The southern borders of Aethelgard were no longer a place of charred remains and desperate peasants. Under the shadow of the Aurelian Spire, the land had transformed. The "Scorched Earth" left by Valerius had been healed by the Dungeon's overflow—vibrant, violet-veined flora now grew where ash once sat, and the air hummed with a stable, high-density mana that made every breath feel like a minor health potion.
At the reconstructed Void-Gate, a new kind of traveler arrived.
They did not come with the clatter of a legion or the secrecy of assassins. They came in a carriage of white ash-wood, pulled by six horses with manes of flickering silver fire. Escorting them were twelve Paladins of the Silver Flame, each Level 55, their armor etched with runes that hummed in a frequency that purposefully irritated the Dungeon's mana-veins.
Grand Inquisitor Helos stepped out of the carriage. He was an old man, his skin like wrinkled parchment, but his eyes held the terrifying, unwavering light of a true believer. He looked at the Void-Gate—a fifty-foot circular arch of swirling violet energy—and didn't flinch.
"An abomination of the highest order," Helos whispered, his voice carrying a magical weight that made the nearby goblin engineers hiss and retreat into the shadows. "He has not just conquered a kingdom; he has infected the world-veins with the Abyss."
"Should we engage, Grand Inquisitor?" the lead Paladin asked, his hand on a hilt of pure light.
"No," Helos said, smoothing his white robes. "We are here as 'Diplomats.' The Holy See wishes to see if the serpent has a crown, or if it simply has a very large hoard. We shall walk into the mouth of the beast.