"Very well," Emlyn replied calmly. Marich said nothing further, and his figure suddenly vanished. He knew that a detailed action plan couldn't be finalized at once—Emlyn White would need to return and seek approval from the higher echelons of the bloodline—so he made no停留. Perhaps this is my opportunity to attain divinity and become a Count... Emlyn smiled, watching Marich, this "wandering spirit," fade silently away. He still hadn't fully absorbed the extraordinary qualities of the "Deep-Red Scholar"—the chance to become a Count meant securing either a free ritual or the corresponding potion recipe. The carriage continued on, stopping at the entrance of the Harvest Church. Emlyn surveyed the half-gray, pale mist hovering above the grounds, then adjusted his silk hat, stepping out of the carriage and through the main doors at a steady, unhurried pace. After changing into his brown cleric's robe, he took a cloth and a bucket of water, carefully wiping the candlestands on either side. Only after Father Utravaski had finished his morning sermon, did Emlin cease working and complained, "Why send Oines back?" "He only asked to serve as a volunteer for one month," Father Utravaski replied patiently, without any sign of weariness to Emlin's recurring question over the past few weeks. Reflecting on his own situation, Emlin felt momentarily unbalanced and added, "He's been forced to serve, not volunteering willingly. He shouldn't have a fixed term—minimum six months, at least!" Father Utravaski smiled and responded, "He's doing quite well. Throughout that month, he's been consistently active—guiding the faithful, copying sacred texts. I can clearly see that he now appreciates the value of life and the joy of harvest." Emlin's facial muscles slightly twitched, "He also—well, he's almost becoming a devotee of the Earth Mother, isn't he?" "No, I certainly don't intend to force him," Father Utravski said gently. "I simply wanted to make him familiar with the Mother Goddess's teachings, to experience the subtle rhythms of life, so that when he feels lost in the future, he might remember there is a spiritual home—a mother's embrace—to return to." Emlyn's lips moved a few times, but ultimately said nothing, lowered her head, and continued wiping. Those cells glowed with a halo, as if forming a "gate" encircling the brain. Folshe again heard faint, familiar murmurs—yet they were so ethereal and indistinct that she could barely make out individual words, and despite her extensive experience, this barely registered at all. After an unknown length of time, Folshe finally regained control over her brain and cells, and became aware of her bodily presence. Almost simultaneously, a vast array of knowledge surged into her mind, clarifying how to use the "Record Keeper" ability: The transformed "brain" reenacted the extraordinary capabilities of the target, then activated specific cells to form corresponding symbols, patterns, and markings, thereby completing the storage. This was "I come, I see, I record"—with spirit as pen and ethereal form as paper! Currently, I can only record one extraordinary ability with divine influence. The higher the sequence of the individual, the greater my chances of failure—the even at sequence 4, I may not succeed once in several attempts. For sequence 6 and 5, I can record eight abilities, each with half the original effect; for sequences 7 through 9, I can record twenty, with effects nearly equivalent to the original. As the potion continues to be absorbed and integrated, further improvements will emerge across all aspects. Folshe silently murmured a few thoughts, combining her knowledge with her personal insights. She immediately picked up the paper and pen placed on the other side of the table and began writing swiftly: "Dear Teacher: I'm delighted to tell you that I have finally become the 'Recorder'—only one step away from realizing my dream of 'travel'..." As Folshe wrote a few sentences, her peripheral vision caught Hugh standing up and walking toward the door. She quickly called him back. "Wait! How about we go find a nice restaurant to celebrate?" Hugh responded seriously: "Your spiritual energy still flows too freely—this will take several days of daily meditation to calm down. By the way, you can't smoke, can't drink alcohol, and shouldn't allow yourself to become overly emotional." After finishing her instructions, she added: "I still have some tasks to complete—I'm almost gathering enough contributions to exchange for the 'Judge's' recipe." "...Alright," Folshe shrugged. Once outside the door, Hugh unfastened his chains and mounted a bicycle specially designed for young riders, heading toward the Hillsborough district. According to her earlier intelligence, the Viscount of Stafford had reserved a luncheon at a luxurious