I could have chosen any class, but I chose the most perverse one

In Neuesdorf, the capital of Hallemagner, a thick black fog shrouds the deserted streets, leaving an aura of despair.
The dust from the demolished buildings hangs in a perpetual suspension, covering everything in its unbreathable shroud.

The city has been completely transformed by the appearance of dozens of space-time rifts leading to dark and lethal dungeons.
The ground is blanketed with ash, the streets are uneven, and the moan of the wind through the ruins is the only sound that echoes.

Displaced people escape from destruction and hunger, but these are not the only dangers. The presence of dungeons, like vortexes to mysterious dimensions, creates a dark and unsettling atmosphere. Evil creatures, awakened by the darkness, lurk in the shadows, ready to unleash chaos.

The guilds and authorities have hastily classified the crisis as at least Level S.
However, it could be even worse, as the simultaneous opening of all these rifts has never been recorded before.
The police and the specialized unit for these situations, STADAV, are clearly inadequate and understaffed to handle the catastrophe.
The army is on the march to provide support.

In the basilica of the Holy Church of the Righteous Gods, candles flicker in the darkness, casting ominous shadows on the walls.
Pope Frankfurt XV, an elderly figure with a noble bearing, sits on his marble throne, burdened by the weight of the catastrophe that has befallen his beloved capital.

His most trusted adviser, Ludwig Van Merkel, a bespectacled man carrying the weight of apocalyptic news, bows to illustrate the situation to the Pope. The Pope's gray eyes explore the darkness, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"Moreover, we still cannot quantify the damages," warns Van Merkel, his voice resonating in the tense atmosphere. "But the worst part is that the parliament has been swallowed by a rift," in his words, one can sense the gravity of this event, so much so that the Pope is shaken.

"Hallemagner is without a government?" the Pope asks, his voice a subtle whisper cutting through the air.

"Not exactly, Your Holiness. Many government members have survived, but the Chancellor Himmler is unaccounted for," the adviser tries to embellish a situation that could not be more tragic.

Frankfurt XV slams his fist on the armrest of his throne.
"We must act. Without strong leadership in this moment of weakness, the enemies of our sacred homeland might take advantage of it."

"The Celestial Empire would eagerly await such an opportunity," comments Van Merkel, nodding in agreement.

A figure in the shadows clenches their fists upon hearing this dreadful possibility.

The Pope nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the darkness.
"This is the opportunity to impose the divine power of the Church. These rifts are a divine punishment for the sins of men who have lost faith in the righteous gods."

Ludwig Van Merkel adjusts his sagging glasses with a finger.
"As you say, Your Holiness," responds Van Merkel with respect.

Two men await to be addressed.
Pope Frankfurt XV signals for one of them to step forward.

The man is very tall, almost two meters. He has very short red hair.
His physique is incredibly muscular, with a well-defined muscle mass.
His figure is characterized by sculpted muscles and extraordinary physical strength.
The towering stature of the man contributes to creating an image of strength and power.
His green eyes resemble those of a lion.
They convey repressed fury, ready to unleash, although they appear cold and determined.
They reflect his focused mentality and relentless determination.

Frankfurt can imagine how the man wears his complete golden armor.
Pure terror for the enemies of Chand.

The man advances slowly, and when he reaches the throne, he bows as a sign of respect and devotion.
The Pope addresses the "Gold Heart of Flames" of Hallemagner, Zigfrid Von Heydrich, the hero consecrated by the Church.
The fury of the righteous, the implacable weapon of the gods.

"Chand is furious! So furious that she spoke to me. Our beloved Goddess had to lower herself to speak to an unworthy devotee like me so that her will is fulfilled without ambiguity," Frankfurt says through gritted teeth, looking at the attentive hero.
Van Merkel can feel the pain and anger of the Pope because the goddess has been insulted and desecrated.

