On the *Enterprise*, Anderson Hude pressed both hands against the hull, watching the army of undead creatures rising from the black ocean recede like a tide, rushing and colliding with one another, eager to reach the aft deck of the *Black Iris*. He saw Germán Sparrow raise his hat, descend from the sky, and land squarely opposite Lord Ludewell, the "General of Hell." Under the soft glow of either deep red or shadow-green light, enhanced by the ethereal figures of restless spirits and various strange beings from the spirit realm, the scene possessed an indescribable grace. Cool! Truly the most daring adventurer—Anderson murmured his genuine admiration, then recalled another detail: before Germán Sparrow launched into the air, he had apparently laid a charm before him and even demonstrated the incantation. So he meant... Anderson Hude lowered his gaze and spotted the white-tin charm lying at his feet. On the Black Tulip,克莱恩's body slightly arched, his gaze locked firmly on the enemy, and his inner state was far from as cold and composed as he appeared. Anderson had to hurry and cast his spells over—he likely couldn't manage alone, and might even be in serious danger. As silver-white masks and two pale flames shimmered within his eyes,克莱恩 silently murmured a prayer. Because of those enigmatic eyes fixed upon the deck, and because of Anderson Hude's reference to the Keeper of the Deep Dream World, he carefully abandoned the immediate option of praying to himself and then moving to the gray mist to respond with the "Sea God's Staff," and reminded himself to avoid exposing this aspect of his vulnerability unless absolutely necessary. He believes that the "creeping hunger," combined with the "spark" gauntlets, the "magician's" array of extraordinary abilities, and the diverse incantations from the "Sea God's Domain," will grant him the strength to challenge Ludewell, the "Hell Commander." Furthermore, the allure of the Azk copper horn toward immaterial beings and undead entities in the spirit realm will enable him to neutralize the most potent tactic of the "Powerful Seer"—specifically, for a Sequence 5 on the "Death Path," as long as the necessary limits are not exceeded, the Seer consistently fights with numerical superiority, always able to prevail against a limited number of mid-sequence foes. Yet, Caine didn't believe that he was certain to defeat or even eliminate the "Lord of Hell," Ludewell, under the current circumstances. First, the main battlefield was aboard the "Black Tulip," and drawing from the precedent of the "Star Admiral's" engagement against the "Future," it was clear to anyone with strategic insight that the situation wasn't particularly promising. Second, Ludewell was currently the most experienced pirate admiral, backed by two powerful forces—the "Five-Sea King" and the "Spirit Monastic Order"—and his magical artifacts and seals were at least comparable, if not superior, to Caine's. Moreover, several rumors suggested he possessed a ring left behind by an ancient Death God. In addition, since Ludewell's sequence rank was indeed lower than Caine's, Caine not only failed to secure his hunt, but grew increasingly agitated, his excitement as a daring adventurer mounting. Instead of being confident, he remained reserved and tense, holding his breath, hoping fervently that the unfortunate "Premier Hunter" would arrive soon. Only when two equally strong opponents unite can they hope to defeat or effectively counter Ludewell, now bereft of his necromantic army, thereby creating the necessary time and space for Gardeleia, the "Star General," and her pirates to clear the assembled monstrosities! The thought struck him instantly, and without hesitation, Caine launched his attack, swiftly spreading the "Toxic Mist" stolen by his "Seed" gauntlets. No one could detect the numerous anxieties and hesitations swirling within him. At the same moment, Ludewell, the "Hell General" wearing an elaborate triangular hat and a silver-white mask, raised the left hand he had clutched tightly, extended his fingers, and directed his palm squarely at Caine. In an instant, the foredeck was engulfed in a striking yellow-green mist, while before Ludewell, a shimmering light first erupted, then rapidly spun around a central point, collapsing inward to form a slightly blurred double bronze door. The bronze gate is covered with various mysterious patterns, exuding a profound and solemn stillness that cannot be described. With a creak, the gate sways and splits open a narrow crack. Beyond the crack lies an endless, inscrutable darkness, like the deepest, most profound night sky. Countless eyes, indescribable in form, are embedded within this deep darkness, densely clustered everywhere, yet their exact appearances remain unseen. Limb-like, blood-streaked arms extend forth, slender, dark vines emerge with infant faces, and hands cracked open, teeth gleaming, reach out—screaming, laughing, weeping, shouting, eagerly seizing everything outside. This creates a terrifying suction; a cold, windstorm so intense it seems capable of freezing human marrow rises spontaneously, pushing objects toward these strange forms, toward the crack in the bronze gate. The vibrant green "toxic mist" vanished instantly, and Cain found himself instinctively leaning forward, staggering as he stepped briskly ahead. His left glove turned instantly black—both eerie with the night's ambiance and noble with the grace of the stars. Cain's brown eyes deepened, becoming profoundly dark. He extended his left arm sideways, making a graceful "please" gesture. The powerful suction that had been sweeping across the forward deck suddenly reversed its direction, lifting one after another the white bone skeletons