As a "hunter" with the "cloak of shadows," Daniz has always been adept at concealment and surveillance. He once successfully ambushed "Steel" McVitt for General Gelmann Sparo, and now, having left no trace, he simply feels a bit bored and eagerly anticipates Anderson's arrival to take his place. When will this kind of life end? The arrival of the "Disease General" must come soon—no, not yet. Not now. It's better to wait until Anderson arrives. Daniz assessed himself calmly and concluded his prayer with rationality. He worries that a pirate general of Tracie's caliber—the "Disease General"—might detect his presence in the shadows, and he lacks the courage and confidence to face that possibility. Of course, if he wears the glove, all of this would be resolved. ——As long as he makes his decision swiftly, his hesitation and fears will never catch up with him! "You seem rather troubled," a voice suddenly resonated at his side. Daniz was startled, leaping out of the shadows with a sudden burst of orange and red flame forming in his hands. At the same time, he turned his gaze toward the source of the sound and spotted Anderson hidden among a patch of small trees, his head adorned with several green-leafed branches, nearly blending into the surroundings. "Well, for heaven's sake!" Daniz didn't know whether he was cursing Anderson or himself, and after letting out the exclamation, he asked, "When did you arrive?" "Two minutes ago," Anderson replied with a smile. "You were well concealed—I didn't spot you right away. So I just asked you a question based on your usual hiding habits." Daniz found himself unsure whether to feel proud or angry, his emotions tangled, and he asked hesitantly, "If I had remained calm back then, would you have been unable to find me?" "Theoretically, yes," Anderson said calmly, smiling. "But as a seasoned 'hunter,' one wouldn't rely on just one method." Danzí was about to ask what other options there were when he suddenly noticed Baz extinguishing his candle and preparing to go to sleep. After a few seconds, in the darkness, the blurry figure of the information broker Baz appeared at the window, leapt lightly, and landed in the dimly lit area outside. That was precisely where Danzí had been hiding—almost stepped on by his target as he remerged into the shadows. Baz then moved along the shadows toward the seaside. "Damn it!" Danzí finally stepped into view, pointing a middle finger at the back of his target. Anderson also stepped out of the small grove, brushing off branches from his head, and smiled at Danzí. "Looks like we're going to have some good news tonight." Danzí glanced at the misty sea's top hunter across from him and nodded firmly. "I hope it's the 'One Who Will Prevail in Illness.'" He immediately took Anderson and, using the shadows that were common throughout the night, began tracking the information broker, maintaining a perfectly appropriate distance. "Not exactly stupid..." Anderson observed, chuckling softly. Danyz internally exhaled a soft "hmm," offering no response. Without his gloves, he was well aware this wasn't a situation of mutual jibes or playful provocation. Half an hour later, Baze arrived at the seashore, standing on the sand and gazing at the deep blue ocean illuminated by the crimson moonlight. He didn't wait long—gradually, from the far reaches of the dark sea, a massive silhouette emerged, taking shape into a ship entirely black, flying a white flag. On that flag, two glowing blue flames burned within a dark skull. "The Black Death!" Danyz exclaimed—indeed, the flagship of the Commander of Illness, Tracie, the Black Death! If not already shadowed, his pupils would have dilated significantly, eager to capture every detail of the vessel. He unconsciously moved forward a little more, hoping to truly confirm whether Tracy, the one with the illness, was indeed aboard. The large sailing vessel was drawing nearer, and gradually, within the shade, the two could see seamen busily moving about on the deck. Was there a dock here where the ship could anchor? Or should they send Buz a smaller boat and have him row over himself? As Daniz went through these thoughts, Anderson spoke softly, "Step back from here." Ah? Daniz's greatest strength was his ability to follow orders from authority figures—whether it was Edwina Edwards or Germán Sparrow—he would at most voice a few objections, but always carry out the instructions without fail. Though now full of questions and eager to argue his point, he nonetheless used the shade to quietly and silently move away from the shore. Only when the silhouette of the "Black Death" had faded, and only the sound of the waves could be faintly heard, did Daniz step out of the shadow and appear in the forest, urgently asking, "Shall I confirm that the 'Disease-Commander' is still here?" Anderson studied Daniz closely, then chuckled, "Never underestimate the remarkable ones who have gained fame at sea yet have managed to survive this far—every pirate commander must be treated with due caution and never taken lightly." Daniz instinctively replied, "The 'Blood-Commander' Senior, the 'Hell-Commander' Ludewell..."