The northern district, Saint Samuel's Church. As soon as Caine stepped into the main chapel, he naturally scanned the space, guided by the scattered beams of light streaming through the wall behind the altar, and took in all the worshippers praying within. With just a single glance, he quickly identified his target, moving smoothly and without any disturbance along the aisle toward the front. Sitting in the first row was an elderly man dressed in a black clerical robe, his demeanor cold, his face pale, and his hair dry and yellowed. He was closed-eyed, deeply engaged in prayer— one of the internal wardens Caine had previously sensed. He typically rotated his shift every Friday. Caine did not approach closely; instead, he settled into a seat two rows back, handing his hat and cane to his personal servant, Richard. As he sat down, he silently activated the "Luminous Thread" vision by quickly pressing his thumb against the joint of his index finger twice with his left hand. Suddenly, a series of ethereal black threads appeared before Caine's eyes, emerging densely from the bodies of various beings and spreading out in clusters toward infinity. Having just settled, Caine shifted his gaze and directed his attention to the internal guard. Upon doing so, he nearly exclaimed aloud, though thanks to the "clown's" self-control and his anticipation of unusual occurrences, he managed to maintain a calm demeanor. Within his field of vision, while the elderly man with gray hair did emit "spirit threads," his body interior remained an intense deep black, absorbing the origins of those ethereal threads—dramatically different from that of a typical extraordinary being! Indeed, their souls had been eroded by the power of the seal's core, undergoing changes at the spiritual level... This suggests the issue aligns more closely with my second hypothesis from last time—on some level, they have become part of the seal's core itself. As soon as signs of instability emerge, the core instinctively responds, triggering a forceful effort to restore equilibrium. That's why the internal wardens must volunteer and have reached advanced age—they should fully understand what lies ahead. Klein found himself unexpectedly moved, preparing to withdraw his perception of the "spiritual thread" and shift his gaze. Caine's scalp instantly tingled as he forced a smile and nodded to the other, as though this were merely a normal eye contact. The internal guard, however, moved slowly and finally responded. Then, Caine felt the surrounding environment withdraw—first blurring, then settling into clarity. At that moment, he knew he had been passively drawn into a dream. Maintaining the image of Daven Tanquetes, he instinctively surveyed his surroundings and realized he was still within the Saint Samuel Church, though all the pews were either damaged or overturned, scattered everywhere, as if the church had recently been attacked. The altar ahead was covered in cracks, overgrown with weeds, and dusted with accumulated debris, as though it had long since fallen into disuse. The guard with the grayish hair stood beside the collapsed offering chest, coldly gazing at Daven Tanquetes in his black formal attire. Seeing Klein look back, his mouth opened slightly, revealing sharp, pale, uneven teeth. On these teeth, faint, indistinct, small figures were embedded—complete with faces and limbs, each expressing different emotions yet sharing a similar anguish, as though imprisoned here, unable to free themselves. "H—H—" the internal guard emitted a low, wild roar, his back bending forward. His ribs and waist swelled, fabric stretching as four arm-like structures emerged without skin, veined and writhing. Then, fine black fur sprouted, and sharp nails popped out at the tips of his fingers. In just a few seconds, the once relatively normal internal guard had transformed into a creature lying on the ground with eight limbs—resembling both a spider silently weaving a web in the night, waiting for prey, and a deformed black wolf, evoking a profound sense of dread. At the same time, within the broken and abandoned altar, two massive hands, covered in black fur, suddenly extended and pressed against the edges. Slippery, gelatinous tendrils of black energy surged outward, spreading rapidly and filling the entire great prayer hall in an instant. The chilling atmosphere, the overwhelming sense of dread, and the ethereal, immense, yet blurred figures gradually emerged, piercing through the invisible barrier. Had the internal guardian lost control? Was it the guardian who had gone awry? Standing there, Caine instinctively reached for a response, striving with his own unique nature to break free from the dream. Yet in that very moment, memories of what had happened before flashed through his mind, his face pale with alarm, his expression one of fear and trembling as he hurried toward the door, as though struggling in a nightmare. Just one breath later, a steady, tide-like flow of dark, icy stillness poured in from outside, completely submerging the dream and restoring calm. Klein snapped awake, realizing he had fallen asleep without knowing when, while the internal guard with prematurely gray hair had already turned and resumed closing his eyes in prayer. Doun Tanghates subtly shifted his gaze, still visibly startled, casting nervous glances left and right as though still immersed in the dream he had just experienced, unable to fully shake off the lingering fear. Only after several seconds of taking two deep breaths did he look again at the holy emblem and traced a crimson moon upon his chest. It wasn't until then that Klein had the chance to reflect on what had just happened, to speculate what might have transpired: Had his observation of Tanghates' "spiritual thread" triggered an uncontrolled reaction in him, prompting an intense response that had forcibly drawn him into the dream, as if attempting to address the situation? Then, presumably, the core seal behind Charnes Gate would detect the anomaly and stabilize the issue. The crucial point now is whether the internal guardian still remembers the origin of his near-destabilization. If he has grown accustomed to this state, his current condition might make the specifics of what went wrong rather hazy. Of course, it might not be my issue at all—perhaps he is already approaching collapse. Klein once again turned to the elderly man with the grayish hair ahead, observing what he would do next, in order to gauge his own response. If necessary, he would simply activate "the creeping hunger" to begin his journey. Klein made a swift decision and patiently waited for any potential changes. A few minutes later, he saw the Bishop of Elektra enter through the side door and approach him. Klein's heart tightened, and he opened his left hand into a spread of five fingers, preparing to activate "the creeping hunger." At that moment, however, he suddenly had a flash of insight and decided to hold off. If the internal guardians have already conveyed my concerns to the bishops through dreams, then now I will be met with a concerted effort from many remarkable church figures. After all, dreams allow them to reach out without risking harm to other faithful, so there's no necessity for them to summon bishops who know me personally—this should rather be an act of comfort and reassurance. Kline withdraws his gaze and maintains his prayer posture. Within less than a minute, he finally feels someone approaching and quickly lifts his head to glance beside him, where Bishop Elektra gently remarks, "You don't seem very well, do you?" "I don't know how I managed to fall asleep just now—I had a terrible dream, and I'm still a bit afraid," Kline chuckles self-deprecatingly. Bishop Elektra then sits down beside him and speaks calmly, "Dreams often reflect our inner fears. With sincere prayers to the goddess and the consumption of holy water, these fears can be eased." "Of course, most importantly, don't overly suppress yourself. Learn to confess to the goddess—sometimes, a quiet, unspoken cry can ease a great deal of pressure." Quietly observing the other's demeanor and tone, Kline breathed a quiet sigh and said, "I understand." He then turned his gaze back toward the front, bowed his head, and clasped his hands, beginning to pray in silence. During this time, he noticed the internal guard rise and walk toward the side door, where a bishop was waiting. Huff—Kline exhaled silently, truly settling into the serene atmosphere around him. Suddenly, a voice arose within him—his own, yet one he could not control: "Do you think you've kept it secret? No! Not at all! Have you forgotten about your contact with the sacred relics of the Goddess of Night?" PS: Attended the meeting without notes, quietly typed a few sentences on my phone—content with the current length. Posting first, then revising.