A monument to divine authority pierced the transformed violet sky, its towering spires rising like accusatory fingers pointed at the heavens themselves.

Constructed over millennia from consecrated stone and blessed marble, the structure radiated an aura of absolute sanctity that made even the boldest souls feel small in its presence.

Golden light filtered through stained glass windows depicting scenes of holy triumph, casting colorful patterns across marble floors so polished they reflected like mirrors.

Ornate pillars carved with prayers in ancient languages supported vaulted ceilings that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Statues of saints and blessed figures lined every corridor, their stone eyes watching with eternal vigilance.

It's the Grand Cathedral of the Holy Inquisition.

Ever since the dimensional merge of Reality and Fantasia, the worlds, lands, and all the bases from Fantasia had started to materialize and appear on the lands of the Reformed Earth. The process had been gradual at first – entire landscapes shifting into existence overnight, ancient fortresses appearing where modern cities once stood, mystical domains overlaying mundane geography.

But the speed of this phenomenon had accelerated dramatically with the abnormal coming of the Second Trial.

What once took months now happened in weeks, sometimes days.

One of these lands that manifested on the Reformed Earth was the base and mortal headquarters of the Celestial Heaven itself: the Holy Inquisition's Grand Cathedral.

A structure that had existed in Fantasia for countless ages now stood as a bridge between two realities, its presence both magnificent and unsettling to those who witnessed its sudden arrival.

But beneath all this grandeur, far below the public chambers where believers came to pray and seek guidance, lay something else entirely.

The Forbidden Halls.

A network of sealed passages and warded chambers that existed in the cathedral's deepest levels, protected by layers of divine magic and ancient bindings that had been reinforced by every generation of clergy for thousands of years.

Few were permitted to enter these sacred depths.

Only the highest-ranking members of the Inquisition possessed the authority and clearance to venture past the blessed barriers that guarded the entrance.

And even fewer knew the true purpose of what lay sealed within.

*Step... step... step...*

The sound of footsteps echoed through stone corridors as two figures descended the ancient stairway.

Both wore the ceremonial robes of High Bishops, the deep crimson fabric marking their elevated status within the Inquisition's hierarchy.

Golden thread traced intricate patterns along the hems and sleeves, symbols of divine protection that glowed faintly in the dim light.

"Another year, another inspection," Bishop Fenrer muttered, his weathered face showing clear boredom as they walked. "Tell me again why we can't just send lower-ranked priests for this tedious duty?"

His companion, Bishop Brutus, adjusted his spectacles with a sigh. "You know perfectly well why. The Forbidden Halls require divine authority to access properly. Lesser clergy would be turned away by the wards, or worse, consumed by them."

"Still seems like a waste of our talents," Fenrer grumbled. "Standing around checking seals that haven't weakened in centuries. I could be conducting important research instead."

"Research that would probably get you censured again," Brutus observed dryly. "Remember last time? When you tried to analyze the theoretical applications of forbidden magic 'for academic purposes'?"

"That was one time!"

"Twice."

"... Fine, twice."

They reached the bottom of the stairway, where a massive door of pure silver blocked their path.

Inscriptions covered every inch of its surface, prayers and bindings layered so densely that the original metal was barely visible beneath the divine script.

Both bishops placed their hands against the door simultaneously, channeling their authority through the connection.

*Hummm...*

The door responded to their touch, recognizing the divine power flowing through properly ordained High Bishops.

Ancient mechanisms activated with grinding sounds that spoke of extreme age and careful maintenance.

*Creak... creak... creak...*

The silver barrier swung open slowly, revealing the entrance to the Forbidden Halls proper.

A wave of cold air rushed past them, carrying the scent of incense and something else.

Something older.

Something that made even experienced bishops like themselves feel a shiver of instinctive unease.

"After you," Fenrer gestured with mock politeness.

"How generous," Brutus replied sarcastically, but he stepped through first anyway.

The Forbidden Halls stretched before them like a labyrinth designed by paranoid architects.

Countless passages branched off in every direction, each one leading to sealed chambers containing artifacts, texts, or entities deemed too dangerous for the outside world.

