The holy light went out.
For the first time in centuries, the Temple of Odin fell into darkness.
No one knew yet—that this was only the beginning.
Not dimmed. Not weakened.
Erased.
As if something had reached into the heavens—and crushed the light itself.
At the foot of the Alaskan snow mountains stood the Temple of Odin, one of the nineteen great temples devoted to the Supreme Creator.
It had stood for generations as proof of divine will made manifest. Ivory-white marble walls reflected the heavens. Twenty-four towering pillars guarded its entrance, each carved with endless praise—prayers etched so deep they seemed immune to time itself.
Above it all, the angel statue watched.
Its wings had never stopped glowing.
Not once.
Until tonight.
The light that bathed the temple was not merely illumination. It was protection. A presence. A silent declaration that the gods were watching.
And now—
they were not.
Cardinal Brun, fifty-five years old, slowly closed the Sacred Prayer.
The final note of the choir lingered longer than it should have, echoing through the vast hall like something unwilling to die.
Or something that refused to leave.
Brun remained still before the altar flame.
Something was wrong.
He could not name it. That made it worse.
The flame trembled.
Not from wind.
But as if something unseen had just breathed across it.
A cold sensation crept up his spine.
By the time the moon Modis reached its peak, he understood.
It was her.
The newly arrived Saint—Vina.
Her beauty was not human. It was constructed. Perfect in ways that denied imperfection itself. Every line of her face, every movement of her body, seemed designed rather than born.
And beneath that white robe—
something moved.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
A presence that stirred instinct rather than thought.
A pull.
A temptation.
"That… is an angel…" Brun whispered.
But his voice carried something dangerous.
Not awe.
Desire.
His throat tightened. Dry.
His faith wavered—not in belief.
But in control.
He cursed under his breath and turned away, stepping out into the night as if distance alone could restore clarity.
It did not.
Vina had been raised beside the Pope.
No origin. No past. No explanation.
Seventeen years of silence.
And today—
her first step into the world.
The night felt wrong.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Brun looked up.
The moonlight—
was red.
Then—
darkness fell.
The holy light that had never faded—
vanished.
Brun froze.
This was impossible.
Darkness pressed in from every direction, heavy and absolute. For a moment, even sound seemed to disappear with the light.
He forced himself to breathe.
To think.
To act.
His fingers traced sacred symbols in the air as he began chanting a third-tier divine spell—Holy Light.
A faint glow began to gather.
Hope.
Then—
it stopped.
A hand touched his throat.
Cold.
Hard.
Not flesh.
Bone.
A black skeletal hand, etched with countless arcane symbols, slid gently across his neck.
One motion.
Clean.
Silent.
Brun never finished his spell.
From the darkness—
something stepped forward.
Black armor.
A greatsword burning with shadowed flame.
And beneath the armor—
only bone.
Then the darkness behind it moved.
Skeletons.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
They poured forward like a tide without end.
Undead knights rode through them on flaming skeletal warhorses, charging toward the barracks with silent fury.
"What is this?! Guards! Wake up!"
Chaos shattered the night.
Four hundred temple knights surged into motion, half-armored, half-awake, yet disciplined enough to hold formation. Steel clashed against bone. Orders were shouted. Prayers were screamed.
Light met darkness.
And began to lose.
Inside the temple—
Vina stood beneath the fading glow.
Still.
Silent.
Untouched.
Her gaze rested on the figure before her.
A necromancer.
Black robes.
Empty eye sockets filled with pale fire.
"I am Rodrigues."
The voice did not travel through air.
It appeared directly in her mind.
"The one your world has hunted for three hundred years."
For the first time—
Vina reacted.
Shock.
Because she understood.
This was not power.
This was something beyond it.
"Let us see… what you truly are."
The attack came instantly.
A freezing surge of mental force crashed into her mind—
and exploded.
Blood slipped from her lips.
Another impact.
Then another.
Relentless.
Violent.
Unstoppable.
"Why…" she whispered, trembling, "…why has the Father not seen you?"
Then—
something answered.
From within her.
Light erupted.
Sacred hymns roared back to life as radiant power burst from her body, shattering the assault.
Wings unfolded behind her—
pure white, edged with gold.
She rose into the air.
Her eyes turned silver.
"In the name of the Holy Father—"
Her voice was no longer human.
"I will destroy you."
Hundreds of spheres of light formed around her, illuminating the temple in divine brilliance.
Rodrigues laughed.
Soft.
Almost curious.
"Not merely an angel…"
"A higher one."
A pause.
"I do not want to destroy you."
The fire in his eyes deepened.
"I want to understand… what makes something divine."
Another pause.
Colder.
"And how to break it."
And then—
the war truly began.