Senyor couldn't possibly risk betting on the items the other had thrown with no threat—immediately stepping aside, he slipped to a distance, allowing the iron cigarette box, sealed by the ethereal wall, to fall to the ground. Then, he opened his mouth again, emitting a sharp, piercing cry. The roar seeming to rise from the depths of the spirit itself stung Clain's head, even though he had long been accustomed to the murmured assaults of beings such as the "True Maker" or Mr. The Door. Despite his strong resilience against such attacks, he still experienced a brief moment of stillness, his nostrils burning as though tiny capillaries had ruptured. However, the combination of his natural resistance and the weakening effect of the "bribery" ensured that this moment of pause lasted only a single instant—a detail entirely unknown to Senyor, the Blood Above. Thus, Clain feigned a slower recovery, projecting an air of frailty, waiting for the enemy to make the move. In normal combat, since the "Spirit of Resentment" can leap across mirror-like objects, making its position unpredictable, even when he generates cascades of flames to achieve continuous flashes, he cannot maintain a consistent distance of five meters. His manipulation of the "Spirit Thread" often yields only partial success before being abruptly interrupted. To address this, he decides to take a calculated risk—having the opponent leap into his traps, swiftly concluding the battle and retreating toward the cliff's edge. Observing the target growing noticeably dazed from repeated stings of the Spirit of Resentment's shrieks, Senior immediately deepens his breath. At the same time, the figure of the "General of Blood" appears swiftly and clearly, scaled down in proportion, as if projected from within the eyes. This is not merely a reflection—these two figures seem to exist vividly within the pupil itself! As the "Wailing Spirit" was nearly complete, Caine, clad in tattered, blackened garments, slightly bent his back and calmly extended his hand to the left, as though a courteous gentleman were saying, "Please." The "Crawling Hunger" maintained its eerie, regal blackness, distorting the target of the "General of Blood" with force. Due to the earlier freezing aura, white frost and crystalline formations had spread throughout the surroundings—equivalent to mirrors! On this thin layer of ice, Senyor's figure in his triangular hat emerged, slightly startled. At this moment, the "Crawling Hunger" shifted once more into a deep, profound blackness. Caine then expelled a series of foul-sounding demon words: "Slowly!" Senyor, who had just been about to leap away using the mirror-like surfaces, instantly stiffened, his form becoming clearly outlined, his movements rigid and uncoordinated, and his attempt ultimately failed. Because "slow" couldn't be applied continuously, Klein's gloves grew pale, tinged with a faint green. "A wraith!" The frost on the ground intensified once more, spreading swiftly toward Senior, turning him into a complete ice sculpture from his toes upward. Knowing that "wraiths" possessed strong resistance to freezing, Klein didn't hesitate. In a single second, he transformed "the hunger that creeps" into something golden and solid. The ethereal threads of black in his eyes dissolved, and two brilliant streaks of silver lightning surged from deep within to the surface. "The Inquisitor!" "Mental Piercing!" Under normal circumstances, Senior's unified body of spirit and flesh would suffer only minor effects, possibly even reversing the impact. But having just escaped the lingering slowness and still under the influence of the ice, he could only endure this invisible bolt aimed directly at his spirit form. His mind felt as though it had been pierced by a knife tip, violently stirred, and the pain radiated through his entire body, momentarily stripping him of reason. When he regained clarity and prepared to leap continuously, gaining distance, the adventuring knight across from him, with his composed demeanor, opened his mouth again: "Slowly!" Dogshit—Señor, the "Champion of Blood," now moved with renewed stiffness and sluggishness. Undoubtedly, he had once again endured the subsequent attacks of "Frost Sealing" and "Spirit Piercing." After he had finally managed to break free, Germain Spalro, with his dark hair and deep brown eyes, expressionless, opened his mouth a third time: "Slowly!" Señor's heart surged with anger, then despair, only to fall back into the same cycle once more. Meanwhile, Klein, who had already secured three consecutive controls over his opponent, began subtly manipulating the "spirit threads" of the "Champion of Blood." In fact, his most effective strategy right now was to, while the opponent was unable to break free, deliver two or three decisive shots with the "Hourglass" revolver—yet his past failures had taught him that the adversaries possessed magical items capable of making themselves fortunate. An attack that was too direct or too devastating often resulted in unforeseen complications, ultimately undermining the intended outcome. For this very reason, he had chosen to gradually manipulate the "Spirit Thread"! Time flew by swiftly. While circling the "Blood Sovereign" Senior, Caine skillfully evaded potential attacks from the Rose School's half-deities, steadily achieving an initial state of control. Three seconds, two seconds, one second! Senio's thoughts momentarily stalled; every part of his body seemed coated in rust. Caine had no further strength to summon the "Crawling Hunger," instead deepening his control and making steady, unhurried movements as he continued to glide. No... not yet... cannot... continue... like this... Senyor's thoughts lagged, coalescing before him into a slender, translucent