Magical torches burst into light as they advanced, triggered by their presence.

The flames burned with an ethereal blue-white glow that created dancing shadows along the walls.

"Chamber of Cursed Relics, still sealed," Fenrer called out, checking the first door they encountered. "Binding intact, no deterioration."

"Chamber of Heretical Texts, similarly secured," Brutus confirmed from across the corridor. "The suppression wards are functioning normally."

They moved through the halls with practiced efficiency, inspecting each sealed chamber according to the protocol established centuries ago.

Check the physical integrity of doors and walls.

Verify the strength of magical bindings.

Confirm that nothing had attempted to breach from inside.

Document any anomalies for further investigation.

It was tedious work that required divine authority but minimal actual effort.

The kind of duty that made even dedicated clergy members like themselves zone out from sheer monotony.

"You know what I find fascinating?" Fenrer broke the comfortable silence as they checked another corridor. "We've been doing these inspections for what, 15 years now?"

"17," Brutus corrected automatically.

"Right, 17 years. And in all that time, nothing has ever been out of place. Not once. Makes you wonder why we even bother."

"Because the one time we don't check is when something will inevitably go wrong," Brutus recited the standard response. "That's how these things always work in the old texts. Complacency leads to catastrophe."

"Still boring though."

"Agreed."

They continued their inspection, falling into the familiar rhythm of checking, confirming, and moving to the next chamber.

Until they reached the deepest section.

The area where even other High Bishops rarely ventured.

The corridor widened here, and the walls were adorned with something unexpected: portraits.

Dozens of them, each depicting the same figure from different angles and in different poses.

A woman of such transcendent beauty that even rendered in paint, she seemed to glow with an otherworldly radiance.

Long flowing hair that cascaded like spun gold.

Half-closed eyes that held depths of compassion and wisdom.

Features so perfectly formed they seemed almost unreal, as if crafted by divine hands rather than born naturally.

Every portrait showed her in the white robes of a saintess, hands clasped in prayer or extended in blessing.

"... The First Saintess," Brutus murmured, pausing before one of the larger portraits.

Despite having seen these images countless times during their inspections, he found himself mesmerized once again.

"Her beauty is close to holy," Fenrer agreed quietly, stopping beside his companion. "Makes you wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"If the real thing matched the paintings," Fenrer admitted, a trace of color appearing on his weathered cheeks. "I know we're dedicated to holiness and all that, but I can't help feeling a bit... curious. Attracted, even though it shames me to say it."

"You're not alone in that," Brutus confessed, adjusting his spectacles as if the action could somehow clear inappropriate thoughts. "Every time I see these portraits, I wonder if she truly looked like this. If her beauty was really so profound that even we, who have devoted our lives to the divine, would be moved by it."

They stood in contemplative silence before the portraits, two men who had spent decades in service to the Inquisition, momentarily humbled by painted images of a woman sealed away millennia ago.

"Come on," Brutus finally said, shaking himself from his reverie. "We have a duty to complete."

At the corridor's end stood an ornate door unlike any other in the Forbidden Halls.

This one wasn't made of silver or blessed wood or consecrated stone.

It was pure white crystal that seemed to glow from within, carved with such intricate prayers and bindings that looking at it too long made their eyes water.

"The Sanctum of Eternal Rest," Brutus announced unnecessarily, his voice carrying a reverence that even boredom couldn't diminish completely.

Both bishops straightened their postures, their casual demeanor vanishing as they approached the most important seal in the entire cathedral.

The chamber where the First Saintess had been sealed millennia ago.

… But not, as many believed, to preserve her holy figure for eternity.

"Do you ever think about the story?" Fenrer asked quietly as they began their inspection. "The real reason she's here?"

"The tale of the Saintess' betrayal?" Brutus replied just as quietly. "Hard not to think about it when we're standing at her prison."

Every member of the Inquisition knew the famous tale, though it was one they rarely spoke of openly.

According to the story, the First Saintess, despite her beauty and apparent holiness, had been a betrayer.

When the First Hero led his companions against the forces of darkness, she had stood by his side as his most trusted advisor and spiritual guide.

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