In high-stakes combat, opportunities to cast spells are actually quite rare—no one willingly leaves room for an opponent to retrieve and recite incantations. Tris managed her maneuver because she ignited a sinister black flame from within, radiating outward, which seemingly siphoned all heat from the surrounding area, causing thick ice crystals to form. Beyond these crystals, countless nearly invisible silk threads wound backward in layers, encircling and enveloping the space like a massive cocoon. Thanks to this three-layered defense, Tris gained a few precious seconds. Then, she drew forth a rectangular, diamond-shaped spell and began to chant: "Yesterday!" Transparent flames ignited within the eerie black flame, and the diamond-like spell silently shattered, dissolving into the void. This spell had been specially provided by Kline, designed so that the destructive forces from all three directions could be transformed into concentrated points of attack. Tris immediately saw the grayish mist, and there, like countless stars scattered across it, unfolded a series of scenes: the young him, wandering the streets as a child; him controlled by the crime syndicate, cheated, deceived, and robbed; him joining the Gnostics and becoming an "assassin," embracing the end, the bloodshed, the slaughter, and the people being manipulated to strip off their masks and reveal their beastly nature; her, compelled by various circumstances, willingly transforming into a "witch"; her beginning to spread calamities; her, arranged by the order of the female sorcerers, becoming the lady-in-waiting to Prince Edessa; her growing less and less like herself, increasingly immersed in pleasure; her, consumed by profound fear, yearning to escape, yet sinking deeper into hell; her enduring endless suffering and choosing the extreme. With a mere thought, Tris enlarged one scene, filling her entire field of vision. Within that beam of light, the lawn outside was lush and green, horses moving slowly, the golf holes faintly visible. Inside, the antique display cabinets blocked the view from the doorway. In the past, Trish stood at the periphery, gazing out the window, her left hand adorned with a sapphire ring. At that time, she had not yet reached Sequence 5, and thus did not possess the strength she now draws from others. However, she wore a ring from the Order of the Magi, closely linked to the "Primordial Mage." It was this very ring that Trish needed. Suddenly, the elegant sapphire ring, once so distinct, appeared on Trish’s little finger. Unlike in the past, Trish now, as a Sequence 4 half-deity deeply marked by the imprint and having submitted to significant transformation, had already established her credentials. Though she was not yet a fully solid "Divine Container," she had earned the qualifications. And through this sapphire ring, she briefly regained a measure of initiative. She glanced again at the past scene—watching as the silk threads forming a cocoon crumbled inch by inch, the heavy ice crystals melted silently, and the eerie black flame suffered erosion. Then, lifting her left hand, she closed her eyes and smiled, gently pressing the sapphire ring against her brow. The ring melted like metal, flowing into her head in a half-real, half-phantom manner. At that moment, the eerie black flame had been completely stripped away by Prince Groves, and a lance of blazing white light surged forward. At the tip of the lance, two pairs of white wings unfolded layer by layer, gathering around the spearhead like angels, sealing off all surrounding space and leaving the target utterly unable to escape. Just then, Tris opened her eyes—now deep black. Her hair rose upright, thickening into slender serpents, their outer surfaces smooth and strange. At the tips, some bore distinct black-and-white eyes set like jewels, others grew serpent-like heads, their mouths slightly open, flicking out tongues. The long spear, composed purely of radiant light, remained suspended before Tris, as though held by an invisible hand, unable to advance another inch. It swiftly took on a gray-white hue, transitioning from ethereal to tangible, as if carved from stone. With a sudden crash, the spear plummeted rapidly, striking the edge of the cliff and shattering into countless fragments. Gray-white hues, now alive with vitality, surged outward from Tris, spreading swiftly in all directions—turning stone wherever they passed, and transforming other objects into stone. The various rituals once established within the "First Site" also adopted this gray-white tone, rendering the angels guarding the other secret tombs unable to detect the changes promptly or descend to attend. Prince Groves was instantly enveloped by the spreading gray-white radiance, able to maintain only a small safe zone through the intense light radiating from his thorny crown. His words and intentions, once formed, could no longer be conveyed. Thelis, who no longer distinguished between the whites and the blacks of her eyes, didn't even glance at her opponent just moments ago. Amidst the serpentine forms crowding the sky, she took a step toward the hidden tomb at the deepest part of the dark valley. Boom! The earth began to quake violently, and deep within, a resonant rumble echoed. Streams of crimson meteors, trailing flames, materialized out of nowhere, passed over the mage Thelis, and crashed into the tomb. In an instant, the site was struck by a cascade of disasters. King George III, who was at a crucial stage in his ascension, felt a surge of profound confusion and fury. With great effort, he drew upon his strength and, leveraging the preparations he had made earlier, forcibly "distorted" the surrounding space, isolating the solemn, deep-black secret tomb from the real world so that the earthquake and meteors could not reach it. Boom! Boom! Among all the various disasters, the cliff faces crumbled block by block, and the ruins began to collapse. From within the secret tomb, which had become its own world, the voice of George III