Silently gazing at the goats and rabbits for several dozen seconds, Caine closed his eyes and gently tapped his right index and middle fingers—much like pressing invisible keys on a piano. Nearly one-third of the secret figures suddenly collapsed, losing their sense of life. Caine's expression instantly twisted, as if struck by a massive sword three dozen times. That familiar, intense pain surged through his spirit, causing subtle pale flesh buds to emerge on his skin—each bud seeming to harbor a transparent worm in development. This was a backlash from the death of thirty-three "spirit worms." After a pause of nearly a minute, Caine began his second attempt, sending another third of the secret figures to their end. The same pain, the same rest, the same procedure repeated once more, until Caine finally eradicated all the cursed secret figures. He couldn't handle it all at once, because the damage caused by the simultaneous death of a hundred "spirit insects" was enough to bring him close to losing control, and being cursed meant he couldn't directly resolve the issue through recovery of his inherent traits. Of course, this was precisely the level expected of a recently promoted "Ancient Scholar"—not the performance of an "Ancient Scholar" who was nearing the end of his magic potion. In reality, a single loss of a hundred "spirit insects" only intensified his pain, not triggering any signs of loss of control or disrupting his combat effectiveness. He had merely been playing his part, adjusting his performance to match the expected role. ——At his current level, only when more than half of his "spirit insects" are lost simultaneously does he risk losing control. Once he fully absorbs the effects of the "Ancient Scholar" potion, even a near-fifty-kill event could be managed, and even if all his exceptional traits are lost without returning, he would neither lose his status nor his level, instead gradually restoring his strength through the absorption of "Diviner" pathway traits. After completing this task, the calmed Kline stepped out of the partially collapsed tower-like structure into the outer darkness, returning with several white rabbits and a goat. Now he realized that the darkness of the God-Abandoned Land was not as dangerous as the little "sun" had described—most of the monsters were actually quite weak. Not exactly. The true dangers hidden deep in the darkness, aside from the effect of making beings vanish without a trace, were far less formidable than the one named Amun sitting beside him. Kline glanced at the slender man seated near the leather lantern, smiling calmly as he went about his work. Drawing out hot water and other items from the historical fissures, he knelt down and carefully attended to the fur, flesh, and blood of the rabbits and the goat. After a series of diligent efforts, Kline built a bonfire and set up a grill drawn from history, placing one white rabbit upon it, brushing it with rosemary, fennel, and fine salt from the seasoning set, and continuously turning it over. At that moment, the historical delicacies he had previously enjoyed had long since faded away, their essence lost, and both his body and soul now sent out clear signals of longing for replenishment. A fragrant aroma began to seep forth, and Amun gently sniffed the air, asking, "Are you really going to eat?" Without waiting for Caine's reply, the "God of Mischief" continued on his own: "Their essence is monster's flesh and your 'spirit insects'—are you certain you want to consume them?" "An angelic transformation curse cannot be lifted unless countered by a peer or through the proper means. If something appears like a rabbit, smells like a rabbit, and tastes like a rabbit, then it is, by definition, a rabbit." Caine spoke with a self-deprecating smile while carefully roasting the rabbit. "Moreover, to escape your grasp, one must be in peak condition. For this slender hope, I can only push my own psychological endurance to the limit." This is true resilience, Caine silently added to himself. At the same time, he expressed his admiration for the transformation curse of the "ancient monsters." It was vastly stronger than the similar curse of Sequence 3, "Silent Disciple!" The duration of this curse had almost no upper limit—while ordinary animals, once become my familiars, could fully access all of my extraordinary abilities through the "Spirit Insect," the transformation-affected familiars could not. This was indeed a curse befitting an angelic status. While direct confrontation from a peer of equal rank was necessary, there were still ways to attempt resolution using the right approach—no curse was absolutely insurmountable; each had its weaknesses. Ah, he thought, with a mix of self-mockery and analysis, adjusting his mental state. A simple kiss to this rabbit would restore it to Germain Spalro? With that, he gently settled his thoughts. Upon hearing his response, Amun, wearing single-lens spectacles, smiled and nodded. "Excellent. This is exactly the level of awareness we should expect." Klein said nothing, continuing with his barbecue. Not long after, with the aid of his "manipulation of flame" ability, he roasted a rabbit and a lamb leg. Seizing the opportunity while the spices were still fresh, he sipped