Wearing single-lens glasses and embodying the image of a winner, Amun seemed less like an infiltrator or attacker and more like a visitor—full of enthusiasm, recounting his pre-prepared observations and the origin of the "magic mirror," Arodes. As he spoke, he suddenly paused, and across from him, Daut Dantès instantly transformed into a gray, messy mouse. The mouse lifted its right front paw and gently pressed against its eyes. At the same time, in the garden at 160 Berkland Street, a lean, sharply defined figure with dark hair and brown eyes, Gérard Sparo, appeared at the center of a cluster of roses. While Amun had been delivering compelling stories, he had quietly sent out a "time worm" to infiltrate Cline's body, attempting to establish a parasitic presence. However, Cline had remained highly vigilant, detecting the intrusion through subtle shifts in the "spirit threads," and at the crucial moment, had exchanged positions with a secret double he had just created! In silence and without a sound, the mixed-blood young man named Amon once again appeared before Caine. Behind him, a transparent, twelve-segmented little creature descended from the third floor and merged into his body. At that very moment, earthworms beneath the garden, insects within the trees and plants, and mice in the shadowed corners emerged, gathering either at the spot where they faced off against Gorman Sparrow and Amon, or retreating from the area. Caine had patiently listened to Amon's words not only because he was eager to make use of the time, but primarily because he was actively creating his secret doubles—something essential for a "Master of Deception." Amon still did not rush to act. He gently pressed his single-spectacle glasses held in the deep sockets of his eyes, glanced around, and smiled softly. "Your actions often reveal your vulnerabilities," he said. "For a master of deception, what you've just done has already revealed enough to secure my grasp on your weaknesses." "Given the intense and perilous situation, that you've only transformed mice, insects, birds, and earthworms into your spectral companions—without even considering the house staff, the maids, or the male servants—this reveals something. It shows you possess admirable moral integrity and still regard yourselves as human, unwilling to harm them. "With this insight, even though my presence as a duplicate falls short of yours, I can still wear you down until you're unable to imagine dying. "Ah, one more thing—I can now cease your subtle attempts to manipulate me through your 'spirit threads,' since the threads you're using were actually stolen from me. They belong to your maids, your housekeepers, your coachmen. Should you continue, I fear you'll carry deep remorse. "Can you really steal my 'spirit threads'? No—more accurately, it's a transfer of responsibility. Kline's expression grew slightly serious, and he interrupted his subtle manipulation of Amun's 'spirit threads.' He has always been so patient, allowing the other to drone on, precisely because he secretly intended to transform Amun's duplicate into his own personal companion. For a "Weird Mage," this kind of battle—where time is deliberately wasted and influence is subtly exerted—should be not only his specialty but also his favorite. Unfortunately, he found himself facing Amun, currently at the pinnacle of the "Thief" path, a "Sinner" even. Even as a duplicate, Amun proved more than a match. ——Klein actually suspected that Amun's earlier words had been deliberately misleading, yet he couldn't tell the difference and dared not take a risk. Such moments call for a "spectator" to step in and help! "You've been talking so much—surely not just trying to 'colonize' me, are you? You must understand that before you can seriously weaken me, it's extremely difficult to 'colonize' a Weird Mage who can perceive the 'spirit lines.'" In a sudden burst of calm, Klein, taking on the appearance of Garmen Sparrow, looked directly at Amun. Amun immediately chuckled: "At last, you've noticed." "Are you stealing my fate?" Kline exchanged positions once again with the secret doppelgänger, allowing the true form to continuously appear and vanish across various corners of the garden. "No," Amun shook his head, hands tucked into his pants pockets, and smiled calmly. "The 'magic mirror' of Arodes has been willing to follow my instructions, deliberately showing favor to me—this clearly indicates that you are not as simple as I originally anticipated. I'm not a transcendental being of the 'tyrant' path, so I certainly won't be so hasty in seizing your fate. Hmm, now I have a sudden feeling that if I simply take over your role, certain things I'd rather avoid will unfold." "How do you know Arodes is showing me favor? There shouldn't be any such details in the fate of Florah Jakob." Kline, resembling Garmen Sparo, suddenly appeared on the tree. His other secret doppelgängers continued shifting positions. Amun pulled one hand free and gently stroked his chin. "Didn't I just say that?" I spent some time discerning and tracing the origins. Well, I went to the Steam Church and spoke with Arodos—though it wasn’t very forthcoming, preferring to endure my torment rather than reveal your true origins. Unfortunately, that was within the Steam Church’s own circles; otherwise, I’d have directly 'inhabited' it and known everything. Can a living seal even be 'inhabited'? If Arodos strictly adheres to the rules, then its previous answers suggest it doesn’t have a clear grasp of my actual situation—only some educated guesses. Klein’s eyes