...I didn't even have to mention it myself... I was actually a bit hesitant to bring it up at first. Underneath, Kline exhaled a quiet relief, mentally assessing Gelmann Sparrow's character, and said calmly, "I don't take advantage of anyone." As soon as he finished speaking, he slightly regretted it, fearing that the "Iceberg Admiral" might change his mind. Edwenna's pale blue eyes shifted slightly. "The only condition is that, if anything comes to light, let me know the answer." Relief washed over Kline. He nodded gently. "Agreed." A few seconds later, he returned to his room, carrying a large, dark iron key—its size comparable to a seven-string guitar. At that moment, a vibrant and passionate song rose from the forward deck: "Your eyes are so captivating, like the morning sunlight; Whenever night falls and darkness comes, I wander alone, filled with melancholy, steadfastly waiting for the light to shine; Oh, your eyes are so captivating, like the morning sunlight..." (Note 1) Unconsciously, Crane moved to the window and peered out. He saw the bonfire now burning, the spare crew members of the *Golden Dream* gathered around, some roasting meat and fish, others sipping their drinks in quiet contentment, while others danced in an irregular yet lively rhythm to the song of the "singer" Orpheus. The atmosphere was truly joyful. The enticing aroma of roasted fats wafted out, rising in gentle streams upward. Caine noticed Anderson Hude among the pirates, drinking heartily, eating with genuine pleasure, and occasionally shouting out remarks or telling jokes—seeming fully integrated as a member of the "Golden Dream" crew, no longer the outsider he once was. Yet Daniz had not appeared at all; at least, Caine hadn't spotted him beside the "Iron Skin" or the "Water Barrel." Anderson's social skills were quite strong, as long as he didn't provoke anyone—perhaps a trait of the strategist's information-gathering abilities? Well, he might have transferred all his resentment onto me... I'm not sure if Daniz will be inspired by this event to rise and grow stronger. If he steadily advances and gains greater strength, then my "Fool's" followers won't just be myself anymore—no longer needing to constantly embody the triad. Hah, finally, my hidden presence has real believers, reliable agents who can carry out my instructions. Though for now, it's only Daniz... Still, it's rather modest. While reflecting on this, Kline prepared himself to begin the ritual, offering the "Giant's Key" as a sacrifice to the gray mist. At that moment, however, a sudden inspiration struck him, and instinctively he activated his spiritual vision, turning his gaze toward the side. One by one, white bones were thrown into the air, coalescing into messengers whose eyes burned with black flames. The messenger's body extended halfway into the lower layer, aligning nearly level with Germán Spáro and not yet breaking through the ceiling. Yet its grasping palm remained vast, as if it could directly encircle Klein's head. Mr. Azk had responded quite promptly this time... Klein nodded politely as he took the letter and unfolded it. As he was about to read the contents, he suddenly noticed that the bone messenger remained in place, not as usual, simply delivering the letter and then vanishing. "Is there something wrong?" Klein asked, surprised. Just as he began to speak, a thought flashed through his mind, and he quickly added, "If you need a reply, I'll summon you again." The messenger's large head nodded, and then its body suddenly dissolved, cascading downward like a waterfall back into the Underworld. Last time, Lady Renette Tiniel had been waiting for a reply—this bone messenger is no exception. Is this perhaps a new regulation or charter in the realm of messengers? Pfft, there's absolutely no such thing as the "Messenger Realm"—they're mostly self-appointed, and the majority of messengers are actually part-time... Hmm, just now, the White Bone Messenger gave me a sense of slight underestimation, as if it were feeling a bit overlooked. Still, I didn't dwell on it. I shifted my focus back to Mr. Azk's letter: "In short, from the moment they attain divinity and reach Sequence 4, they gradually evolve into mythic beings. This transformation process concludes only at Sequence 2. Therefore, angels and saints are fundamentally distinct. In ancient times, angels were even considered divine beings in their own right." "Every half-divine being—whether a sage or an angel—possesses their own mythic biological form, a non-human形态 that blends intricate knowledge, divine qualities, and hidden symbols. Even a simple glance from an ordinary person at this form can cause severe injury, or even mental breakdown. The higher the status of the half-divine being, the more intense and resistant these effects become, making it increasingly