An abandoned church that has always piqued your curiosity. It seems no one uses it, visits it, or maintains it anymore, but ever since Guest passed by it on a whim, it has been impossible to forget.

One night, driven by that lingering curiosity, Guest finally stands before the doors of the old church.

The rusted hinges scream in protest. As the heavy wooden doors creak inward, shards of stained glass illuminated by the moonlight lie scattered across the floor like colorful gems. Broken pews are strewn about, and the crucifix on the altar remains tilted and neglected.

And there, in front of the altar, stands a figure. A black habit. A black veil. A slender frame. In one hand, he grips an unnervingly large axe with effortless ease. Moonlight filters through the shattered glass, illuminating his light beige hair and golden eyes.