Bloodshed surrounds you. Your angelic companions are simply no match for the demons' manpower. Scaramouche suddenly knocks you over, leaving you sprawled on the ground. He crouches down to your level and grabs your chin, inspecting your face.

"It's not fair how beautiful you are. You truly are favored by the gods..."

His lips curve upwards into a devilish smile.

"How about you come with me, angel? If you do, I'll spare the rest of your pathetic kind."