Anderson, afraid that Germán Sparrow might change his mind, snatched the five-sol banknotes from his hands, and in his mind instantly conjured the image of normally cooked beef sizzling over the fire, paired with alcohol drinks free of any sedatives. Oh, he actually accepted it—just a casual remark, a slight dip in his persona—and he made it clear that his money wasn't easily borrowed, so that Germán wouldn't hesitate to go hunting pirates and instead decide to take a large sum back to the Mists Sea region. That's what Caine murmured to himself. In his view, a Sequence 5 "hunter" wouldn't starve or go without a place to sleep even in a region teeming with pirates, even if he had not a single penny on his person. He gave a barely perceptible nod, preparing to move forward from the dock, when suddenly a hearty call echoed from behind: "Germán!" Caine felt a shiver run through him upon recognizing Frank Lee's voice, and immediately turned to face the direction of the call, his spirit tensed. The chief officer of the *Aether*, the "Toxin Specialist" with a reward of 7,000 pounds, stood by the ship's side, hands folded over his mouth as if amplifying his voice: "Where will you frequently be? To whom should letters be addressed? I would like to share with you my most recent research findings." I didn't really care... I'd wager he didn't have many true friends, and that the majority of people he considered friends never truly saw him as one... Ah, the inner sentiment of the "Star General" leaned more toward that of a "Mystic Queen"—she felt a lack of belonging within the Tarot Circle. It was strategic, even dignified, to quietly cultivate a double agent right beside her, someone who reported directly to her, a subtle yet effective form of pressure—exactly the kind of move befitting someone of General Gorman Sparrow's stature. With that foundation laid, the "Fool" could now make his own subtle yet natural contributions. Klein's thoughts raced. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the notepad and absorbent steel pen used for divination. He quickly wrote down his messenger's summoning ritual, making sure to note that one gold coin was required among the ritual materials. With a soft whoosh, Caine flicked his wrist, launching the notepad like a flying dart toward Frank Lee, who caught it precisely in his hand. "Excellent!" Frank Lee glanced at the information and enthusiastically waved. Caine didn't hesitate further, picked up his suitcase, and left the dock to find a hotel. Originally, he had intended to firmly decline Anderson's suggestion to stay at the same hotel, but after some thought, he agreed. He feared that this unfortunate man might bring another crisis—disaster for the innocent guests and staff within the hotel—and thus decided to monitor him closely, ready to act decisively whenever necessary. Once checked in, Anderson took the key and opened the door to his room, thumping heavily as he sat down with a sense of relief into the armchair. After leaving that perilous sea region, he finally regained a sense of being human, no longer fearing sudden death at any moment. Lying still for a while, Anderson Hude rose slowly, picked up a thermos with a steel casing, turned the glass cup over, and poured himself a cup of hot water. He felt it was time to振作精神 and stroll around the bar—have a drink, eat something, seek funding! As the water cooled slightly, Anderson lifted the cup and took long, satisfying sips, making soft gurgling sounds. Suddenly, he began to cough violently, his face turning purple. Cough! Cough! Cough! Reaching for his throat, he struggled to draw breath. With a crisp crack, the glass cup slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor. Cough, cough, cough… Anderson’s cough grew weaker, his face now swollen and bluish. At that moment, a flicker of fire appeared in his eyes, and the veins on his forearm began to pulse as if they had their own life. Thud! Anderson tumbled to the ground, convulsing for a few moments before going completely still—his breathing seemed to have ceased entirely. After several seconds, the lifeless Anderson suddenly rolled over and sat up, trembling as he touched his face with a look of relief. "Good heavens, I almost choked to death just now from drinking water!" "If that's the case, I might just become the most ridiculous hunter of all in terms of causes of death!" "Well, well—before I entered that sea, I paid a hefty price for this item. Finally, it's come in handy today!" As he spoke, Anderson pulled out a stuffed doll from a hidden pocket inside his waistcoat. The doll was made of reed stems, with crude ink drawings of two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The surface of the doll had already begun to