Within the magnificent palace veiled in gray mist, Caine extended his right hand, lightly tapping the weathered edge of the long table, and murmured silently: "The five noble houses of the Tord dynasty are Amun, Abraham, Antigonus, Jacob, and Tamara... It was Amun, Abraham, and the other angelic kings—Adam, among them—who helped Alistair Tord become the 'Emperor of Blood.' Could it be inferred that, during the Tord-Trenzosth Empire era, Amun and Abraham stood beside Alistair as one of his two chief magistrates? If so, when Alistair Tord initially decided—without public announcement—to secretly construct the royal mausoleum, he would have naturally sought assistance from either Amun, Abraham, or Antigonus, or from a combination of them. And Berthel Abraham, known as 'The Gate,' holds the 'Apprentice' path, and in terms of 'transmission,' even the true gods may not surpass His mastery. Therefore, could the 'precise transmission' feature of the Tord ruins have been arranged by Berthel Abraham?" "It's very likely! Well, only a figure of such stature as the 'Gate' gentleman could make the access and egress of this secret sanctuary so seamless that even my divination above the gray mist fails to pinpoint it, and even the angels entrusted with guarding its secrecy struggle to penetrate directly... As my thoughts unfold, I grow increasingly convinced that my own intuition is close to the truth. I wonder if the 'Gate' gentleman has left behind any corresponding records—accurate coordinates or alternative means of entry and exit? That will then require the 'Magician' lady to consult her teacher. Ah, how I hope the 'Magician' lady will soon become a true 'Traveler'—so that she no longer needs to rely on letters to communicate with her teacher, but can simply 'transport' herself there. Indeed, she can do it now, but the repeated record of her travels itself might unsettle her teacher, raising suspicions—what a bother! If the Abraham family has left no such records, shall we then attempt to speak directly to the 'Gate' gentleman?" This is not only troublesome, but dangerous... Most importantly, Miss Magician hasn't reached Sequence 5 yet—she's often hard to hear, let alone respond to Mr. Door. I can't transform her into one of my secret duplicates, nor can I manifest myself within her. When Klein first pulled Miss Magician, Folsom, up into the gray mist, he seriously considered the issue of communicating with Mr. Door through her after his own sequence advancement. As he learned more, however, the more he grew fearful, the more hesitant he became. Moreover, the level he currently occupies lacks sufficiently effective and safe means. A thought stirred, and Klein suddenly sighed softly, whispering a single word: "Patience..." "Pah, this stuff from Lirang is far too subpar—why are they enjoying themselves so much?" Folshe set down her wine glass, raised her right hand, and puffed out a breath at her lips, murmuring softly. "Besides having a decent alcohol content, it has absolutely no other merits. Oh, and it's cheap!" After sipping from a second glass of cold water, Folshe picked up her pen and wrote on a notebook of rather poor quality: "The pirates here only seek strong wines and place a strong emphasis on price. To them, being thoroughly drunk is more important than anything else. My three pirate friends have told me that this port city was built by them themselves. Initially, they docked here, stored their harvests, and settled their families. Gradually, bankrupt merchants, adventurers, and tax-evaders made their way here, establishing homes, clearing land, and building houses. Eventually, a trading market emerged, and seafaring merchants—like sharks drawn to fresh blood—flocked in en masse." "As I wrote here, Fores lifted his head and looked toward the three pirates huddled in the corner: 'Do you have anything more to say?' The three large, broad-shouldered pirates trembled simultaneously and said with a serious, sorrowful expression: 'No, truly, nothing more.'... Indeed, mimicking the posture of the 'World' gentleman to deal with the pirates felt quite excellent. Fores murmured this to himself, shook his head, and turned his gaze back to his writing: 'The atmosphere here is very open. If a woman takes a liking to a man, she can certainly set her price, and likewise, if a man takes a liking to another man, or a woman to another woman, that is equally acceptable. According to my three pirate friends, during their long sea voyages, the prolonged sense of restraint and monotony inevitably led some to experiment with unconventional behaviors—on this point, they are remarkably honest, openly sharing their personal experiences.' 'Moreover, they revealed to me some things I had previously found hard to believe: the pirates actually value democracy and justice." "This truly overturned my expectations, yet upon reflection, it seems understandable—after all, they never claimed to pursue justice. The three pirate friends explained that when individuals lack overwhelming, decisive strength, the majority on a pirate ship always prevails over the minority. Moreover, operating a large vessel requires the collaboration of many people. These factors combined result in a highly democratic pirate team, where a captain is periodically voted out or even killed by his crew. I wonder if, once a captain possesses absolute strength, the pirate group would evolve into a completely different form. As I write this, Folshe lifts her gaze to the window, where beneath a clear blue sky and white clouds, a dense, haphazard cluster of wooden and stone buildings forms a market, occasionally