Frank Lee didn't notice Germán Spáro's unusual state and cheerfully added, "I was just about to offer you some help—throw a few seeds over there—unfortunately, I simply can't throw that far." Throw seeds onto the "Black Tulip"? This sea still carries the lingering essence of the "Earth Goddess," causing anomalies in phenomena within the corresponding domain—enemy and ally alike, attacking simultaneously... I was even on the "Black Tulip" at that very moment... Good thing you didn't throw them. Suddenly, Klein remembered the "Future" ship's previous condition, the watermelons growing on the dead pirates' heads. As he was about to carefully craft his response to match Germán Spáro's character, he suddenly saw His dark shadow emerge clearly, Hiss Dore bending down to vomit. The "Bloodless One" first dry-heaved, then his knees grew weak, and he knelt onto the deck. Vomited! Vomited! He finally expelled a pool of yellowish-green liquid, within which a semi-corroded gray-black mass of flesh was gently quivering. Burp! Burp! Burp! Hes. Dole接连 expelled several similar pools. Witnessing this, Caine felt nauseated yet reassured. He had initially worried that Hes. Dole, this "Rosa Bishop," might contaminate himself by "eating" things, but now it seemed clear that the man merely tolerated and isolated the matter—without true digestion. Indeed, the "Rosa Bishop" who hadn't gone mad… Caine silently remarked. As his peripheral vision shifted to move away from the pools of vomit, a sudden thought struck him: "The creeping hunger" had been awakened and required feeding once every day—here, there were no outsiders, no ideal villains... The pirate who had died earlier wouldn't do, though his companions might not value the body much; "The creeping hunger" consumed souls. He wondered if these chunks of flesh could serve as sustenance—at least, they had once been vibrant, and their bodies had been influenced by the breath of the Earth Goddess. With this realization, Caine took two steps forward and approached close to His. Dole. He could not bear to look at the pools of vomit, his gaze instinctively turning toward the other side, toward the magnificent, sun-dappled sea beyond the ship's hull. Then, he extended his left hand toward the grayish-black meat masses. "The creeping hunger" showed no change—it had not even begun to open its mouth at the center of his glove. It seems unwilling to eat… For now, it can only be tolerated, serving as a temporary shield against potential dangers. If no suitable food is found within the next day, it will be tossed into the gray mist. Cain reluctantly retracts his hand and looks toward the captain's quarters. The golden brooch before the "Star Above" Gardeleia once again glows, crystallizing the "Sun's Lament," purifying each gray-black chunk of flesh expelled by His. Dole. The pirate general's face and expression remain unchanged, though a subtle fatigue is evident, and the deep violet radiance in his eyes grows more pronounced. Once satisfied that the ship has resumed its journey, Cain no longer hesitates, preparing to return to his room to change into dry clothes. Anderson glances at him, then moves closer, opening his mouth in curiosity. "Shut up!" Cain interrupts. This incident has cost him his merfolk cuff pin, and thus, he finds himself increasingly impatient with someone plagued by misfortune—someone whose very existence seems to be defined by the "creeping hunger" of food. "Very well." "Anderson raised both hands," said he, "I'll just quietly drink my wine." Klein paid no further attention to him, entered the cabin, and returned to his room. In the bathroom, he produced a "Water-Calling Spell," recited an ancient Hermes word, and filled a bathtub with clear water. Then he removed all his clothes and lay down inside. The cool sensation, combined with the warm sunlight, eased him. He took up the paper and pen he had brought from his desk and wrote a divination phrase: "The position of the fishman's sleeve pin." After silently repeating it seven times, Klein fully lay down, propping himself on the front of the bathtub, and entered sleep. In the hazy, fragmented, dreamlike world, he saw the deck, and there, on a living corpse whose body had already begun to rot in several places, he saw the blue fishman's sleeve pin embedded in the flesh at the left side of the corpse's waist. Beyond the deck, everything was dark—so dark that he could not tell where the ship actually was. Indeed, it had been left on the "Black Iris." Klein opened his eyes and made his judgment. "I hope 'The Marshal of Hell' doesn't notice. That way, I can use this cufflink to lock in the position of the 'Black Tulip.' It's actually fine if he does notice—so long as Ludewill doesn't lose the cufflink, I can still track the ship, though the site of my divination will have to shift from the real world to the misty realm. Also, I must perform a divination disruption shortly—just in case 'The Marshal of Hell' uses the cufflink to locate me or even curses me." "That ring of his truly appears to be an ancient item left behind by the dead gods. Yes, I'll write to Mr. Azk." Klein quickly washed himself and stepped out of the bathtub. After drying off and dressing in his previous Ruin gentleman's attire, Klein first adjusted his gear, pressed his clothes, then laid out the letter and took out the Azk copper whistle. Standing by the desk, gazing at the items before him, Klein's right hand suddenly seemed to hesitate. His gaze flickered several times, then he retrieved the Azk copper whistle and placed it inside a small iron box, using the "Wall of Spirit" to block his breath. He prepared