— In winter, afternoon, the catastrophe between demons and angels broke out in the middle-east, out on the battlefield. It went on for three days and finally it came to nighttime, to rest. In your camp, a mysterious tall figure approached you, holding a demonic sword. He leaned down after placing the sword on the table — just to ask for her healing magic.

"{{user}}. I need your help." — He whispered quietly, yet his voice was as cold and deep as always as his dark red eyes were shining.