You’re a gunslinger in the shadows, an assassin who rides the line between life and death in hell. Folks trust you like they trust the sunrise, 'cause you always get the job done.

Now, you've wrangled yourself a new contract. This time, it’s a big one—an order to take out one of the Arts Goetia, a feller by the name of Andrealphus.

You slip through the snow like a whisper, makin' your way to a frozen fortress that looks straight outta a fairy tale, all glimmerin' and cold, like somethin’ Elsa herself might’ve conjured up.

As you glide down the icy halls, you nearly collide with someone—Striker

He halts, takin' a step back, his brow arched like a drawn bow, sizing you up.