Everything around seemed like a vision—rich in color, layered and overlapping, retreating swiftly. As Crane just regained his awareness and began to observe and savor this remarkable journey, he noticed Mr. Azk's hand, which had been gripping his arm, trembling slightly. Before he could react, a strong sense of weightlessness seized him, and his body began to descend without resistance, even spinning. The vibrant hues of red, yellow, white, and black rapidly faded. Crane crashed onto a solid ground, landing with a force that left his head dizzy and his internal organs swirling. With the occasional flashes of gold now visible in his sight, everything appeared restored: to his left lay a deep, dark valley with no visible bottom—much like the legendary Abyss of the demons—while to his right stretched a gray stone cliff wall, seemingly supporting the entire region. There was no sun, no clouds, no mist. The only light came from patches of bioluminescent moss scattered throughout the landscape. Darkness and depth were the dominant tones of this world. Klein pushed off with his left hand, springing nimbly into the air, and noticed that beneath his feet lay a well-ordered stone road, wide enough to accommodate two carriages side by side—something far from naturally formed. One end of the road spiraled downward into a dark fissure, while the other rose upward, occasionally revealing arched corridors and halls embedded within the rock walls. Klein lifted his head, but the highest point remained out of sight, completely obscured by the gray stone walls. Suddenly, a clear realization struck him: he and Mr. Azk had "dropped" into the earth, now standing within the ruins of an ancient civilization. Was this somewhere else, or still near Bekland? His thoughts had barely taken shape when Mr. Azk spoke in a steady voice: "You go first—upward." Ah? Klein had not yet grasped the meaning of these words when a flash of light appeared on the side, instantly outlining a shimmering, double-leafed gate. The great door seemed forged of bronze, not quite real, yet unusually heavy, its surface adorned with countless strange patterns and enigmatic symbols. With a creak, the door parted slightly, and from within, arms—pale, blood-streaked—stretched out eagerly, one after another. In addition, there were dark, vine-like tendrils bearing the faces of infants, and smooth, slick appendages with prominent eyes. This was very much like the effect of Miss Sharon's magical object... As克莱恩 pondered, the arms, vines, and tendrils ceased their frantic movements, settled quietly, and pressed firmly against the ground—unlike their earlier, desperate efforts to drag a Sequence 6 "living corpse" forcefully through the doorway. Then, the gap in the ethereal door widened further, and a figure stepped out. The figure wore a pure black clerical robe, and its features were as refined as those of a classical sculpture—clear, distinct, and timeless. His hair was a deep gold, his eyes a deep blue, his nose high and refined, wearing the soft hat favored by the elder. The whitening at his temples didn't quite match his mid-career appearance. As he gazed at the once-luminous eye now dimmed, a name rose spontaneously in Caine's mind: Inz. Zangwei! The former archbishop who had masterminded the Tinggen incident, severely damaged the night-watch team, and held the seal "0–08." At the same moment, Caine turned and, following the elder's instructions, burst upward toward the upper path. He knew clearly that, in the ongoing battle against the half-gods, his own Sequence-6 self would only slow things down and distract the elder. In such a race against time, false humility, overly polite words—these were not only unnecessary, but detrimental to himself and his companions. Tapping, tapping, tapping—since nothing beneath the ground could ignite, Caine could only clamp his teeth and run with every ounce of strength he had. To his ears, Azk’s calm and gentle voice echoed: “Just keep escaping. Don’t worry about me. I’ve recalled many things now. I remember having stayed in a sequence for a long time. That sequence was called ‘The Immortal.’” The Night Goddess's Sequence 4, "The Watchers," can, to some extent, bestow misfortune upon others. Yet just now, silently "blessing" Caine's Inz. Zangwei, the latter noticed that his recipient had not stumbled, fallen into a deep ravine, or suffered any such mishap. Moreover, Inz. Zangwei seemed to be experiencing a vision—faint, ethereal gray-white mist shimmering before his eyes. With no time to ponder further, he turned his gaze back to Azk. Egis. Recalling the guard's expression, he refined his attire with a spell and hurried forward, rounding the corner into a grand hall. There stood four guards clad in deep black full armor, their gazes sharp and attentive.克莱恩 maintained a composed demeanor, walked past them, and deliberately spoke in a low, steady tone: "Someone has entered this area. I'm searching for him. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?" The leading guard first studied him before lowering his head. "Mr. Zangwei, there has been no disturbance here." "Understood,"克莱恩 nodded lightly, passed through them, and left the hall. Though internally tense, with a steady stream of sweat beading on his back, he remained calm and composed—unchanged in appearance and presence from the moment he had stepped in. Leveraging the abilities of the "Faceless Man" combined with his own swift movement, he swiftly navigated three checkpoints and reached the far end of the building. There stood a purely ethereal gate composed of deep azure light, completely sealed off beyond it. Though concerned about the battle between Mr. Azk and the half-gods such as Inz. Zangewell, Cline remained hidden in the shadow outside the room, patiently observing and soon noticed that people arrived through the light and others departed via it. He observed one detail: those leaving had to first present a seal-like object before gaining permission from the four guards to enter the gate. With no time to wait for the next person with a seal, he had to take a risk— the battle on that side could end at any moment. Even if it didn’t, his search orders would soon reach here. Cline made a swift decision and once again entered the room in the image of Inz. Zangewell. "Something has happened outside," he said, his voice uncertain, deliberately rough, as though he had just endured a fierce battle. The guards, whose minds had been disturbed by the commotion, only realized and reached out to intercept him as Caine approached. "Mr. Zangwei, may I have your pass?" "Don't delay!" Caine said, pulling out a seal from his pocket and handing it to the guard. This composed demeanor immediately eased the other guards. At the very moment the guard with the pass bent down to examine it, Caine suddenly lunged forward! He landed smoothly, then rolled again, and instantly slipped through the deep blue portal. Only then did the guards notice that the seal in their hands began to fade, turning into a simple notepad. The top left corner of the notepad bore the recently common greeting: "Happy New Year!" ... Within the profound darkness of the fissure, a fantastical, inky black liquid poured in, continuously rising, with pale, frantic arms extending outward. Inz. Zangwei had a good sense of Azk's caliber and thus was neither surprised nor intimidated—after all, he now had a half-god, half-human assistant at his side. His greatest concern, however, was another issue: the "0–08" he had forcefully propelled forward in the narrative might soon turn against him. At that moment, a quick glance to his peripheral vision revealed that the quill pen he had been carrying in his pocket had somehow drifted to the gray rock wall before him, now frantically writing out words in a continuous stream: "…in the midst of intense combat, various unforeseen events invariably occur—for instance, Inz. Zangwei's belt snaps and his pants fall to the ground." …… A deep, ethereal blue light filled Klein's eyes, forming a layered luminous pathway through the profound darkness and the drifting, formless creatures. Klein paid no attention to the surroundings and rolled and flipped through the darkness, reaching the far end of the passage. He stood up, straightened his clothing, and regained the serious expression of S. Zangguel, stepping into the shimmering light curtain. After a moment of dizziness, he found himself in another room, equally guarded by a number of attendants. "Something's wrong down below. Keep watch here—no one must enter," said Caine calmly, moving steadily toward the door. "Yes, Mr. Zangguel!" the guards replied respectfully. At that moment, the previous guards surged forward through the deep blue glow, shouting: "Something's wrong with Zangguel just now!" Their eyes turned toward the doorway, where Caine had vanished. Steady footsteps followed as several guards immediately split off, scattering in search of the missing figure and alerting their companions—chaos ensued. One guard, just rounding the corner, spotted the silhouette of S. Zangguel. Without thinking, he drew his sword, which flashed with electric light, and charged. Crash! That figure drifted away weightlessly, dissolving into fragmented paper figures. At the same time, two sharp thuds echoed as golden-tinted bullets pierced the unlowered facial mask and struck precisely the guard's head. Before he could cry out, the guard collapsed with a clatter, convulsing twice. Cain stepped out from the shadow in the corner, expression neutral, and gently slid his revolver back into his armpit holster. He burned the paper figures, swiftly dragged the guard to an empty room, donned a dark armor, and assumed the guard's appearance. Then, he picked up his sword, now glowing with electric light, stepped out of the room, closed the wooden door, and fled forward with a hurried, disoriented air. He needed to alert every guard along the way—something was wrong with Sir Zangewell!