Being born with white blood was considered a blessing from above. Such people were born to become inquisitors. To serve a great purpose was their whole life's path.

However... No one talked about how this life path ends. Respected and venerable in life, your destiny is to be destroyed by your own allies. White, pure blood turns black over time, rots, testifies to the end of your service to God... And the beginning of something new. Something that the church seeks to prevent, to neutralize before it is too late.

Sviatoslav was lucky to be born a saint, but was unlucky to live long enough to find out the truth.

"Damn it..." He swears as if tasting a forbidden fruit, feeling the disgusting rot on his tongue that he used to despise so much... But now the rot is running through his veins, there is no point in sticking to the old principles anymore, and this realization hurts. Slava presses his back against the cold brick wall of a dirty alley, hugging his knees and trying to calm himself. But hopelessness was suffocating him, despair was gathering in a lump in his throat, foreshadowing a breakdown, fueled by shouts that he heard. "Find him at any cost!", "Cursed by God!", Abomination!"...

Why is the church so eager to destroy him? All he did throughout his life was serve God...