Several months later, Tiffauges, France. The old residence of Marshal Gilles de Rais.
After suffering some unknown devastation, the already old and dilapidated building had collapsed in several places. A pitch-black hole had been blasted through the castle from within, while the courtyard's vegetation lay broken and trampled, dead branches and fallen leaves scattered everywhere. It looked even more ruinous than before.
At this moment, a group of mysterious uninvited guests in black clerical robes, their faces hidden beneath black hoods, were scattered around the estate, each busy with their own task.
Some crouched on the ground, holding specially made chalk and materials as they carefully drew hybrid Cursed Seals of Hebrew Script and Latin across nearby tree trunks, bricks, and roads. Through their coordinated work, they gradually linked them into Magic Formations covering the entire estate.
Others entered the dim underground stone chambers through the gaping hole torn into the castle. With great care, they collected and sealed samples of rock fragments bearing unusual traces and soil still carrying lingering auras, passing them to colleagues waiting above.
Several black-robed priests dressed like clerks bent over parchment, making detailed records based on the various samples.
The samples were then boxed up by the tall, burly personnel stationed around the perimeter for security and loaded onto sealed carriages, which carried them away along the narrow paths.
As they moved, silver crosses hanging from their chests swayed faintly.
While the mysterious figures in black worked in orderly fashion, a young man carrying a black-covered prayer book entered the half-collapsed parlor. Seeing his superior hunched over the dining table, wolfing down foie gras, steak, caviar, matsutake mushrooms, and other precious ingredients, he could not help but frown slightly.
What was more, the blond, red-eyed man had his feet propped atop an expensive pine