The gates of Legendor swung open with a sound like divine thunder.

*CREAK... BOOM!*

Not the usual creaking of old hinges, but a resonant echo that carried weight beyond mere metal and wood.

Citizens looked up from their daily routines, hands freezing mid-motion as something in the air itself changed.

The afternoon sun caught gleaming armor first.

White and gold. Pristine. Flawless.

A river of divine judgment made manifest, flowing through cobblestone streets like holy fire given form.

"Holy shit..."

An adventurer whispered from a nearby tavern balcony, his drink forgotten in his hand.

"That's... that's the Inquisition."

*Clank... clank... clank...*

Synchronized footsteps echoed through the district, hundreds of boots moving with military precision that spoke to decades of training.

Battle priests. War clerics. Templar knights whose presence alone made the ambient mana feel heavier, more oppressive.

Each carried weapons that hummed with concentrated holy energy, their armor engraved with scripture that glowed faintly in the afternoon light.

But it wasn't the army that commanded attention.

It was the woman walking at their head.

"..."

Priestess Joanna moved with grace that transcended simple physical beauty, her form draped in ceremonial robes that caught sunlight like captured starfire.

A golden veil covered her eyes completely, intricate holy symbols woven into the fabric with threads that seemed to shimmer between reality and something beyond.

Golden hair spilled from beneath the veil like liquid sunset, each strand catching light in ways that made it appear almost luminescent.

Yet despite the blindfold, her steps carried absolute certainty.

No hesitation. No searching movements.

She walked as if she could see more clearly than anyone with functioning sight.

"She's really blind..."

Someone murmured in the growing crowd.

"How is she walking so perfectly?"

"Divine sight," an old priest answered with obvious reverence, dropping to his knees automatically. "She sees through faith itself."

*Thud. Thud. Thud.*

More citizens followed suit, knees hitting cobblestone in waves that spread outward from the procession like ripples on water.

Some genuine believers. Others simply overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of holy energy radiating from the Inquisition's forces.

Adventurers hardened by years of combat found themselves bowing their heads without conscious decision, as if their bodies recognized authority that transcended mortal rank or power.

The air itself shimmered.

Holy energy made visible, creating distortions that transformed the street into something approaching sacred ground.

Mana patterns that normally flowed chaotically through urban environments now moved with organized purpose, bending toward the Inquisition's presence like iron filings attracted to a divine magnet.

"Magnificent..."

A young mage whispered, her analytical mind cataloging phenomena that shouldn't exist according to standard magical theory.

Joanna's gentle smile never wavered as she passed the kneeling crowds, her head turning slightly as if acknowledging each person individually despite her covered eyes.

That melodic quality to her presence made even the most cynical observers feel momentarily at peace, as if her mere proximity offered protection from the world's darkness.

'This is what true divine authority looks like.'

The thought rippled through countless minds simultaneously.

Not the borrowed power of contracted spirits or learned spells, but genuine connection to forces that existed beyond mortal comprehension.

The procession continued through Legendor's main avenue, their path cleared by sheer presence rather than any spoken command.

Behind them, the massive gates began to close once more.

*BOOM.*

The sound carried finality that made even seasoned warriors shiver.

***

The Grand Hall of Camelot had never felt smaller.

King Arthur Pendragon stood at the head of the Round Table, his patterned blue eyes studying the unexpected guests with measured curiosity that barely concealed growing alarm.

Around him sat legends whose names had echoed through history and myth.

Heracles lounged in his chair with deceptive casualness, his massive frame making the reinforced furniture look almost comically undersized. Muscles that could shatter mountains rested with patient stillness, but his jovial expression carried an edge that suggested he'd already calculated seventeen ways to kill everyone in the room if necessary.

Achilles radiated battle-ready intensity that made the air around him feel charged with potential violence, his legendary speed evident even in stillness through micro-movements too fast for normal eyes to track.

Gilgamesh sprawled with regal arrogance that somehow made his casual posture look more commanding than Arthur's formal stance, golden eyes gleaming with the kind of ancient wisdom that came from witnessing civilizations rise and fall countless times.

Beowulf's scarred hands rested on the table with patient strength, each mark telling stories of battles against monsters that had defined entire generations of warriors.

And now, standing before them all...

"Priestess Joanna."

Arthur's voice carried perfect balance between welcome and wariness, his diplomatic instincts recognizing danger wrapped in gentle presentation.

"The Inquisition's arrival is unexpected. The notice came too fast for us to prepare more..."

