On deck, entering the cabin, finding the room—Klein was about to speak when Anderson Hood interrupted: "That's odd. If I were a passenger on this ship, seeing someone like you, an adventurer who's just clashed with the 'King of the Immortals,' I'd certainly be nervous, afraid. I'd either approach the first mate to convince you to switch ships, or I'd take a different one myself. Yet, everyone is completely calm." He's quite perceptive—especially on these subtle details. This is what I mean by a true strategist, isn't it? Always cheerful, talkative, and optimistic on the surface, yet quietly gathering information, preparing himself all along. As Klein reached for the key to open the door, he began to wonder whether this ship truly had any issues. At that moment, Anderson raised his hand, lightly tapped his face, and offered a dry smile: "Now I understand the reason!" "The time gap is too short—this story is still only circulating among a few adventurous travelers and pirates. Most passengers and crew members are completely unaware of it. And certainly, only someone well-informed would recognize your appearance, let alone an ordinary person." Oh, now he's asking himself questions—do you know time is life? Klein muttered under his breath as he entered first-class. This wasn't merely about his own comfort; he had specifically arranged for Anderson Hood to stay in first-class so as to keep a close watch on him and prevent the worst fate of the most unfortunate hunter from becoming a disaster for the ship. With his suitcase in hand, he walked to the main bedroom door and pointed to the guest rooms and servant quarters, saying to Anderson, "You choose one yourself." Anderson stood there, stunned for a moment, his mouth half-open, "You're quite at ease with this—aren't you?" Of course, I have extensive experience working with hunters. If Daniz were here, I'd have assigned him to the servant quarters. Klein said nothing and entered the master bedroom. At 1:30, the horn sounded, and the passenger ship departed on time. Having hung his coat, Crane stepped out of the master bedroom, into the living room, and gazed toward the horizon beyond the window. There, the sea shimmered, unfolding gradually along the contours of the Tuscan Island, gently swaying in the wind. "You can't possibly get a full view of everything like this," Anderson said, approaching with a smile. "You can only see one side—'The Wrecked' might be approaching from the other side, or even from the front. The best way is to climb to the observation deck, hah! There will surely be crew members there, but a seasoned hunter or pirate has a hundred ways to deceive the senses!" Crane turned to Anderson Hood, his expression calm and composed. "That's quite accurate," he replied. "This is entirely up to you." "Ah?" Anderson looked puzzled. He suddenly realized, and asked with a touch of surprise, "Didn't you have any other way of observing?" "How can we set a trap for the 'King of the Immortals' if we can't observe him?" "No," Kline nodded with exceptional composure, "it all depends on you." ...Who gave you the courage to leave under the gaze of the 'King of the Immortals'? Anderson found himself at a loss for words. He murmured, "Let me go, I'm going to jump ship," and began to leave the cabin, heading straight for the lower observation deck. In theory, the 'King of the Immortals,' Agarithus, or the 'Agora,' should have already sensed my hostility, detected the threat emanating from me. So, would they launch an attack? Would they believe in my current performance, with no allies, or would they suspect the presence of a stronger force capable of disrupting their threat perception? Kline turned his gaze from the door and once again looked out over the vast sea. After a while, he suddenly felt something, quickly activated his spiritual sight, and turned his head to the side. A tall, skeletal messenger emerged from the floor surface, the black flames in its eye sockets gently flickering. It had only revealed its upper body, so it wasn't much taller than Caine, gazing levelly at him and offering the sheet of paper clutched in its hands. Mr. Azk had replied so promptly this time... Caine nodded politely, taking the neatly folded paper. Once the skeletal messenger dissolved and vanished, he unfolded the letter under the window's sunlight: "…I'm delighted to hear you've been promoted—your travels have proven far more fascinating than I'd imagined. That sea region is indeed perilous; I vaguely recall it may be connected to the origin of the Great Cataclysm. As for why the ancient Death Deities still retain a lingering presence there, I'm not entirely certain. I'll keep your advice in mind. Until I fully recover my memories, I won't venture into that sea region—the whispers of the 'True Maker' are not particularly pleasant." "I'm interested in the ring that 'General of Hell' holds, though I've recently been preoccupied with an old matter and may need some time before I can visit him..." As he read this, a smile naturally formed on Caine's face: Next