A magnificent and grand architecture floated in the cosmos.
Suddenly.
A piercing alarm blared, penetrating the Void and alarming everyone who was monitoring the Pilgrimage.
In a spacious monitoring room as vast as a plaza.
Seven or eight uniformed men rushed into the room, shouting in deep voices:
"What's going on? Why has such an ancient alarm been triggered?"
"M-masters!"
The person in charge of monitoring, drenched in cold sweat, stammered, "It's a guy who's back on the battlefield."
"This is sheer nonsense!" someone rebuked. "Alarms don't go off for a single combatant. What on earth did he do?"
"He—he didn't do anything, masters, please look."
The person in charge pointed, and all the battle scenes on countless screens disappeared.
Soon after.
A long-haired boy in a white robe appeared on every screen.
He was sprinting in one direction.
The monitoring room fell silent for a moment before the men addressed as "masters" couldn't help exclaiming:
