Mr. A? Mr. A of the Aurora Society? Klein had silently and gradually moved toward the door along the wall and the shadows, only to retreat once again. Ins. Zangwei was likely collaborating with one of the royal factions—any force capable of uncovering and concealing such a substantial underground site in the vicinity of Bakersland must be one of the leading powers of the Kingdom of Ruin. With Ins. Zangwei and the arrival of "0–08," the option of the Divine Church is now effectively ruled out. Though the Lords of the Storm are somewhat impetuous and masculine in their approach, they haven't shown any inclination toward cooperation with the female-based orders—so far, no exceptionalists resembling those of the "Sailors' Path" have emerged. The same applies to the Steam and Mechanical Church. The Aurora Society has also become involved—what exactly do they intend to achieve? "Their response was remarkably concise, leaving Caine completely uncertain about what they were planning. The previously soft, pleasant voice chuckled gently. "You still don't fully trust us, do you?" "Yes," Mr. A replied without hesitation. "Ah, then I'll be honest about our intentions and why we've come to collaborate with you." The soft female voice spoke calmly, without any irritation. "We've carried out certain actions, leaving behind traces. Before the night, the storms, the Steam Church, or the military discover us, we must clear these traces—thus, we need your assistance. Ah, it seems you still haven't grasped my point. Allow me to illustrate: suppose I committed a murder or several serious offenses within a single house—what would be the most effective way to eliminate evidence and clues?" "We don't need to. In fact, having others witness such actions is precisely what we intend." Mr. A responded with quiet composure. …Indeed, they are the people of the Aurora Circle…all madmen, aren’t they? Caine initially confirmed that the man who spoke was the "Mr. A" who had killed Ambassador Intis. "…Suppose it were me, not you." The soft female voice carried a faint breath of pause. After a moment, Mr. A replied: "Set the house on fire and bury all the traces within it." The soft female voice brightened with a smile: "That is precisely our plan. I will be the one to ignite the fire—while you take advantage of this opportunity to expand the momentum, to create pathways or vessels, so that your sovereign may descend into the world. As for your price: you will bear the full weight of blame, face the deepest hostility from the military and the three great churches. But I believe you will not mind." "As long as we welcome the Lord's return, even if all forces loathe us, we shall have no hesitation." Mr. A's tone no longer carried the usual detachment or distance. Fire? Could the Aurora Society have just completed the ritual of the "True Maker" this time? The third time now... how come I keep running into this again... this is pure fate! Keene couldn't help but mutter a sharp Chinese expletive in his mind. At this very moment, he was deeply curious yet wary about the royal faction's collaboration with the Magician's Order and Insan Zangwei—so curious and cautious that they now needed to invoke the ritual of the "True Maker" as a shield to deflect potential threats! Perhaps they had hidden agents in place, intending to ultimately sabotage the Aurora Society's ritual and sideline all other powers besides themselves... Keene thought, tense yet composed. "It seems you no longer have any questions." "A soft female voice chuckled, "This place is very discreet, with proper arrangements in place. You can carry out your ritual without worry—there won't be any interruptions before success. As for the outside preparations, they're already ready, waiting since long ago for me to light the first 'flame.' If you still have any doubts, feel free to check again." Just as Mr. A began to speak, Kline heard the creak of the door opening. "Who allowed them in? Didn't I specifically instruct that no one was to approach this area?" the soft female voice said, her tone restrained but tinged with anger. "Madam Despair, there's an emergency! Intruders have penetrated the underground! I've been sent up here to coordinate the response and close off the relevant passages." A male voice, clearly with a Beckett accent, responded swiftly. The so-called "Madam Despair" remained silent for a few seconds, as though communicating with the unknown presence, confirming the situation. At last, her voice and tone remained unchanged as she said, "Enter. Do not come out. Nor allow anyone else to come out. Wait for further instructions." "Yes, Madam Despair!" The man dashed off, heading straight toward the stone gate here, with a sound of "clunk" in the background. From where Klein was hiding, he could clearly see the stone gate leading to the rear area. He waited for seven or eight seconds, and then a figure of ordinary height—neither thin nor stout—appeared there. He exhaled deeply, extended both hands, and pushed with a grim, tooth-gritting expression, finally opening the heavy stone gate. In that instant, Klein had fully captured the man's appearance and features, with no detail missed—this was precisely the extraordinary ability inherent to the "Faceless Man." The man had a warm, reddish-brown complexion, clearly of southern continental descent, and his facial features were unremarkable, making it difficult to remember. Due to the way he was gritting his teeth, several of them were now visible, with the third one on the upper left shining golden—artificial. Hmm. The intuitive spiritual insight of the seer, Klein, furrowed his brow, feeling an unexpected sense of familiarity. Soon, he recalled the source of this familiarity through skillful memory: The "Emperor of the Pendulum" had once asked the Tarot Circle to locate a man with a