160 Berkland Street, the manor of Dain Thaddeus. After circling back via "transmission," Kline did not delay—he immediately set up the altar and conducted the ritual, praying to "Death": "You are the essence of death; You are the sovereign of the departed; You are the ultimate destination of all living beings. I implore your aid, that I may understand how to resolve the matter of the 'Red Angel' spirit, which has taken residence within a 'Gatekeeper' and, in collaboration with the High Priest Hettel of the Spiritual Order, has come to Berkland to serve as an assistant to Patrick Bryan..." On this matter, Kline was truly at a loss and had no choice but to turn to the "Goddess of Night" for assistance. — As for whether he can collaborate with the ascetic leader, Arianna, and whether he has both the capability and the opportunity to eliminate Thorin Einhorn Medici, even if he can, once the "Red Angel" evil spirit vanishes, the high priest of the Divine Crafters' Order—whose very existence is artificial—will immediately recognize that something has gone seriously wrong here. With this awareness, he will naturally begin to notice other anomalies, deduce that the artificial Death God is no longer functioning as intended, and then, leveraging his own status, potential sealing artifacts, and deep familiarity with this path, act in a way that benefits no one—effectively causing irreversible damage. Meanwhile, if the "Red Angel" is left unattended, this evil spirit, born of a scheming nature, will soon detect Patrick Bryan's irregularities. With the knowledge and intelligence at His disposal, it will not be difficult for Him to discern the root of the problem. "No matter how we respond, we're making mistakes. Truly, the angel of war has outdone himself. Even with only the triune spirit remaining, He continues to create problems that seem utterly insurmountable. This must be His plan for Hertel... In fact, there's an extreme approach: to have this 'Red Angel' demon eliminated by other churches, official powers, or secret organizations—so that no one connected to the goddess appears at all, ensuring everything remains clear and unambiguous. The real challenge lies in how to entrap a high-ranking figure in the realm of conspiracy. If this isn't handled properly, the fire will inevitably consume the very one who sets it ablaze." After the prayer, Caine allowed his thoughts to drift freely while patiently awaiting a response from the "Goddess of Night." After several seconds, the lingering embers of the herbs used to please the deity were carried by an invisible breeze, rising from the large cauldron and settling on the table, forming distinct words: "He has come here, and war will rise upon the land." "What does this mean?" Klein watched the sentence, familiar in its phrasing, and furrowed his brow slightly. As a "seer," he instinctively began to interpret: Because of the king's concerns, Roon had been deeply shadowed by war, so the symbol of war—the "Red Angel"—had come. This meant that the war might now be unstoppable. ——By the time it reached Sequence 1, it would itself become a symbol. In the span of a thought, the invisible wind ceased, and the inner sanctum, separated by the "Wall of Spirit," grew profoundly still. Were there no further revelations? Klein waited a moment longer, confirming that indeed nothing else had occurred, before concluding the ritual and clearing away the altar. He then sat down on the sofa area within the room, hoping for further developments. Yet, after a full minute passed, he still did not see the Night Monastery's abbot, the hidden angel and chief among the twelve archbishops, Arianna. Did he simply leave the matter of the Red Angel's spirit unattended? Or, is there another way without me getting involved? At heart, Kline is never truly devoted to the faithful night-worshippers. Since the goddess has indicated no need for intervention, he naturally sees no point in taking any action—after all, this matter is not only extremely inconvenient but also exceptionally dangerous. Shaking his head, Kline pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, beginning his "dream divination." Tonight’s events have made him feel an urgent instinct to act, to swiftly consume the "mystic wizard’s" potion. After clearing out their prisoners, they carried their rifles and held up their lanterns, gathering by the ship's side to watch the helpless ones struggle. Yet under the light, the deep blue sea beside the vessel rose and fell quietly, without a single figure in sight. "They're sinking so fast!" one pirate exclaimed in surprise. The leader of the pirate crew frowned, gazing at the scene for a while. "Perhaps some sea creature passed by, taking the bold rebels for divine offerings. It's just fed up, and now won't bother us anymore..." With that, he waved his hand. "Enjoy yourselves!" As a relatively experienced pirate, he knew the sea held many wonders. When faced with such mysteries, it was best not to seek explanations or probe for truths. As long as it didn't threaten them or their companions, they simply thanked the "Lord of the Storm" for its protection and treated it as if nothing had happened at all. Once the rotation of personnel was settled, the pirates began drinking heartily, feasting on large portions of meat, singing loudly, and drawing swords to duel for dominance over the young female captives. Amid the bustling, vibrant atmosphere, the pirate leader, already eyeing a particularly attractive passenger, entered the room originally belonging to the captain, eager to begin the final act of the night's festivities. At midnight, the weary pirate leader, half-asleep, extended his right hand and felt something cold and lifeless. Startled, he stirred awake and, with the soft crimson glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, saw that the object cradled in his arms was a rough-hewn piece of wood. From this wood, slender branches had grown, each bearing green leaves, curling around him like human arms and hands. *Crack!