Klein's creation was based on the current state of the entity, not on figures such as Doun Tang-Tsai, Sherlock Moriarty, or Merlin Hermes, to avoid cognitive dissonance. After the anomalies introduced by Adam, he had grown even more cautious in such matters. Glancing at the duplicate, Klein thought briefly and made its face go completely blank. The duplicate then extended its right hand, drawing upon the power of "The Source Citadel" to grasp the original body. It failed repeatedly—ten or so times—before finally extracting a faint glow of deep darkness from the original. Finally, Klein sighed quietly and abandoned the idea of applying this attempt to actual combat. With no resistance and fully relaxed, the duplicate still required so much time and so many failures to succeed, relying on the citadel's status and strength, making its practical battlefield value utterly negligible. As more extraordinary traits gradually left his body, Caine felt himself grow lighter, as though after carrying a heavy burden for a long time, he had finally shed it. Of course, his mental state did experience certain fluctuations, since, without the lingering pull of Chalatu's residual spirit, the resurgent will of the "Heavenly Sovereign" began more strongly to infiltrate and affect his mind. This was precisely what Caine had anticipated, so he remained calm. Drawing upon his firmly established self-awareness, his still-resilient will, and a sufficient number of anchors, he gradually resisted the contamination from the "Heavenly Sovereign's" will and found a new equilibrium. Meanwhile, once the portion of Caine's still-undigested "Mysterious Servant" extraordinary trait had largely settled into his physical bodies, the previously featureless, faceless form suddenly underwent a distortion—its blank face took on two deep, dark, featureless eyes and subtle white facial hair that appeared and faded. At that moment, it was remarkably close to Chalatu. Yet it could not withstand the madness brought by its extraordinary "mysterious servant" trait, its body rapidly deteriorating, shedding transparent, twisted worms that extended one after another into slick, eerie tendrils. It instantly lost control. Cain did not hesitate—he simply moved his finger, transforming this duplicate into his secret companion. Thus, the process of loss of control was halted. Now, his true self had fully absorbed the magic potion, reached a state capable of accommodating the singular essence of "The Fool," and was accompanied by a Sequence 1 secret companion. Cain then leaned back against the chair, mentally reviewing the next steps once more, checking for any critical oversights. "As for the struggle among the gods, all I can do now is what I've already done; beyond this, I'll do my best... Hmm, perhaps I was overly optimistic about the early stages. With the goddess's assistance and the river of eternal darkness providing support, I didn't anticipate any unforeseen complications from the ancestral figure of the Antigonid family." After a careful assessment, Caine realized he still lacked sufficient caution—there was a touch of arrogance and carelessness. He then created another duplicate, maintaining the same blank expression on his face. Once this was accomplished, Caine stood up and retrieved "The Thirsting Hunger" from the historical haze, donning it on his left hand—a precaution for potential localized skirmishes, where the ability to 'teleport' would be more efficient than 'fusion.' He smoothed his collar and slowly surveyed the room, his gaze settling on the strange, darkly luminous gate, and on the humans suspended there, each wrapped in a translucent "silkworm cocoon." As his eyes passed over them, they paused at the three cocoon shells that had ruptured. The very next moment, Klein vanished, appearing within the gray-white haze of history, stepping steadily toward the First Age, into the layered ancient cities. Standing atop the crumbling spire of a once-grand building, he looked down upon the piled-up ruins of homes, the public transport vehicles now flattened like pancakes, and the one after another stacked cars. In silence, his gaze swept across the remaining houses, as though piercing through the layers of history to see the electric lights one by one flickering to life within. The gentle glow of these lights spread out, illuminating the glass, the buildings, the streets, and the ruins of a corner of the ancient city. After gazing intently, Caine withdrew his gaze and took a single step, returning to the real world. Immediately, he teleported directly to the summit of the Honauchis Mountains, "seeing" the ancient palace shrouded in mist, weathered and overgrown with weeds. His secret doppelgänger and duplicate appeared beside him, like two guards. Facing the ancient palace, Caine touched his hat atop his head and raised his right hand, snapping his fingers with a crisp sound. The summit of the Honauchis Mountains instantly darkened, and one by one, ethereal stars began to dot the surroundings. Caine seamlessly integrated this place with the Celestial Realm. Without further hesitation, he led his doppelgänger and duplicate toward the main entrance of the ancient palace. The doppelgänger, resembling him closely in appearance, stepped forward first, bent low, and extended both hands, slowly pushing open the heavy stone door. With a steady, rhythmic creaking, the door gradually unfolded, revealing the scene within. Yet unlike when Klein had previously delivered the "Trenzostor Bronze Book," the interior was now a profound darkness, rendering invisible both the numerous corpses suspended in the hall and the translucent worm clusters coiled upon the massive stone thrones. No speculation was needed—Klein, guided by the intuitive insight of a "Seer" at the level of the