Tracy saw two lightning bolts flash in Ilean's eyes—deep, luminous silver, brilliant and vivid, completely filling her vision. Her gracefully arched chin lifted sharply, as if about to emit a piercing cry of agony. Yet she remained rigid, as though shattered in a vision. The full-length mirror in the room cracked with a sharp sound and rapidly disintegrated, scattering in pieces. "The mirror duplicate!" Tracy's figure in a pure white blouse, beige pants, and black leather boots appeared in the corner beside the mirror, still gasping. Before she could catch her breath, she heard the heavy, rhythmic footsteps, saw Ilean's red hair and flowing gown swaying, her form advancing like a war chariot, pressing forward with force. Her left hand, gloved, was pale with a faint greenish tinge. Though he still maintained Elain's appearance, his movements were those of a fierce beast—hard, resolute, delivering one punch after another, one kick after another—forcing Tracie to desperately parry, unable to find openings to deploy her other extraordinary abilities. Were it not for the fact that the Sequence 9 corresponding to "the Painful Muse" was "the Assassin," renowned for exceptional techniques in combat and evasion, this relentless barrage of attacks would have already inflicted serious damage upon Tracie. Thud! Thud! Thud! Frosty white vapors emanated from the tips of Kline's fists, and with every impact against Tracie, the latter trembled slightly, frost beginning to form on her skin. This was the "Ward of the Living Dead's" mastery of cold and frost! As her blood gradually stiffened, Tracie no longer hesitated—she absorbed the blow with unwavering resolve. Her pale lips parted slightly, emitting an imperceptible cry. With that cry, a shimmering, ethereal blue aura surged outward from within her body, solidifying into layers of ice wherever it passed. In just a few seconds, she and Caine had found themselves deep within the frozen world, surrounded by thick, translucent ice blocks, with soft white frost covering the outer surface. Though they appeared close, they still needed to overcome numerous obstacles to meet again. A serene black flame ignited from within Tracy's radiant and spirited face, spreading quietly and steadily. It swiftly melted the surrounding frost, clearing a path for her counterattack and enabling her to gain the upper hand. At that moment, Tracy noticed that Elain—usually soft-spoken and lacking in determination—firmly tapped her finger once. A seemingly insignificant match flame flared up, a bright crimson stream surging forth and instantly enveloping Elain's red-haired figure. Tracy's eyes narrowed, and her intuitive sense of spirit signaled a deeply unfavorable impression. From the quiet black flame behind her, Caine—still bearing the appearance of Elain—stepped forward, arms outstretched, embracing Tracy and firmly locking her arms in place. At the same time, he opened his mouth and let out a sound: "Puff!" A surge of invisible air erupted, its force surpassing that of the revolver and rivaling the power of the latest model of rifle. It pierced through the void and struck Tracie precisely at the back of her skull. *Plip!* The bullet lifted her skull and drove through it, yet the figure of the "Duke of Ill Health" suddenly contracted, collapsing into a black staff that had been broken. "Staff substitution!" Tracie swiftly materialized across from him, her shirt buttons undone, revealing a snowy, alluring silhouette. Yet what captured Caine's attention was not this, but the streak of blood now clinging to the palm of her hand. When Caine had pinned Tracie, her hand had gripped him like a claw, pulling a piece of her dress with it and drawing a gash on his thigh. At that moment, Tracie quickly opened and closed her mouth twice, and suddenly a phantom black flame erupted from her palm, searing the blood. Black magic. A witch's curse! Klein's figure trembled uncontrollably, from within outwards, from his feet to his head, as black flames surged forth, rapidly turning him into fragments of paper. As soon as he had emerged into a new corner, he felt an indeterminate number of invisible silk threads weaving around him—some rigid, attempting to bind him, others soft, gently probing different parts of his body. Even this exceptionally composed combatant, known for his calmness under pressure, now felt his heart race, his ears grow warm, his body tingling and slightly numb—experiencing both the discomfort of a mild cold and a rising sensation of blood rushing to his core. Compared to the Countess Scherren of Tingenthal, Tracie's mastery over these threads was nothing short of astonishing. Klein could not afford to delay. He promptly snapped his fingers. With a crisp sound, all the nearby silk threads caught fire, their crimson flames spreading backward in a tidal wave, sweeping toward the "Disease General" Tracie. In Tingenthal, Klein had already known that the "Maiden of Joy's" silk threads were particularly vulnerable to flame. In an instant, the central area of the room transformed into a vast, blazing web. Tracie was caught off guard, swept up by the surge of scorching flames. "Hmph!" she exhaled, a shimmering, ethereal blue light radiating from within and sealing her in a massive, transparent crystalline form. The crimson flames continued to pour in, melting the outer layer of the ice and gradually weakening her. Kaine did not reach for the diamond-encrusted bracelet, as he was uncertain about its potential negative effects. Using a magical item without fully understanding it often posed a risk—more harm than benefit! He straightened up, arms outstretched, the gloves on his left hand glowing with the