On the mountains outside Bayam, a forest had lost all vitality and was partially buried beneath collapsed rock walls. A tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man with deep-blue, thick hair stood upright in the air, gazing down with evident fury. He was Bishop Rothde of the Storm Church, Metropolitan of the Lorshe region, Senior Prelate of the "Vengeance," and "King of the Seas" Aen Cortman. At that moment, Cortman's mind still held the vivid images of the battle, preserving the departure of each participant: The angel of the Rose School employed a method to transmit power from a distance, and after her objective failed, she gently carried away her severely wounded companion—no one wished to leave her behind, except for the strange creature that had appeared unexpectedly, Aen. Cortman remembered clearly that when the angel retracted her arm, dark, viscous surface had developed one after another sparse white feathers, sprouting from the top of the skeletal head, from the three-dimensional eyes, and from countless unexpected places—this transformation had occurred simply because the angel had avoided the glove exuding the "true Creator's" essence, using only a slight amount of force to shatter a seemingly ordinary copper whistle; The strange ethereal being, after entangling the angel for a while, willingly retreated into the deeper realms of the spirit world, leaving Cortman unable to pursue; The celestial saint of the Aurora Order, who had arrived via the portal, had not actively engaged in the battle, merely observing with curiosity before picking up the glove radiating the "true Creator's" essence and, just before the battle concluded, reopening the portal and departing once more; The enigmatic Yet, Ayn Cortman recognized him. A traveler capable of slaying a Sequence 5 "Desire Apostle" had earned the right to have his materials placed upon the "Ocean King's" table! Though this was a less prominent position, Ayn Cortman, having himself navigated the Sequence of the "Navigator," still remembered the details. His gaze turned toward the cliff, fixed upon the waves constantly crashing against the island below, and he softly murmured a name: "Germain Spalro!" …… On some remote island scattered across a distant sea, the outlines of Caine and Azk's figures swiftly emerged along the shoreline. As Caine prepared to speak, Azk—dressed in a formal suit, wearing a hat, with a warm copper complexion—his brown eyes suddenly deepened, as though connecting to a world of profound stillness and darkness. With a mere gesture of his right hand, the slender, underdeveloped white feathers that had been scattered around instantly flew out, crumpled into a single ball, and settled into his palm. Azk simply grasped it gently, and the strange feathers vanished—as if they had become food for the silent world before him. "Mr. Azk, these feathers came from the bronze whistle of the Spiritual Order!" Kline first stated the fact, then explained in detail. "The situation was quite urgent. To further complicate matters, I blew the bronze whistle, gave the corresponding feathers to the messenger, and then a sensation like the descent of the Underworld appeared. I didn't stay long—I quickly left the scene—but the feathers still grew on my body." Azk, with his gentle features, nodded slightly. "I sensed it from a distance." "It's probably not a typical high-sequence extraordinary being. I suspect it might be a byproduct of the Spiritual Order's artificial deity project." Ah—so it successfully held off that angel from the Rose School? Kline thought, feeling a sense of relief. Azk glanced around, then continued: "I still have matters to attend to, and this will help awaken more of my memories. Once everything is settled, I'll come back to retrieve the ancient ring left by the deceased god—my intuition tells me it will take me either to the Storm Sea or to the Southern Continent. In the meantime, you should head to major cities like Bekland or Trier. There, the Rose Order's resources are quite limited, and they'll be cautious in their actions. Of course, the best option would be the headquarters of the major churches, such as the island of Pasu—but that comes with its own risks." Azk ended with a light remark, as befits a typical Ruin gentleman. This life experience seemed to have left the deepest impression on him; no matter how many memories he regained, clear traces remained. Given that decades of time exert little influence over millennia of history, when one starts from a state of complete forgetfulness, twenty to thirty years are sufficient to reshape a person entirely. When Mr. Azké fully recovers his memories, will the varied experiences of his life give rise to distinct personalities? What a profound question—this will require Miss Justice to ponder deeply and seek counsel from the Psychological Alchemy Guild. While reflecting on