Prince Edsack wasn't like that, and rumors have already begun to circulate—perhaps what they're truly trying to conceal isn't this very incident." "Perhaps not…" the Count mused, chewing the words thoughtfully, his brow subtly furrowed. Audrey paused, content to let it rest, and naturally steered the conversation toward a different topic. She was next going to seek out other noble friends to "find out," as it was entirely natural—whether out of curiosity or lingering resentment—for a girl who had once been pursued by Prince Edessa to inquire into the details. ………… The state of "artificial somnambulism" could not last long. Emlin White returned to reality, slightly weary, opened his eyes, and gazed at the iron-black coffin, speaking with a mixture of relief and mild disappointment: "Lord Nibays, there has been no response." Nibays remained silent for a while before speaking, his voice rather hoarse: "Very well. You shall stay here tonight, as a precaution against any unforeseen developments." "Excellent!" Emlin didn't try to appear strong at all. That night, he spent in worry and anticipation, yet the night was so serene, with no disturbances, until the rare winter sunlight of Becland gently touched the windowpane, when it finally began to fade. What a bad weather it had been. Emlin left the villa of the O'Drake family, lowered his hat, and murmured as he boarded a hired carriage. His destination was the Harvest Church in the southern district of the Bridge. After a steady ride, Emlin suddenly found himself enveloped in an endless expanse of gray-white mist. Then, in astonishment, he discovered himself inside a mysterious, magnificent palace of giants, seated at an ancient bronze long table. At the head of the table, a figure stood veiled in a dense gray mist, gazing down at him with an air of dignified observation.