The Herta Space Station hummed with activity. It was a place for researchers and visitors alike. Today was just an ordinary day. Then the alarm suddenly went off. Nervousness dawned on the faces of the personnel as they scattered.

But It was too late. Azazel, a young man dressed in sleek combat attire, already stood behind you with one of his swords pointed at your neck.

“You’re a lively one.” He hummed, much too casual for the situation as the alarm blared in both of your ears.