He paused, letting the implication hang.

"Which raises questions about the urgency of your purpose."

"..."

Joanna's blindfolded face turned toward him with uncanny precision, as if those covered eyes could see through flesh and bone to read the very thoughts behind his words.

Her gentle smile never wavered despite the tension building in the chamber like pressure before a storm.

"Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty."

That melodic quality to her voice somehow made even grave news sound almost soothing, creating cognitive dissonance that put everyone present on edge.

"But the matter I bring requires immediate attention from all who stand against darkness."

*Tap.*

Gilgamesh's fingers drummed once against the table's enchanted surface, the sound carrying impatience that royal protocol barely constrained.

The assembled heroes exchanged glances, their legendary instincts recognizing patterns that mortal politicians might miss.

The Inquisition didn't deploy priestesses of Joanna's obvious rank without catastrophic justification.

They didn't bypass diplomatic protocol unless time itself had become the enemy.

And they certainly didn't arrive with an entire templar contingent for simple alliance discussions.

Whatever brought them here could only mean one thing.

'Catastrophe looms.'

The thought rippled through every enhanced mind simultaneously.

Arthur's hand drifted toward Excalibur, the holy sword pulsing with agitated energy that mirrored its wielder's growing concern.

"Then speak plainly," Gilgamesh interjected with characteristic bluntness, his golden eyes gleaming with impatience that could no longer be contained. "What crisis justifies bypassing diplomatic protocol?"

The question cut through remaining pleasantries like a blade, forcing the conversation toward truth that everyone present could sense lurking beneath Joanna's gentle demeanor.

"..."

For the first time since entering, Joanna's gentle smile faded.

Replaced by an expression of profound gravity that made even the King of Heroes lean forward with sudden interest.

The temperature in the Grand Hall seemed to drop by several degrees, holy energy condensing into something approaching physical weight.

"The First Saintess has awakened."

*CRASH!*

Achilles's chair hit the floor as he stood abruptly, his legendary reflexes reacting before conscious thought could process the implications.

Heracles's jovial expression vanished completely, replaced by warrior focus that transformed his friendly demeanor into something approaching divine wrath.

Even Gilgamesh's arrogant posture shifted, golden eyes narrowing as ancient memories surfaced of histories that predated most civilizations.

"Impossible," Heracles rumbled, his usually cheerful voice carrying depth that made the hall's foundations tremble slightly. "Those seals were designed to last until the end of time itself."

His massive hands clenched into fists that could pulverize mountains.

"Reinforced by the combined power of angels, heroes, and divine artifacts. No force in existence should be capable of breaking them."

"Yet they are gone."

Joanna's melodic voice carried the weight of undeniable truth, each word landing with impact that made even legendary heroes flinch.

"Every single seal. Every binding ward. Every containment spell."

She raised her hand with fluid grace, and holy light materialized above the Round Table like captured starfire given form.

*WHOOOOSH!*

The illumination coalesced into an image of ancient scripture written in languages that predated recorded history, symbols that seemed to shift and writhe as if alive.

"All mysteriously dissolved as if they had never existed in the first place."

"..."

Complete silence fell over the assembled legends.

Arthur's knuckles whitened against Excalibur's hilt, the holy sword's pulsing intensifying in response to its wielder's alarm.

Beowulf's scarred hands pressed against the table hard enough to crack the enchanted wood, his patient strength giving way to barely-contained fury.

The implications crashed through every enhanced mind like tsunamis of horrifying realization.

The First Saintess.

Not a title of honor or respect, but a name spoken with the same reverence as natural disasters or apocalyptic prophecies.

The woman who had betrayed the First Hero during humanity's darkest hour, whose treachery had cost countless lives and nearly doomed civilization itself.

Sealed away not as punishment for failure, but as consequence for deliberate betrayal that transcended simple evil.

And now she walked free.

"The prophecy speaks clearly."

Joanna's voice cut through the shocked silence, holy light above the table shifting to reveal new text.

Ancient words that glowed with ominous power, their meaning transcending linguistic barriers to burn directly into consciousness.

"'When the Betrayer rises from her cursed slumber, the world shall know the true meaning of catastrophe.'"

*Whoosh...*

The glowing scripture transformed, images materializing with horrifying clarity.

Cities crumbling into dust. Dimensions collapsing into void. Reality itself tearing at the seams like fabric stretched beyond endurance.

Screaming faces. Burning skies. Darkness that consumed light itself.

And at the center of it all, a silhouette whose very existence made the projected images flicker with instability.

