Pray for purity of soul; let pain cleanse the flesh. Where both endure, there humanity remains.
Within the ruins of a church, a woman in heavy armor knelt upon the dusty ground in prayer. Beneath the crumbling colonnade, the saintly statue's gaze was hidden beneath a hood.
As the earth trembled, the dilapidated dome seemed unable to bear the strain any longer, shedding dust and debris in a steady shower.
Green flashes periodically flared beyond the great doors, while screams constantly rang out through the night. Those sounds seemed both distant and close.
The woman kneeling on the ground had once been a perfect weapon. Her hatred for demons burned in her chest like an eternal flame. The joints of her armor were covered in red wax-sealed devotional ribbons, and the Iron Halo mounted on her backpack gleamed brightly.
But now, both her Power Sword and Bolt Pistol had been cast aside. Her right hand gripped her left elbow, as though trying to stop that strange green light from spreading up to her shoulder.
Sweat streamed down from her brow, and heat even rose from her white bowl-cut hair. The pain had caused psychic manifestations, yet she continued praying for the Emperor's aid.
Even being at the end of her rope was insufficient to describe her present predicament. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, perhaps they could not even be bothered to notice her existence.
Yet her sense of honor had still driven her to attack those unclean things. After cutting open the shell of the third Heavy Destroyer, she had finally been struck in the arm by one of those weapons glowing with green light.
A frigid energy began corroding her flesh. She had summoned her psychic power to fight it, then burst through the enemy lines and found