At the summit of Saintlight Peak, the Basilica Hall rose in full splendor, gleaming with gold and jade.

Aurelius, Lord of the Basilica, sat at its center in a pristine white robe. His features were refined, his bearing composed. One hand idly turned a jade slip infused with holy radiance, his expression calm—almost leisurely.

Below him, the scout who had returned from the Demon Marches knelt in the center of the hall.

Dust clung to his body. His clothes were in disarray. He trembled uncontrollably, his face drained of all color. With his forehead pressed tightly to the floor, he struggled to speak, his voice shaking so badly it nearly broke apart.

Aurelius set the jade slip down and looked at him.

A faint frown creased his brow.

“You followed Godric the entire way. Why are you in this state?” he asked evenly. “Did something happen? Speak slowly. There’s no need to lose yourself.”