“Mr. Chance! Abbot Infinides! Are you okay?” King Aurelius shouted, voice ringing across the broken courtyard.

The bell peeled open, and Jared staggered out, one arm bracing the weakened Infinides, his own robes torn and singed, but his eyes still fiercely clear.

“We’re fine, King Aurelius,” he rasped. “But alas, the church’s seal has shattered. A legion of one hundred thousand demonic souls is already racing toward Celestia.”

Aurelius felt his heart drop, heavy as iron. He opened his mouth to demand news of the city, but frantic footsteps cut the question short.

Lorraine burst from the treeline, gown in rags, hair matted with soot and blood. Behind her pounded several Intelligence Agency cultivators, their blades bare, their faces drawn.

“Father!” she sobbed, the single word tearing loose as she threw herself forward.

Lorraine collapsed into the king’s arms and cried without restraint. Her trembling shoulders spoke of cities burning and sacrifices already paid, while above them the night howled on.