The eerie changes within the mausoleum, with eyes closed and spirit refined, left Kline momentarily at a loss as to what had transpired—whether it was a blessing or a curse. Though he had recited the incantation and clutched the "Steward of the Flow" talisman, he hesitated to act, fearing adverse consequences or an opposite outcome. One second, two seconds, three seconds—time seemed to stretch endlessly, as though an entire century had passed. Finally, he heard Mr. Azkir's slightly hoarse yet uncertain voice: "It's you..." Then, a steady, clearly feminine voice emerged: "You have three choices: First, continue forward, seek completeness, and allow Salinger to be reborn within you; Second, I will help you extract that half-soul and enable you to carry it away, so you can mend yourself on your own—this will restore you to your original form, ending the cycle of dying and rising again, though it will not be the version of you that you are now. Your past lives will then truly fade into dreams; Third, abandon everything and simply leave. In that case, you will remain at your current level, never advancing further. You will continue to become the dead, and each time awaken with no memory of what you've lost, repeating the search for your past experiences." Klein was stunned, completely unprepared to hear that there was actually a "person" deep within the mausoleum, one who held absolute authority and could present alternative choices, allowing the once-dead执政官 Azk Egers to merely decide among them. "Is this the artificial Death God hidden in the depths of the black mist?" "No, He seemed rather unintelligent from the start—no signs of attempting communication over the past while." "Drawing out half of His soul, trying to mend it himself—what does that mean? Was Azk's spirit never fully intact?" "From where? The lady who spoke managed to do something that Azk himself could not." "And who is Salinger? Why did he revive within Azk's body? Is He the very Death God who caused the Pale Plague—the father or grandfather of Azk?" "He foresaw His own demise, and thus planted the seed of resurrection within Azk's body." "The first option is certainly out of the question—no consideration at all. The second and third each have their own issues: one will no longer be the present self, becoming a stranger to the 'me' that exists now; the other will forever bear the curse of immortality, never able to find release. If one has genuine confidence in themselves and truly sees each past life as an anchor, then the second choice—reconciling with oneself, making compromises—might be worth considering. Yet, this involves the half of the soul that has been separated, the part that has never lived through those past lives. What changes will unfold for this half? How will it evolve? The very anchors may not be sufficient to resolve the issue. Thoughts raced through Kline's mind—full of doubt, curiosity, difficulty, and confusion—yet he could only stand at a distance, unable even to observe. That was Azk's life, his future to face. No one else could make that decision for him." And what Klein had to say had already been said. Now, standing motionless, he felt both helpless and concerned, waiting for Mr. Azk to speak. Mr. Azk gazed at the elegant lady in the hooded cloak ahead of him, silent for a long time, her pale flame in his eyes wavering uncertainly. The mountain-hued serpent—both phantom and real—seemed to sense an unfavorable shift; suddenly, its tail whipped out, sweeping wildly in all directions, while its head lowered, opening wide to reveal dark red flesh and sharp teeth streaked with pale yellow grease, spewing out black serpent cores and a viscous, shade-green mucus, as if eager to actively swallow Mr. Azk Eggs. Yet, despite all its efforts, none of its actions made any impact—it seemed to exist in another world entirely. Amidst this unsettling silence, Mr. Azk raised his right hand, rubbed his temple gently, and smiled calmly: "Perhaps having grown accustomed to this life, I have chosen three." As he finished speaking, the woman across from him, wearing a hood, grasped the bird-shaped golden ornament tightly and then slowly drew her arm back, pulling the ancient object out from the fissure on Azk's forehead. Azk's expression twisted once more, as though enduring unimaginable pain. A subtle spirit seeped out from each drop of blood and every muscle within him, weaving together into a translucent ethereal form. Though this ethereal body appeared whole and unbroken, it carried an inherent sense of contradiction—half golden yellow, from the eyebrows and eyes down through the torso and limbs, exuding a timeless grace. As the bird-shaped ornament was drawn out, Azk's semi-transparent spirit began to split, inch by inch, as though being gently peeled alive from his skin. Once again, a sound unlike that of a human issued from his throat, sharp and piercing, making Klein's head spin and throb as though steel needles were violently stirring within the substance of his brain. In just a few seconds, Azk's spiritual form split completely in two: one half transformed into golden light and flowed into the eyes of the bird-shaped ornament, while the other half returned to his physical body and merged with his flesh and blood. The two pale flames in his eyes faded out, the white feathers and black scales that had grown upon his