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Letting out a silent breath, Colin took a step back and chanted in a voice tinged with the weariness of years:
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
"The mysterious ruler above the gray fog;
"The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck;
"I pray to you, I pray for the power of mystery, I pray for the blessing of good luck, I pray that you turn the items on the altar into charms..."
The moment Colin's measured, rhythmic, mysterious voice fell silent, the altar before him grew dark and deep, as though an indescribable, ineffable divinity was spreading from the candle flame at its center.
The flame suddenly leaped higher and swelled, but it failed to illuminate its surroundings. Instead, it made everything more illusory, revealing countless transparent shadows of different shapes that seemed not to exist, scattered densely or sparsely throughout every corner.
High above this illusory world and its countless figures hovered seven pure lights of different colors, seemingly containing endless knowledge.
Above those seven pure lights lay a boundless expanse of grayish-white fog, and an ancient palace that looked down upon everything.
For a brief moment, Demon Hunter Colin forgot everything else and simply stared intently at the scene above the altar, as though something that existed only in books and ancient records had crossed the barrier between illusion and reality and truly appeared before him.
Two thousand five hundred and eighty-three years...
After two thousand five hundred and eighty-three years, the City of Silver had finally received another normal response.
In the early hours of Wednesday, Klein suddenly woke from his sound sleep on the spacious bed. He sensed that the spiritual markers he had left on the ship had been triggered, and the disturbance came from another cabin-the one