Upon the vast, scorching deserts of North Ufiga, beside a stretch of vibrant, lush oasis, the weathered and time-worn ancient city of Bastis stood resolute. After a long and grueling journey, Vania had finally reached her destination in Busalet, yet what awaited her here was far from what she had expected. “Servant of the Evil Radiance, stay back!” “Get out! Outsiders! Don’t even think of setting foot here!” “Don’t you dare bring pain back to this land!” Before the towering gates of Bastis, a crowd of civilians in varied garb had gathered, loudly shouting toward Vania and her group just a short distance away. As they yelled, they brandished crude weapons, putting on a display of defiance and intimidation. As the crowd shouted about “Evil Radiance” and waved their weapons with hostility, Gaspard and the other escorts at Vania’s side instinctively frowned, anger flashing on their faces. Just as they reached for their weapons, Vania stopped them with a single hand gesture. “Sister Vania… these people are clearly dangerous cultists…” Gaspard muttered under his breath, but Vania softly replied. “It hasn’t come to that yet. This is not the time to resort to force.” Hearing her words, Gaspard hesitated. Then he exchanged glances with the other guards and, heeding her instruction, slowly sheathed his half-drawn weapon. Once Vania confirmed their compliance, she turned her gaze back to the furious citizens of Bastis and addressed them gently: “People of Bastis, I do not know what lies you have been told, or how you came to misunderstand our supreme and benevolent Lord, but the Lord has never abandoned a single one of Their flock. The lamb may stray, but the Lord foresees your confusion and has guided me here because of it. “Please, do not be afraid. Do not panic. What I bring is guidance and grace. I will do everything I can to help you through this time of suffering. We have food, medicine, and blessings—everything necessary to face this plague. Let us enter the city and offer aid to those in pain. Do not be misled by the words of slanderers.” Vania’s tone remained soft and calm as she tried to bridge the gap between them. But her words had no effect. No one lowered their weapon. The crowd remained on edge. “Don’t listen to her!” From the front of the crowd, the bald, rotund man holding the bizarre staff once again raised his voice with fervent charisma. “People of Bastis! You’ve seen it with your own eyes—what has the Evil Radiance done during this disaster? Nothing! They couldn’t stop this plague. They brought this plague! Ask yourselves—who saved you? Who pulled this city from suffering? “It was the Eternal Lord of Longevity—not the Evil Radiance!” Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd behind him. “Lord of Longevity… it was the Lord of Longevity…” “It was He who spared us from pain… What the Evil Radiance couldn’t do, the Eternal Lord did…” Their voices rose in quiet unity, affirming their faith in the strange man’s words. No one lowered their weapons. In fact, they gripped them even tighter. “See? You are not welcome here!” the man shouted. “You dogs of the Evil Radiance! The Eternal Lord abhors conflict, and unlike those nailed to our walls, you have yet to act against this city. So I will be merciful—this time. But do not think for one moment you will be allowed to step foot inside!” Cheers and affirmations echoed behind him. “That’s right! Get out!” “Leave, outsiders! You’re not wanted here!” “Go away! There’s no place for you here!” The furious shouts of Bastis’s citizens rang out before the gates, their tone unmistakably hostile. Beside Vania, Gaspard’s anger surged once more. He muttered in a low voice. “Sister Vania, these people are beyond saving. Let us act. Let them witness the wrath of the Lord.” “Stay calm… Priest Gaspard. We came here to save lives, not take them. We still don’t know the full situation—don’t act rashly,” Vania said firmly. Having quelled the urge to fight in her companions, Vania looked once more at the openly hostile townspeople. Then she spoke softly. “Even those lost in the deepest confusion… are never beyond salvation. Every soul has a moment in which redemption is possible. I will wait for that moment to come.” With those quiet words, Vania turned away and led her people back, retreating from the city that had rejected them. As she left, she cast a brief glance over her shoulder—back at the ancient city of Bastis. Her gaze settled on the motionless bodies still nailed to the city walls, swaying slightly in the desert wind. Then she turned forward again and walked away. … After being refused entry by the people of Bastis, Vania chose not to engage in direct conflict. Instead, she led her people back to the main convoy and, rather than withdrawing entirely, ordered the Church delegation to establish a camp outside the city. Following her command, the caravan set up camp on the opposite side of the oasis lake, creating a physical buffer between themselves and the walls of Bastis. Relying on the nearby water and greenery, they began resting and replenishing supplies. Within just a few hours, through the diligent work of the Church’s hired staff, tents of all sizes had been pitched across the grasslands by the lake, forming a large, organized base. No one interfered with their setup—only some city guards stood watch atop the Bastis walls, observing cautiously from a distance. By dusk, the lakeside camp was alive with movement. Tents sprawled in every direction, people moved to and fro, and groups of camels were led to the water’s edge to drink. Wisps of cooking smoke began to rise throughout the camp, and a cacophony of sounds filled the air. At the center of the camp, inside a large white pavilion tent, Vania sat upon a freshly laid ornate carpet. Standing before her were two figures—one was Phil, her assistant nun in a white habit identical to hers; the other was a taller, more mature woman. This woman was elegant and well-built, with soft black curls and calm brown eyes. She wore a customized nun’s outfit in black and gray tones—shorter