"Attack!" At the sound of the chief's words, Deric froze momentarily, then instinctively spread his arms. During this brief pause, his vision blurred and a low, deeply suppressed sound emerged from his throat. A sphere of radiant, sacred flame materialized out of nowhere, engulfing both the "Dark Angel" Salsir and Colin Iliath at the same time. Before the light burst forth, Deric drew his arms back and in his palms coalesced a lance of brilliant, pure white light—the "Lance of No Darkness." With a series of crisp crackling sounds, this beam of light pierced through the sacred flame and struck precisely at the evil spirit's head. A brilliant, blinding light burst forth, completely enveloping the area. Even Caine, who was actively gathering his frantic consciousness, could not avoid it due to the proximity, and was forced to close his eyes, his face contorted as he felt one after another "spirit insects" evaporating. He sensed that the connection still fragile between the "Sacred Stone" and the "True Maker" had been significantly purified. As the shadow palace began to collapse yet remained partially intact, an invisible force finally pierced through the barriers, arriving in small measure and suddenly intensifying the activation level of the eroding elements gathered within Caine's body! These elements protruded from Caine's chest, coalescing into a mass of dark flesh. This flesh immediately detached itself from Caine's body, severing the various intangible connections between them, and swiftly moved and expanded, transforming into a massive shadow hand that grasped toward the object along the ethereal "light" connecting it to the first "Board of Desecration." Meanwhile, within the dream world of the "Sanctuary of the Divine War," before the projection of the Giant King's residence, Amen, wearing a pointed soft hat and a classical black robe, sat on a tall gray-white balustrade, back to the orange-red road dividing the sea of clouds, calmly gazing at the gray-blue gate adorned with golden nails, as though he had been waiting for a long time. Suddenly, He adjusted the single-lens spectacles on his right eye, gracefully stepped down from the balustrade, and arrived at the threshold of the Giant King's residence projection. "The power of the 'Chaos Sea' is beginning to wane—we can simply use that bug to enter directly..." Amun murmured to himself with a smile, then extended his right hand and placed it on the projection of the gate. His form gradually softened, losing solid presence, flowing like light into the gate. Craste Cessima struggled to draw the bone sword, rise to his feet, and fulfill the last duty of a Night's Watchman. His arms trembled violently, and his breath grew weak. In the realm of stars, an endless, quiet darkness stretched out, dotted with plants such as moonflowers and night-scented stocks. Suddenly, waves of warm orange light poured into this land, restoring the hues of dusk to certain regions and causing one plant after another to wither and fade. Amidst this melancholy twilight, a towering figure emerged—so immense it seemed like a mountain. His limbs were unusually long, clad in a silver armor that bore signs of wear and tear, and his face was concealed beneath a helm, only faintly revealing a cluster of warm orange light. In his hands, he carried a dramatically long sword, its tip naturally hanging down, gently touching the dark "ground." As this fearsome giant advanced step by step, the sword continuously dragged through the darkness, splitting the earth and freezing the twilight in place. From the deepest darkness, a similarly large figure emerged, drifting forward with a long, massive sickle. Dressed in a layered yet uncluttered deep black gown, adorned with countless brilliant accents, it shimmered like stars embedded in the night sky. At its ribcage and waist, two arms extended, each covered in short, dark fur. In its six hands, two held the heavy black sickle, two cradled a crimson "moon," one remained open, and one grasped an ancient artifact forged of golden hue. The artifact took the form of a slender bird, its wings composed of pale flames, its bronze eyes glowing with layered radiance, as though forming one portal after another. To this sight, the giant showed no surprise, stepping forward with increasing speed, gradually approaching a charge. The long sword he carried, drifting through the darkness and twilight, brushed against the surrounding air, sparking one after another points of pure dawn light. At that moment, the moon and night-scented herb on the other side suddenly expanded and surged wildly, growing rapidly until they matched the ancient trees thriving in the primeval forest—dense and thick, completely obscuring the "sky." Among these trees, one figure stood out, its body wrapped in deep green vines and adorned with various herbs and blossoms. This figure was as towering as a mountain, robust in form, with flowing garments and cradling a phantom infant. As soon as this figure appeared, it