time I write to Mr. Azk, I'll let him know that I've found a way to pinpoint the exact location of 'General of Hell' Ludewell, and I'll urge him to bring me along—oh, bother! I haven't been able to track down the divination fishman's cuff pin lately, nor do I know whether Ludewell has noticed it, or if he might have already lost it... Well, once I confirm that the 'Ship of the Final Departure' won't be coming, I'll go to the Gray Mists to make the divination... His gaze shifted, and Caine continued reading: "The ancient texts obtained from Caterina do indeed mention the concept of artificial death gods. In short, inspired by the phenomenon of 'hidden sages' suddenly coming back to life with distinct personalities within the current royal family of the past Baryan Empire, now part of the current spiritual hierarchy, the leaders of the spiritual order hope to achieve a similar revival "It is achievable, because the extraordinary never perishes; when Death falls, the corresponding qualities and powers do not vanish entirely—they endure, merely returning to the realm of concept and abstraction, much like the earliest 'Hidden Sage.' From the records, it appears that research in this area has not yet achieved breakthroughs, though that has been the case for several centuries now... The sequence-four potion corresponding to the 'Seer' is called the 'Witch-Weaver.' The strength of the Antigonus and Charathus families left a lasting impression on me—even though I no longer recall the specific details, I still remember the sense of apprehension that came over me." "I'm not entirely sure where exactly one can obtain the recipe and materials—perhaps you might consider switching to a nearby path. I recall now that among the available options, you can choose either the 'Sorcerer' sequence 4 under the 'Apprentice' path, or the 'Parasite' sequence 4 under the 'Thief' path. However, I vaguely remember that these three paths should actually be interchangeable only at sequence 3..." Indeed... only the path of 'The Magic Mirror,' Arōdes, remains a hope. Kline forced a smile, spreading his lips to appear cheerful. After reading the letter, he took out paper and pen, swiftly writing down the points he had just thought of, and also inquired about the specific definition of 'mythical beings.' He didn't immediately summon the messenger, setting down the paper and pen, waiting for the "Ship of Death" to appear before adding the plea for help and sending it off. With the "Staff of the Sea God" sustaining the scene in midair, he might just be able to wait for Mr. Azk to traverse the spiritual realm and come to his rescue. Then, together, they'd have a real chance of securing the "Ship of Death." He hadn't written it earlier because the "Devil" could sense the danger and would then stop coming—though he wasn't sure whether the Devil could now perceive the specific nature of the malice. Klein nodded slightly with a touch of regret, walked over to the coat rack, took up his coat and hat, and headed toward the dining hall. Witnessing the complete destruction of the underground ruins, he had just planned to take some time off to investigate the enigmatic detective Sherlock Moriarty, beginning with his former landlord, when the team received an urgent assignment—launching an investigation into a new series of connected murders—and thus had to leave Beckett. "Leonard, what do you think?" After finishing his remarks, Sostre called on Leonard Mitchell to continue. Leonard glanced at the content on the board, then quickly organized his thoughts: "I believe this is not merely a cover-up—it may also involve a ritual requirement. As you know, Captain Sostre, 'demons' have many rituals to defile evil." "That makes sense," Sostre indicated to the next team member. Phew—thank goodness the old man has been tutoring me in 'demonology' lately... Leonard exhaled, settling into focused listening as the teammates discussed. …… After two days of sailing, the passenger ship safely reached the island of Orlavi. Upon checking into the inn, Caine said to Anderson Hude, "You stay here and wait for me. The half-god doesn't like strangers visiting unexpectedly." He didn't want to reveal his contact within the "School of Life." "I hope I can live long enough to meet him," Anderson smiled and whispered to himself. Caine's lips slightly moved, and he dropped the rest of his words, then took a carriage straight for the Saint Drelko Church of the Church of the Storm. Not long after, he found himself once again in the small room within the magnificent bell tower, where he had seen the tall, oddly asymmetrical, and quite unattractive bell-ringer, Kanoe. After hearing the purpose of Germán Sparo's visit, Kanoe, who had been hunched over, nodded: "I'll take you to Mr. Rijod, the member of parliament. He has recovered and is no longer at his previous location." "Very well." "Klein had just finished his response when he suddenly recalled that Kanos was a human perfected product of the 'Mother Earth Goddess' Church, and thus asked, 'Do you know Frank Lee?'”