revealing a few children in slightly worn clothes leaping past it." Hearing the vibrant, bustling noise, Forth wrote again: "There is absolutely no urban planning here. People build houses haphazardly, expanding their boundaries at will, until many roads are narrow enough for only one person to walk on—sunlight is rarely visible. My first thought was that a fire would be catastrophic, as Beckettland once suffered a similar disaster. However, my three pirate friends reassured me that this should not be a concern, since the region is damp and rainy, and the people with unique abilities never conceal anything. Though the area remains chaotic, it has not yet been touched by war, and yet it exudes a sense of calm and tranquility." "Moreover, what they fear most—what they dread most—is not the 'Lord of the Five Seas' Nastur, nor the various eerie legends, but the intrepid adventurer Germán Sparo. Each pirate constantly warns one another: don't drink too late, don't take nighttime walks, don't use the alley toilets, for doing so might result in their disappearance—and the suspected culprit, it's said, is precisely that gentleman. Is this a hunt?" As he wrote, Folshe's expression gradually grew serious, and he quickly pulled out another stack of paper, continuing the narrative: "…The nights at the hospital are always tinged with a peculiar cold, and the darkness outside is more profound than in other places. …No one knows why the young lady in the single-room ward insisted on having her relatives bring mushrooms and weeds, nor does anyone know what ultimately became of them. In short, there are no signs of fire within the ward, nor any discarded items outside—leading several nursing sisters to suspect that the patient was quietly eating the mushrooms and weeds raw." …Built along the mountain slopes, the town of Afternoon divided into upper, middle, and lower levels, and within this settlement, the camp of Silver City was established. Derek Berg clasped his hands together, placing them before his mouth, and softly recited: "An fool out of this age..." After finishing his prayer, he rose, took the ancient cross, covered in verdigris and adorned with sharp spines, and walked toward the outer bonfire. — Since the "Cross of No Dark" repels other magical items, his hammer, known as "Thor's Roar," remains temporarily with Heinrich and Joshua. As the exploration team of the Silver City gathered, Klein had already reached the gray mist, picked up the "Poseidon's Staff," and, through the expansion and contraction of one deep-red star within it, observed the town in the afternoon, extending his view toward the "King of Giants' Hall." — Without the aid of the "Prayer Points" or the "Poseidon's Staff," relying solely on the deep-red star, Klein currently lacks such a broad observational range. As his gaze shifted, a vibrant yet solemn dusk gradually unfolded in Klein's eyes. In the place where dusk had settled like a stillness, there stood an expansive complex of palaces, towering spires, and imposing fortifications—magnificent and resplendent, as though conjured from myth, preserved in a state of timeless stillness. "The Court of the Giants!" Klein tried to focus his vision closer, but found himself unable to discern the specific details beneath the twilight. No wonder, given that this was the realm of ancient gods—not one abandoned or hidden away—indeed, it was a fitting choice for the angels' secret gatherings. Perhaps the prayers offered as the small "Sun" entered the Court of the Giants would help him see more clearly. Klein nodded thoughtfully. At the same time, he turned his attention to Elder Lovira, the Shepherd, and noticed that she seemed to be encased in a shimmering, ethereal silver full-body armor. This should be the spirit she has been tending—so far, no visible influence from the True Maker has been felt. Kline exhaled slowly, patiently awaiting further developments. A while later, under the leadership of Chief Colin Iliat, the exploration party consisting of Derek Berg and nine others departed from the afternoon town camp, ascending the gray stone steps between one towering, shadowy structure and another, steadily making their way toward the summit. At least sequence-6 extraordinary beings, and most of them belonging to the "Warrior" path, they moved swiftly, clearing several waves of monsters dominated by rotting giants, until they finally reached the area bathed in golden twilight, where the magnificent, imposing buildings, radiating a strong sense of epic grandeur, momentarily silenced all voices. This was their first encounter with a place devoid of alternating lightning, where natural daylight prevailed! Colin, the "Hunter of Monsters," narrowed his eyes slightly, then removed a small metal bottle from his pack and drank the liquid inside. Through generations of change, they have grown more adapted to the frequent, deep darkness of lightning, instinctively fearing the stillness that settles at dusk. A mixture of hope and apprehension. After drinking the prepared potion and mentally preparing themselves, Colin Iliad and "The Shepherd" Loviea led the exploration team into the area bathed in golden twilight. Before Dyrek could even begin to sense anything, the verdant patina on his "Cross of No Dark" fell away, revealing a solid form composed of pure light. Yet the light emitted by this form was no longer clear—it carried a distinct, warm orange hue characteristic of dusk. Immediately thereafter, Dyrek felt his own state plummet to its lowest point, as though he had reached the most fatigued moment of the day, fully prepared to welcome the approaching night.