to leave this sea region, depart the "Future Ship," and summon the messenger. "This loss has been significant—thankfully, we've finally absorbed the 'Faceless Ones' elixir, and now we can focus on waiting for the merfolk to appear... "Hmm... The actual condition of this divine war site differs from what I anticipated. There's a clear presence of the 'Mother Earth Goddess' here... "This couldn't have been left behind after the event, otherwise a deity would have been unable to contain such a radiance. "None of the eight ancient deities of the Second Age held dominion over the earth domain... "Among their attendant deities, however, there are some promising candidates—such as the Queen of Giants, the 'Goddess of Harvest' Omibeira, and the 'Goddess of Life' associated with the vampire progenitor Lilith... "Was this a divine war involving actual gods, or is this indeed an event predating the Second Age?" Klein was at a loss due to his limited understanding of this divine war site, relying mostly on conjecture and imagination. He gathered his thoughts, refined the paper figures anew, and filled them with the transformations and hidden symbols belonging to "The Fool." Crack! Klein lifted the figure and shook it gently. Flames materialized out of nowhere, consuming the paper figure into ash. Now he had achieved a preliminary effect; to refine it further, he would need to respond to the gray mist, leveraging the power of "The Emperor" card to activate the mysterious space and combining it with the protective presence of "The Paper Angel." After disrupting potential observers using Azk's copper whistle and Wil. O'Ceintin's paper crane, Klein entered the bathroom once more and methodically completed his procedures. Once the room was tidied, he donned his "The Hungering" and "The Spark" gloves and walked steadily toward the deck, intent on carefully observing the surroundings, not missing a single clue related to the mermaids. As soon as he stepped out of the cabin, he saw Anderson Hude leaning against a wooden barrel, sitting on the ground, his expression calm and his breath subdued, as though deep in thought or sentiment. Had he truly kept his promise—always quietly drinking without a word? Klein murmured under his breath, passing by Anderson's side. Anderson slowly lifted his head, speaking as if in a dream: "Is the wine here... off?" Klein paused, then replied seriously: "Yes." "... "Anderson could say nothing. How unfortunate—this man had been so unlucky that even the successful application of his extraordinary abilities had failed, leaving him unaware that the wine was indeed flawed? Klein gave his mouth a slight twitch and continued on his way. On the forward deck, several sailors gathered around, watching Nina carry out the duties of the "Lord of the Storm" priest, conducting a brief funeral service for the pirate who had just passed. After a simple prayer, Nina glanced around and said, "Rivier's wish is to be buried on the mountain overlooking his hometown port, where the sunsets are most beautiful. He wishes to be cremated so that he may not be disturbed after death." "May the storms carry him peacefully," the sailors murmured, most of whom believed in the 'Lord of the Storm,' and raised their right fists to their left chests. Watching this, Caine remained at a distance, standing quietly by, observing without approaching. When the funeral was over and Rivier's body had been transformed into ashes with the aid of the scroll, Caine sighed inwardly, sketching a crimson moon in his mind. For the rest of the day, the sun remained bright and the sky stayed clear as noon, and the "Future" sailed past several ruins and abandoned sites, gradually delving deeper into the ocean. Anderson had already recovered at some point and now stood beside Caine. He glanced ahead, pointing to the group of buildings submerged beneath the water: "Beyond this ruin, turn left and travel about ten nautical miles, and you'll have a chance to encounter the mermaids." Finally... just as Kline was about to respond, the sky suddenly darkened, and the sunlight vanished abruptly. Another night had arrived. Without further words, he returned to his room and lay down on the bed. Soon, he awoke in his dream, before him lay a clean floor-to-ceiling window, neatly arranged tables and chairs, and bookshelves filled with volumes. This time, he found himself back at the place where he had left off when he first woken from the dream—the very library. The golden light of dusk streamed in, casting a soft golden hue over everything, and Kline moved with slight curiosity, walking toward the bookshelf he had last visited. As expected, he once again spotted the *Book of Sigils* and other works of esoteric lore. Klein had just reached for a book, intending to quickly flip through it, when his gaze suddenly swept to the opposite bookshelf and landed on a volume with a black cover: *Notes of Roselle 3!* The Emperor's journal? The entire journal? Without thinking, Klein reached out to grasp it. At that moment, images flashed through his mind—the enigmatic eyes watching the deck, watching him; Anderson Hude's mention of the gatekeeper deep within the hall of murals; and his own previously unexplained shifts in dream locations. He withdrew his gaze and kept the *Book of Incantations* in his hands. He moved to the long table area, sat down, and began to scan the pages. Suddenly, he heard a steady, rhythmic tapping—tap, tap, tap—of footsteps approaching from deep within the library. Klein's spirit instantly tightened, and he slowly lifted his head. The first thing that caught his eye was a pair of black leather boots.