Although the chapel during the night storm wasn't particularly crowded with worshippers, Caine chose to settle the gathering in the corridor leading toward the garden to avoid any potential conflict. "What a marvel..." Pascha murmured, gazing at the now-stabilized scene around her. Roy forcibly suppressed his emotions, glanced left and right, and remarked, "If the Great Patriarch came to the chapel to evade the curfew, he would likely have done so in a similar spot." "If not concerned about accumulating sins, an angel has countless ways to remain unnoticed by ordinary people," Caine said casually. "I'll be sending you to another chapel shortly. Stay in places with glass windows and mirrors, and whenever you spot a foreigner resembling a Vassak, take the opportunity to draw a symbol..." As he finished speaking, his head suddenly turned toward the door connecting the great prayer hall to the garden. A figure over two meters tall stepped out slowly, dressed in a long robe of black with white trim, the muscles of his body visibly pushing against the loose fabric. He is an elder with a white beard, wearing a square hat, his eyes of a pale blue, few lines etched upon his face, exuding a serene, all-seeing presence. The Patriarch of the War God's Church, Laryon...无需 recognition, Celine's spiritual intuition immediately told him that the figure across from him was an angel—his intended destination. Laryon glanced at him, slightly surprised, and said, "Not Arianna..." He then composed himself, speaking with a calm, detached tone. "It appears to be His assistant. You may inform Him that I have reached an agreement with the partially activated '0–02': I am releasing its seal in exchange for permission to depart, while you will remain here, enduring the evolving rules and increasingly stringent decrees, until your ultimate demise." The Patriarch seemed utterly unconcerned about Celine's potential resistance, for as he spoke, his body rapidly aged—wrinkles spreading across his skin, age spots forming, and a liquid of decay seeping from him. In the span of just a few blinks, Laryon had aged to the point of seeming on the verge of vanishing entirely. Then, He truly transformed into a putrid liquid and completely evaporated. This vivid and powerful scene left Byers and the others deeply frightened, as though their spirits were about to unravel and their emotions on the brink of collapse—no less startling or terrifying than the moment when countless tiny insects crawled out of the wound on the "magician" gentleman's wrist, forming a new hand. "An unusual ability—connected to 'dusk'?" Klein made no effort to stop Laryon, merely nodding thoughtfully. Within the spiritual realm corresponding to Beltrand, Laryon's form emerged, restored to normal. Immediately thereafter, He moved as if commanding the spiritual beings, piercing through the invisible barriers and breaking free from the many constraints of the city of Beltrand. Yet, as Laryon began to "traverse," the scene suddenly darkened, and a seamless, deeply shadowed "cloth" came into view. It is like a wall blocking Lorian's advance! Lorian cautiously halted his movements, lifting his gaze toward the infinite height where the seven beams of purity converged, but all He saw was a phantom "curtain" descending from there, enveloping the realm corresponding to Beltan and isolating it within a distinct world. At the same time, Lorian's intuitive sense, drawn from his experience as a "Hunter of Monsters," told Him that this "curtain" had formed an exceptionally solid barrier—difficult to breach and requiring considerable time and effort to overcome. To this Great Patriarch, the unfolding events carried a peculiar sense of humor that stirred an uncontrollable anger: It was as though, after having endured great hardships to finally discover the key to a hidden chamber and gaining the opportunity to open it and leave before anyone else, He had only to look and find a sturdy lock placed firmly at the chamber's entrance! The images, lacking a sense of reality—originating from historical gaps—were nothing short of fraudulent. No, it lies outside of Belland, beyond the reach of the rules' jurisdiction... This historical projection should have been here all along; it will simply fade and dissipate within no more than two minutes if we don't act. Larian quickly regained his composure, restoring the balance between the anchor and the wild impulses. He had just been waiting for Lorian to return and begin negotiations, but found that the Great Patriarch preferred to wait in the spiritual realm for the disappearance of the "curtain" historical projection—while he himself, though able to enter that spiritual realm, could not penetrate the peculiar barrier generated by the "0–02" substitution rule. As he spoke, Caine thought seriously about alternative strategies, simultaneously allowing a small number of "spirit insects" to take control of his body and engage in conversation with the nearby extraordinary beings, hoping to draw inspiration from their discussions. "We should proactively create similar 'contradictions' as experienced by Bayles, placing ourselves in a relatively secure position—only then can we begin our search," Philip revived his earlier idea. Pasah shook her head: "But if we use these 'contradictions' to carry out actions, the '0–02' rule will inevitably introduce new regulations to resolve the resulting issues." "At least, this will give us more time," Philip emphasized. "Indeed, we can proceed," Roy agreed, adding, "but our focus should be on locating '0—02'. Perhaps we can create some 'contradictions' that will