In this land forsaken by the gods, the frequency of lightning has dropped to a mere twilight. "Two slices of bread with a grilled meat filling—quite good indeed... the slightly tangy and sweet drink from the Mist Sea surpasses my expectations," murmured Cline, genuinely praising it as he finished his last bite. He then casually tossed the remaining packaging into the darkness, for here, the concept of environmental sustainability doesn't exist, nor are there any bins. Of course, he had already taken steps to sever his ties with such objects—much like now, every time he lets go of a minor companion, he must undergo a "disinfection" ritual within the "Source Keep," to prevent Amun's duplicates from pinning down his movements. "Hmm, inanimate objects remain visible to the darkness here—they don't fade into obscurity." Cline raised the lantern he had brought from Daniz's sacrifice, shining it upon the items he had just discarded. Only after securing his basic needs did he find the time and energy to attempt the matters he had previously divined as potentially hazardous. In the wavering glow, Caine reached out with his right hand and pulled another version of himself from the air. That was him from within the historical fissure, holding a lantern just like his own. The next instant, Caine stepped into the gray-white mist, allowing his consciousness to awaken within the projection he had summoned. This projection, flanked by a procession of monsters and enveloped in endless darkness, opened its mouth, ready to utter the name "Amanesys." "...” He produced no sound at all; the words he intended to speak seemed to vanish into the unseen. "Indeed, as I anticipated," said Caine, the man wearing a half-high silk hat and a black knee-length coat, slowly exhaling. He glanced at the lantern casting a dim yellow light, then softly recited in the deep, resonant tone of the Giant Language: "Leodro!" Even before his words had fully settled, hundreds of lightning bolts responded to the call, twisting and intertwining as they descended, instantly blanketing the area. Klein had no time to dodge—even exchanging places with the spectral figure remained within the range of attack. Under the brilliant silver-white light, he collapsed to the ground, his body blackened and convulsing violently, as though transformed into a massive block of coal. Then, his form rapidly dissolved, vanishing like a vision. Klein, wearing his genuine hat, in the Indest-style coat, carrying a simple lantern, promptly "returned" to reality, proceeding calmly and unremarkedly. After walking a while, his figure suddenly blurred and then sharpened again. Then, Klein opened his mouth once more and uttered a name in the language of the giant: "O…" As soon as he began that initial syllable, transparent flames surged from within him, instantly reducing him to ashes, preventing the exchange of positions with the spectral figure. Klein's form reappeared, he adjusted his hat, and moved steadily across the hillside dotted with strange plants. "Herabergen." … "Badheer." “…Ombelara.” “…Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s no residual divine energy around the Silver City’s perimeter… Medici, Ulus, Sasilir—none of them are divine beings. This is even more disappointing. I thought the town of the afternoon and the ‘Kingdom of the Giants’ would be special cases. Using Sasilir’s true name outside the city should have activated the ‘fallen’ power of the abandoned lands. As the ‘Unique’ King of Angels, even the title of ‘half-divine’ should have left some trace—yet there’s not even a whisper. It’s embarrassing. No, it’s a disgrace to the title of Angel King!” The black coat gently swayed as Caine descended the hill, following his intuitive sense of spirit, heading northwest toward the city’s ancient settlement of Nos. He occasionally took detours or employed “flame leaps,” not strictly adhering to the route discovered during the exploration of the Silver City. Audrey, whose awareness of magic potions and digestion had deepened, was actively using the "dream traversal" to leave her manor and journey into various dreams in the surrounding areas. Knowing the current state of affairs, she was deeply yearning to become a half-god. As she traversed these dreams, she suddenly spotted a familiar face. This was a noble lady she was close to—29 years old, married the year before to a viscount. At that moment, rose petals were continuously drifting through her room, her bed was white and adorned with a pair of heart-shaped rings, and a steady tapping sound came from the window. The lady’s cheeks were flushed, and she hurried toward the window, opening it. A man wearing a black iron mask and draped in a dark cloak leapt in, embraced her, and whispered, "I will take you away from suffering." Then, the two became entangled, rolling all the way to the bed. As a "Dream Walker" currently working to absorb the complexities of potion-induced visions, Audrey had long witnessed such scenes, moved past her initial shyness, and marveled at the richly varied and vividly imaginative nature of everyone's dreams. At this moment, she remained composed, maintaining the poised demeanor expected of an observer, as if witnessing an intense theatrical performance. With a brief glance, she noticed a discrepancy: the man wearing the black iron mask was not the spouse of the lady, but rather someone resembling a young nobleman from the aristocratic circles. "Is this a reflection of an underlying, unspoken intention?" Audrey murmured to herself, adopting the scholarly tone of a dream analyst. Then, with genuine curiosity, she stepped into the adjacent dream. There, she encountered the husband of the noble lady—a viscount. In the dream, the viscount was actively engaged in discussions in the upper chamber when he was suddenly pursued by a count, who was holding a revolver, accusing him of having abducted the count's daughter. Once they reached a safe location, the viscount summoned his female secretary to vent his earlier fears. Audrey couldn't help but step out of her dream and observe the viscount and his wife in their real-life setting. In the bedroom illuminated by the rosy moonlight, on the wide white bed, the viscount held his wife close, and she embraced him, sleeping in close, intimate companionship. "Well, one must recognize that everyone has a shadow side. If we judge people solely by the dreams they've had or the fleeting thoughts that cross their minds at any given moment, everyone would end up in hell—no one would escape, not even myself. To be able to manage one's shadow side and keep it from ever entering reality is already a remarkable achievement for most people..." Audrey increasingly felt that playing the role of the 'dream traveler' was a continuous examination and refinement of her inner self. She reentered the dream and moved to other areas. Not long after, she arrived in a warm room. Here, thick carpets cover the floor, with a dining table set in place. At the head of the table sits an elderly woman with white hair. On either side of her are a middle-aged couple and three younger children. They enjoy their meal by the candlelight, chatting and laughing, clearly happy. Outside the room, the darkness is deep and the wind howls violently, rattling the glass with a constant sound, evoking the foreboding atmosphere of an impending disaster. The noble lady pressed her lips together and suddenly returned to the old lady's dream. She did not go to prevent the possible disaster unfolding; instead, she materialized a chair and sat beside it, watching intently and with focused attention the joyful, warm family scene. Amid the rustling of the wind and the creaking of glass, the room was bright with light, fragrant with food, and filled with continuous laughter. Audrey's summary of the "Dream Walker" guidelines included this principle: "The dream traveler comes, sees, records—but does not interfere, merely an observer." ........ In St. Samuel's Church, Leonard was called by Archbishop Anthony Stevenson and ascended step by step along the winding staircase, bathed in sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. Suddenly, he lowered his voice: "Old man, that secret gathering is about to begin again—do you really intend to attempt entering the Jacob family's treasure by the end of the month?" "Still uncertain, but this is an opportunity—at least Amun's essence is currently preoccupied with the events at 'The Source Keep,' so he won't suddenly appear." Palis Soloyasde's voice, slightly hoarse, resonated in Leonard's mind. "Now, however, I'm inclined to reveal the treasure's location, letting the guests at the gathering decide for themselves whether to venture forth and explore. We'll stay nearby, observe the situation, and draw what we need from them." Leonard paused, speaking softly, "Old man, won't this be rather treacherous? Aren't we treating the members of 'The Fated Hermit Society' like pawns in a trap?" That is, turning them into mere tools to set the trap. "Hah, naive and childish," Palis Soloyasde chuckled. "You can present them with all the details and let them decide whether to go or not." Leonard didn't bring up the matter further, but instead asked, "Old man, when will I become a half-god?" "Palais chuckled, saying, 'If you can secure a spirit of the level of your former colleague, the Messenger, you'll be able to fully absorb the potions by early next year. But, hey, just follow my suggestions and dive deep into the role. By late next year, you should have a solid chance to reach Sequence 4. Of course, I'm not sure whether the Night Church will provide the potions or organize the ceremony for you—after all, didn't the senior steward, Kreestia Sessima, wait for years, until the war fully erupted, before truly becoming a half-god?' Leonard nodded, then thoughtfully asked, 'Old man, could you perhaps embody a spirit to help me absorb the potions? Your level should be higher than Klein's Messenger...' Palais. Soloyas, paused for a few seconds, then said, 'Heh—quite a thoughtful idea!' 'Why don't I help you absorb the potions?' 'How exactly?' Leonard knew the old man was being teasing, yet couldn't help asking. "Deeply parasitic, completely in control of your body," Palais replied with impatience. As he spoke, Leonard approached the door of the Archbishop of the Beckland diocese. He immediately closed his mouth, raised his right hand, and tapped the door steadily. "Come in," Archbishop Anthony Stevenson said, glancing at Leonard who had just opened the door. "We can release the vampire behind the Charnes door."