ice arrow. It carried a hint of deep green, as if paying homage to the surrounding forest. Having watched the entire sequence unfold in slow motion, Caine had already calmly withdrawn his left hand, retrieving the *Grosel's Travels* from his chest and settling into position. Swoosh! The ice arrow finally launched, seemingly aimed straight at Caine's chest, but midway through its flight, it suddenly veered upward at an angle. This shift should have been a sudden, decisive blow—yet Senyor's mental control had slowed, and only as the arrow approached Caine's body did it receive the command to change course. The adjustment was incomplete and rather abrupt, easily deflected when Caine slightly shifted the *Grosel's Travels*. Senyor's complexion grew a little paler. After several seconds of contemplation, he slowly opened his mouth, attempting to emit a wailing cry of complaint. Klein was already prepared and stepped forward first: "Crack!" Air bullets shot out swiftly, striking Senyor in the mouth, forcing his head back and causing his teeth to fall out, silencing his shrieks right at the throat. As Senyor's resistance gradually intensified and his efforts one after another were broken—even his frantic, mad outbursts of losing control—Klein felt a growing sense of satisfaction. At that moment, suddenly, a sharp, piercing, and dreadful infant cry echoed through the forest. Klein's skin prickled with gooseflesh; the book *The Travels of Groserl* slipped from his hands and landed on the ground. His mind seemed to be tightly gripped by an invisible hand, momentarily losing all sensation—of everything, including the "spirit threads"—and Senyor's state of being manipulated dissolved. At a distance of over a hundred meters, the large, dark infant, whose skin was swollen and wrinkled yet appeared as though just emerging from water, broke free from the ethereal state and returned to reality. His limbs were both slender and long, and on his face there was a single irregular opening, lined all the way around with a dense array of white, gleaming teeth. At this very moment, Jack's body bore numerous distinct and deep wounds that pierced through the black, swollen skin, allowing a steady flow of dark green, putrid liquid to seep out. Once the rose-school half-god emerged, he no longer fled or retreated; instead, he screamed wildly, emitting cries reminiscent of a newborn infant, which left both Caine and Senior half-unconscious, half-in pain, their bodies showing signs of losing control. Four golden-haired, red-eyed heads burst forth from the void, each opening its mouth in a silent, piercing cry, silencing the dreadful wailing. Rynette Tynecor and Jack once again engaged in a fierce struggle, swiftly moving between the realms of spirit and reality, darting through leaves, grass, insect eggs, ice crystals, and thorns. Senior and Caine stood motionless at their original posts, struggling desperately to shake off the lingering impact of the infant's cries. In this regard, Senior believed that, as a "spirit of resentment," he possessed an advantage unmatched by others, and his lips unconsciously curled upward. He had already decided how to handle the other. Yet at this very moment, the sharp, rugged gaze of the adventuring traveler—once so disoriented—had now sharpened with clarity! This transformation had occurred just one second after the infant's cry had ceased. The highly experienced Caine recovered first, noticing that Senior remained still and sluggish. Opportunity! A thought struck him. Instead of launching an unexpected ranged attack or opting for the more time-consuming manipulation of the "spirit threads," Caine simply pushed off with his right foot and surged forward like a leopard. His left glove, deep and shadowed, settled behind him, coalescing into a massive weapon forged of molten rock and flame—shaped more like a blade. "The Apostles of Desire," "Sword of Molten Rock!" Thud! Klein's body surged past Senior from the left, the blazing great sword sweeping horizontally across the latter's chest and abdomen, locking firmly between them. With a sudden burst, Senior was ignited by a pale blue flame, though his body sustained only injuries—no loss of life—only writhing in agony and crying out in pain. After passing each other, Klein immediately abandoned the "Sword of Molten Rock," stepped with his left foot, and pivoted, now facing the back of "The General of Blood," placing the iron-black revolver, "The Clock of Doom," firmly against the latter's occipital region. He didn't launch a decisive strike—he simply pulled the trigger! With a loud crash, his body suddenly wavered as if the ground beneath his feet were hollow. The funeral bell then slid sharply downward, striking Senyor's neck at a delicate golden angle. A stream of dark green blood sprayed out, and the "General of Blood" lost half his neck, collapsing forward into unconsciousness—though he did not die. Just as Caine prepared to fire a follow-up shot, the sky above dimmed, and suddenly an arm emerged! This arm stretched ten meters in length, its surface dark and viscous, adorned with strange protrusions—some shaped like skulls, others like three-dimensional eyes, or tongues with sharp teeth. As it appeared, the entire forest trembled. All the leaves withered instantly, every insect stiffened and perished, and every wild animal either collapsed or went mad, tearing at its own body, drenched in blood. Klein's strong sense of impending danger drove him to suddenly close his eyes, plunge forward toward the ground, then roll in a smooth motion, grabbing his travelogue, *The Grolsch Journey*, and shielding it in front of his face! PS: Thank you all—we've finally earned our well-deserved title as the true leaders of the monthly pass!