Angelic King, recognized this as the effect of the "Goddess of Night" using the waters of the "River of Eternal Darkness" to induce eternal slumber in an ancestor of the Antigonus family. As the secret doppelgängers and duplicates arrived, Klein moved steadily through the entrance and stepped into the palace interior. The deep darkness swayed and transformed, gradually revealing one building after another, figures walking along the streets, and voices echoing through the air, instantly bringing the environment to life with a sense of bustling activity. The people went about their business, ignoring Klein and his secret doppelgängers and duplicates, conversing with one another as they proceeded to various destinations. They and the buildings were pale, approaching black and white, like an old photograph from deep in history suddenly coming to life. This reminded Kline of holographic black-and-white projections, of scenes emerging from historical gaps and of genuine dreams. He walked through the town, along streets that rose gradually upward. The more he approached the higher ground, the more magnificent the buildings became, supported by massive stone columns rising to support exaggerated domes. The people living within this "black-and-white photograph" were generally tall, going about their daily lives—studying, working, resting as if everything were normal. The scenes unfolded continuously, depicting the birth of infants, childhood growth, youthful confusion, adult anxieties, middle-aged pressures, and the sorrow of aging. Of course, these moments interwove with one another, sometimes focusing on one theme at a time. As Kline ventured deeper, he began to see townspeople passing away. Their relatives showed little sorrow. They carried the dead back home, laid them on beds, and placed them beside the pillows, as though the bodies were still alive. When Kline was nearly out of the town, the deceased rose from their beds, left their families, and stepped out of their homes, walking one step at a time along the streets toward the highest point. There, too, stood a city—seemingly the city of the departed, the final destination of all life, the realm of eternal rest. It was remarkably close to the ordinary human settlements, which occupied the area from the mid-slopes to the summit, while the city of the dead stood at the very peak. Others might have been amazed by this state, but Kline instantly understood where he was and what this scene meant. For he had directly witnessed the "spirit threads" upon the bodies of the deceased. At the very moment of their passing, these threads drifted upward toward the peak, taken over by an unknown presence. In other words, they had become secret figures—secrets embodied. Thus, the deceased could eventually leave their homes, depart from their families, and journey to the summit some time after death—exactly matching the details Klein had observed in the study of the ancient ruins of the Honachis main peak: The Land of Night belonged to the "Heavenly Mother" of the "Path of Night," yet atop the peak stood a secret town established by the ancestors of the Antigonus family. As a result, the people of the Land of Night held both reverence and awe for the night, believing in the "Heavenly Mother," and also believed that death was not an end, but that their departed relatives would protect and guide them in the night. Indeed, death was not an end—the City of the Departed stood right beside them, right at the summit, just a walk away—and the deceased continued their lives in the form of secret figures there. To ordinary people, this was unquestionably equivalent to being alive. The realm of the living and the realm of the departed thus became connected, standing at either end of a short path. The distance between life and death is so close—it's as if they are neighbors. This explains why the Kingdom of Night has no tombs: the deceased never need be buried; they simply become secret figures and ascend to the peak. This must have been the original Kingdom of Night... Klein nodded gently and stepped steadily upward toward the peak amid the dim light. What met his eyes was indeed a seemingly ordinary town, yet every single person there was a secret figure. Passing through the secret figures dressed in diverse garments and bearing different appearances, Klein entered the grand palace, dedicated to the deities. Deep within the palace, on the massive stone throne, a figure rested with both elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his head leaning gently against the backrest. He bore a remarkably youthful countenance, though his hair had turned half silver—some parts concealed, others clearly visible. His form was masculine, with eyes darker than Chalatou's, deep and carrying an indescribable weariness. His features were still pleasing, yet a patch of coarse, short, jet-black hair, like wolf's bristles, grew across his cheeks, creating a striking contradiction—both aged and youthful, both rational and wild. This was the ancestral figure of the Antigonus lineage, who, this time, had not appeared in mythical form but sat in his natural state upon a grand stone throne. At this moment, his eyes were half-open, as if resting, while within the hall, suspended garments—ranging from simple to sumptuous—hung like bodies of a forest growing upside down, gently swaying in the breeze. "Having entered a state of eternal slumber, has this ancestral figure of the Antigonus family finally briefly regained control, returning to his former self?" Kline stood at the center of the hall, gazing at his destination, and breathed a quiet sigh. The nocturnal realm and the city of the deceased he just witnessed, along with all the scenes he saw, were all dreams of Antigonus. Dreams separated by more than a thousand years.