Deep within the land forsaken by the gods, atop a mountain peak, a colossal cross stands, suspended between reality and illusion. A blurred figure hangs inverted, multiple ancient wooden pales piercing through His body, stained with blood that flows continuously but fails to drip down. The cross's base holds Ulro, the "Angel of Fate," dressed in simple linen robes, with silver hair flowing down to his waist, seated in quiet devotion, eyes closed in prayer. Adam, half his face veiled in soft golden beard, walks steadily toward the great cross, halts before it, raises his head, and gazes silently at the figure hanging above. In one hand, he holds the "Mirror" Arodos; in the other, he carries the second "Tabernacle of Desecration." His gaze is clear and serene, his expression calm and composed. After an indeterminate length of time, the figure hanging from the massive cross suddenly faded, diffusing into a shadow curtain that stretched from sky to earth, as if concealing a pair of cold, watchful eyes gazing upon the entire world. The very next instant, a crack appeared in the shadow curtain, revealing a dark, dim interior, where a faint, ethereal sound of waves resonated softly. Adam then raised his left hand, allowing the ancient and mysterious "Mirror" to glow with a soft, diffused light. Within this gentle radiance, a viscous yet phantom black liquid surged and spread, forming an endless sea that seemed to embrace all colors and possibilities—though it remained touchable yet utterly inert in its effect upon reality. Immediately thereafter, Adam placed the second "Defiled Stone" into this imagined scene. The distant, fantastical sea gently trembled, and began to establish a subtle connection with the second "Defiled Stone," surrounding it. — The second Tablet of Desecration was formed from the remains of an ancient solar deity, originally close in rank to the former rulers of the Age of Chaos, equivalent in status to the Lord of the Chaos Sea. Upon witnessing this, Adam gently moved his left hand, causing the magical mirror, Arodos, to rise and settle at the feet of the great cross, where the Angel of Fate, Uloirus, stood. He himself then held the second Tablet of Desecration, which had undergone subtle transformations, and stepped through the fissure in the shadow veil, advancing one step at a time into the interior. The shadow veil swiftly closed, rapidly fading and vanishing, leaving behind only an empty, towering cross in place. Throughout the entire process, no one spoke a word—every action unfolded silently, and the Angel of Fate, Uloirus, never attempted to open his eyes. Meanwhile, Amun ascended to divinity, using the first Tablet of Desecration to seal off the path of invasion by the Fallen Mother Goddess, while the Lord of Storms shattered the imagined church of bones and one of Adam’s own identities. After another while, Ulorius opened his eyes and directed his gaze toward the "Mirror" Arordes, which had landed upon his leg. On the Mirror's surface, silver words shimmered and emerged within the wavering, ethereal ripples: "Should you know the feeling of sincere faith and devotion to a great being?" Ulorius nodded slightly, his expression composed and reserved. "So, may I be returned to the presence of my Lord?" On the Mirror's surface, the silver words gently shifted and reorganized into a new sentence: "Once you have answered, you may ask me two questions." Ulorius silently gazed at this ancient mirror, remaining silent for a long time. At last, the Mirror Arordes could no longer contain its curiosity and asked: "Why haven't you answered?" Ulorius, gazing into his reflection, responded calmly: "I haven't quite decided yet." "Three questions..." The silver light on the surface of the "Mirror" slowly traced out two words. Regarding his own circumstances, this child, still noticeably infantile, was notably vigilant, for by sheer luck, he had never once stumbled upon a spot that would cause someone to trip. His eyes swiftly reflected a familiar figure. It was Sherlock Moriarty, wearing a half-high silk hat and a black double-breasted suit. William Ainsworth suddenly turned his head, looking toward his nurse and housemaid, only to find they were completely unaware of the stranger who had appeared on the lawn. "I always feel you'll say: 'Go ahead and cry out—no one will hear,' " the well-dressed two-year-old murmured, turning back. Without waiting for a response from Crain, he spread his hands. "In any case, congratulations on becoming King of the Angels. 