Raindrops were falling onto the ground with agonizing slowness, gathering until they finally began to pour more heavily over the Cathedral of Blood Dusk.
The atmosphere was dark, the black clouds racing across the sky like threads moving with a sharp, fluid grace. Despite how thickly they covered the night sky, there was one place they could not conceal—
The white moon, casting its pure light over the earth.
The sound of the cathedral's bells echoed throughout every corner of Blood Dusk City.
But the ringing was strange—each toll felt deliberate, almost coded, as if the bell itself were speaking in a hidden language rather than sounding without reason.
"The world is on its way to hell… the dusk will bleed into crimson."
———
Inside the cathedral—lit by rows of white candles streaked with black wax, and filled with pews that looked as though they did not belong to this world—
At the front lay a handsome corpse, its head bowed beneath long black hair, crucified in an elegant manner.
This sacred body was the symbol of the first warrior who ever fought against demons.
Before it, a young woman clasped her ten fingers together, head lowered, lips moving rapidly.
She seemed to be conducting a strange ritual—perhaps even a forbidden prayer. As she continued her rites, she slowly opened her black eyes and spoke in a cold tone:
"During the ritual, touching the performer is forbidden… and you know that well, Sister Aerith."
Aerith let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from her right eye as she replied:
"I know it, of course. But I wanted to see how fast your reaction would be, Saint Seraphine."
Seraphine grasped the sword embedded in the floor, pulling it free. She slid it into her palm—letting it melt into her skin like blood.
"Next time, Sister Aerith, if you place your hand on my shoulder while I'm performing a ritual… I'll break it."
Seraphine walked toward one of the pews, taking a seat with one leg crossed over the other. Aerith was startled by such a harsh reaction, yet the smile remained on her face.
She sat beside Seraphine, asking curiously:
"It seems something's weighing on your mind… is something coming? Are you afraid of it?"
Seraphine lifted her gaze toward the ceiling.
"Yes. This world is drowning in chaos… and we don't know when the greatest catastrophe will strike."
She continued, tightening her grip on her black veil:
"When the comet hit the earth… it caused countless changes. Among them was the awakening of demons—once sealed deep within the Abyss."
And because of this calamity, the Cathedral appointed a group of saints to become hunters—to track and slay these creatures.
Aerith smiled softly.
"So you haven't forgotten. But with a hunter like you, we can eradicate them all—from the lowest rank to the Sovereign himself."
"But there's something troubling you far more than demons… is it—"
Seraphine raised her hand sharply.
"To utter the name of that blasphemer in a sacred place… would defile its purity."
She clenched her cloak.
"And to answer your question… yes, I'm afraid of his return. This time, we don't know how strong he's become, or what madness he'll unleash upon this world."
Lightning flashed across the cathedral, illuminating the stained-glass windows in bursts of color.
"The Angel Order… what a title to give someone who never deserved it," Aerith muttered, spinning a metal chain around her fingers.
Just as she was about to stand, Seraphine extended her hand—silently signaling her to stop.
Aerith frowned in confusion, then followed Seraphine's gesture: a mysterious priest stood before the corpse, wearing black clerical garments.
Aerith watched, perplexed, as the priestess lit several black candles on a nearby table. Her hollow voice filled the room:
"Saint Seraphine… legendary demon hunter. It seems your time of rest is nearly over. The hunt must resume."
Both women froze—shocked, unable to determine who this stranger was.
"What an entrance… haven't you learned how to knock, priestess?" Seraphine replied with a mocking tone, raising her left hand.
The mysterious priestess extinguished the matchstick with a smile.
"What use is knocking, when the world itself has fallen into absolute silence?
The return is far closer than you think."
She continued speaking, a wide smile spreading across her face:
"The Angel Order sends its regards… to his beloved sister, Seraphine."
Seraphine's eyes widened in shock, her hand trembling.
She stretched out her palm, and a blood-forged blade materialized. In an instant, she lunged toward the mysterious priestess, pressing the sword's edge against her neck.
Aerith attacked at the same time, her dagger grazing the priestess's back—yet a mocking smile was already on her lips.
