When he saw the feathered serpent coiled deep in the black mist, and then the face atop the mountainous form of his opponent, Azk was first stunned—then his temple seized, as though a sharp wedge had been driven hard into the center of his forehead, splitting his head in two. Amid the sharp pain, vivid yet disjointed images surged into his mind: a face of the serpent identical to his own, down to the finest details; a silent land, countless pale corpses scattered across it; floating clouds composed of stacked skulls from various races; black, segmented tendrils bursting from the ground, each ending in a fish-like eye; and his own translucent spirit forcibly pulled from his body. After these fleeting images, a pair of pale eyes, their flames on the verge of fading, gazed upon him, and a white feather, stained lightly with yellow oil, drifted down, slicing his transparent spirit into two parts. A portion of it suddenly lifted and entered the "Cloud of Skulls," while the remaining part fused with a golden accessory that had materialized from nowhere, gradually returning to its fleshly form under the scorching pale flames. This scene unfolded like Thor's great hammer striking repeatedly against Azk's mind, relentless and unbearable—forcing him to raise his hands to shield his head, his knees growing weak, and finally collapsing to his knees on the steps. Now, he recalled everything, finally understanding the reason behind his repeated deaths and resurrections, his constant loss of memory and recurring rediscovery: His soul was incomplete! Similarly, Azk realized why the feathered serpent deep within the black mist—pressing down upon the entire space—had a face so identical to his own: It was him. It was another "Azk Eges!" All of this stemmed from a secret initiative undertaken by the Death God in the moments before his fall. There is "soul-sewing," and thus there is also "spirit-dividing." At that moment, the mad and powerful Death God, seemingly foreseeing his own demise, unwilling to pass away thus, quietly divided the soul of his child, the "Death Magistrate" of the Bayron Empire, taking away half of it and weaving in a certain object to fuse with Azk's spirit. Whether due to the Death God's deliberate design or an unintended consequence of the Spirit Order's artificial Death God initiative, the portion of Azk's soul that was taken and merged with the artificial Death God's objective—the "uniqueness" of this path—enabled the latter to gain certain instincts, beginning to actively influence the "corpse-bearers" of higher-tier strong contenders who had failed in their ascension. The other half, though now complete and no longer fragmented, due to the incompleteness of its soul, continues to die and be reborn repeatedly—much like the Sequence 4 "Immortals." Influenced by the "golden artifact" within its body, each time Azk renews its life, it gradually recovers memories from the past, called forth by the voice of the other half of its soul. In the past, Azk has attempted to uncover the reason, but as memories naturally return, it often finds itself near death, with little time to pursue deeper inquiry. The artificial god project initiated by the Spiritual Order has only been underway for several centuries, and only recently have initial results been achieved—thus, the cause has remained elusive. Hoh! Hoh! Hoh! Azk's hands, which had been resting on its head, had long since shifted to rest upon the steps below, and now a sound unlike that of a human emerged from its throat. Drops of sweat slid down his forehead, landing on the stone before him and spreading a faint yellow stain, giving rise to fine white tufts of hair. At this moment, he felt the call and yearning of the other half of his soul—two selves separated for over a thousand years now, eager to merge and reunite into one whole. "No..." Azk whispered in pain, unwilling to lift his head or extend his right hand. He had seen clearly just moments before: the version of himself transformed into a feathered serpent was utterly devoid of reason, filled with an intense, overwhelming coldness and madness. If they merged, he would surely revert to the state of the "Death High Official" from the beginning—perhaps even becoming a mere deity stripped of humanity, a false god! Then he would forget everything—forget all those people he had once cherished. "Not…." A word burst forth once more from Azk's throat as his neck slowly, involuntarily lifted, revealing patches of dark, cold scales. Suddenly, at the forehead, life seemed to pulse—bulging outward, splitting open to reveal a glistening, blood-soaked wound. Instantly, a golden glow emerged from nothingness, solidifying within the flesh. It was an ancient, golden artifact shaped like a slender bird, its wings composed of pale flames that swirled gently around it. Within its bronze eyes, layers of luminous light formed, creating a mysterious, ethereal portal. As soon as it appeared, Azk let out a sharp, painful cry, fully raising his head—two bright, pale flames flared to life within his weathered gaze. Deep within the black mist, the spectral