slightly widened, just as he was about to speak, Amon chuckled and said: "You’re truly not in a hurry. What are you waiting for? Don’t you realize that the Sequence 2 pathway corresponding to this one is called 'Fated Steed'?" Though I'm now merely an ordinary duplicate, I can still apply certain abilities initially—such as manipulating your fate to introduce errors within a specific timeframe. For instance, right now, no one notices your calls for help, regardless of how loudly you cry out. "Heh, that means even if you activate the Night Emblem in your hand, you can only achieve subtle influence—your plea for assistance won't reach anyone, no matter how well you've arranged it beforehand. And even if you shout 'Help!' or trigger an explosion, pedestrians passing by or servants inside the buildings won't hear a thing." "That's precisely why I've been talking so much—such operations take considerable time for a regular duplicate to execute." "Well, now it's your turn to answer my questions." Kaine didn't respond immediately; instead, he continuously exchanged positions with the secret figures, always ensuring that one of them remained directly facing Amun, thus maintaining the appearance of conversation. At this moment, he asked the secret figure: "Since you have already mastered the manipulation of the domain of fate, why haven't you taken action yet? You seem to be waiting..." As the thin, paper-like figure of Germaine Sparrow spoke these words, a fierce gust of wind already roared from afar. Leonard, dressed in a black coat, was being pulled by a staff inlaid with silver-white metal and sped rapidly toward Berkland Street! Upon appearing beside Amun, Caine immediately spoke: "This is exactly what I've been waiting for!" As he spoke, he activated the Night Emblem clenched tightly in his hands. At the same time, with a crisp snap of his fingers in his left palm, he ignited the tallest tree in the garden, sending a surge of crimson flames soaring skyward. It was so striking, like a colossal torch, an exceptional sight clearly visible across the entire block—yet neither the maid wiping the windows on the first floor nor the pedestrians strolling beneath the elms of Intis, nor even the figure in the sky, Leonard Mitchell, who was steadily heading toward the designated address, No. 39 Berkland Street, noticed it at all. At that moment, a voice—somewhat weathered, that of Palis Soloyas—echoed in the mind of the "Red Glove": "Turn, head for No. 160." Though puzzled, Leonard, with extensive experience in extraordinary events, didn’t question the reason. He simply grasped his "Sea's Word" cane and changed course. Inside the garden of No. 160 Berkland Street, Amun lifted his head, placed his right hand on the single crystal spectacles, and chuckled: "This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for." He hadn't seen Germán Spalro. A smile gradually brightened on His face, and with growing delight, He continued: "It's remarkable that someone has discovered the anomaly in this region's fate." "Indeed, it's Him—Palis!" As He spoke, the 'heretic' adjusted his gesture, straightening his single-spectacle glasses. At that moment, the entire neighborhood took on a strange, deep darkness, as though it had been severed from reality and become a secret. In the living room of No. 39 Berkland Street, Haejyur looked out the window, murmuring with mild curiosity, "Is it going to rain?" It wasn't anything particularly significant—she soon turned her gaze away and reached for the three-tiered tray holding afternoon tea. Then, she noticed her father, Mahet the Member of Parliament, strangely spreading his right hand. A faint glow materialized from nowhere, coalescing into a single-spectacle glasses made of crystal. Mahet then placed the glasses on his right eye. This… Haiyur had clearly sensed something was amiss, and looked nervously toward the other people in the room. Her mother, Lady Liyan, removed the decorative piece from her nose and donned a pair of single-lens spectacles she had produced from somewhere. The male and female servants standing beside her also each produced identical single-lens spectacles and placed them on their right eyes. Clang! Haiyur instinctively rose and stepped back several times, knocking over her chair. The sound startled everyone in the room. The Member of Parliament Mahert, Lady Liyan, and the servants all turned to look at Haiyur. A gentle smile began to spread across their faces. "Ah!" Haiyur collapsed, emitting a sharp, piercing cry. The cry reached the house, pierced through the garden, drawing the attention of pedestrians on the street. Amun, having set down his right hand—formerly holding his single pair of glasses—now looked upward at the half-formed figure, and smiled, saying, "Palis, it's already the fifth century, 1350 years now. The technique of gathering strength through multiplicity has long since become obsolete." To Amun's side and rear, Caine said nothing further, extended his hand as if reaching for a gun, and made the "craving motion" transparent, coalescing it into a clear, translucent book before him. Amun, however, merely lifted his hand slightly, and the human skin glove vanished. But with the glove, the figure of Germán Sparrow also disappeared. *Plink!* What landed in Amun's palm was not the glove, but a mouse—a mouse that had died upon the dissolution of its secret embodiment. On Amun's other side, Caine, dressed in a shirt and vest without his hat, materialized, and tossed the object he had just retrieved toward the target. It was a thousand paper cranes.