At one moment, Klein thought that Tracie, the "Disease-Stricken," would strike directly, given how her face had flushed with anger and the depth of her sapphire eyes had darkened, as if the sea surface during a storm. But ultimately, Tracie remained composed and restrained, tilting her head to look toward Caterina Pele, waiting for the "Immortal Witch" to make her decision. She was well aware that although Sequence 5 and Sequence 4 differed only by one rank, there was an essential distinction—tactics and performance could no longer bridge the gap. One belonged to a normally human with exceptional traits, while the other had entered the realm of the semi-divine, a divine or mythic being. Moreover, both present figures clearly surpassed Sequence 4, and standing before them, Tracie felt herself to be merely a low-sequence agent. The immortal woman, Caterina Pele, did not show any displeasure. Gazing at Caine, whose face bore the strength and vigor of a storm commander, her eyes sparkled with a gentle smile. "What a fascinating young man. If it weren't for the presence of the 'Death Magistrate,' I might have remained hidden from the passage of time, and perhaps met you—shared a love that was pure and unadulterated." No, you wouldn't want that... it sounds terribly daunting... Caine could not meet her gaze, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the 'Daughter of Illness,' Tracie. Noticing Azk Egers showing no reaction, Caterina withdrew her gaze and, with a voice as melodious as a song, addressed Tracie: "Endure your suffering—perhaps that is good for you." She then turned to Azk Egers with a serene and dignified expression: "I remember those documents. They chronicled the various attempts made by the Royal House of Bayran to resurrect the God of Death. Unfortunately, all efforts seemed to fall short. In the end, it appeared as though they were beginning to consider the possibility of creating a synthetic, artificial God of Death." "Are you still interested?" A manufactured Death God? How could a Death God be manufactured? Besides uniqueness and extraordinary traits, what else could possibly be done? This isn't like growing cabbage—how could the past Byrane Empire and the current Spiritual Order have all gone mad? Klein murmured to himself without interrupting the half-divine, half-human dialogue. Azk thought for a few seconds and asked again, "What sacrifice will I need to make?" Katrinas smiled with youthful energy: "No, none at all. I've carefully considered this. Helping you gradually recover your memories, rediscover your past, and once again become the 'Death Magistrate'—I believe this will be an exciting journey, one that will bring about even more change and delight to this world." The way she said it sounded just like a rebellious young girl—wasn't the "Immortal Mage" not only physically immortal, but also mentally vibrant? Klein found it hard to grasp her line of thinking. Perhaps sequence 6, sequence 5, or sequence 4 through the audience path would work? He subconsciously pondered. Azkarr nodded, extended his right hand, and the papers and pens in the room floated toward him as if guided by an invisible spirit. He wrote swiftly, then tossed the papers over: "You can summon my messengers." Indeed, the bronze whistle had only one—its effectiveness lasting over a thousand years, which was no ordinary matter. Even instinctively, Caine reached for the bronze whistle in Azkarr's pocket, then restrained himself. "Never-aging woman" Katrinas caught the papers, glanced at them, and smiled gently: "I thought you'd simply tell me where the Underworld was." She lifted her head, her deep blue eyes radiating an indescribable tenderness, and offered a soft smile. "I still remember the 'Death Magistrate' as a man so strong and so stern—his impression on me has been profoundly lasting." "I'm curious—why has your heart grown so tender now?" Azk held his fist against his mouth, smiled sadly, and shook his head. "I'm not immortal; I'm not even ageless. Once people grow old, they naturally grow gentle." "No," Katrinna said, her gaze deep and unguarded. "I'm waiting for the day when you fully recover your memories, and I'd like to see how you'll judge yourself now." With that, a slight curve formed at her lips, and she gave a subtle wink to Cline. "Perhaps we're releasing something more evil, more terrifying than even a demon." "...This is deliberate, stirring up trouble... Klein murmured to himself, yet he couldn't help but recall the 'White Catastrophe' recorded in historical texts and the chronicles of various churches—the event that caused widespread biological deaths and transformed