Whispers in the Holy City's Hidden Chamber, an Audience Beneath the Blood Moon

Deep within the Holy City's inner district, in a long, narrow stone chamber.

A detailed map of the entire Tear Knight Defense Line lay spread across a long table. Gold pins marking its territories had once crowded the map.

Now they were being pulled out one by one and dropped into a silver tray beside it.

The pins had already formed a small pile in the tray. Firelight fell across them, and they seemed to give off a cold gleam.

No one spoke in the stone chamber. There was only the dry rustle of turning pages and the clear chime of gold pins striking the silver tray.

The first to speak was an old man seated to the left of the head of the table. His black robes were immaculate, even his cuffs pressed flat.

"Three defense zones under the Tear Knight Defense Line have gone dark this season. The remaining stretches still look lit, but they've been hollowed out. Few are truly intact."

He raised a hand and tossed the gold pin he had just removed from the map into the silver tray. "A little faster than expected."

The others around the table said nothing. Their expressions barely changed.

It was as though so many deaths along the defense line fell within the range they had calculated beforehand.

A middle-aged man on the other side of the table turned a page of the battle report.

He wore a silver-rimmed ring and severe, orderly clothes. His brow was deeply set, and the shadows beneath his eyes spoke of long years without sleep.

The open report was filled with names of the dead and Sacred Flame nodes that had gone out, yet he read it like a ledger growing harder and harder to balance.

"Seventy percent of our Holy Silver reserves