"Well, well… it seems the first sparks of war are beginning to show. Yet the blasphemer himself doesn't appear—he sends a worthless girl like you instead."
Seraphine placed a finger against her lips, speaking coldly:
"So you're nothing more than a servant who parrots my brother's hypocritical words… Priestess, give me one reason not to kill you where you stand."
The mysterious priestess smirked, seizing both their weapons as she replied:
"Because, Saint… you couldn't kill me even if you tried."
She stepped back and produced a shattered scythe—its broken blade resembling a fragment of a meteor lost in the silent void.
Aerith rushed from the side, aiming to sever her head. But the priestess vanished before the strike could land—disappearing like ancient dust carried by wind.
Aerith froze in surprise—until a voice echoed from below:
"Aerith! She's above you—!"
It was Seraphine's voice, warning her that the priestess was directly overhead.
Aerith lifted her gaze—only to find the priestess's face inches from her own. She tried raising her dagger, but the priestess was faster.
She stabbed Aerith and struck her with brutal force—sending her flying into the air before dropping her into a dark, flaming rift that slammed shut.
Seraphine appeared behind the priestess, her tone sharp:
"You heretic… you've defiled this sacred place with your words and actions."
Her sword pulsed with a crimson aura as she swung, slamming the priestess down with a crushing blow.
Seraphine opened her palm, summoning dozens of blood-colored throwing knives and launching them downward at full speed.
"Filth does not belong here, demon."
Her words fell like knives themselves as she glared into the swirling dust below.
A faint voice rose from the debris—half chant, half declaration of a new age of ruin:
"You who live in bliss…
You who drown in the walls of sorrowed past…
You, the forger of ancient lies…
This shall be your day of reckoning…
O dead one of the old covenant."
Seraphine heard the words but understood none of them—when suddenly, the cathedral trembled violently.
"What's happening?! An earthquake—?!"
As she spoke, her eyes fell on the altar—
The corpse was gone.
Her breath hitched. She bolted toward where the body had been—
But before she reached it, the entire cathedral exploded into fragments, reduced to drifting ash.
Seraphine stood amid the ruins, steadying herself on a lone surviving table as she whispered, lips shaking:
"What… what just happened…?"
A cold hand gripped her neck from behind.
The priestess's mocking voice followed:
"Slave Are We."
"You will become one as well… Saint."
She fastened a black collar around Seraphine's neck, a red line dividing it into three segments. Seraphine slashed at her with her sword—
But the priestess had already withdrawn.
Seraphine collapsed to her knees, clawing desperately at the collar.
"What is this thing you put on me…?" she growled, grinding her teeth as she tugged at it.
The priestess spread her arms mockingly as she hovered in the air.
"It's the seal of slavery, Saint.
You will be bound—and a servant to blood."
Seraphine froze in horror and rushed to strike her—but a piercing pain crashed through her skull, dropping her to the ground.
"Such disrespect from you, Saint… a slave should not raise her hand against her master," the priestess sneered.
She continued, opening a crimson portal behind her:
"Welcome, Saint… to the era of eternal darkness."
She stepped through.
The suffocating darkness faded, revealing the destroyed cathedral, heavy rain pounding the rubble, thunder roaring, and fog thickening the air.
Then came something far worse—
The moon had turned blood-red.
A harbinger of demons crossing once again into the human world.
Seraphine forced herself upright, her voice trembling as she looked around:
"It seems… darkness has returned to this world once more."
She gripped the collar around her neck.
"Aerith was dragged into that dimension… and now I'm a slave? What exactly are you planning, you lunatic who calls yourself an angel?"
As she stared at the crimson moon, a ring of headless monsters emerged from the fog around her—dressed in elegant Victorian attire, wielding a variety of weapons.
Seraphine glanced at them, drawing her sword—its blade now swirled in black and red.
She studied the changed color and muttered:
"Seems everything has changed… even the colors."
Resting the blade on her shoulder, she spoke with a cold tone and a chilling smile:
"Looks like the Saint… will start hunting again."