and more form-fitting than the standard design. “Sister Vania, this is Sister Faith, an operative of the Inquisition Chamber. She’s been stationed in Busalet for some time, and Bastis is her primary base of operations. She can brief us on the current state of affairs,” Phil explained. Vania knew the Inquisition Chamber—one of the Church’s major internal divisions, like her own Redemption Chamber, both reporting directly to the Cardinals. The Inquisition was the Church’s intelligence branch, dispatching covert agents across the world, particularly to regions with little or no Church presence—like Busalet. “Ah… Sister Faith. Please, have a seat. It must have been difficult, working for so long in such a desolate region,” Vania said with a warm smile. This wasn’t her first encounter with Inquisition agents—on her first mission to Addus, she’d received critical intel from their embedded operatives, including details of Shadi’s rise to power. “I’ve long heard that the now-renowned Sister Vania is both gentle in manner and gracious in conduct—and it seems the rumors were true. It’s… rather nostalgic,” Faith said, smiling as she took a seat. “Nostalgic?” Vania tilted her head with interest. “Do I remind you of someone?” “In a way, yes… After so many years out here, I haven’t seen a proper clergy member in quite some time—let alone someone else who follows the Holy Mother Path. Most who get sent to dangerous places like this serve the Holy Father or the Holy Son. It’s been a while since I could talk faith with someone on my path.” Her words surprised Vania slightly. “You’re a Holy Mother follower? That’s rare, especially for someone working in the Inquisition. Doesn’t the Holy Mother’s compassion conflict with your mission?” “Not at all,” Faith said, waving a hand gently. “As long as I remember: ‘Minor cruelties serve greater salvation; brief sacrifices serve vast mercy.’ My faith empowers my work, not hinders it.” Vania nodded in interest. “‘Minor cruelties serve vast mercy,’ huh… I see. For one to remain stationed here so long and still serve the Church faithfully… You have my respect.” She offered a polite nod before continuing. “Our mission in Bastis is to provide relief. But it seems the situation here has shifted since we last received updates. The people appear misled—do you know what’s really going on, Sister Faith?” Now focused, Faith gave her answer without hesitation. “It’s the Filth Coven—or as the locals say, the Longevity Church. They’re behind this. The Withering Plague sweeping across Busalet was created and deliberately spread by them. The outbreak began around two months ago and quickly infected all of Busalet, eventually reaching Bastis. “The Savior’s Advent Sect was in charge here when it began. At first, they tried to use the plague as an opportunity—curing patients to win trust and convert followers. Because they had Holy Mother Path Beyonders, they initially succeeded. “The plague’s spread in Bastis slowed dramatically. Their healing efforts were faster than the rate of infection. At that point, it seemed the plague might be eradicated entirely by the Advent Sect.” As Faith spoke, Vania’s brow furrowed. From her experience, this plague shouldn’t have been so easy to treat. “I thought they’d manage to suppress the plague completely. But then—suddenly—their healing became slower. Cases that were once easy to resolve began taking longer and longer, until even previously cured patients began relapsing. “The number of infected in Bastis exploded. The Advent Sect was overwhelmed. Order collapsed. Chaos reigned. That’s when they lost control of Bastis.” Faith’s tone turned colder. “And that’s when he arrived—Jawadin, the bald man you saw earlier. He’s a subordinate of Amuyaba, one of the chieftains of the Longevity Church. Jawadin came during Bastis’s darkest hour, claiming to offer miraculous healing. “He couldn't cure the plague outright, but he could ease the pain—something the Advent Sect couldn’t do anymore. And so, the Longevity heretic’s influence spread. It quickly surpassed that of the Advent heretics. “Tensions rose. Eventually, it led to an armed conflict—and as for the outcome… Well, Sister Vania, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Nailed to the city gate.” … While Vania was receiving intel from Faith in her tent, the sun had fully set. Night now cloaked the ancient oasis. Chilled desert winds howled through the sands. Within a quiet grove by the oasis, a tall, gaunt man in a North Ufigan robe stood alone—the corpse marionette Edrick, controlled by Dorothy. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, waiting. Suddenly, there was rustling in the underbrush. Edrick turned. A figure emerged from the trees—robed, face covered, carrying another person slung over their shoulder. When the figure approached, they gently set the carried person down, then stood up with a long exhale and spoke in Nephthys’s voice. “Whew… Finally got it done. Take a look.” Dorothy, observing through Edrick, examined the unconscious woman on the ground. She wore a tattered Savior’s Advent robe, her face pale and her eyes closed. She was one of the clergy nailed to Bastis’s walls. “Mhm… she’s alive. Looks like the Chalice supported her through it. She hasn’t succumbed to the torture yet…” Edrick muttered. Dorothy didn’t rush to awaken her. Instead, she first inscribed a Marionette Mark, converting the unconscious woman into a living marionette. Then she examined her internal condition. “As expected… parasites. Can’t bring her back like this—we’ll have to purge them first…” With a thought, Dorothy channeled her spirituality. From Edrick’s fingertips, a thin, red spiritual thread extended—like a serpent coiling in midair—before slipping beneath the woman’s clothing and skin, entering her body. Carefully navigating her internals, Dorothy located the various parasites. As soon as her spiritual thread touched them, she used the marionette control to force them all to self-destruct—eggs included. Within minutes, every identifiable parasite inside the woman had been destroyed.