rose in furious indignation: "Are you mad?" A force that had been deliberately summoned through the persona of Sequence 4—only to result in death! Tris smiled, her facial skin stretched to the limit, cracking inch by inch, revealing beneath it blood and flesh that seemed to be writhing wildly. The once-terrifying mage exhaled with a soft, resonant "hmm," and said: "Isn't the ending of a beautiful story supposed to see all the villains perish? Like you, or like me..." Before finishing her words, Tris, with that haunting smile, plummeted like a meteor toward the secret tomb, whose space had been warped around her, determined to destroy it. The commotion just now nearly caused the angels present to halt altogether, yet the discreet angel—called forth by Caine as a historical fissure image—acted solely on instinct, continuing the battle and worsening the chaos. At this moment, the projection of William Augustus I drew a silver thrusting sword, pointed it forward, and made a sweeping gesture. Without needing to speak a word, the entire disorder within the sanctuary miraculously ceased. The combatants were now divided across separate battlefields: Hermes faced the motionless lady; "Divine Defect" Seara pressed down on Renette Tiniel; the projections of the Great Emperor Roscel and the Angel of Light encircled Caine; and William I himself stood apart, exerting control, preventing the ripple effects from reaching the tombs below. Indeed, the "Hand of Order"... Caine's pupils dilated instantly. Without hesitation, he extended his right hand into the inner folds of his garments and slightly reached out with his left, drawing strength from his past self. — The "Death Magistrate," the Abbot of the Night Monastery, and the Secret Angel are all historical imprints originating from levels far beyond Caine himself. Whether summoned or sustained, they impose a tremendous spiritual toll upon him, compelling him to draw upon the strength of his own past self before his spiritual essence fully depletes. As a result, he is now filled with false spirituality, which, within five minutes, becomes indistinguishable from the genuine. Then, Caine sees the light. A celestial being composed entirely of pure radiance, bearing ethereal wings, surges forth in waves of luminous tide, flooding and engulfing him. Within the blazing, white ocean of light, one object emerges abruptly, descending swiftly and drawing nearer to the hidden mausoleum. It has a dark cover and an interior made of vellum. *The Grollese Travels!* And relying on the essence that could differentiate into "spirit insects" and his enhanced morphing abilities, Caine condensed himself into sheets of living flesh—bookmarking himself—embedding them within this travelogue, using them to withstand the endless purification and dissolution of radiant light. Even so, Caine sustained significant injuries, as the light reached parts of his body from the sides. Yet this was not the end. At the point where the *Grosel Travelogue* was falling, Emperor Roscel, dressed in magnificent attire, stood waiting, raising his hands. "...”Caine could not pause to consider anything else—he had to activate his first self-defense measure: He simply needed to vanish into the fissures of history! A tremendous thunderclap echoed outside the ruins. At first distant, its final resonance now close at hand. All beings within the ruins—Caine himself, as well as the projections within the historical fissures—were struck dumb, rigid with shock, and the "ocean of light" instantly dimmed. No, one figure remained unaffected. In Caine's vision of the night, the hidden angel—beautiful but not particularly lively—seized the opportunity to subtly fade her physical form, transforming into a multitude of symbols representing secrecy and terror, expanding into a strange, unified world that encompassed Hermes, Renette Tiniel, Seara's arms, the Angel of Light, and William Augustus I. ——Though Caine summoned images of historical rifts significantly weakened in power, certain essential elements remained intact! The chaos Caine had been anticipating finally arrived. Meanwhile, George III's other allies—such as the King of Angels—were still elsewhere, within other tombs. As soon as this nearly translucent, strange world took shape, the angels within immediately began to resist. Amidst the turmoil, the world was easily torn apart. Yet, under the deliberate guidance of the lady, the radiant light infused with the residual powers of the angels surged forth, directly heading toward the hidden, lower tomb. Thunderous roar! A greater thunder roared, once again overwhelming King Roscel, who was unable to make any attempt to resist. Instantly, the deep, majestic secret mausoleum was struck, its surface cracks spreading silently inward, revealing the dark interior. Within these fissures, streams of blood materialized—some bright red, others deep and somber. Boom! Boom! Boom! This time, Caine, now restored to human form and holding the *Travelogue of Grolle*, launched a barrage of air projectiles in unison with the scattered "spirit insects" around him. The mausoleum, already teetering on the brink of collapse, collapsed entirely, with vast amounts of blood gushing forth. …… With the destruction of this mausoleum, King George III's ascension ceremony lost its stability, lacking the essential support it once had. Should only one mausoleum have been attacked, He could still rely on his invisible connections with them to mount a defensive response. But now, He himself was under relentless assault. His already ethereal body suddenly boiled,再也 unable to sustain the outer "distortion," and the sepulcher that had been isolated from reality finally appeared before Trist. A gentle curve formed at the corners of Trist's flesh-trembling face. ...... Within the city of Beacon, on the Day of Remembrance plaza. "My subjects..." King George III, with his small, serious mustache, was concluding his speech when he suddenly exploded. His flesh turned to smoke and sprayed upward into the air.