restaurant there. Upon arriving at the restaurant, Hugh locked his bicycle to a gas lamp post and positioned himself in a concealed corner, observing the flow of people. After an indeterminate length of time, a light mist drifted through the air, and a carriage approached, bearing a crest composed of a single flower with two rings. Hugh's attention immediately sharpened as the carriage drew up at the restaurant's entrance. He watched the Viscount of Stafford, a man in his forties wearing a white hat, step down first and extend his hand to the passenger behind him. That lady, draped in a deep red cloak. Hugh could not see her face clearly, but he noticed the elegance of her jawline and the pale complexion of her skin. ………… North Sunia Sea, aboard the "Avenger of Azure." Alder Wilson floated several feet off the ground, suspended behind the windows of the captain's cabin, gazing out at the deck and the distant waves. Having partially digested the "Sea Singer" potion two weeks prior, he had reported to the Storm Church, exchanged his accumulated merits for a "Windborne" potion, and successfully consumed it—thereby elevating his official rank to 6. Of course, he would need to digest the "Windborne" potion again, but that was not particularly difficult. The real issue remained the noticeable effects of digesting the "Sea Singer" potion... He should have purchased that "Voice of the Sea" staff back then, pushing it against it every time he sang. Aljere sighed silently, without regret—because even if he had decided to buy it at the outset, he simply didn't have the funds. Moreover, he had already begun to develop a method for digesting the "Sea Singer" potion. In a few more weeks, he would be able to obtain the records and identify the Fasak naval officer that the "Fool" was investigating. Aljere shifted his gaze and returned half-floating, half-flying to the desk where the bronze sextant was placed. At this moment, two seamen, still slightly tipsy, passed by on the deck. "It seems there's a sea nymph here—we hear their songs every night," one of them said, somewhat uncertain. His companion immediately chuckled. "How could their songs be any less beautiful? Surely it's some kind of sea creature making noise!" ... In the city of Silver, the training grounds were less bustling than during the day. A pile of pale blue ice stood there, like small hills. Deryck, without his weapon, stood barehanded before the ice mountain, praying earnestly: "A fool out of this age..." After reciting the name with reverence and making his request, he glanced toward Colin Iliath, the chief of the 'Six Councilors,' who was waiting at a distance, and then stepped forward toward the pile of ice. Colin, bearing two swords, saw the scene unfold. Holding a golden liquid that emitted light and heat, he moved close, watching as Drik pushed himself deep into the pile of ice, completely burying himself, leaving no trace of gaps. A profound, hazy darkness suddenly descended—no matter how lightning streaked across the sky, it could not illuminate the space. At once, an indescribable surge rippled through the surroundings, as though countless eyes were peering down from the depths of the dark. Colin Iliad could clearly feel Drik slipping into deep sleep, even though the ice—normally impermeable—had turned his face pale and his body slightly trembling, yet he remained unawakened. Without hesitation, Colin threw the potion forward. A translucent, ghostly figure emerged, enveloping it. This figure passed through the deep blue ice and reached the narrow space Drik had created, retrieved the potion, and poured it into Drik’s mouth. As soon as the action was complete, the figure immediately stepped back, retreating from the ice pile. *Swift!* Colin Iliad suddenly drew his straight sword and struck toward the rear right, cleaving through a thick yellow pus and felling a monstrous creature that was rotting, its body covered in eyes. Where had this thing come from?! At that moment, Colin Iliad noticed a brilliant glow rising steadily from within the pile of deep blue ice, radiating a pure light distinct from lightning—intense, warm, bright, and full of life. This light filled his eyes, as though it had come from before the age of deep darkness. The silver city's foremost observer remained still, motionless, gazing intently, until another monster emerged from the darkness. ... Above the gray mist, within the ancient palace. "Even the little 'Sun' has reached Sequence 5..." Kline exhaled in relief, shifting his gaze from the deep red star representing 'Sun' to another. That star symbolized 'Justice,' the lady who had completed several psychological alchemical tasks over the past month and now earned the recipe for the 'Dream Walker' potion. This means she will once again face Hewin Lambis.