brownish complexion, missing his third tooth on the left, and speaking with a strong Beckland accent. That man was named Barren, and he was connected to numerous cases of slave escapes and disappearances across the colonial islands! And now, the man standing before Klein bore a striking resemblance to the description of Barren provided by the "Emperor of the Pendulum." "The enslaved people on the colonial islands have vanished... "Numerous tribes across the Southern Continent have seemingly disappeared... "Baron has appeared here... "Kapin holds a substantial share of the underground slave trade, protected by four exceptional figures with suspected 'arbiter' pathways—among them, one with Rank 6, and another with Rank 5... "Kapin's primary targets are more pure, naive young girls... "The Grain Act has been passed, and textile machinery has been improved, resulting in widespread unemployment... "Many textile workers have secured new employment and have quietly left the eastern district, leaving no trace..." One by one, these scattered points instantly connected in Klein's mind, forming a clear line pointing deep into the earth! What are they doing? Why so many people, and so many pure, innocent young girls? A ritual? An utterly terrifying one, requiring long-term, discreet execution? Klein's pupils suddenly contracted sharply. Click... Crash! The stone door closed, and Baron vanished from sight. The hall fell silent for several seconds, and Mr. A's deep, resonant voice rose again: "I've detected an unexpected aroma. Begin now, before it arrives." The Woman of Despair replied softly, "That's exactly what I've been thinking. "But I need you to take me to the East District." East District? Caine felt another unwelcome premonition. "No problem," Mr. A responded, his tone remaining steady and unchanging. With his hood drawn, he swiftly summoned a translucent, slightly blurred book before him, accompanied by a distant, ethereal chant: "I come. I see. I record." The book flipped rapidly, settling on a single page, then bloomed with a soft, shimmering blue light. That light enveloped the Woman of Despair in her pure white robe, first blurring her form, then dissolving it entirely. In an instant, she saw countless transparent figures of indescribable shapes, and at the highest point, she noticed streams of pure, radiant light, brimming with infinite knowledge. Her body was being drawn forward by an odd force, moving swiftly and soon leaving her original spot, arriving at a quiet, deserted, and foul-smelling alley corner. She pulled down her veil to遮 her face and looked upward, where the afternoon sun was now dimmed and pale, obscured by clouds and mist. The yellowish mist, though not especially thick, hovered everywhere in Beckland, carrying a slightly irritating, cold, and damp breath. Unfortunately, she hadn't waited until the peak of the haze and stillness—her unexpected incident, the sudden and brief loss of control of "0–08," the appearance of Azk, and the earlier destruction caused by the Black Emperor had all compounded the situation, making it increasingly noticeable. As a result, her actions had had to be pushed forward to today. The Lady of Despair surveyed the scene and stepped out of the alley into the street. Her steps were slow, as if drifting through the ocean of mist. Wherever she went, the mist grew slightly thicker, tinged with a subtle iron black, indicating that the distance between things was quietly shrinking. After leaving that street, an old man in a worn jacket, pale and wan, suddenly coughed violently, coughing so hard he collapsed to the ground. Two poor residents standing nearby stepped back in fear, then covered their throats, emitting a steady, wheezing sound, as if suffering from a severe lung illness or bronchitis, struggling to breathe. The mist, interwoven with iron black and pale yellow, settled over the eastern district, upon the dock area, and over the industrial zones belching thick smoke, spreading steadily throughout Beckland. The various scenes in the distance were "swallowed up," and even the tall clock tower remained only as faint, pale shadows. One after another, workers and the poor began to feel unwell, struggling against the cold and hardship. The weary, wandering beggars, encircling the route the lady passed through, one by one fell ill and collapsed—lives proved as fragile as the foam that forms when clothes are washed. The lady of despair remained calm and gentle, as though completing a work of art. She walked among the pedestrians without any unusual movement, a slight smile playing at her lips, and murmured softly: "Luon Kingdom's history will remember this day: 'The Great Smog Event of Beckland.'" ... The deep valley, once dim, had now been entirely covered by a black, ethereal surface, yet the writing of "0—08" had not ceased. It wildly weaves absurd, comic, yet eerie and terrifying tales wherever it can take pen: “...The fall of his trousers did not affect Ins. Zanggwell’s performance, for he was wearing a robe—perhaps he had anticipated such an incident long before. The 'Lawmancer' stunned Azk. Eggs, temporarily stripping him of two powerful extraordinary abilities, truly proving to be a valuable ally. However, the great gateway where the spiritual and the underworld realms overlap was drawn to Azk’s unique nature, and the force of their combat shook it, causing unforeseen changes. At that moment, an unknown entity was drawn to this scene, passing through, and thus extended its hand into the realm of the real world—oh! It seized Ins. Zanggwell! Suddenly, from behind Ins. Zanggwell, who was dressed in the black robes of a cleric, two blood-yellow arms, covered in writhing decaying flesh, emerged into the void!” They grasped Ins. Zangweil's shoulders and pulled him abruptly into the void, into the realm of spirits.