* The pirate leader's eyes widened in astonishment. He pushed the wood aside, jumped off the bed, and stumbled backward. Was I just now in the midst of a thing like this? His mind was filled with terror; he didn't even have time to dress properly, grabbed his rifle and dagger, and stepped straight out of the room. Outside, a watchful pirate guard was on duty. "Steal the ears, how come you're so cheerful?" the guard exclaimed as he saw the leader stepping out. The pirate chief had intended to reprimand him for drinking secretly, which had made his speech unclear—yet when he looked up, he noticed golden grains of wheat sprouting in the guards' mouths and all around them, densely covering even the surface of their tongues. His scalp instantly tightened, a tingling sensation spreading downward, merging with a coolness that reached his tailbone. At that very moment, the door of the adjacent room also opened, and a pirate cried out in alarm: "It's bad! Chief, I've got so many mushrooms growing on me!" As he spoke, he rushed out. Meanwhile, he felt a tickle in his eyes and reached up to rub his right eye. As he rubbed his eyes, a jade-green vine slowly grew between the orbits and the eyeballs, its tip bearing a dark red grape. Around the grape, flesh and tissue blurred into indistinctness. "...," the pirate captain said, his body growing stiff, his voice unfamiliar, asking, "What... have you encountered?" The pirates who still rubbed their eyes, unaware of any issue, simply replied: "A shadow like a long staff struck me!" "Voh... Yeh... right..." the pirate with golden grain-like patches on his tongue added, in agreement. He had been blocked by the captain and hadn't seen the terror on his companions' faces. The captain's legs began to shake uncontrollably, instinctively turning his body and preparing to rush out of the cabin. At that very moment, he saw a long, staff-like shadow dart swiftly across the side wall and strike him. The shadow vanished swiftly, soon disappearing as if it had never been—like an unreal nightmare. The pirate captain hesitated a moment before instinctively raising his hand to block it, but of course, it made no difference. Then, he hurriedly checked his own condition, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. "Well, well…" he breathed out, relieved. But before he could finish speaking, he heard a slightly muffled voice: "Well, well…" It seemed to come from within him! The pirate captain's pupils dilated to the utmost, and his hands involuntarily lifted his garments. Then he saw three fissures opening up between his chest and abdomen—one large and two smaller ones. Inside the large one, two neat rows of white teeth stood out; within the smaller ones, two bright, smoothly rolling eyes were embedded. It was a mouth and two eyes! A mouth and two eyes had appeared in the midst of his chest and abdomen! "No!" A piercing cry erupted on the ship, carrying an indescribable, intense fear. For the next hour, some pirates went mad and began slashing at their companions; others managed to reach their own vessels only to find their crew members now deformed, and in despair, leapt into the sea. When the chaos finally subsided, only about a dozen relatively normal pirates remained, half-sitting, half-collapse on the deck, hiding in rooms, surrounded by a foul stench. Then, one by one, passengers began to emerge from the cabins—none missing. They stared in disbelief at the scene before them, some offering thanks to the gods, others standing motionless, bewildered. Klein paused, then spoke. He suspected this might be the goddess's delayed response. Walter immediately turned and went downstairs to make arrangements. Not long after, he returned and said, "Sir, Bishop Elektra has already left. He asked me to inform you to visit St. Samuel's Church this morning, as the church and the government will jointly conduct a air defense drill." "An air defense drill?" Klein's brows furrowed slightly. At that moment, inspiration struck him suddenly, and he swiftly turned to look out the window. In the not particularly thin layer of clouds, a dense formation of airships painted deep brown approached steadily. Each bore the red, white, and yellow diagonal stripes—Forsaken's national flag! Seeing this, Klein suddenly grasped what he had previously overlooked: War did not necessarily have to be initiated by the Kingdom of Roon! An ancient and secretive organization must surely have high-profile members in other countries; otherwise, it cannot influence the global landscape!