the northern continent into a living hell. At the heart of this catastrophe stood the 'Death God' and the 'Primordial Witch,' the southern continent's Death God faction and the Witch orders. Among them, Mr. Azk, known as the 'Death Magistrate,' undoubtedly played a significant role... Katharina regained her holy demeanor, offering a gentle smile. "The more painful the suffering, the more you become aware of your own vulnerability. Only when pain reaches its peak does a strong desire to transform within you arise—enough to carry you through the potion, endure the ritual, and attain divinity, becoming a half-god..." Hearing these words, Tricia suddenly remembered something, her expression stiffening as she asked aloud, "Irena was able to escape the Black Death Ship because..." Katharina offered a light, serene smile. "You are my youngest child, yet you are the one most likely to become a half-god. As a mother, I naturally wish to support you." Tricia's facial muscles trembled, her voice strained as she said, "Yes, I have you as a mother, and also another mother... Why didn't you tell me the truth from the beginning? You clearly had several pathways—mid and lower sequence opportunities—right at your disposal!" Katharina turned her body, the white robe swaying gently, and spoke in a soft, flowing tone: "We must all draw near to the 'Primordial.' 'We are all His children,' she said. As she spoke, towering black flames surged from the vast ship, stretching for dozens of meters, quietly yet vigorously filling every corner—burning without a sound, yet leaving the pirates aboard the Black Death untouched, as if gently clearing dust from the floor. "Mr. Azk—!" he called out, puzzled. If the major churches had not insisted on burying the dead in cemeteries with proper oversight, and if there had not been a comprehensive war since the Fifth Dynasty, these tombs and monuments would have long since vanished. A human life spans only a few decades—this has lasted for nine hundred and twenty-six years. The abandoned cemetery had remained quiet for a while, then Azk rose again, grasping Kline's shoulder. "I'll take you back first." After a few moments of travel through the spiritual realm, Kline once again saw the white bedsheet and the warm, golden floor. Azk adjusted his hat and spoke calmly, "I will continue my journey, and you will continue yours." Kline nodded, about to speak, when he noticed Mr. Azk smiling gently. "Were you really worried that, if I completely lost my memories, I would transform into a wicked, sorceress-like figure?" Without waiting for Kline's reply, Azk sighed. "I was indeed concerned. But what I truly wish to recover is myself." After speaking, ripples of ethereal water spread around him, and his form vanished within the room. Klein stood motionless, silent for a long time. He shook his head, offering a quiet, reassuring smile to himself: "Perhaps by then I would have become a strong being of the Angelic rank, capable of establishing a psychiatric hospital specializing in treating antisocial personality disorders, with the 'Justice' lady serving as the chief physician..." Gathering his thoughts, Klein sat down, habitually reflecting and reviewing the current mission: "I had originally hoped to shepherd a 'suffering witch' and gain further insights into the Death God's documents and the ongoing cases of population disappearances. Yet the developments and outcomes turned out far beyond my expectations—merely achieving the most basic of initial objectives." "Ah, I simply can't persuade Mr. Azk to take action—after all, he hasn't fully recovered, and his opponent is a 'young immortal woman'... Strength in oneself is far more important than relying on others. Indeed, I often find myself doing just that—relying on myself, rather than asking for help. Heh. Let me think—how many times have I actually been asking myself for help?" Klein adjusted his seat, nodded to himself, and murmured internally: "The biggest gain this time has been establishing the principle of the Faceless Man—being both immersed and detached, overcoming my psychological barriers, and becoming alert to the risk of becoming too absorbed in the role." "Thus, a magic potion that normally takes one or two years to fully absorb through simple, authentic, real-time performance—perhaps now, within just a few months, or even six months, will be completely absorbed." After this reflection, Klein prepared to go to sleep, planning to retrieve the radio receiver from the gray mist at dawn and connect with the mirror mage, Arōdes. Of course, provided we first cast a spell to gauge the severity of the danger above the gray mist.