After sitting in silence for a while, Caine raised a hand to rub his temple, then stood up, stepping backward four paces into the gray mist. He then manifested Germaine Spalro, praying to the "Fool" and conveying two messages—one to Daniz, the other to the "Hermit" Gauthier. To Daniz, he reminded him to remain vigilant about the Conclave, though Caine did not believe that Chalatu would directly seek out Daniz, a figure openly connected to Germaine Spalro. Still, it was always wise to offer a gentle reminder. As a "Mystic," Caine had a solid understanding of the "Seer" path; he knew that the truly promising among them were typically cautious and attentive—though there might be some exceptions or oddities, none of which included Chalatu, who held a rank of Sequence 1. And in this current situation, with enough secret eyes already in place, Daniz appears more like a deliberate bait—intentionally placed to draw certain targets. Therefore, Chalatu is likely to remain highly cautious and careful, perhaps sending only discreet, indirect investigations through members of the Convent. The same principle applies to the message Caine sends to the "Recluse" Gauthier. While it includes such elements, the key point is for her to immediately contact the "Mystic Queen" Bernadette and inform her that Germán Sparo would like to meet as soon as possible. Additionally, Caine also informs the "Star General"—whom he had originally intended to update only at the next Tarot Gathering—about his intention to expedite the meeting, asking whether she would like to purchase the potion recipes for the "Farmer" Path, Sequence 5 "Druid" and Sequence 4 "Classical Alchemist." Danius, here gathering clues about the movements of the "Prophet of Illness," suddenly found his expression growing increasingly complex as he held his cup of golden beer. "What's wrong? Did you spot someone and suddenly recall an indescribable encounter?" Anderson shook his glass of "Lirantzi" malt whisky, lightly teasing Danius for his unusual state. Danius took a long gulp of beer, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and spoke with a noticeably somber tone: "We'll have to be especially cautious about the Monastic Order from now on." Since meeting Germain Spalro, he'd heard this sentiment repeatedly—his initial reactions of fear and anxiety had now settled into a steady sense of numbness and melancholy. He suspected that one day, he would be summoned and then forgotten by every organization, large and small, except for the "Fool" himself. Upon hearing this, Anderson studied Danius closely, then chuckled: "Sometimes, I think Germain Spalro is more like a hunter than I am." "Ah, I see you have a special means of communication—no need to dispatch messengers at all." Danius was about to offer a casual, routine response when suddenly, an Indis man burst into the tavern, holding a telegram: "Fyrsak has launched an air assault on Bekland and has formally declared war on Roon!" War? Anderson and Danius exchanged a glance, immediately sensing the unmistakable signs of a large-scale conflict through their keen awareness of the situation's nature. "Be cautious of the Monks of the Order, be cautious of Zarathustra..." To some extent, it was actually the least important matter that the Intis woman, Gardeleia, had first taken notice of. Precisely because of this, she had no reservations about Germain Sparo's request that he meet the Queen promptly, viewing it as a natural extension of the Monks' and Zarathustra's involvement. Finally, she gently opened her lips and softly recited the two names of the potions: "Druid... Classical Alchemist..." The modern designation for this Sequence 4 should be 'Ancient Alchemist,' previously also known as 'Human Alchemist...' Gardelie unconsciously walked toward the window, her gaze fixed downward. At that moment, on the sea where there was a time difference from Beckett, Frank Lee and "the Craftsman" Charles were leaning against the side of the ship, enjoying the setting sun. Frank appeared relaxed and content, yet his eyes held a subtle sense of curiosity, as if something remained unresolved. Charles, on the other hand, was pale, his lips trembling, with mushrooms scattered across his clothes. Druid... Ancient Alchemist... Gardelie repeated the two specialized terms once more, feeling a heavy weight pressing down upon her. A few seconds later, Cadryla pushed her heavy glasses up her nose, reassuring herself internally: "The ' Fool ' hasn't given any indication, so it must not be serious..." As this thought formed, shimmering starlight began to drift and settle between the window of the captain's cabin and the deck, forming a luminous staircase. Cadryla descended the stairs and approached Frank Lee and Charles. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Frank, what are your aspirations?" It was only then that Frank Lee realized the captain had arrived. He raised his hand, pushed himself up, and stood: "Aspirations?" "This biologist thought seriously and said, 'I can study soil, crops, and hybridization techniques without restrictions, and I can also achieve the goal of ending hunger and making people more equal—what you can do, I can do too. What you can grow, I can grow as well.'" Hearing this, the "craftsman" Charles slowly turned over and quietly got to his knees beside him, then opened his mouth and began to vomit. Frank Lee remained completely unaffected, continuing, "To have such a world, we must have sufficient food and resources. Therefore, I hope to create various organisms capable of adapting to different environments and conditions. After all, everyone has their own preferences—mine are fish, cattle, and spores." The "Star Above" Gauthier listened quietly without expression, pushing her thick glasses on her nose three times during the entire statement. Silence fell for a moment, then Cadryl asked, "Your research is just one step away from completion?" "Yes, just the catalysis of certain Druid abilities remains. If I can't secure the formula, I'd like to ask Charleff to help me transform my unique Druid traits into magical items." Frank replied openly. "No! I won't help you! You're a demon!" Charleff, the silent artisan, lifted his head and shouted urgently, spitting out a stream of nausea. Cadryl watched the scene calmly, then flipped her hand and produced a gold coin from nowhere. Clang! The coin spun upward, then settled gently into Cadryl's palm, with the portrait side facing up. "I have the Druid potion formula, from Germain Sparo, 5,000 gold pounds," Cadryl said in detail, as though deliberately speaking directly to Charleff, to reveal the true culprit. Pure joy shone in Frank Lee's eyes: "He truly is a good man! 'Er, Captain, I currently have only 3,000 pounds saved. Could you lend me 2,000 pounds?" Most of his previous savings had been used to purchase the exceptional trait of the "Druid," and even to sell off some of his possessions for it. Gauthier remained silent for a few seconds, then nodded gently in response to Frank Lee's earnest gaze: "Yes." ........ North District, the affiliated hospital of the Bekland Medical College. Uldora lay motionless on her bed, lacking any youthful vitality. She had woken up from her coma early, yet had not opened her eyes, so she only heard from the doctors, who informed her parents that her right leg, injured during the air raid, might need to be amputated. Later, she lay there in a state of bewilderment, feeling that one after another, people came to visit her. Among them, Audrey, a board member of the "Lunen Charitable Scholarship Fund" who had originally come merely to check on her neighbor's student, learned of her situation and expressed willingness to cover the costs of her ongoing treatment. Mr. Portland Monnet, the school's president, pledged to have the most advanced and convenient mechanical prosthesis crafted for her, enabling her to walk like a typical person. Yet none of this lifted the grayness, heaviness, sadness, or sense of despair that lingered in Yudora's heart. She was still under eighteen, had not yet had the chance to savor the joys of life, and now faced the loss of a leg—and of her dreams. Her family wasn't particularly wealthy. Her father was a hardware store owner who believed in the "Lord of the Storm," blunt and rough, unwilling to engage women in reasoned conversation. Her mother was timid and dependent, surviving by her diligence and hard work, supplementing the household income. Without a second child at home, it would have been impossible for Yudora to pursue education—though even then, her father chose the Beckett Technical School, a place where results could be seen quickly. Previously, she had felt fortunate that the Beckett Technical School had been restructured into the Beckett Technical University, and that she had passed the exams to become a true university student. This daily source of joy brought smiles to her face and radiated happiness to those around her, giving her the time to pursue poetry. Yudora's dream was to remain at the university as a university teacher, marry a man she loved and who loved her in return, and continue writing poetry, hoping to have it published in magazines and newspapers. Now, all of this has been utterly, coldly obliterated—by a single bomb that fell from the sky. Unknown how long it had passed, Yudora silently pulled the blanket up to cover her face, emitting a soft, infantile cry, a delicate wail. The crying continued without pause, until suddenly, Yudora felt a stirring and lifted the blanket to find a dark figure standing by the bedside, there all along. Half of the figure's face was completely veiled in mushrooms, the other half covered in wild grasses, and in her hands she held a staff of its original, wood-like hue. "...," Yudora could not even scream—her heart seemed about to burst. When the dark figure gently touched her with the tip of the staff, Yudora felt her heart return to normal, and a cool sensation surged through her right leg, as though it had regained sensation. She looked again toward the bedside—there was no longer any figure there. In bewilderment, Yudora moved her right leg, and found it pain-free, as though she had never been injured at all. She pulled the blanket up again, covering her face. After several seconds, soft, incredulous, frightened cries, interlaced with a touch of joy, emerged from beneath the blanket.