The layered, ethereal voices of supplication poured into his ears, and suddenly, as if gaining a tangible body,克莱恩 felt a sharp, persistent ache deep within his mind, yearning to violently crash into the walls to relieve the pain. The vivid images of people's prayers brought upon him an uncontrollable, profoundly terrifying dizziness, as though he were walking on the edge of a deep abyss, poised only a moment away from falling. Thanks to his "Black Emperor" card and the Azk copper whistle reinforcing his ethereal form, and his accustomed sense of being prayed to, he remained composed—yet for others not of the half-divine sequence, this would have been a complete collapse, resulting in either transformation into a monster or disintegration into blood and flesh. All his extraordinary traits had been woven together through the serpent's tooth into a seal, and the danger and negative effects far surpassed the standard "2" level. Instead of advancing blindly,克莱恩 stepped back several paces, moving away from the dense concentration of supplication, thereby easing the pain threatening to unravel his ethereal form and the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. He stood beside the collapsed, mud-like form of Cavitua, gazing at the white staff stuck in the partially fallen pillar, pondering how to carry it away. At the same time, he had already, naturally, given it a name in his mind: "The Staff of the Sea God!" Well, based on the sensations and reactions I've just experienced, I can manage to approach it and pull it out, though I can only sustain it for a few seconds—unable to carry or use it beyond that. But that's not a problem. As soon as I have it, I'll end the summoning and return to the gray mist above, where the thousands of prayers and the unknown negative effects I haven't yet identified can be effectively shielded, allowing me to study it calmly. Klein quickly formed a plan. No need to flip a coin anymore—while in the state of restless spirits, he could instinctively communicate with the spirit realm and receive guidance. His spiritual intuition told him the risk was manageable. With his decision made, Klein began to clear up the aftermath, while also taking a moment to explore what he might find within the ancient elven ruins. He first walked to the corner, picked up the semi-transparent "biological toxin bottle," tightened the cap, and swallowed it. Then, upon turning back, he noticed half-hidden beneath Cavitua's viscous remains was a metallic cigarette box. Hmm... I thought Cavitua had swallowed it whole and had already corroded it into residue. Kline was in awe, and hurried over. Having been momentarily numbed by the electrical currents dispersing from the sea water, he gently raised his right hand, allowing the metallic cigarette box to drift slowly upward and settle into his palm. Upon inspection, Kline observed that the box was covered in corrosion marks, though it still remained usable. In contrast, the other items swept away by the sea currents had left absolutely no trace. Was it the gray mist that had unsettled Cavitua, causing it to expel the items immediately, or had the cigarette box undergone a certain transformation, corroding more slowly and thus surviving until Cavitua's death? At the same time, Klein casually slipped the cigarette box into his body, preparing to leave and study it later. Under these circumstances, every moment counted—there was no room for delay, since Klein had no idea when the Storm Church or the royal military forces would arrive! He rounded the partially collapsed pillar from a distance and entered the rear of the hall, which had nearly collapsed entirely. There should have been several murals here originally, but with the destruction of the walls, they had shattered and vanished. Only when he reached the far end did Klein spot a finely ornate throne buried beneath stones and pillars, barely visible in one-third of its original form. To the left of the throne, a fragment of mural remained, depicting two figures in confrontation: a man standing above, gazing down upon his adversaries, clad in waves beneath his feet, clouds above his head, and the wind swirling around him. His features were softer, with a more Eastern elegance reminiscent of Klein’s previous life, and he held a spear composed entirely of electric light. The background was a vast, all-consuming ocean. Below the man stood a figure dressed in a simple white robe, his face blurred and age indistinct, barely recognizable as male. The man in the white robe exuded a classical aura, with a luminous halo behind his head, softly radiating a gentle brilliance, like a sun. Beneath him, a phantom circular pattern was divided into twelve segments, each containing a symbol representing a different time. Behind him, a shadow resembling a curtain was drawn, within which a silent eye seemed to watch the world beyond. Klein, with a solid foundation in mysticism and broad insights drawn from various sources, quickly interpreted the signs: waves, gales, storm clouds, lightning—this must be the ancient deity known as the "King of the Elves," Sunyassolem. Indeed, as the legend describes, the Elven features are remarkably gentle and refined. This far-off "Lord of the Storm" doesn't come across as impatient at all—quite the contrary, his appearance is surprisingly excellent. Ah, this is a mural from within the Elven sanctuary, where it's quite natural to beautify one's divine patrons. The radiant halo resembling the sun, and the twelve-fold circular symbol representing time—this, surely, is the "Cosmic Creator," the father of both Amun and Adam, renowned beyond the city as the ancient Sun God, and revered in the Silver City as the All-Knowing, All-Powerful Deity. Behind Him lies a veil of shadow, and within that veil, a single eye—yes, the image of the "True Creator" is often depicted as "the eye behind the shadowed veil!" (Note 1). Indeed, is this the very "Cosmic Creator" who reclaimed the authority of the ancient gods and is Is this mural depicting the very event of King Sunyassolem, the Elf King, confronting the Creator? Kain withdraws his gaze, seeking other valuable items. Guided by spiritual intuition, he moves to the nearby throne, extends his hand into the base where the fallen stones and pillars have collapsed, and retrieves an object. It is a golden wine cup, flattened but intricately engraved with elaborate patterns; its stem has bent, and on its base is inscribed in Elvish script: "The Great Calamity, Ghisnam." Was the original owner of this site a high-ranking elf named Ghisnam? And was he, or she, known as "The Great Calamity"? Well… it aligns perfectly with what Latissia and the others discovered about the *Book of the Cataclysm*—these two sites should both belong to the high elven noble, Gisnam, and there exists a remarkably profound connection between them. Unfortunately, this golden cup is merely a cup, endowed with only a modest degree of spirit simply because it bears the true name of a high elven being. If Gisnam had not yet perished, even just that name would have granted the cup extraordinary abilities. Yet… Cline has初步 concluded that Gisnam has indeed passed beyond recovery, since "Sea God" Cavituwa is his direct successor. Still, Cline cannot be certain, as even after several hundred or thousands of years, the *Book of the Cataclysm* continues to drive Latissia—whose own rank is quite high among the extraordinary beings—into frenzied, uncontrollable episodes. "Moreover, this doesn't seem like something that Cavituwa could achieve. Could it be that Gisnam possessed a secret art of dividing his own extraordinary nature, and that Cavituwa has inherited only a portion of it?" The rest largely stem from the essence of the Book of Catastrophes? "Did Hochinam die and yet remain unrigid? "Of course. When Kavituvah ingested Hochinam's extraordinary traits, he was merely a beast of low intelligence—no one knew what transpired at the time. Perhaps some of the traits were lost, coalescing into a seal that later fell into the hands of the Church of the Storm after Kavituvah's defeat... "Ah, at the next Tarot gathering, I'll query the 'World' about the little 'Sun'—he should know who Hochinam truly is. In fact, I may not even need to ask; today he has already offered two pages from ancient mythology, and next time, perhaps he'll provide detailed descriptions of the higher精灵." With that thought, Kain pushed the wine cup into his own body. After all, it was made of gold, and even if Hochinam—the higher elf—had not perished, there was a connection between him and the cup, which could be shielded and isolated by the gray mist. After a thorough inspection, finding no further gains, Caine swiftly flew back outside, picking up the black hardwood staff and gently attending to the marks left from the battle. Then, he drew out a paper figure, shook it casually, and flung it into the sea, where it quickly soaked and disintegrated into powder. The earlier part could be disrupted—what came next, I’d have neither time nor opportunity to influence. Fortunately, I now appear as the "Black Emperor." The remains of Kavitova, though once valuable in flesh, now hold little worth; her bones are too heavy and might impede my ability to carry the "Staff of the Sea God." Caine stabilized himself through meditation, swiftly flying toward the white bone staff protruding from the partially collapsed pillar. Once again, the layered voices of supplication pierced his ears—some devout, some weeping, some fervent, others numb—fusing into a blurred panorama that filled his vision, their sense of drawn pain and dizziness growing increasingly intense. Klein, supported by his rich experience, the strength of the "Black Emperor" card, and the reinforced Azk copper whistle, managed to hold on and finally reached the side of the "Sea God's Staff." He extended his right hand and grasped the midsection of the white bone staff. As soon as contact was made, the scene before him instantly sharpened into clarity, and the hazy, resonant sounds that had previously filled his ears became vivid and real. He saw the wheelchair-bound rebel, Karat, with the bald head, fall to the ground, struggling to crawl toward the shattered image of the Kavitua deity, repeatedly chanting his name, his eyes filled with despair. He saw Edmonton, marked with blue and silver sea serpent tattoos, prostrating himself before the other, strangely bleeding Kavitua statue, constantly headbutting the ground until his flesh was torn and bloodied. He saw in the slums, one by one, the believers hiding at home, weeping silently, performing their prayers with numb, mechanical movements. ... Klein's black, full-body armor on his skin could no longer bear the strain and rapidly collapsed. At the same time, with a firm surge of his "muscle," he pressed down hard, and amid the layered, resonant prayers and vivid, intricate scenes, suddenly lifted the white bone staff—symbolizing the sea god's authority! Hiss! The waters across the entire ruins surged violently, swaying wildly or collapsing into whirlpools. Clayne, wearing his black crown, held the "Sea God's Staff" calmly, and in an instant, his figure vanished, returning directly to the gray mist. When the familiar, majestic palace came into view, the prayers echoing in his ears and the scenes before him had completely faded away. Seated in the high-backed chair belonging to the Fool, Clayne raised his right hand and examined the "Sea God's Staff," embedded with countless blue-green "gems," tinged with subtle shades of deep black and morning light. Around the seal, countless glowing points floated, each seemingly corresponding to one devoted worshipper, causing the staff's pale body to radiate a luminous, ethereal, and sacred glow. At this very moment, Caine felt the staff was none other than the very essence of the God of the Sea!