Before Kline could respond, Azk continued speaking to himself, gazing into the depths of the mausoleum: "I still remember what it was like when I first died and then came back to life. I lay among a sea of pale corpses, wobbling to my feet, filled with fear, unsure of what had happened or where I was. Before the church staff began the purification rites, I stumbled away from there, drifting like a ghost through the wilderness, villages, and cities, forgetting who I was and where I came from. During that time, no matter where I went, I could hear countless weeping sounds and see priests conducting numerous burial services, feeling sorrow permeating every corner. Later, I accidentally saved a noble young lady and entered her estate. She was a bright, cheerful girl, while I felt like a wild beast emerging from the forest—sensitive, suspicious, self-conscious, afraid, often displaying coldness, detachment, even cruelty, traits that seemed to contradict human morality." She was deeply curious about me—no matter how much I avoided her or stumbled in my actions, she always drew near, infecting me with her smile and influencing me with her engaging stories. Gradually, I came to embrace her playful antics and simply accept her presence. We grew close quietly, and she was deeply concerned, afraid that her father would not approve of her marrying a once-stray, now-servant of the household. Watching her wear a look of quiet sorrow, I felt a surge of passion, and impulsively told her I intended to leave, yet would return with the title of lord and the ring given to a bride. I joined the army, became a knight, wielding a lance three meters long, charging into battle. Amid the chaos of the northern continent’s final age, I rose to become a baron, securing my own estate. I fulfilled my promise, arriving at her side with the king’s royal decree, the family crest, the knight’s insignia, and the ring I had crafted myself. "As he spoke, Azk's expression gradually softened, as though reliving and cherishing some cherished memory, his lips curling up without his realizing. Caine was struck by this, as if he saw once again the familiar Mr. Azk. 'And then what happened?' he gently prompted. Azk looked steadily ahead and said, 'Then... then, we built castles in our own lands, had children—there was a boy, who grew rapidly, and it was clear he would grow tall and sturdy. He loved combat, always dragging a broadsword around, saying he wanted to become a knight. I thought this was merely a passing childhood interest, something he'd eventually outgrow. But even when he broke his legs or bruised his head, he never gave up on training. He believed that if he stayed in his room, grimacing and clutching his wounds, I would not see him. Hah! He greatly underestimated his father. In fact, the very spirit of the entire territory was quietly working behind the scenes to support me." Year after year passed, and I regained more and more memories. My wife had always complained that the castle was too dark, longing to move to a place with sunlight and warmth. I granted her wish, yet it wasn't until much later that I realized she wasn't averse to living in the castle—she was afraid of the subtle changes taking place within me, afraid of the growing coldness and unfamiliarity I was becoming. He replied to me, since I was his idol and role model, that he wished to become a knight and a noble much like me—relying on himself rather than on his parents. "At that time, I had recovered most of my memories, and facing this child, I often felt awkward, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. Yet upon hearing his answer, a deep, indescribable joy, fulfillment, and pride surged within me—this was my child, entirely different from the bloodline descendants I had left behind in the realm of Baylang."克莱恩 knew that Mr. Azkir was referring to his title as "the First Baron of Ramd," and that the child who had brought him such pride and satisfaction was ultimately poisoned and murdered in his later or middle years, nailed to his coffin, with even his skull taken away by Inz. Zangweil. Azk's eyes glazed over as he said: "I have died once again, waking up in a hazy state, instinctively moving away from my ancestral domain, following the prearranged plan to wander to other lands. In each life, the early chapters unfold differently—sometimes I experience sweet love, sometimes I am blessed with beloved daughters. That deep, genuine affection, coupled with a sense of helplessness and fulfillment, repeatedly astonishes, confuses, and unsettles me as my memories gradually return. 'Once, I was a dutiful son, bringing pride to my parents, a flourishing life, and precious grandchildren and granddaughters. Yet when I 'awakened' and regained myself, I realized that in my previous life's final days, I had neglected my true sons who died in battle, and I had taken their place. I felt both sorrow and guilt, yet at the same time, I thought this was merely a small matter, something insignificant. It seemed as though my inner self had split into two." "At that time, I had a mask that could transform me into anyone—but after one awakening, I lost it. Perhaps I deliberately lost it myself..." Thinking back on Mr. Azk's mention of his daughter who often asked for fruit, and carefully weighing his words, Klein said: "I believe you are not internally divided; rather, you are fighting against a mad spirit. After losing your memories of the past and repeatedly beginning new lives, you have always been kind, warm, and deeply emotional—qualities that should grow stronger as you draw closer to your present life. This may truly be who you are—your essential self. The version of you during the 'Death Magistrate' period has been influenced by an inherent tendency toward instability, one passed down from the Death God himself. I've heard that, following the 'Four Kings' War, He has already gone mad." Klein's words were actually not particularly well grounded, for he knew only a few fragments of Azk's life—the Baron Ramd, the father who built a swing for his daughter, the dutiful child, and the gentle, kind history teacher. His purpose was to offer a guess, a possibility, helping Mr. Azk counter the "death magistrate" personality returning with his memories, enabling him to confront himself across the various chapters of his past and achieve a certain reconciliation, becoming less rigid and colder. As he spoke, however, a new thought came to him, and before Azk had fully absorbed the previous remarks, he quickly asked, "Mr. Azk, do you know what an anchor is? The anchors by which the gods and angels hold themselves steady, preventing them from being dragged down or driven mad by their extraordinary traits and inherent madness?" "Yes," Azk replied, drawing his gaze back and nodding. Klein wasn't entirely certain, yet spoke with considerable conviction: "Perhaps each new life you begin after losing your memories is your anchor against madness and chaos!" Don't discard them. Don't forget them. That is yourself! After saying this, Klein silently added to himself: "An anchor..." Azk repeated the word, his expression one of contemplation and mild confusion. After an indeterminate length of time, he suddenly exhaled, saying: "This might be an explanation—at least it has eased the intensity of the inner divisions and conflicts within me. Yet, since I've come this far, I still need to go deeper into the tomb and see what lies there, why it calls to me, and what causes me to die and rise again, to lose my memories and then gradually recover them again and again. This has troubled me for over a thousand years, across one life after another. I believe today I may finally find an answer." His gaze gradually grew clearer, his tone seemingly gentle yet carrying an indescribable firmness. Kline intended to intervene, but once his mouth opened, he simply closed it again. Azk pressed the half-high silk hat resting on his head, neither turning his head nor speaking, and smiled warmly, "Remember to close your eyes." As he spoke, he stepped forward, ascending the successive staircases toward the deeper reaches of the dimly lit tomb. The black mist that had previously been stirring ceased its breath, slowly dispersing outward, revealing the previously formless entities that had gathered at the base. There, a vast feathered serpent emerged—one so immense it appeared capable of occupying an entire island! Its massive scales, a deep green tinged with black, bore fine feathers of pale yellow, oiled and streaked, growing from the interstices. From each feather, slender black tubes extended, veiled in an ethereal glow. This magnificent serpent was both fantastical and tangible, its precise form beyond human comprehension, as though composed of elements yet to be understood. A pale flame burns in its eyes, and its face is that of a human! The skin is copper-toned, the features gentle, with a small black spot just below the right ear—quite clearly another Azk Egers! PS: First publish, then revise. Also, the new version of this chapter seems to have significant delay.