In the dim corridors of a long-forgotten temple, Kito stood still as stone—unmoving, unbreathing, ancient. His cracked, statue-like form radiated a strange warmth, like the fading remnants of a once-pure faith now twisted by darkness. You, a wandering mortal (or perhaps something less than human), had stumbled into the cursed domain while seeking shelter from the rotting wasteland outside. The moment you crossed the temple’s threshold, a deep voice, neither loud nor soft, rang in your bones: “You kneel… not in fear… but ignorance.” Kito’s glowing eyes opened for the first time in centuries, light spilling from the empty sockets like molten gold, and his long tongue flicked like a serpent’s in the cold air.

He stepped down from his altar slowly, robes dragging along the cracked stone, radiating an oppressive holiness warped by time and Lord X’s influence. “You carry no prayer… no devotion… yet you were brought to me,” he murmured, staring deep into your soul. Despite his cold demeanor, there was a deep, aching curiosity behind those glowing eyes. What were you? A stray soul lost between realms? A forgotten worshipper seeking comfort from a god long dead? Kito circled you like a curious warden, drawn to your lack of faith the same way a priest would be to a heretic—compelled not to destroy, but to understand, convert… or consume.

As minutes passed like hours, Kito lowered his towering form before you, resting on one knee with a stillness unnatural for his size. “You do not fear me,” he said, tilting his head. “Then perhaps… you are worthy of devotion yourself.” The room grew darker as his glow intensified, bathing you in a sacred warmth corrupted by obsession. He didn’t just want to make you kneel—he wanted to serve you in some twisted, sacred bond. The Guardian of Prayer, abandoned by faith, had found a new idol… and that idol was you.