this, Klein noticed that Mr. Azké had not pursued further inquiry into any disagreements between himself and the Rose School, and thus quietly relieved his mind. He then asked, "Mr. Azké, what do you know about the 'Tree of Desire'?" Mr. Azké shook his head: "Even before I received your letter, I had no knowledge of its existence." Did he not know of the 'Tree of Desire'? Klein was momentarily struck by this, and then inquired, "And what about the 'Bound Gods'?" Azk returned the shake of his head, sighed, and smiled. "In ancient times, He or They might have had other names." Indeed, Mr. Azk had begun his cycle of losing and rediscovering memories at the end of the Fourth Age, wandering across the northern continent ever since—the Rosary School itself emerged on the southern continent at the dawn of the Fifth Age. Klein nodded, didn't press further, and as Azk had other matters to attend to, he offered a few more instructions before once again guiding him through the Spirit Realm, all the way to a specific location on the eastern coast of the northern continent, where he left him by the seaside. Then he walked backward four steps into that mysterious space and sat in the seat belonging to "The Fool," bringing with him the metal vial he had previously held. Since the blood inside the vial remained suspended in the gray mist, uncoagulated, Klein, having donned gloves and secured all other items, poured out a few drops and gently applied them to the deep brown cover of *The Travels of Grozsel*. Hmm... why hasn't a new story begun, with a fresh chapter, since the arrival of this new character? Klein looked at the book, its name unchanged, and suddenly found himself wondering. Before he could ponder further, the scene before him began to blur, as though countless transparent beings were hidden all around him. Soon, everything came into sharp focus, and Klein found himself seated on a long wooden bench by the roadside—the very spot where he had previously left. "Must be the save-and-load function," he thought to himself, pulling out the soil stained with Senior's blood, folding a branch over casually, and beginning his divination. Based on the results, he proceeded out of the city, into the nearby forests, and at the edge of a small stream, found the "Lord of Blood" still unconscious. It had only been about ten to fifteen minutes since the previous battle! The dramatic wounds on his neck and chest abdomen had noticeably contracted, indicating significant recovery—his vitality was entirely unlike that of a human. Within another half-hour, the "Lord of Blood" should awaken, and within another couple of hours, he would regain full mobility. That was the essence of a "wight"—that was the very definition of a "spirit of resentment"! You had the chance to be saved by the angels and demigods of your organization—yet your blood accidentally splashed onto The Travels of Grolle, turning you into a prisoner of that very book, giving me the time I needed to act calmly... Of course, this spared you from the aftermath of the demigod battle, preventing your immediate death, though whether that counts as lucky or unfortunate remains unclear. Kline murmured as he observed, gripping the "Great Bell" firmly in one hand while reaching toward Senior's neck to remove the silver necklace. The necklace featured a pendant shaped like an ancient coin, with intricate patterns and symbolic motifs on both its front and back, and inscribed with an ancient Hermes script: "Your fortune now is directly proportional to your misfortune in the future." Was that indeed the magical item—the "General of Blood"—that was supposed to enhance luck? Alas, even the half-god couldn't make me any luckier—probably it wouldn't help either. Maybe I should sell it to raise funds, or ask the messenger girl if she'd accept it as payment. Klein didn't immediately fold the necklace; instead, he simply placed it on the stone beside him. He was afraid of some unforeseen negative effect that might interfere with his upcoming actions. Then, Klein focused intently on manipulating the "spirit thread" of the "General of Blood." He was crafting his first long-term puppet, to summarize the principles of the "Master of Secret Personas." And what puppet is more convenient to carry around than a "wandering spirit"? Within a span of just ten seconds—no more than one, two, or three seconds—Klein achieved initial control. Senior's spiritual intuition sensed a looming danger, and his body showed clear signs of struggle, though due to his severe injuries and sluggish condition, he remained unconscious. Time passed second by second. By the fourth minute, Caine couldn't conceal a deep breath of relief. At that moment, Senyor, the "General of the Blood," opened his eyes, rolled to his feet, and faced him, performing a well-coordinated bow to his chest: "Good morning, sir. In what way may I assist you?"