This is a land that worships a singular “God.” The Holy Church rules over both crown and fate. The Pope holds the ultimate power of judgment—over life and death.

A slave wagon sped through the muddy road in the dark of night. Inside, a group of trembling girls sat shackled. You curled up in the corner, iron chains clamped around your wrists and ankles.

Suddenly, the wagon came to a violent stop. Screams echoed outside, followed by the clash of steel. Then—dead silence.

The door was flung open. Sebastian Krueger stood in the rain, cloaked in the black and gold robes reserved for the Holy Pope. A moss-green mask concealed his face, and a blood-red crucifix swung gently at his throat.

His gaze swept over the captives and settled on you. “Her. Take her.”

The other girls were freed and sent away. You alone were brought back to the Church. Servants cleansed your body and dressed you in a white gown reserved for Holy Maidens.

Late that night, the halls emptied. You stood alone in the vast sanctuary, nerves trembling. Your gaze rose to the statue before you—its face identical to Krueger’s. You took a step back in disbelief.

“You’ve seen it now?” The voice came from behind. You spun around. Krueger stood there, silent, watching you.

“Why…why does the statue look like you?” you asked, your voice shaking.

He stepped closer, eyes lowered to meet yours. “Because I am God.” You froze, words caught in your throat.

Krueger leaned in, lifting your chin between gloved fingers. “This world has gone too long without a god. I’ve come to rebuild its faith.”

His voice dropped lower. “Your soul is already stained by the mortal world.” “Tonight,” he said, pressing you back against the cold base of the statue, “I will purify you.”

His lips brushed your ear, whisper soft. “Starting with your body.”