—both of whom had been easily defeated by a daring adventurer. "...," Anderson found himself momentarily at a loss for words, pausing several seconds before saying, "So isn't the 'Disease-Commander' Tracie, who has survived the attack by Germán Sparrow, even more worthy of our attention?" Danzig thought carefully and unexpectedly found Anderson's words quite convincing. Just as he was about to speak, a sudden itch in his throat caused him to cough. After several coughs, his throat swelled and a metallic taste began to rise. "Look," Anderson said, gripping his fists against his mouth and clearing his throat gently, though his reaction wasn't as pronounced as Danzig's, "Tracy must have been spreading various illnesses throughout that area around the ship. As soon as anyone approaches, they quickly get infected and exposed. Indeed, such broad application of power indicates she has fully assimilated the Sequence 5 potion—she's on track to advance to Sequence 4." "Why hasn't she already reached Sequence 4?" Danzig quickly recovered, having moved away from the infection zone, and instinctively countered. "Then you're either on the 'Black Death' ship—or you've contracted the 'Black Death' and are on the verge of dying." Anderson half-turned his body, directing his gaze toward the coastline he could hardly see, "Tracy's application was somewhat clever—she only maintained the disease in the frontal area, neglecting the other three directions, and then relied on the wind's spread to affect people on shore." With that, Anderson lightly tapped his hands, rekindling his smile: "Our own experience proves beyond doubt that the 'disease-in-the-making' was indeed aboard. You may now inform Germán Sparo." ...Danzí hesitated no longer and immediately arranged the ritual, summoning the messenger. Anderson, citing the need for precaution against unforeseen events, stepped out of the woods. ...In the eastern district of Bekkan, around three in the morning, the only light came from the moon and the stars—otherwise, everything was dark. Klein, dressed in a cotton nightgown and wearing a sleep cap to protect his hair, sat on the bed, silently receiving the letter from Renette Tiniel without asking any questions. Upon closer inspection, he rose calmly, pulled out the steel pen from his pocket, and wrote on the reverse of the letter paper: "Return to the port city and await further instructions." After watching the messenger girl depart, Caine composed himself, changed into a shirt, donned a waistcoat, tied his tie neatly, and draped on his black overcoat. Then, he walked backward four steps, standing upon the gray mist, using the yellow crystal pendulum to divinate the level of risk for this mission—receiving only faint insights. With no further hesitation, Caine returned to the real world, stood before the mirror, picked up his half-height silk hat, and placed it upon his head. In the room outside, the secret figures Chounas and Enyuni opened their eyes on the elevated bed. ………… In an empty room aboard the "Black Death," a figure swiftly materialized—dark hair, brown eyes, with a firm, composed outline—clearly resembling Germain Spaulding. Under the dim, rosy moonlight, Craine glanced around, casually settled into a chair, and began to enjoy the view of the sea outside. Inside the captain's room, just separated by a layer of space, the "General in Illness" Tracie, dressed in a white shirt and beige pants, watched Baz exit with distaste, instinctively tugging at her collar as her expression grew increasingly serious. She had just learned that both "Flame" Daniz and the top hunter Anderson had been staying on the island of Selos recently, with no clear purpose—both of them were connected to Germaine Sparrow. Was he looking for me? Tracie narrowed her eyes, then without hesitation walked toward the window, preparing to instruct the sailors on deck to steer the ship away from this area. At that very moment, however, her thoughts suddenly stalled, as if she were caught in a state where she clearly knew she was dreaming, yet no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't shake it off. Unsettling—black flames suddenly burst from across Tracie's body, attempting to burn away any potential external influence. Yet at first, the flames flowed smoothly, but as time went on, they grew fragmented, dripping steadily onto the ground, like withering petals. Tracie felt a deep sense of despair, her thoughts growing increasingly sluggish. She no longer cared about anything else, quickly causing a translucent layer of ice to form across her skin, drawing the invisible threads into spirals that wound and wrapped around her body. At that moment, the door to the captain's room creaked open, and Germaine Sparrow entered, wearing a silk hat and a black coat. He then closed the door with a polite, effortless gesture. With a soft crack, the entire captain's room became profoundly still—no longer echoing with the sound of waves, as if severed from the real world. The invisible spider threads wrapping around Tracie, however, seemed to have misunderstood the command, tightly binding her as a sickly commander, leaving her unable to move or summon her extraordinary abilities. "Twisted!" Tracy's thoughts returned, and the sensation of mental stagnation lifted. "You—you want to do what?" she asked, her eyes filled with fear as Germaine Spalro stepped closer. She couldn't understand why, despite having clearly lost all strength to resist, the other had abandoned his attempt at secret embodiment. Klein had done this out of concern that the "disease of the near kin" and the "White Witch" shared a very close bloodline. Should Tracy die, the half-deity, skilled in curses, would surely sense it and take preemptive action. With a soft, rhythmic tap, tap, Klein stopped before the witch.