'Harassing children' doesn't quite suit your current status." Crain smiled and replied, "Do you know how to outwit fate?" Will. Onsaiting lifted his head, glanced at Caine with cautious alertness, and said: "Serving me false ice cream doesn't equate to deceiving fate." At this, he complained, "Why don't you crouch down? For someone my age, constantly holding your head high like this isn't good for cervical development." Caine, without the stiff posture of a newly crowned Angel King, smiled and crouched down so that Will. Onsaiting could look him in the eye. Holding the caregiver's hand, Will. Onsaiting stated, "Unless I've been promoted to Sequence 0 and become 'The Wheel of Fate,' any deception I experience won't count as deception of fate." Caine pondered and asked, "Have you yet found the moment to accommodate 'The Dice of Probability'?" "Not yet," Will. Onsaiting shook his head, then added, "I have a strong feeling it's about to happen." Klein studied the chubby-faced two-year-old child for several seconds before suddenly smiling. "If you gave both him and the 'Dice of Probability' to Ulrich, would He soon ascend to Sequence 0?" Will. Angstint glanced at Klein. "He still needs to wait for the right moment to accommodate him, and the opportunity required for Him to become the 'Wheel of Fate' is different from that needed to accommodate the 'Dice of Probability.'" As he spoke, Will. Angstint gave a slight pout. "If you only require the accommodation of the 'Fool's' uniqueness, the corresponding ritual can be simplified and won't be particularly difficult. In that case, by skillfully leveraging the 'Fate Horse's' abilities and making a certain level of sacrifice, you could even deceive Fate. However, when you attempt to ascend to Sequence 0, even if you have already accommodated the uniqueness and absorbed three Sequence-1 extraordinary traits, you will still need to truly and fully perform the ritual—without any compromise—so that the necessary elements fully converge and undergo a qualitative transformation." "Ah, so that's it... That is, choosing to prioritize uniqueness merely as a convenient workaround—eventually, one still has to genuinely deceive time, history, or fate..." Caine nodded gently. "I think I understand now," he said, smiling slightly and adding, "Enjoy your childhood while you can—there's no telling how long that will last." With that, Caine's figure became translucent and vanished into the grass. Will Angstine, without consciously pulling his other hand, instinctively reached forward twice, then let it fall limply. "Just like that... Quite uncouth, really—visiting someone without even bringing a gift..." the boy murmured under his breath. ........ Beckland, North District, St. Samuel's Church. Caine, now taking on the appearance of Daven Tancred, entered the great chapel and settled into a corner seat. He glanced at the Night Sovereign emblem upon the altar, bowed his head, clasped his hands, and began to pray: "O goddess more exalted than the stars, more enduring than eternity, mother of the hidden, queen of trials and fears..." As he prayed, with his eyes closed, Klein's body and spirit gradually settled into stillness and tranquility, as though entering a state between wakefulness and dream. Unknown how long it had passed, an endless darkness unfolded before him, with clusters of night-scented roses and deep sleep surrounding his feet. The place was so serene that even his breath seemed to disturb the sleeping beings nearby. Before he could take in his surroundings, a figure suddenly materialized from the depths of the darkness. Though there was no distinct division between sky and earth here, the figure appeared as though descending from the lofty red moon or the myriad stars. Dressed in a layered yet uncluttered deep black gown, adorned with countless radiant points, it seemed as though the night sky itself had been draped upon her. Her head was slightly indistinct, barely recognizable, yet clearly female. "Long time no see," she murmured softly, before克莱恩 even spoke. Her voice was like a lullaby on a quiet night. Clayne bowed with the grace of a gentleman, asking: "Is this a greeting to the former 'Master of Mysteries,' or to the one suspended above the 'Source Citadel'?" Clayne was certain he was dreaming, though a dream did not necessarily mean false. The projection of the 'Night Goddess,' Amannexis, smiled gently. "I'm not sure exactly where you've been positioned above that luminous gate. Once I left, I've never returned." Indeed, Clayne silently nodded, confirming through these details the origins of the Night Goddess. "The three broken light cocoons are adjacent to one another," he replied simply. The projection of the Night Goddess stood in the still, gently rippling darkness, appearing profoundly unreal. He spoke softly, saying, "The people there are all the designated successors to the Lord of Mysteries, yet for some unforeseen reason, He has lost control over many matters. 'If it weren't for this, I would have already perished as the Lord of Mysteries, and you and Rosel would never have had the chance to return to the real world.'" This suggests that the Celestial Sovereign's downfall was particularly complete, requiring only the residual will preserved within His extraordinary nature and the mechanical arrangements of the Source Citadel for revival? Kline sighed and smiled, saying, "Now I can already hear Him whispering softly at my side."