What first caught Klein's eye was the altar surrounded by cascading radiance, and the tall, slender figure standing within it. The figure removed his hood, revealing a striking, delicate face—almost feminine—while at his left chest, shoulders, abdomen, and thighs, thick, pulsating, repulsive flesh covered in blood and decayed tissue. Around him, the luminous layers were filled with ethereal, translucent figures, radiating sensations of numbness, despair, pain, and suffocation. Outside the altar, the four figures who had previously been praying had already fallen, their skin shriveled and tightly wrapped around their bones, like ancient, weathered corpses. Above the entire hall, streams of radiant light pierced through the void, swiftly flowing along the stone pillars, the floor, and the air, all adorned with symbolic and magical inscriptions, and converging upon the altar. As soon as Klein emerged from his hiding place, Mr. A had already opened his eyes and was gazing directly at where he stood. His pupils were stained with blood, and within his calm demeanor lay an unparalleled madness. Had another extraordinary being been present, he likely would have instinctively averted his gaze, unwilling to meet the gaze. Yet Caine, having faced the "Eternal Scorching Sun" and witnessed the "Defiler" Amon, remained unafraid. With calm precision, he depressed the trigger, launching a silver "Hunt-Mage bullet" etched with numerous patterns, aimed directly toward the altar. Mr. A, observing this scene, instinctively reached out to raise his hand, but ultimately held still, watching silently as the silver bullet pierced through the luminous layers surrounding the altar. In silence, the intricately patterned "Hunt-Mage bullet" melted and dissolved within the layered radiance, absorbed entirely by the countless unyielding resentments and negative emotions. Ultimately, it completely decomposed, leaving not a single trace. Caine's eyes narrowed slightly, then rapidly fired, pressing the trigger once more and again, until all the remaining cartridges in his revolver were discharged—first the pale golden "Purification Bullets," then the brass bullets glowing with golden accents, sequentially penetrating the luminous layers encircling the altar. Yet they too dissolved, vanished, leaving no ripple at all. Mr. A coughed out a hoarse laugh: "Useless, little crawler. The ritual has officially begun—your strength is insufficient to break or interrupt it, not even the extraordinary ones from Sequence 5 could achieve that! But you are fortunate, for you will live to witness the arrival of my Lord and become part of His very body." With that, Mr. A no longer paid any attention to Klein, closed his eyes once more, as if the other were indeed merely a humble insect. The "shepherd" raised his hands slightly, opening them in a gesture of embrace, and in ancient Hermes tongue, cried aloud: "Lord of all creation; Master behind the veil of shadows; The inherent nature of all beings, fallen and transformed. We, your devoted servants, beseech your presence; I willingly offer my body as a vessel to bear your great will!" As the prayer unfolded, a radiant light surged from an unseen source and fully enveloped Mr. A's head. The restless resentment and accumulated negative emotions from the surrounding figures surged inward, flooding into Mr. Crane's body. *Crack! Crack! Crack!* He snapped his fingers, commanding the flames to strike the altar, yet the flames continued to dissolve, fade, and vanish within the surrounding luminous layers—without any effect. What could he do? His other magical items were all above the gray mist; to retrieve them, he would need to perform a ritual, which would take at least a minute or two, and his unprotected body would be extremely vulnerable during that time... What could he do? Mr. Crane's rational mind halted his efforts, standing still as his thoughts raced. Moreover, no matter how he tried—whether with the sun pin, the biological toxin vial, the all-black eye, or the mere rank-boosting "Black Emperor" card—none of them seemed able to penetrate the altar's barrier! Could he only wait for Miss Justice to send reinforcements, or would he have to watch helplessly as the "True Creator" arrived? Klein's spirit remained taut, his thoughts flashing rapidly as he quickly considered possible countermeasures. He went through each of his possessions one by one, his palms already damp with cold sweat. Suddenly, he remembered something! Without pausing to consider the consequences, he reached into his coat pocket and grasped a metallic object. Steadily, he took a few steps forward, then swung his arms vigorously, throwing the object firmly toward the altar. A golden-hued glow flashed, and the item entered the layered radiance. It was an ancient-looking key—the Universal Key. Within the luminous layers, the golden Universal Key began to break down and melt. As its outer shell disappeared, the curse it carried revealed itself directly, connecting the mysterious "Gatekeeper" to the unknown realm. ………… In the Queen's District, within the luxurious manor of Count Holberg. Audrey stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing anxiously toward the distance. She noticed the mist at the horizon growing denser, shifting from pale yellow to deep iron gray, and gradually spreading toward her. "Something's off," said the golden-haired dog Suzy, crouching beside her and gazing at the usual haze. Hmm. She hoped she could still prevent it... Though she didn't understand what the mist meant, she silently prayed to the goddess and to the "Knight of Fools," asking that the "Primordial Witch" might not come. Suddenly, she observed the branches outside her window beginning to sway, the glass trembling slightly. "The wind has come..." Audrey felt an unexpected joy. In the Joewood district, at the Saint Wind Cathedral—outwardly, a visible terror of storm surged, then surged eastward with an unimaginable gale. Hoo! The accumulated mist was blown away, the vivid yellow and deep gray rapidly lightening. Hoo! Dry branches fell to the ground, dust and soil rising into the air as the mist receded. Hoo! Many pedestrians' hats had been knocked off, their bodies swaying as they had to lean against trees or walls for support. The dock workers seemed to have returned to the port city, witnessing a typhoon's assault firsthand. The smoke from the eastern and industrial districts had lightened, and the mild discomfort among healthy residents had eased. Thunder! Thunder! Lightning leapt, and the rumble of thunder exploded. They soon subsided, and the steady rain began to cleanse the land. "The storm has responded quite promptly this time—indeed, part of the reason for our insufficient preparation. Ah, those middle-class families, those wealthy individuals—without adequate protection, they would be no different from the common people in this 'haze'; they'd all be mere lambs to be slaughtered." The Despair Lady sat calmly in a rented carriage, listening gently to the rhythm of rain tapping against the glass. Even if promptly disrupted, her estimate was that the earlier "haze" alone would have directly caused over 20,000 deaths, with further outbreaks of epidemic expected to follow. Thus, my potions have been mostly absorbed—this is merely a side benefit. The traces of massive population disappearances will be erased, pointing instead to the Aurora Conclave and to the "True Maker," leaving no one to guess what the royal family truly intends. I should depart now, taking Trist—Lady Despair thought with a pleasant mood. Her movements were discreet, and she had already taken preventive measures, so she had no immediate concern about being blocked by the half-gods of Beckland. Once they found her traces, she would already be far from the city! Just as Lady Despair was about to step out of the carriage, she suddenly caught sight of a figure seated across from her. It was a young woman in a classical long gown with a hood, with black eyes and black hair, her face beautiful yet expressionless. If his vision fails to materialize and the barrier of the altar remains unbroken, he will then employ the Azkian copper whistle, hoping to secure the aid of the "Messenger." Should that still fall short, he will ascend above the gray mist, retrieve the "Black Emperor" card and other items, and exhaust every possibility, pushing until the very last moment! At this very moment, it is still afternoon—there is no Crimson Moon, let alone a clear, full one—so Klein lacks sufficient confidence in the curse inherent within the "Universal Key." He only hopes that the dissolving effect of the altar's barrier will pose a threat to its very existence, prompting it to instinctively respond—for instance, by establishing reverse communication with "The Door" and transmitting its plea. In just a few seconds, Klein observes the "Universal Key" decomposing into the smallest specks of light and a shimmering, distorted crimson. As the crimson rapidly fades, it struggles fiercely, then bursts suddenly! In an instant, Crayne lost his hearing, seeing countless figures formed from resentment and yearning lift their heads in wails of agony. They swiftly transformed—turning black and green, growing a second cranial structure, a third eye, or a fifth limb—then converged into a surging tide, flooding into Mr. A's body. Mr. A suddenly opened his eyes, his calm blood tone now streaked with disbelief. Immediately, the luminous layers surrounding the altar began to warp and collapse. Roar! A massive explosion radiated outward from the center of the altar, sending a terrifying surge of wind. Crackle! Four thick stone pillars nearest the altar snapped instantly; at the far end, Crayne barely managed a roll before being hurled into the air by the shockwave. Thud! He struck the wall, flattening into a thin sheet. That sheet was swiftly torn apart and scattered by the following gusts. Crayne himself emerged in a corner, using the wall to resist the wind generated by the explosion. The destructive power generated by the "universal key" surpassed his imagination! The forcibly dissolved curse indeed reacted instinctively, transmitting the cries of the "Gate" man, yet this exiled being—ranked at least at angelic level—his voice, laden with resentment and numb despair, disrupted the ritual's essential elements of longing and desolation. As a result, the altar lost its balance and began to march toward self-destruction! Once the wind and waves had slightly calmed, Caine rushed out to verify the outcome. The ethereal figures and the sense of pressure that had floated above had vanished entirely, leaving only scattered remnants of the altar. Mr. A knelt forward, his body leaning against the fallen stone pillar—missing an arm, half his face, and several internal organs—his remaining eye filled with hatred so deep it seemed etched into his very bones. Yet, these wounds were swiftly covered by pulsing flesh and blood. After just a brief glance, Caine made no hesitation—he took off running. For him, achieving the ultimate goal meant simply disrupting the arrival of the "True Creator." Why stay around then, to dine with Mr. A, the "Shepherd," and celebrate the New Year, when a Sequence 6 could simply walk away?