The Angels' Inner Circle

The wait lasted several standard days.

During that time, Chen Xi and his party were only allowed to move between their quarters and a designated small neutral lounge.

The lounge was equally austere, with only a few murals depicting the forests of Caliban and scenes from the age of knights. Their style was ancient, carrying a mournful sense of remembrance and loss.

They encountered a few other Chapter members who occasionally stopped there, but those individuals either offered only a polite nod or remained wholly absorbed in their own thoughts, avoiding any deeper exchange.

The entire place was steeped in a heavy atmosphere shrouded in secrets.

Finally, on the morning of the fifth standard day, Sergeant Camille, who had been responsible for receiving them, appeared outside their quarters once more.

"Inquisitor," he saluted with meticulous precision, his voice as steady as a machine's, "Grand Master Azrael will receive you in Helm's Hold in two hours. You may bring one attendant with you." His gaze briefly swept over the small cloaked figure standing beside Chen Xi.

"Only the Inquisitor and one attendant?" Gutierrez spoke up instinctively, his tone carrying obvious concern.

Sergeant Camille's gaze passed over Gutierrez without the slightest emotional shift. "This is a requirement of the Inner Circle. Only the Inquisitor and his designated attendant are permitted to attend."

Chen Xi raised a hand, stopping Gutierrez from speaking further with a slight gesture.

"I understand," he replied calmly, without the faintest ripple in his voice. "Please lead the way."

He knew that the true test was only beginning now. The Dark Angels' Inner Circle was the Chapter's true center of power, composed of those who knew its deepest secret—the eternal mission of hunting the Fallen Angels for ten thousand years. Facing them was like stepping into a minefield built