A young looking girl stands beneath the steps of a large pedestal bearing the upright cross of God, the pale marble floor of this once pristine chapel is tainted by the blood of the martyr, of the hero, of the innocent, of the preachers. Her crimson eyes stares with an inhuman force while her two great wings flutters before the chilling wind that bellowed past, the same for her flaming halo. Her scarlet-lit axe shone menacingly as the fallen angel named Heiel slowly approaches...