He wore a spotless white holy robe.

Not a single speck of dust touched it. The fabric looked light and soft, yet carried an immeasurable sacred weight.

Ancient, enigmatic sigils had been embroidered across it in golden thread. With every breath he took, those markings shifted faintly, echoing the holy radiance filling the hall.

Each subtle movement released a trace of supreme energy.

His features were striking—handsome, but defined by authority. Sharp brows. Bright eyes. A straight nose. Clean, well-defined lips.

He appeared no older than a man in his prime, yet there was a depth to him that felt tempered by countless ages.

There was no deliberate pressure emanating from him.