This time, Kline did not directly bring the Azk copper whistle into the gray mist. Instead, he prepared to proceed as he had during the initial divination of the "mutated solar sigil"—by projecting and materializing the object through its image. While this method would slightly reduce accuracy and might even result in the divination yielding little meaningful insight, it would ensure the highest possible preservation of the object's integrity, especially given the intervening gray mist. He still remembered that when he first used the black ears originating from the "Listeners" to trace the source of the seal, the very object had been directly overwhelmed by the counterattack of the "True Maker," collapsing and reforming into a series of glyphs. Therefore, should the divination point toward the remains of Death or some other legacy force—such as the sequence-0 deities who had once violently transformed the sea environment—Kline decided to leave the Azk copper whistle in the real world and rely on its projection. This way, he could safeguard the integrity of this crucial artifact, for Death and the True Maker were of the same order! As for why Kline dares to directly use The Travels of Grozsel as the source of his divination, it is because the ancient deity, the "Dragon of Imagination," has already fallen for a long time, and its associated traits have largely been inherited by humanity—passed through numerous hands—and the Travels themselves are exceptionally resilient, enduring even the full force of the Sea God's Staff without sustaining any damage. Likewise, the "Gate" gentleman may only be at the level of the "King of Angels," currently in a state of exile and isolation, able to transmit only fragmented whispers, and thus capable of inflicting only minimal, if any, actual damage. I can be injured or contaminated, yet still recover swiftly through the mysterious powers of the space above the gray mist, with no lasting consequences. But once the Azk copper whistle fails, it's truly ruined—no longer able to communicate with Mr. Azk, no longer capable of attracting immortals, and even unusable for carrying around. . . Kline calmly grasped the projected copper whistle and the written scroll containing the divination phrases, leaned back against the chair's backrest, half-closed his eyes, and softly recited in a meditative state: "This copper whistle's unusual condition today." He repeated this seven times consecutively, then fell deeply into sleep, entering a dream. Unknown how long it had been, he saw a dark, cold mausoleum, a deep, dark staircase extending downward, and several coffins arranged around him. All the coffins were open, and within them lay one after another the deceased, each with a cluster of pale feathers—stained lightly with yellowish grease—growing from their backs. Even in his dreams, Caine found the scene strangely familiar, as though he had seen it before. At that moment, he seemed to smell a putrid odor and hear a slow, labored breathing— the darkness within the tomb grew denser, pressing upon him with an overwhelming sense of stillness and death. Suddenly, whispers rose and fell in unison, and the dead lying atop the coffins, their backs covered in white feathers, all floated upward, their half-rotten, pale faces turning together toward the outside of the dream! With a sudden, sharp thud, Caine's heart lost all control, as if being pulled by an invisible hand and forcibly drawn out of his chest. During this upheaval, his dream shattered into fragments and dissolved into nothingness. And finally, what克莱恩 saw was that the corpses not only had white feathers on their backs, but also on other parts of their bodies, some of them. Moreover, slender, almost ethereal black tubes extended from their bodies, plunging deep into the heart of the tomb, where a profound, dense, eerie, and cold expanse of black mist hovered. This mist slowly contracted and expanded, emitting a breathing sound. Upon seeing and hearing this scene and motion,克莱恩's skin instantly turned pale, then began to rot and weep pus; fine, lightly yellowed white hairs grew from his pores; and the Azk copper whistle projection in his hands burst violently into a swirling mass of black mist. Throughout the ancient palace, the weathered long tables crumbled and collapsed, while twenty-two high-backed chairs were enveloped in white feathers, as if they had come to life. The gray mist, stretching without limit, rolled silently, and the mysterious space above gently swayed—then swiftly returned to its original state, as though nothing had ever happened. Klein, who had fallen beside the chair, reached for the table leg, slowly rose, sat back down, and took a long, deep breath. He rubbed his temple, instinctively comparing: "Weaker than the 'True Maker' or the 'Eternal Blaze,' yet stronger than Mr. The Door. But I'm not sure whether this is because the latter has been exiled and isolated, resulting in only a limited flow of power reaching us. 'What good does it do me?' I wonder. Even if I become a half-god, it'll still be the same. 'I'm sorry I didn't get to see the thing hidden deep within that black mist—otherwise, I might have picked up a few potion recipes or some esoteric knowledge.' Klein felt a quiet sense of regret, his gaze fixed on the chair beside him, where a shimmering, ethereal black mist floated. This was the residue of the Azor Cu-Whistle's projection, now shattered. 