Chapter 447 - Report

At the Sacrosanctum, deep within its labyrinthine underbelly, where the air was thick with the mingled scents of mildew, incense, and old blood, Van Dijk sat in silence. The chambers stretched endlessly downward here, the walls carved with both scripture and scars, a place where faith and torment had been made inseparable. Catacombs wound into prisons, and prisons into flagellation halls, the spaces overlapping in grim harmony as though designed to confuse and break both body and spirit. Iron chains rattled faintly with each draft of air. Distant screams carried like whispers through stone. Yet Van Dijk seemed unbothered by it all, resting with a posture too casual for a prisoner, an expression of thinly veiled annoyance fixed on his face. Despite the useless chains around his body.