reveal its position?" As for what kind of contradictions would achieve this effect and how to generate them, he had no clear ideas at the moment. Contradictions within the system... introducing new rules to resolve them... Kline smiled quietly, listening attentively, as a cascade of thoughts fiercely collided and sparked within his mind. At that moment, the surface of the "magic mirror" in his hands shimmered with a ripple of water, and a series of silver words emerged: "Passa, would you like to know what's new on the bulletin board?" The mirror asked me directly... Why did it ask me directly? Passa paused, then quickly nodded in response. "Yes." The water ripples within the silver mirror surged and swiftly restored the current state of the bulletin board. It was obvious that two new rules had been added: “…the major churches are now closing early to comply with the curfew…” “…all hotels will only accommodate guests who have registered with valid identification…” Phil grew suddenly anxious: “…where are we going now?” He could no longer think of how he, Roy, and Pascha could possibly evade punishment. Roy and Pascha exchanged glances, each of them forming a dozen thoughts in their minds, yet none of them proved effective. At that moment, Klein, who had remained quiet until then, smiled and turned his gaze toward Byers: “Where is your home in Belland?” “Located at No. 18 on Red Maple Street, but actually, that apartment building has already collapsed under artillery fire,” Byers replied, slightly puzzled. Klein smiled gently: “You can make a wish to me that your home remains undamaged.” “…Is that possible?” Although the magical "wizard" across the way had healed Philip's amputated arm with a level of skill that seemed unbelievable, Bayles still felt that restoring a collapsed house to its original state was more challenging than that—after all, Roy had mentioned that the military physician Weber could also accomplish it. "Of course," Caine smiled and added, "seize the moment." At that moment, the prayerers inside the church were gradually beginning to leave. Unable to delay any longer, Bayles spoke up immediately: "I hope my home returns to its original condition." "Good," Caine raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. "Your wish is fulfilled." Huh? Roy and the others stood in stunned silence as Caine once again activated the "transportation," bringing them to the 18th street, stopping outside a two-bedroom apartment. Bayles stared at the familiar wooden door ahead, instinctively reaching out with his right hand to push it open. The cabinets, the coal stove, the high and low bed, the wooden table stained with oil, and the scattered old newspapers all came into view, instantly moistening Byles' eyes. Before the war began, whenever he returned from the mine, he always saw his mother busy by the coal stove, while his father and brother either hurried to make repairs or helped manage the spoiled fruits and vegetables, taking on tasks that could be brought home and prepared. The young niece, under the guidance of her mother who made matches, learned the shapes of words from scraps of old newspapers. Though this life was difficult and lacked resilience against risks, it remained one of Byles' most cherished memories—far better than the dim mine shafts, the heavy stones, or the overseers' leather whips. Now, even this small, fragile beauty had been completely destroyed. "Won't you invite us in?" Phil stood at the door, hesitant to intrude upon the household. Byers snapped back to awareness and hurried to say, "Please, come in." After entering the house that had been uninhabited, Cline sat down in a chair that seemed likely to break at any moment, falling into silence. Roy and Pasah, and the others, did not disturb the gentleman, simply waiting quietly by his side. After twenty or thirty seconds, Cline suddenly looked around and smiled, saying, "I have an idea I'd like to test—anyone willing to assist me?" "Me," Roy replied without hesitation. Cline smiled and said, "Just hold on—don't answer the questions truthfully. I'm looking for a hidden flaw in the rules of '0–02' that have already been issued." Roy nodded. "Understood." Cline then produced the "Mirror" and said to Roy, "Ask it a question." After a moment's thought, Roy said, "Where can I go to find my next potion?" On the surface of the silver mirror, a scene unfolded—one of the High Patriarch of the War God Church, Larryon, wandering in the spiritual realm, waiting... …Roy's expression instantly stiffened, then heard the "magician" say: "It's now your turn to answer its questions. Remember: do not give the correct answer." Roy quickly gathered his thoughts and looked back at the mirror. There, the scene had now transformed into the "magician" himself, with several lines of blood-written text appearing: "Who was your first love?" Roy instantly recalled the past, his face flushing crimson, and then answered as instructed by the "magician": "I'm not sure." "A lie!" The blood-written text on the mirror's surface instantly coalesced into a startling word. Crack! A moderate lightning bolt materialized out of nowhere and struck Roy. Roy convulsed, cried out in pain, with several patches of his body blackened and his hair standing upright, though he suffered no life-threatening injury. Byers, Pasah, and Phil were all startled, unsure of what had exactly happened. At that moment, Klein glanced around, a subtle upward curve forming at the corner of his mouth. "Look," he said, "the mirror hasn't been penalized simply because it intentionally harmed someone. There lies the genuine opportunity.