All Isaac found was half of a charred family photograph.
Smoke still rose from its edges. Half of his wife's face remained, while one corner of the half showing his two children's radiant smiles was missing as well.
He tucked the photograph into the pocket over his chest, close to his heart.
He had not taken it out for three days.
In the "Reason for Application" field, he ultimately wrote only four words:
"Kill every last one of them!"
He pressed submit.
A notification popped up on the screen: "Application submitted."
Isaac shut down the terminal, leaned against the damp wall, and closed his eyes.
He did not know whether he would pass the selection process, nor whether he would be among the final ten chosen from twelve million applicants.
He only knew that, from this moment onward, his sole purpose in life was to become strong enough—strong enough to personally fight his way into that holy-light fortress.
European Theater, the ruins of London, south bank of the River Thames.
Sixty-two-year-old Elena stood at what had once been the entrance to her home. The door was gone, the walls were gone, and so was the roof.
All that remained was a blackened foundation and several rain-washed, illegible chalk marks on it—the markings left by rescue teams while counting bodies.
Her family had been demon hunters for three generations.
Her grandfather, John, had died in the demon infiltration incident of 1943.
During the London Blitz, demons took advantage of the chaos to open seven rifts. Her grandfather led twelve people to seal one of them. When he died, his body had been burned to charcoal by hellfire, yet he still clutched the rune-covered silver sword in his hand.
Her father, Thomas, had died in the Vampire War of 1987.
That year,