A second obstacle loomed over the proposal: countless citizens rejected the idea of mandatory identity binding. Many insisted it crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed. "People weren't against it before because none of us imagined someone could murder a player inside a central hub," Patrick muttered. "The threat stayed manageable back then. Everything's different now." He tapped the display in front of him. Heated discussions filled the screen—thousands of posts arguing day and night. His tone dropped low. "What Nighthale triggered wasn't a simple rule violation. It sparked genuine fear. "To settle the public, this census has to launch. If we press forward now, the pushback will drop significantly. "This is the window we've been waiting for." He straightened. "I'm submitting a formal motion. Doomsday accounts will be tied to real-world identities. We start immediately. Please vote." Silence passed through the room before answers trickled in."I approve." "I consent." "I'm on board." Not a single objection emerged. No one cast their vote to support Patrick personally. Moments like this left no room for ego. Direction mattered more than pride. … Once the plan was activated, anonymity inside Doomsday would vanish within months. "Joseph, coordinate with the rest of the departments. Full cooperation is required," a composed voice instructed. "Understood." The young man with glasses lifted the folders and left the conference room briskly. Minutes later, the directive spread across agencies. Entire floors of office workers suddenly found themselves buried under new tasks. The phrase "census data" looked simple on paper, yet the work behind it was colossal. Manpower alone wasn't the biggest nightmare. Verifying millions of identities posed a labyrinth of technical problems. Plenty of people would resist, too. Even so, bright minds existed everywhere. Solutions would appear. Time, however, would not be kind. ... While countless real-world staff collapsed over paperwork, Aiden wandered through Leafport unaware of the storm brewing outside. His steps eventually carried him back to the duke's estate. He had originally come here to ask Sienna about Steven. The chaos earlier nearly shoved the thought out of his mind. "Second Class Advancement?" Steven's voice drifted from the band on Sienna's wrist, full of shock. "Nighthale, you reached Level 30 already?" Aiden confirmed, "Yeah." "No wonder you can charge five crystal balls with soul energy." Steven let out a weary breath. "At your pace, there's no catching up on my side."He hesitated, then added, "Unfortunately, even I'm unsure how your second Class Advancement works." Aiden's brows lowered. "Even you don't know, Mr. Read?" The revelation threw him. Hidden classes were supposed to be complicated. He expected that. A promotion so secretive that NPCs couldn't even point him in the right direction? That was a first. Steven admitted with a strained smile, "To be honest, no one like you has ever existed in the Dominion. You could travel the entire continent and still find no clear answer. Anything tied to the threshold of divinity is wrapped in mystery." "So... Nighthale can't complete his second Class Advancement?" Sienna cut in, unable to hide her anxiety. "Sienna, I get your concern, though these are the facts." Steven's voice grew heavy. "I have been digging through ancient records recently and have uncovered a clue." "Please continue, Mr. Read," Aiden urged.Steven gathered his thoughts. "Those who carry divine power need the approval of the old divine behind that power to fully awaken it." "So, I need to locate an old divine for my second Class Advancement?" Aiden asked. He felt boxed in for the first time. Old divines weren't like divine-level NPCs. They lacked physical forms and were supposedly capable of world-ending abilities. Where did someone even begin searching? "It's not that literal," Steven clarified. "Recognition doesn't require meeting an old divine physically. You need to locate the legendary Lost Temple. Traces of divine presence might still linger there." A spark lit in Aiden's eyes. "You mean the Lost Temple?" Steven released a small, surprised sound. "You've heard of it?" "Heard rumors," Aiden replied. Inside Doomsday, no structure earned the title 'mysterious' more than the Lost Temple. It had no fixed coordinates.It appeared like a mirage—present one moment, gone the next. Whether someone gained access depended entirely on luck.