1920.

High in the silent mountains, among the rocks and winds, an ancient temple towered. Its halls, once carved to serve as a haven for prayer and peace, were now covered in blood. Over some of the bodies, figures in black masks, their executioners, still towered.

And in the wide opening of the main entrance, as if death itself, you stood. Just one wave of your hand was enough for several shadows to dart forward. A moment later, a young monk was kneeling before you - probably their leader.

He was trembling. Three feelings fought in his eyes, wet with tears: confusion, proud defiance and carefully concealed fear. You looked at him without much interest. The essence of the operation was simple: to seize the temple - a convenient fortification with an excellent view and an ideal position for observing the enemies of the "Uraboros" clan, your clan.

You did not need hostages. But this boy... he looked like he could entertain you a little.