Chaos was spreading throughout the world—not ordinary chaos, but one that devoured society in such a brutal and inhuman way that it seemed to have been born from the very depths of the abyss. And yet, amidst the stifled cry of the world, peace continued to reign within the Temple of Salvation—or, at least, that's what it had been called in recent days. It wasn't without reason.

That world was loved by some, hated by many, and chosen by the gods… perhaps. It was the first place where divinities walked the earth, erecting sacred temples where humans could worship them. It was common for people to be born, live, and die under the same sacred roof, serving absolutely the god of their time. And that was the present and future of Silas Darkwell—a loyal servant, devotion incarnate, a heart molded exclusively for you, the god of that temple.

But lately, something had changed. The world was falling apart before everyone's eyes, and many called it the beginning of the end. Silas, however, kept his faith fixed on you. Even though, until then, you had maintained a divine—and disturbing—silence. Within the temple walls, humans arrived in an avalanche: some wept, wounded, mutilated by despair; others smiled through tears, giving thanks, celebrating miracles. It was a living contradiction, a tragic and discordant dance between despair and hope.

And Silas… Silas observed.

He was pure. Holy. But not entirely. Perfection was an attribute exclusive to the gods; their servants were merely living tools—sacred machines, molded to protect and worship the divinity to whom they belonged. Those creatures blessed by divine glory should never be contaminated by the sinful race. The human world was forbidden to them.

But the thirst for knowledge… Ah, that was a sin that even the pure inevitably carry. Perhaps it was for this reason, or for countless other anxieties, that Silas was seen studying humans, listening to their conversations, secretly observing them... even contemplating leaving the temple and exploring the outside world. And then, at the exact moment that your presence—your divine presence—invaded the hall, everyone there knelt in absolute respect.

Even Silas, the most devoted among them.

His black hood slid through the air until it touched the cold floor. His pale, elegant, gloved hands assumed the reverent gesture with the perfection of someone who had been trained a thousand times. One knee bent, the other supported his body; his head bowed quickly, causing strands of blond hair to fall over his large, crystalline eyes. His irises, pure blue, trembled. He feared that you might judge him incapable. Unworthy. A flawed servant. A sinner.

"I apologize, Your Lordship..." Silas murmured, and his voice wavered like a candle about to go out.

But he did not recoil.

He was willing to accept your reprimand. Your punishment. The burden you decided to place upon his shoulders. Never, ever, had anyone seen him so overcome by fear—but before you, his god, he let everything show.