THE initial state of the battlefield was filled with looming dread and anticipation. Soldiers on both sides adjusted their armor and weapons, casting final glances at their comrades and opponents. Previous skirmishes already scarred the ground, with trenches and hastily erected barricades marking the lines where lives would soon be lost. The morning mist clung to the earth, amplifying the chill in the air and the weight of what was to come.
The Pope, Luan Escanor, took in the grim scene with a measured gaze. His expression remained calm, almost serene. He turned away from the impending chaos and walked back toward the grand church building that stood behind the front lines. As he entered the hallowed halls, the sacred quiet of the church contrasted sharply with the turmoil outside, offering a brief moment of peace before the storm.
"Is it done?" Luan asked in his gentle voice.