skin receded, and the distortion of his expression eased, no longer so fierce. His face now appeared slightly pale and translucent, his forehead contracting in waves, clearly enduring deep pain emanating from within his spiritual essence. "Thank you for your assistance," he bowed to the graceful lady wearing a hood, then turned and walked upward along the stairs, his steps somewhat unsteady, until he reached Klein's side. "You may now open your eyes," Azk said, offering a weary smile. Klein quickly opened his eyes, took a good look at Mr. Azk, and noticed that he showed no signs of madness or disarray—only then did he feel completely at ease. With genuine curiosity, he turned his gaze toward the deeper parts of the tomb, where thick mist swirled and obscured everything below. "Who was that just now?" he asked. Mr. Azk smiled and reached out to grasp his shoulders. "I'll tell you even if you can't hear me—unless He chooses to make you aware," he said. As he spoke, Klein unconsciously reached for the shoulders of his two secret doubles. The color blocks around them grew rich and vivid, merging seamlessly, and soon both Klein and his doubles passed through the corresponding spiritual realm of the "Stormy Sea," returning to the hotel room where Klein had been staying in the ancient city of Gularin. As soon as Mr. Azk released his hands, he gently pressed his forehead and offered a warm smile. "I'll need a period of sleep—of unknown duration—to recover," he said. "If you have any questions, feel free to consult the Seven Lights of the Spirit Realm. The corresponding rituals should already be under your command." "Mr. Azk, are you all right?" Caine asked with concern. At the same time, he murmured to himself: How could one ever lose half one's soul and yet have nothing at all to report? Azk smiled gently. "There's nothing major, really. I'll simply maintain the state I've always been in—aware of my own impending death, having arranged everything, severing ties with my original life, then gradually forgetting everything, reviving and seeking out the past. At least, there's still you, someone who knows so much about me. If I forget again and see your letter, I should be able to recall much of it." He paused, barely nodding his head, and smiled softly, "Sleeping deeply isn't such a bad thing. At least I can dream. In my dreams, I never leave—still sitting with her in the sunlight, still guiding that stubborn child in using the broadsword, still building a swing for that little one who loves to fuss..." As he spoke, Azk threw the bronze whistle into the air, smiled gently, "Don't forget to write. But I won't reply until I wake up." Just as Kline reached out to catch the ancient, delicate bronze whistle, Azk had already vanished into the room, gone to an unknown place. Staring in quiet wonder, Kline suddenly sighed softly. ........ To travel from Gularin to other places by land, one must follow the winding, ascending roads, passing through one neighborhood after another, reaching the city's highest point, and only then climb over the hills to enter the plains. At this very moment, the "Red Glove" team led by Sostre stands on the highest plaza, gazing at the unusually turbulent sea. Dailie Simonne, who had been pressing her palm against her forehead, suddenly lifts it, speaking with a sense of puzzlement. "Everything is back to normal. There's nothing wrong anymore." "Back to normal?" Leonard replies, somewhat surprised. In his view, Dailie had been difficult to return to normal until the sea's anomaly had fully subsided. "Perhaps it's intermittent?" Sostre offers hesitantly. Just as Dailie is about to respond, a sudden inspiration strikes the group, and they all turn once again to the turbulent sea. One by one, bright stars emerge within the pure expanse of deep black. ........ Becland, within the Saint Samuel Church. Archbishop Anthony Stevenson receives an urgent telegraph from the sea. The telegram was remarkably simple, yet profoundly astonishing: "Germaine Sparo reappears, joining another person aboard the 'Black Tulip,' transforming Ludewil into a secret figure—his companion, whom Ludewil had called 'The Death Magistrate.'" Germaine Sparo... "The Death Magistrate"... Saint Anthony repeated these names silently. He slowly leaned back, closed his eyes, and once again in his mind surfaced the complete records of the sealed object, "0–17": "Number: 17." "Name: The Hidden Angel." "Risk Level: '0'—extremely dangerous, highest priority, highest confidentiality, not to be inquired about, not to be disclosed, not to be described, not to be observed." "Classification Level: The Pope, Group A researchers, and the Archbishop responsible for the Beckett diocese (Note: When the Archbishop departs the Beckett diocese, memory of the relevant information must be erased using the seal '1–29')." "Sealing Method: Achieved through the coordinated use of '1–29' and '1–80'." "Description: This is not an object. …… "Warning: He cannot be exploited!" "Appendix 1: The seal first emerged during the Pale Age of the Fourth Era; specific year, missing; specific date, missing; specific location, missing." "Appendix 2: Records indicate that He has been awakened five times." "Appendix 3: The condition of non-exploitability is subject to certain limitations; upon verification, He can serve as a vessel for the goddess's descent."