'It lacks any sense of power—meaning it can't be used as a sigil. Then what good is it?' Klein thought for a moment and summoned a spare "paper angel" from among the clutter, projecting it toward the ethereal black mist. As soon as the two made contact, they instantly merged—the paper angel quickly darkened, appearing deep and shadowed, with white feathers streaked with pale yellow oil emerging from its back. This transformation lasted only a second before the paper angel returned to its original form, though it now felt slightly unreal, half-phantom. On its back, a series of feather-like patterns now adorned it. "What can I do with this?" Klein gently guided the transformed paper angel back into his palm. He hesitated to use divination to verify its effect, fearing once again to witness the vision from his dream, only to have the already-prepared entities within the deep black mist intrude upon this space. After careful examination, Cline, drawing upon his accumulated esoteric knowledge, formed an initial judgment: "The material itself contains no inherent power, yet it is fundamentally unusual—perhaps it produces some peculiar, necromantic effects when used in creating 'paper person stand-ins' or 'paper angel figures.' " "It's much like my adventurer's panpipe, which, though inherently powerless, can summon particularly powerful messengers..." Immediately, Cline set aside the 'mutated paper figure' and began interpreting the images he had seen in the dream: "The dark tomb, the open coffins, the deceased whose backs have grown feathers, the pervasive black mist—these visions all seem to point toward 'Death' itself, or perhaps a significant artifact left behind by Death, or even a stage in the spiritual order's artificial creation of the deity of Death." "Ah, why did I feel so familiar just now?" Cline reflected carefully and quickly arrived at the answer: He had seen a similar scene during a divination session long ago! That time, the oracle revealed the consequences of "withholding information about Mr. Azk regarding the night watch staff!" He received two dream scenes: one in which he sank into the blood sea and was pulled out by Mr. Azk, and another in which both of them were together within the dark, cold mausoleum he had just witnessed, seemingly searching for something. Klein had previously interpreted the first scene as symbolizing his peril and rescue by Mr. Azk, and the second as representing their joint exploration of a mausoleum or a place symbolized by one. The former had been validated during the meteor shower over Bekland, and now, finally, the latter had taken shape. Could it be that he and Mr. Azk were about to explore precisely the mausoleum he had just "seen"? Yet, that mausoleum was perilous—the entity at its deepest core, veiled in black mist, held a high status, only slightly below the true gods, and was deeply hostile. Klein's brow gradually furrowed, growing increasingly doubtful about the nature of this shared exploration. It made him feel it was necessary to stop Mr. Azk, yet he hesitated, doubting that he could directly contradict what he had already seen in the prophecy, for otherwise he might secure a worse fate within the dramatic course of destiny. "At least during the first reading, there was only the image of exploration—no danger presented. Perhaps there was a way to go around it indirectly. That might be precisely why the seer always speaks so vaguely—sometimes, when too clear, the effect becomes counterproductive!" After deciding on this, Klein gently mentioned his dreams to Mr. Azk without offering any interpretation, simply inviting him to share his thoughts. Once his thoughts were settled, Klein leaned back against the chair, gazing up at the magnificent dome of the palace, which faded into the gray mist. … Light, fragmented light, pure and clear dawn light, burst forth from the senior elder of the "Council of Six," the other "Dragon Slayer," Wyt Hilmon, evaporating the fine white downy hairs growing from the pores of his skin and suppressing the subsequent tremors of his flesh. His arm muscles swelled, drawing back the bowstring of the Dragon-Hunting bow, weaving the silvery electric glow with the dawn's radiance into a brilliant shaft of arrow. This arrow flew forth and instantly reached the altar piled high with monster skulls, striking the heavy, iron-black coffin. Yet, silently and without a sound, the light arrow faded and vanished, failing to produce any effect. No—around the altar, darkness deepened, and stillness grew more profound! From within the iron-black coffin, a voice, accompanied by the sound of bone-on-bone friction, rose: "Why? Why must you disturb my slumber?" Hearing these words, Wett's heart suddenly grew heavier, for the malice was unmistakable—this meant that the former Chief might have already become a monster. The quest for a way out of Silver City had once again failed. With a loud crash, the lid of the coffin flew up, shattering into fragments, and vast streams of black mist surged forth from below, flowing continuously. Within this scene, Wett saw a figure slowly rise from inside the coffin. The figure stood nearly four meters tall, with long limbs and a body covered in pale feathers stained with a faint yellow oil. Behind him, it seemed as though ethereal black tubes connected him to distant, unseen realms. At the backs of the three elders of the "Six-Body Council," great waves rippled across the dark river, and arms, tentacles, and vines surged forth in abundance. At that moment, Wett watched the Chief's body undergo rapid transformations, seeing his clothing being gradually torn apart as his muscles expanded.