followed the黄昏 giant, drifting and gliding half-suspended toward the humanoid wolf-mage dragging a massive black sickle. Within the palace whose shadows were gradually dissolving, although sections that had eroded detached themselves, relieving Kline from concerns about those vulnerabilities, this effectively meant that a significant number of his living "spirit insects" had been severed—leaving him unable to suppress a quiet breath, as translucent, twisted creatures bearing mysterious patterns emerged one after another across his distorted face. His spirit, much like a lake disturbed by a massive stone, struggled to settle. At that moment, within the blood-tinged gaze that had clouded over from pain, he saw a familiar figure—the "Hourly Angel" Amun, wearing a single-spectacle pair of glasses and a pointed soft hat. Amun smiled at him, so unexpectedly that Kline nearly shifted his focus entirely and immediately returned to the "Source Citadel." Though this might disappoint "Sol" Dricke, Kline felt that once he reached the angelic level of power at the "Source Citadel," he would have a better chance of rescuing him, especially since external influences could now be effectively exerted upon this very location. But moments later, the "Angel of Time" turned his gaze toward the gray-white "Inverted Stone," toward the shadowy giant hand growing stronger as the "Land of Sleep" dissolved. Amun immediately lifted his right hand and adjusted his single-lens glasses. The crystal lenses instantly darkened, blending into an indistinct mixture of countless hues, difficult to describe precisely. Before him, a phantom, terrifying, gently rippling deep "ocean" materialized. This "Defiler" had somehow summoned a power or cohesion force he had stolen from somewhere, at some point! The "Inverted Stone" suddenly vibrated, emitting a resonant hum, as though coming to life. It broke free from the remaining fragile, ethereal "light" connecting it to the shadowy giant hand and surged directly toward Amun. This caught Caine, who had only just managed to recover from his shock and pain, off guard, his eyes widening in disbelief. The very first "Defiled Stone" had not chosen the path of the "True Creator" through the "Draped One," but instead had turned to the "Theft Path" and embraced the "Hourly Angel"! After a moment of stunned realization, Caine began to grasp the reason: Amun's essence had wandered through the God-Abandoned Lands for over a millennium, having visited Chernobyl and seeking out histories from the Second Age, and even earlier, the First Age. It must have lingered near the edge of the "Chaos Sea," conducting certain perilous investigations, and thus had successfully "stolen" something unique. Now, it was simply using this special phenomenon to draw the attention of the "Defiled Stone." In short, this Angel King had been preparing for this for a long time, while the "True Creator" still hasn't fully manifested and must await the complete collapse of the "Hourly Angel's" "Sleeping Realm." Yet the question remained: Why did Amun choose to steal the very first "Defiled Stone"? He brought it over, yet it proved useless… He simply couldn’t shift into the paths of "audience," "reader," "tyrant," "sun," or "hanged man!" Was it merely because it was interesting? While the gods and his brother were plotting to claim this "profaned slab," did He suddenly intervene, snatch it, and then vanish? Yet, wasn’t it more important to Him to hold onto me? While bewildered by Amun’s purpose, Caine quietly stepped back, eyes wide open, intently studying the surface of the gray-white slab, striving to capture the necessary potion recipes. "As Sequence 1: the Mysterious Servant…" the words had barely entered his vision when Amun extended his left hand, grasping the "profaned slab," then swiftly turned, placing his right hand firmly upon the gray-blue gate still faintly veiled in shadows. The figure, wearing a pointed soft hat and a classical black robe, instantly faded, passing straight through the gate and vanishing. The shadowy giant hands that had partially solidified in the "Land of Sleep" continuously collapsed, rapidly expanding until they transformed into a dark shadow that surged after Amun, bursting through the closed doors. The very next moment, all shadows vanished, and the warm, orange light illuminated the palace where the Giant King had once resided. Before the iron-black throne, on the steps bathed in the golden hues of dusk, Colin Iliad emerged. He wore tattered silver armor, his face marked with numerous old scars, sitting quietly as though a warrior who had just concluded the final battle. His two Morning Light swords had shattered into fragments, and his vital essence had faded, yet Klein could sense that his will and spirit still lingered, unwilling to dissipate completely. Derek, below the steps, watched this scene with red-rimmed eyes, rushing forward with trembling steps, his movements unsteady—far from the steady presence of a half-god.