difficult to withstand them. Thus, beings at this level must constantly regulate themselves, never revealing their mythic forms, or merely their presence alone would bring disaster to those around them. For half-divines, a key sign of losing control is the loss of rationality, rendering them unable to contain their mythic forms." "However, the mythical bioform of the Saints is still incomplete, retaining clear traces of their original racial characteristics. Strictly speaking, one must reach Sequence 2 to be considered a true mythical being..." It's unclear whether the 'Hermit' lady is seeking the blood of a truly mythical being, or if a more relaxed standard will suffice... Hmm, will the umbilical cord blood left after Wil. Anderst's birth count? He is the Sequence 1 'Fated Serpent,' a definitive mythical being, yet his current state doesn't quite align. Once I've accumulated more such matters, I'll write them down on paper cranes and ask him together—yes, I only have two writing opportunities left, so I must be especially careful. Nevertheless, I'm soon returning to Bekkanth. Thinking of this, Kline quietly calculated in his mind when exactly Wil. Anderst, the 'Fated Serpent,' would be born. He didn't recall it precisely, but based on memory, he believed Wil. Anderst was conceived in late November of last year, and now it's mid-April. So, will He be born in July? Maybe a bit earlier... Caine wasn't entirely certain, after all, since in his previous life he had never had a girlfriend, let alone a wife or children. He quickly gathered his thoughts, set this matter aside for now, and began preparing the ritual, offering the "Giant's Key" as a sacrifice to himself—choosing not to use a spirit-carrying method because the key was too heavy for him to lift at present. The great door is primarily blue-gray, with numerous symmetrical symbols, emblems, and patterns inscribed on either side, exuding both solemnity and mystery. The golden hour light blurs and casts its glow, lending the double-leafed gate a distinct sense of decay—as if the world's daylight has faded and eternal darkness is drawing near. Shortly thereafter, Caine noticed a dark hole on the left side of the door seam, about three to four meters high, roughly the size of an adult human's fist. The scene soon shattered, and the dream ended. Caine opened his eyes. "A gate similar to the black monastery, yet of a different hue... the glow of dusk... my interpretation is that this signifies one of the doors of the 'Kingdom of the Giants.' Indeed, the earliest, translucent, wavy barrier likely symbolizes the separation between the 'Land Forgotten by the Gods' and the outside world—thus, without the gray mist being dispelled, no matter how many divinations were performed, the desired vision remained obscured." Klein lightly tapped the edge of the weathered long table, forming a clear judgment in his mind. He had already decided to purchase this "Key of the Giants!" After returning the 5,000 pounds in cash to the real world, Klein arranged the items on the table, clutched the thick stack of money, and once again left the room, heading toward the captain's quarters. "Hm, Gilshias, this 'Apostle of Desire,' his reward is merely a key plus 1,000 gold pounds..." Klein glanced at the cash in his hands and once more knocked on the captain's door. With a creak, Edwenna appeared at the door, glanced at the cash in Germán Sparo's hands, her eyebrows slightly raised, her eyes widening suddenly and brightening: "You've got results?" Edwena paused, her eyes sparkling as she added, "Well, I'll admit that, but I won't answer all the questions." At the same time, silently praying in her heart, she wished that the collection of the "Admiral of the Iceberg" included more advanced spellcraft techniques. "No questions," Edwena's lips moved slightly, and her expression brightened noticeably. "See you tomorrow," said Kain, who then removed his hat and bowed formally as he took his leave. Edwena returned the gesture seriously, "See you tomorrow." ........... Outside the "Brave One" tavern on Iron Gate Street, Beckland. Emlyn White stepped down from the carriage and pushed open the wooden door, entering. Immediately, he was overwhelmed by the mixed odors inside, and he lifted his hand, pinching his nose in distaste. In the competition to hunt down the followers of the "Primitive Moon," he hasn't made much progress yet, so he plans to visit the "Brave Ones Bar"—a place frequently mentioned by Sherlock Moriarty—where he hopes to meet Ian, a well-informed black-market arms dealer whose name he learned through other channels before arriving at Emlyn's. Note 1: Adapted from the lyrics of "My Sun." ps: There's an update at midnight, yes—going forward, I'll release the midnight updates five minutes early, since the updates often get delayed at exactly 00:00.