Inside the Holy Castle, where pillars of white stone rose high into vaulted ceilings bathed in golden radiance, the air itself felt heavy with sacred presence.
Holy mana flowed like an unseen river, filling every corner of the grand hall with a quiet pressure that reminded all who stood within it that this was no ordinary place.
This was the heart of the Holy Kingdom, where power, faith, and authority converged.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon a throne carved from pure white crystal and adorned with gold, Holy King Guren remained still.
His posture was composed.
His gaze was steady.
But his mind was far from calm.
Before him, rows of ministers stood in disciplined formation, each dressed in robes of white and gold, each bearing expressions of respect and caution.
They spoke one after another, discussing matters of the kingdom, presenting reports, raising concerns, yet none of it truly reached the king.
Because his thoughts were elsewhere.
Clay Valmont…