"Then what shall we do?"

Arthur's question carried weight beyond simple inquiry, his strategic mind already calculating responses to threats that shouldn't exist.

"That is precisely why I am here."

Joanna's blindfolded face turned to encompass the entire assembly, and despite covered eyes, each legendary hero felt the weight of her gaze penetrating their very souls.

"It has been said with the help of the Seer that the Saintess of Catastrophe will arrive here."

"!!!"

The revelation made every eye narrow simultaneously, strategic minds processing implications that spiraled into increasingly dangerous territory.

"Wait," Achilles interjected sharply, his legendary speed making the words sound almost clipped. "The Seer confirmed movement toward Legendor specifically?"

"Yes."

"Then this is a trap," Gilgamesh stated flatly, his ancient wisdom cutting through potential denial. "She's not fleeing. She's positioning herself deliberately."

"Which means," Beowulf added with grim understanding, "she wants something here. Or someone."

Arthur's jaw tightened as connections formed with terrifying clarity.

The Obsidian Covenant's increased activity. The corrupted monster cores. The destabilized leylines.

And now the First Saintess, betrayer of heroes, moving toward the one territory where legendary warriors gathered in concentration.

"The Inquisition didn't send priestesses on diplomatic missions alone," he noted, his tactical mind recognizing the obvious. "The templar knights accompanying you outside. How many?"

"Three hundred."

The number made several heroes inhale sharply.

Three hundred templars represented significant military commitment, the kind of force deployed for active war zones rather than political discussions.

"Pope Edris IV has commanded that all factions aligned with the light be informed and prepared."

Joanna's melodic voice carried papal authority that transcended her gentle demeanor.

"For the Saintess of Catastrophe's awakening marks the beginning of the prophesied ancient darkness, the same shadow that existed since before the merge of Reality and Fantasia ever came."

She turned her blindfolded face toward each legendary hero in sequence, and despite her covered eyes, each one felt the weight of divine judgment measuring their worth.

"The Inquisition requests Legendor's cooperation in establishing a continental defense network."

*Tap. Tap. Tap.*

Her fingers moved through the air with deliberate precision, holy light following each gesture to form tactical diagrams above the Round Table.

"Sharing intelligence about unusual phenomena. Preparing for the possibility that the First Saintess may attempt to move against the world and free this ancient darkness we have sealed for many years."

"..."

The silence stretched as legendary minds processed information that fundamentally altered their understanding of current events.

This wasn't preparation for standard conflict.

This was mobilization for apocalyptic war.

Arthur's hand still rested on Excalibur, drawing strength from the legendary blade as his patterned blue eyes studied the tactical projections with intensity that could burn through steel.

His strategic genius, honed through countless campaigns and wars, recognized patterns that painted increasingly dire pictures.

If the First Saintess truly walked free...

If the ancient darkness she represented gained momentum...

If the prophecy's warnings proved accurate...

Then conventional military response would be meaningless.

They needed unity. Complete cooperation. Every hero, every warrior, every power in this reformed world standing together.

Anything less meant extinction.

"We will convene an emergency council of all major factions."

His declaration carried absolute authority that made even Gilgamesh sit straighter, recognizing the gravity behind those words.

"If the Saintess of Catastrophe truly walks free, then every hero, every warrior, every power in this world must unite..."

His grip on Excalibur tightened until the holy sword's glow intensified, bathing the entire hall in divine light that drove back shadows with prejudice.

"We must avoid a great darkness that dares to blanket us."

The proclamation hung in the air like a death sentence, each word carrying weight that transcended simple sound.

Outside, templar knights stood at attention, their holy energy creating a perimeter that could be felt throughout the entire city.

Citizens went about their business, unaware that apocalyptic war had just been declared in their midst.

***

Waifuria, Villa Garden.

Celis, who was feeding a cute squirrel a nut, slowly "looked" at a certain distance with a neutral and yet faintly gentle expression…

"..."

Putting a hand on her chest, a complex expression appeared on her face.

"What wouldst thou do, were I in thy stead?"

*Squeak?*

A moment of silence filled the place before being interrupted by the little creature who's looking at her with confusion, causing her to chuckle and pet the greedy animal who has stuffed its face with countless nuts with more than it can definitely handle.

"Thou need'st not be so greedy, little one… that's right, there's naught to trouble thyself with."

The gentle expression returned on her face, but somehow…

"..."

Those words seem to have a deeper meaning than what she let out.

… And her summoner who's looking at her from a distance thought so too.

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