hue of the sun. "Archivist of Light!" At that moment, hidden within the ice, Tracy felt Elain's familiar presence now radiating a sacred glow, her eyes and expression brimming with an unwavering determination unlike anything she had ever shown before—her beauty no longer soft and delicate, but rather like a sunflower in full bloom, a battlefield sunflower stained with blood. Tracy, her voice slightly hoarse, cried out, "Who are you? Why won't you reveal your true self?" It felt so awkward for Elain to be dressed in a dress, so out of place—Elain herself seemed far more natural in that form... Clary's mind drifted, the thought passing through him swiftly. Immediately afterward, he praised the sun. A magnificent, pure beam of light descended suddenly, swirling with golden flames, completely enveloping both the ice and Tracy. The ice melted rapidly and visibly, vanishing entirely, and the brilliant, sacred light faded, dissolving into fragments. Tracy's face paled as she rolled smoothly, evading Klein's "mental piercing" shift into the "Interrogator" stance—no visible injury evident within the beam of light. "Holy Light" is effective against undead and impurities, but for a witch, it's merely a standard Sequence 5 blow. Thud! Thud! Thud! Tracy rolled again and again, dodging the air bullets Klein launched, leaving one hole after another in the carpet. As she rolled, her form suddenly vanished from sight, disappearing from the enemy's view. The witch's invisibility—Klein slightly bent forward, remaining highly alert, and using his intuition and the sense of danger from the "Clown" to search for Tracy's presence. Yet in that brief moment, he found nothing, and his forehead grew increasingly hot, his lungs burning, his throat sore and itchy, threatening to choke on uncontrollable coughs. No—this couldn't be delayed any longer! Klein's thoughts flashed like lightning; suddenly, he chuckled softly, shifting to a stiff, masculine tone: "Eileen has told me all about your secrets. . . . And every one of her own secrets as well." As he finished speaking, a sudden inspiration struck him—something in the corner had surged with intense emotional turbulence, unmistakable anger and resentment. Without hesitation, Klein half-turned and looked that way. Instantly, golden scales cascaded from the gloves on his left hand, and his eyes glowed with a soft golden hue, as if rising up. In silence, Tracie's form came into sharp relief—her expression twisted with pain. Her elegant, dark, wavy hair surged wildly, spreading out in all directions. "The chaos of a psychiatrist!" The emotional strain already present in Tracie was now overwhelmed by this assault, and she nearly collapsed, momentarily losing her composure. Klein seized the moment and snapped his fingers crisply. An air bullet soared across the distance between the two, aiming straight for Tracy's still-beautiful face, even as it twisted. Suddenly, a thick, dark strand of hair swept across its path, altering its trajectory—thudding against Tracy's left shoulder with a sharp impact, tearing her blouse, splattering flesh and exposing bone. "Ah!" Tracy cried out in a piercing scream, an endless surge of black flame erupting from within and completely enveloping her. Thick ice crystals then formed outside the flame. Meanwhile, her wild, rapidly growing hair curled back and spiraled in layers, tightly wrapping Tracy, the flame, and the ice together, as if weaving a massive cocoon made entirely of human hair. Thud! Thud! Thud! Klein's air bullets struck in succession, yet each only penetrated the dark hair, becoming lodged within the ice. He paused, allowing the sunlight to radiate from the glove on his left hand. At that very moment, a sudden itch in his throat sent him into a violent coughing fit, preventing him from launching his prepared attack. Tracie, now regaining her composure within the black hair cocoon, raised her voice sharply and cried out: "Attack! Attack!" For a moment, Caine was stunned, as if transported back to Bekland, to the very first time he had encountered the demon hound—when he realized he was no match, and could only scream "Kill them!" "Help!" while fleeing wildly, eventually escaping the danger. Tracie's cry of "Attack" resonated with a striking similarity. Indeed, the extraordinary individuals aboard the Black Ship, even if they didn't engage in combat, would have seen no fewer than this, and many of them were of high sequence. It was truly difficult to swiftly eliminate a pirate admiral, even through a stealth assassination. Caine coughed twice, snapped his fingers with a crisp sound, and then ceased his attack, his hesitation gone, turning directly toward the window of the captain's quarters. His final gaze lingered on the bracelet set with diamonds, yet he dared not reach for it. He feared two things: first, that the intense negative effects would hinder his escape; second, that once Tracy recovered, she would lead the extraordinary beings to secure him with this very item, launching a full-scale sea assault. He could not be greedy! Klein turned his head, crashing through the window with a loud sound, and landed on the deck. Two pirates approached simultaneously, drawing their long swords. Pff! Pff! Their swords pierced a paper figure. Klein's form instantly materialized behind one of the pirates. With his left hand, he extended outward, and his palm split open to reveal a grotesque, eerie mouth. "The Hunger that Moves" seized its "food" in a single bite. As the extraordinary beings closed in, Klein lifted the pirate and took steady steps toward the ship's side, leaping into the deep, dark sea beneath the night sky, amid the steady barrage of shots.