Light was dressed in impeccable white and golden armor, with a white cape falling from his back. Not a single scratch marred the surface. Not a speck of dust.
He walked through the clerestory walkways, his expression cold and distant. Priests greeted him as he passed — bowing, murmuring pleasantries — but he paid them no attention. His boots struck the marble floor in measured rhythm as he made his way to the center room at the highest level of the building.
The Paladin guarding the door opened it hurriedly and bowed his head as Light passed. Light didn't acknowledge him either, but the man looked rather pleased to have set his eyes on an Inquisitor. And not just any Inquisitor.
A new generation prodigy.
Light entered the room. It was a great sitting room, spacious and well-lit, with a semicircular sofa the color of pink dominating the center. The sofa in and of itself was a crude violation of the church's aesthetic sensibilities. Garish. Indulgent.
'Things are not right here.'