and decaying living corpses rushing toward the aft deck, and hurling them toward the gap at the door. They were caught by the emerald, infant-faced vines, cradled by blood-soaked arms, and drawn into the region behind the bronze doors, where countless eyes now watched. "Twisted!" "The Baron's Twisting!" Cain had twisted the mysterious door's target—replacing himself with the skeletons and the living corpses from the *Black Iris*. Yet even thus, he was still affected by the lingering pull of the immense suction, his steps labored and unable to fully harness his agility and speed. The baseball cap he was wearing had been lifted by the hurricane, spinning in the air, drifting gracefully and following the doomed undead creatures that had been drawn forward. At this moment, Ludewil, the "General of Hell" with his flamboyant triangular hat, raised his right arm and extended his palm forward. His right side of the torso rapidly became ethereal, as though already belonging to ghosts and wraiths; his arm and forearms stretched out, extending beyond what might have seemed close, with a pale palm reaching toward the enemy. Ah! The roar of the hurricane suddenly ceased, and a soft, plaintive cry reached Klein's ears, making his body tremble and his blood feel as though it had frozen. As the pale palm drew nearer, he felt as though possessed by ghosts and spirits of malice, unable to mount an effective response, only watching helplessly as death approached, desperately sensing his life force slipping away at an ever-accelerating pace. There was no resistance at all. Lutherville's pale, ethereal right hand seized Caine, compressing him into a thin sheet of paper. The paper, streaked with dark green corrosive marks, was swiftly torn to powder by the unrelenting hurricane. Instantly, Caine's figure appeared at the side of the bronze gate, his left glove now glowing with the pure hue of sunlight. He immediately straightened up and spread his arms wide. A sacred column, shimmering with golden flames, descended from the sky and struck the bronze gate, etched with mysterious patterns. The sunlight erupted violently, nearly blinding Caine. The dreadful gate that Lutherville had "created" not only wavered and blurred, but also its internal suction force weakened significantly—much of the infant-faced, dark green vines and blood-streaked arms vanished into nothing. Yet, more strange arms and twisted beings continued to surge toward the gate's crevices, striving to push through. Klein was about to continue using the "Divine Light" of the "Priest of Light" to purify the bronze gate when Lord Ludewell's pale, massive hand already surged forward with frantic intensity. He swiftly sidestepped, rolling continuously to evade the hurricane-like waves and the soul-consuming palms. Once, twice, thrice—he leapt sharply, skidding sideways—and by then, the "craving hunger" had seemingly transformed into something forged of gold. First, Klein's eyes reflected Ludewell's silver-masked face and the pale flames within his eye sockets; then, deep within his gaze, two bright lightning bolts flared. "Inquisitor!" "Mental Piercing!" At that very moment, a square, darkly polished ring on Ludewell's left index finger began to emit a subtle shimmer of light. Instantly, a vivid image formed in Caine's mind: a colossal throne composed of the decaying heads of various beings—humans, elves, giants, dragons, magical wolves, sea monsters, and vampires—each side of the throne subtly revealing translucent faces of wraiths, shadows, and malevolent spirits, filled with hatred, malice, and resentment. Suddenly, Caine's mind felt as though it had been struck by an axe; a terrible, unrelenting pain surged immediately and completely filled his thoughts. His "spirit piercing" not only failed to take effect but instead severely impacted him, amplifying its effect exponentially. Had he not endured even more intense suffering, Caine would have surely collapsed to the ground, writhing and crying out. Even then, he briefly lost his ability to resist, his expression twisted and his spine slightly bowed. Seizing this moment, the slow, inaudible speech emerging from the crevice of Ludewell's silver mask—uttered in a language completely unintelligible to ordinary living beings—began to flow, and the surrounding atmosphere grew progressively darker, more hazy, and ethereal. This is the language of death from hell itself, from the realm of the Underworld! As soon as Caine felt even a slight improvement, he discovered his spirit uncontrollably rising upward, inch by inch separating from his physical body! The terrifying suction force of the bronze gate proved utterly insurmountable for spirits. No—this wasn't working! Seizing the moment before his spirit had fully detached from his body, Caine managed to lift his right arm with strained effort, extending the five fingers of his gloves inscribed with the "Seed of Fire." Instantly, various radiants overlapped and shimmered before him, shifting and flashing rapidly. Without hesitation, Caine grasped a strand of pale, flowing emerald-white light, twisted his wrist, and drew it away. In this battle, the ability he most desired to seize was the extraordinary skill responsible for crafting the bronze gate—though he could not guarantee its success, only praying for the goddess's protection. The light surged out and settled into the "Seed of Fire" gloves. Yet, this was not the very ability he had hoped for, though it was far from unsatisfactory. Ludewell's mouth moved uncertainly behind the silver mask, yet could no longer utter the labored, stilted language—difficult and awkward—that every living being inevitably could not understand. At the same time, Caine opened his mouth.