yet tangible feathered serpent straightened its body, extended its head, and faced two identical, yet differently sized faces, silently gazing at one another, the stillness profound. Among the pale flames leaping around, Azk, his hands pressed against the ground, strained and twisted his face, slowly rising to his feet and advancing toward the feathered serpent known as the人造 dead god. As he drew nearer, the entire mausoleum began to tremble, the surroundings growing transparent, revealing a world filled with countless skeletons and shadows. Blood-streaked arms, slender black vines bearing the faces of infants, and smooth, slippery tendrils topped with the eyes of dead fish or rows of sharp teeth, pierced the boundary between reality and illusion, extending into the mausoleum—yet they clung firmly to the ground, unable to move. Dai Li furrowed her brow, responding in a slightly dreamy tone: "I heard strange sounds and felt a call coming from somewhere unknown... I even wanted to kneel down." "Did you hear that too?" Sostar asked the other team members seriously. Just as Leonard Mitchell shook his head, a slightly aged voice in his mind spoke: "Look toward the Storm Sea." Without thinking, Leonard turned his body, facing the port area and the distant Storm Sea. There, the sky was pure, deep black—no wind, no massive waves, no clouds, no lightning, no rain, no sunlight. ........... Although closed-eyed, Leonard's keen intuition allowed him to sense the surrounding changes, hearing what sounded like painful murmurs and shouts from Mr. Azk, and feeling the tangible stillness and the palpable sense of death. What was happening? Although the "man-made death god" deep within the mausoleum hadn't attacked Mr. Azk, he had nonetheless had a negative impact on him. Claires thoughts flashed rapidly in his mind, and he felt both anxious and urgent. His spiritual intuition told him that what was about to unfold would certainly not be something he had wished for. Yet, he couldn't think of anything he could do—so much so that he dared not even open his eyes to see Mr. Azk's current condition or what had befallen him. This was not merely a matter of courage; it was a gap in personal essence, an unbridgeable chasm. In that instant, Claires sense of helplessness surged again, but he didn't give up. He desperately recalled what resources he might be able to draw upon: "The pulsing hunger? No, it was simply not on the same level—nothing would come of it. The tolling bell? Even that wouldn't suffice. The 'Travels of Grozsel'?" I didn't bring... the "Black Emperor" card, nor the "Autocrat" card... nor the "Steward of Fortune" talisman... Yes, the "Steward of Fortune" talisman! A surge of joy washed through Kline's heart, and a clear plan formed: to temporarily exchange his fate with Mr. Azk with the "Steward of Fortune" talisman, allowing him to bear the effects of the "Artificial Death God" instead! At the very least, he still had a chance of revival, while Mr. Azk's earlier death had not been a victim's fate—how could he know whether he might not awaken again under these circumstances! Kline didn't pause to consider whether the "Steward of Fortune" talisman might actually affect Mr. Azk or the "Artificial Death God"—he simply decided to try it, no matter what. With a sudden motion, he lifted his right hand and reached into his coat pocket. Yet, then, his movement hesitated. His arm rose slightly, then settled back to its original position. For a brief moment, he stood still, as if turned into a statue carved from stone. Klein's lips moved several times, his expression subtly distorting, before he suddenly snapped his right arm forward, drawing his palm from his pocket. In his palm lay a black, crystalline-like talisman, tightly held. At the same time, Azk and the towering, ethereal feathered serpent drew nearer, his steps growing faster, as though returning to his throne. Yet his eyes, illuminated by pale flames, were filled with pain, his features twisted to the extreme. "No..." Azk murmured again, and from the exposed patches of his skin, where the dark scales met, white feathers stained with a pale yellow grease began to emerge. The intensity of his cry and yearning overwhelmed him, and he felt himself rising, about to leap toward the great feathered serpent that bore his face. The bird-shaped ornament on his forehead saw the pale flames surge forth, spreading across his body. Klein's spiritual intuition issued a frantic warning, and he quickly uttered an ancient Hermes word: "Fate!" As he was about to cast a spell, silence fell suddenly—no sound remained. A slender, pale female hand materialized, resting upon the avian golden ornament at Azk's forehead. A figure then emerged between Azk and the towering, ethereal feathered serpent, halting their convergence. With external assistance, Azk finally resisted the merging desire and the irresistible call, and the pale flame within his eyes "reflected" the figure hovering in midair. She was a graceful woman dressed in a classical robe, wearing a black hood, expression neutral, with dark eyes yet lacking vitality.