Baker Street, East District. In a cramped rental apartment. Caine, dressed in a thicker jacket, stood behind the desk, gazing through the glass window, carefully sensing the pace at which the "Witch-Physician's" potion was being digested. "It's really fast—faster than the total amount I've absorbed over my first three months. Still, it's no surprise. Before I secured the 'Staff of Life,' I couldn't offer sufficient healing treatments. I had to constantly monitor whether the frightened patients' hearts could withstand the strain, so I couldn't go to hospitals to create urban legends. Likewise, without the war breaking out, it would have been difficult to locate other half-gods. Most of those I could track were based in their own domains. To quietly infiltrate and create an eerie, unsettling atmosphere, I'd have to transform innocent people into spectral figures—something I wouldn't even consider, even if I had no other choice." Caine shifted his focus away from himself, silently murmuring a few remarks. He then repeated the word in his mind: "war..." At that moment, the distant glow of streetlights still lingered, while the eastern district had turned completely dark, with police officers occasionally passing by with lanterns. Usually, these officers would not be so proactive. Now, however, due to the outbreak of war, they had to enforce the corresponding regulations to maintain good order. “War….” Klein whispered the word again, and in the hazy moment, he already saw parts of the outcome: King George III of Ruin finally broke free from the constraints, no longer fearing that any of the Seven Gods might obstruct his progress. He could now formally advance the various rites of the "Black Emperor." What remained now was simply his own strength—his own resilience—so long as he could endure the impact of the potion and maintain the necessary clarity of mind, then he would ascend to divinity, reaching the rank of Sequence 0. The Einhorne family of Fyren would, through this war that touched every corner of the world, allow their key members to fully absorb the potion, preparing their own rites with relative ease, thereby elevating their overall strength to a new level. As for Amun’s brother, he too would undergo transformation, drinking the potion and evolving into a "Theorist," becoming yet another true god in this world. Such an outcome—do you accept it? And the unseen force behind all this—its mastermind, its greatest culprit—will step steadily up the staircases piled high with corpses, ascending to divine throne, receiving acclaim, shedding the weight of aging. Do you accept this course of development? Do you accept this arrangement? Do you accept this outcome? "No, I do not accept," said Kline quietly, suddenly breaking the silence, his voice low. That voice resonated throughout the room, echoing layer upon layer, overlapping and reverberating: "No, I do not accept!" Even as the echoes lingered in his ears, a faint smile began to form at the corner of Kline's mouth—self-mocking. "Seven deities have all consented," he murmured. "What then is the point of my resistance?" Kline fell silent once more, holding his breath for a long while, then spoke calmly to himself: "Even if it holds no meaning, some things must still be done." Is there not, in this world, far too much that does not succeed, that lacks value or purpose? Klein's lips curled slightly, he drew back his gaze, turned his body, and stepped into the room inside the rented apartment. Though he had already made up his mind, he wasn't planning to act hastily. At his current level and standing, no matter how much he might strive, it would be extremely difficult to influence King George III's affairs—unless he sacrificed his own life, there would be no tangible result. Moreover, should the internal chaos of Ruon be triggered during the war's critical phase, leading to a successful invasion by the Fosak army, the number of innocent lives lost and wounded would be ten to a hundred times greater than that of the great smog event in Bekland. "Right now, all that can be done is preparation—on one hand, to strengthen oneself, and on the other, to make further arrangements, patiently waiting for the right moment," Klein murmured silently. He then retrieved a clump of dark, sticky substance, divided it in half, and even spread it uniformly over one mirror. This was the means of contacting the mage, Trist. Yet, until the black thing had completely "evaporated" and vanished, the mirror showed no abnormalities. "No response... After being frightened by the messenger girl, the angel, has Trist decided to cut all ties with Germain Spalro?..." Klein sighed quietly and sat down by the bedside. His thoughts quickly shifted to the reasons why the witches' order had come to assist King George III: "First, the witches needed disasters to process their potions and conduct rituals—second, had George III made some promise to them?" They promised they could preach publicly—no, that should have been impossible for the Seven Deities. Even the Sequence-0, 'Black Emperor,' combined with the 'Primordial Witch' and the 'True Maker,' couldn't have stood against the Seven Deities' alliance. Of course, after this war, the very existence of the Seven Deities' alliance remains uncertain. "Then, the Seven Deities who knew that George III was collaborating with the Witch orders should not have made him the 'Black Emperor.' "What exactly were they promising? The Witch path has true deities—few valuable things fall outside it. The adjacent path? Isn't that precisely the 'Red Priest' path? George III, no—his brother Amun—through his connection with the 'Blood Emperor' Alistair Tord, not only secured the secret tombs essential to the 'Black Emperor,' but also obtained the exceptional angelic traits of the 'Red Priest' path—or the '0'-level seal artifact? "In the scenario where there is sequence 0 but no sequence 1, this might very well be the highest aspiration of the higher echelons of the Sorceress Order—yes, the 'Primordial Sorceress' would likely be equally interested... This explains why the Sorceress Order has offered assistance. The matter of the Red Angel's spirit seeking the White Sorceress, Catriona, doesn't seem as straightforward as the Angel himself claims. In fact, the Angel says nothing at all—only guides my thoughts through common sense and natural reactions." Klein's thoughts gradually clarified. He decided to use Catriona, the White Sorceress, as a breakthrough point and set her as his next target. However, before doing so, he needed to hear the prophecy of the 'Mysterious Queen,' Bernadette, and learn what she intends to achieve in Beckland. Only by gaining deeper insight into the situation could he truly identify and seize the opportunities! The next morning at dawn, "The Sage" Galadriya conveyed the message from "The Enigmatic Queen" Bernadette: "At noon, between 12 o'clock and 12:30, at the Serenzo Restaurant, the Golden Theater." That was the name of a private room. Kline arrived at 11:55 and, using a magical illusion, bypassed the waitstaff without any obstruction, making his way directly to the outer area of the intended room, where he patiently waited. After a while, he produced his gold-case pocket watch, snapped it open, and glanced at the time. He then closed the watch, silently counted to ten, and raised his hand to knock on the door of the "Golden Theater." At that moment, his secret companion, Chonasa, was seated at a bench across from the restaurant, leisurely reading the newspaper, while Enuni distributed leaflets portraying the villainy of Fasak, though the three of them frequently exchanged positions, making it difficult to determine who was where. "Please come in," Bernadette's voice echoed from within the room. That's impressive—I didn't notice anyone inside just now, nor did I see anyone enter... Hmm, partly because I hadn't activated my "spiritual line" vision. Klein murmured to himself, then turned the handle and pushed open the door. First what met his eyes was vast stretches of golden light, followed by the chestnut-haired woman seated at the head of the table.