the sweet iced tea summoned from the historical fissures, leaving a lingering aroma in his mouth and a sense of well-being that effectively eased the feelings of being "hostaged" by Amun—his sense of pressure, despair, and hesitation. Throughout this process, Klein occasionally thought about the grotesque appearances of the monsters and the fact that the "spirit insects" were, in essence, himself, yet he skillfully managed to keep these emotions under control. After satisfying his hunger and restoring his energy, Klein transformed the remaining ingredients by the fire into dry provisions, presenting himself as someone diligently stockpiling supplies for the journey ahead. As he methodically made these preparations, Amun suddenly pushed down his single pair of glasses, his lips slightly upturned, and asked: "In fact, are you simply delaying time, trying to extend the journey to your true destination?" Klein's hands paused slightly before resuming their normal motion. He smiled and said, "Yes, I've been waiting for someone to join me. 'Who do you think it will be?'" Amun didn't answer directly, but smiled and replied, "I'm looking forward to it." One angel crossed the hills and entered a valley. The river flowed gently there, but when the dim glow of the lamps reached it, and when the lightning from above illuminated the area, Caine noticed that there was no water in the riverbed—the sounds he had just heard vanished entirely. "Is this a river in a state of concealment?" Caine pondered, and asked Amun without hesitation. "Yes," Amun nodded lightly, responding with little concern. "It only appears in the absence of light." "Can we drink from it?" Caine asked. Amun smiled. "Yes. This was one of the primary water sources of a city that endured for sixteen centuries in darkness. As long as the water is lifted from the riverbed, it can appear in the presence of light." "Would you like to propose that I carry lanterns to wait beside it, while you take water from the darkness?" "And then, take advantage of this moment to transform it into a concealed state?" "Klein smiled slightly, a bit embarrassed: 'How could I possibly use such a simple, straightforward approach?' Upon hearing this, Amun chuckled, brushing his single spectacles. 'Sometimes, the simplest plan is actually the most effective—try it out.' Klein found himself both unable to believe and unable to doubt Amun's words, fearing that the man might be saying the opposite of what he seemed to be saying. He thus set the matter of the water aside and asked instead: 'How many human settlements, like Silver City, have not yet been destroyed in the God-Abandoned Lands?' Amun looked straight ahead, his expression unchanged. 'I know of no more than ten. Silver City is fortunate in this regard—at least it can still see the dawn and reach it.' This means that the City of Silver is close enough to the great gate of the "Kingdom of the Giants"—this forsaken land—so that reaching it doesn't require a near-death journey. Yet, no matter how steadfast the other city-states remain in the darkness, no matter how many exploration parties they send out, their efforts merely amount to futile struggle, with no chance of finding an exit? Indeed, from this perspective, Silver is both unfortunate and fortunate—purely depending on the comparison. Kline carries a leather lantern, walking along the riverbank, beginning to envision a second escape plan. Amun walks beside him, occasionally offering suggestions that seem promising but whose actual effectiveness remains uncertain, appearing as though he's experiencing a full mental breakdown, desperately undermining the very hope of securing the "Source Citadel." A mysterious and intricate altar has been set up here, with various items arranged at different positions. There are six such items in total, each exuding a sense of danger. Derek took a quick glance and spotted a plain silver flute, a mask crafted from a skull, and the remains of a Transformer. " You have the 'Cross of No Dark,' which allows you to stay here for ten minutes, but no longer—otherwise, you will die suddenly," Colin Iliath said, wearing a linen shirt and a brown coat. Inspired, Derek asked, "Your Grace, is this due to the 'Mask of Dusk'?" He pointed with his right hand toward the skull mask. "Yes," Colin nodded gently. "I have prepared the remains of six powerful beings—each one either hunted individually or as a primary target." Derek suddenly understood: "Then you still lack the blessing of a deity?" Colin grew silent, and only after several seconds did he open his mouth, speaking slowly: "Yes." After a period of hesitation and struggle, he had ultimately chosen the " Fool." At least the mushrooms had truly brought hope to Silver City. Daryl restrained his excitement, recalling their conversation at the Tarot gathering, and with a slightly puzzled expression, asked: "Why not let those two divine seal artifacts bestow blessings?" He remembered that divine beings—specifically the angels—could fulfill ritual requirements, and it wasn't necessary for a true God of Sequence 0 to provide blessings. After all, the "Silver Knight" was only of Sequence 3. Colin remained silent once again, hesitating for a few seconds, then replied: "They won't bestow blessings."