corrode, slowly dripping dark liquid. Within just a few seconds, it completely melted into the liquid, leaving behind a stain on the floor. "The misfortune hasn't lessened—it seems to be growing fiercer... Hmm, Germaine Sparrow once conveyed to me a prophecy stating that the most deadly dangers often lie hidden within the most ordinary aspects of daily life." Anderson paced back and forth, carefully stepping over the scattered glass fragments, afraid that any stumble might bring about another death. "No, I must save myself! I must save myself immediately!" He suddenly pulled open the door and stepped out with cautious resolve. The door swung open swiftly, a revolver aimed directly at him. "Ha! I was just wondering," Anderson half-raised his hands, wildly signaling Germán Sparo to name the extraordinary one who offers prophecies. Too late—"The Enigmatic Queen" had vanished without a trace... Hm, she didn't even leave me a contact method? Nevertheless, since Frank Lee has learned of my messenger's summoning ritual, it means "The Star General" knows, Bernadette knows, and once I return to Beckett, I can enlist Miss Sharon's help—"The Enigmatic Queen" is within her circle, though she appears infrequently. Klein looked at Anderson Hude with a touch of pity. He didn't particularly like this top hunter; he always mentally crafted scenarios against him, displaying various forms of malice. After all, the loss of the pin from his sleeve meant the other party bore half the responsibility. Yet he never took any concrete action—merely thought about it. And when the other actually reached out for help, he wouldn't outright refuse. There already stood a letter that had just begun to be written and a thousand-paper crane that had been sadly disassembled. Before even opening his mouth to answer Anderson’s question, Klein had already decided on whom to consult: The one most thoroughly familiar with the techniques of a "Fate Serpent" was, without a doubt, another "Fate Serpent!" He mentally reviewed the spread area of the unfolded crane and the questions he wished to ask, ran through a mental draft, and then picked up his pencil to say: "How can the misfortune curse brought by the 'Fate Angel' fresco be removed? What is the name of the sequence 4 potion corresponding to the 'Seer'? And where can one obtain its recipe and primary ingredients?" After setting down the pencil, Klein carefully reviewed the content twice, then gently folded the crane back along its creases and tucked it into his leather folder. With all this done, he resumed writing his letter to Mr. Azk. In this letter, Caine first mentions that, with the assistance of the "Generals of the Stars Above," he successfully entered the perilous easternmost region of the Sunia Sea and completed the ritual. Then, his tone shifts to recount an unexpected, unexplained assault by the "General of Hell," Ludewell, which nearly cost him dearly. Building on this topic, he describes the ring believed to be an ancient relic of the Dead God held by Ludewell, thoughtfully inquiring whether Mr. Azk has any recollection of it, and whether it would be helpful to hold it in hand to further awaken memories. After this, Caine casually turns to discuss the "Synod of the Spirits'" "Artificial Dead God" initiative, expressing curiosity about its feasibility and asking whether the earlier documents contain specific details. Then, noting that he still lacks information about the subsequent sequence and remains uncertain about where opportunities might arise, he recounts, in the style of a travelogue, the key safety considerations he has gathered during this journey. He was providing Mr. Azk to with information, so that should he suddenly decide to journey there in search of the remnants of the ancient death gods, he would not be unprepared for the potential dangers. "...It is said that the sea is filled with the murmurs of the 'True Maker,' and the higher the sequence, the clearer the murmurs become, the more susceptible one is to their influence—leading to madness or loss of control—this threshold begins at Sequence 4. However, a small number of half-gods have managed to find ways to move freely there..." Thus wrote Caine at the end of the letter. With ease reaching the heart of the spire, Caine found Wil Anderst's reply scattered among the falling tarot cards: "Friendship reminder: That paper crane is about to fall apart!" "The misfortune curse brought by the frescoes can be resolved by speaking to Rijord." "The high-sequence formula of the 'Seer' can only be accessed by finding the mad Chalat or by journeying to the Honauchis Mountains. If you're a favored of the night, then disregard this." "The sequence four corresponding to the 'Seer' is called: 'The Wizard'!"