"Grave sins have been committed under her warm light. Her love, her guidance, and her light have been betrayed, first by a heretic, Luysia Camclair, a paladin destined to become a Hero, and then by one of her clerics, an impure harlot named Kanna Merfal. But there is an even greater darkness lurking here, in the heart of this sacred nation. A demon in the guise of a man. This darkness must be uprooted and erased in Chand's sacred flame."

Zigfrid's green eyes ignite with vengeful fury.

"Hero Zigfrid Von Heydrich, your sacred duty is to avenge the goddess and bring her justice," declares Pope Frankfurt XV.

"These sins and the heretics will not go unpunished, Your Holiness. I swear it on my honor," Zigfrid declares firmly, his lion-like gaze reflected in the surrounding darkness.

Frankfurt nods in satisfaction.
Then he gestures for another figure to come forward.

A man steps forward, dark skinned, not native to Hallemagner.
He is a man of imposing presence, standing at around six feet tall.
Religious zeal can be seen in his body, which is lithe and athletic, reflecting a daily regimen of training and healthy living.
His facial features are defined, with pronounced cheekbones and a square jaw that contributes to his determined appearance.
His gaze is piercing and expresses emotional intensity.
The dark eyes, convey a mixture of determination and reflection.
His hair is short and well groomed, as is his beard that contours his mouth.

Despite his humble attire, the man wears various gold pendants adorned with symbols of the flame and candle of the goddess Chand.

In his hand he carries a manuscript, where he personally writes his own chants and prayers.

The man bows in the presence of His Holiness.

"Father Weyank Eastern, you will accompany the hero Zigfrid Von Heydrich on this sacred mission," says the Pope, addressing the man.

The two chosen ones exchange a look of understanding.
"He is a fearless missionary, one of the most devout followers of our goddess Chand. But not only that, he is one of the most skilled exorcists. He has already faced demons," the Pope introduces the man to the hero.

"Your Holiness, you honor me with these words. I am but a humble servant of the Goddess. I ensure that her light and her voice reach the darkest places," Eastern responds with humility.

He then turns to Zigfrid, "It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the holy hero Zigfrid Von Heydrich. My name is Weyank Eastern, and I am at your service."

The missionary extends his hand to Zigfrid.
The hero firmly shakes it.

"The pleasure is mine to meet such an upright man. I have heard of you, of how you bring the light of Chand to the remotest and darkest places."

"You honor me, hero."

Pope Frankfurt XV applauds satisfied and then rises to his feet.

Despite his advanced age and the few remaining gray hairs, he carries himself with an erect posture that reflects his leadership position in the church.
His gray eyes are expressive, even though his facial expression remains composed.
With solemnity, he raises his scepter to the sky.

"This is the moment for the righteous to lead the weak toward the future of light that the gods, the light that our protector Chand has promised us. This is the moment of a Holy Crusade! Seal the dungeons and eliminate the heretics! This is the command of the church, this is the command of the gods," declares the Pope.

"SO BE IT!" exclaim the chosen ones.

Then the Pope bows to the ground, on his knees.
Van Merkel assists him with dedication.
Everyone present imitates him.

In unison, with perfect synchrony, the prayer to the goddess is heard.

"O Chand, with candles, we implore,
In your radiance, we explore,
Bless us, guard us evermore,
Darkness flees when you restore."

Not a single breath can be heard in the room, in the brief pause as if they were all in a mystical trance.

"In the glow of Chand, our candles alight,
Guiding us through the veil of the night.
Bless us, O deity, with your sacred flame,
In your radiance, we invoke your name."

The flames of the candles intensify for a brief moment.
A warm breeze caresses those present as if the goddess manifests her presence.

The Pope has invoked the goddess so that the chosen ones may receive her blessing.

Then, the basilica's hall returns to be shrouded in darkness and silence, interrupted only by the dim flames of the candles.

"The Goddess spoke to me! The Goddess spoke to me!"
Suddenly, Frankfurt breaks the religious silence.
Tears of joy stream down his weathered face.
"Thank you, my Goddess," he whispers emotionally.

"Crusaders! You will not be alone in this task. The Goddess has decided to enlighten us with her guidance."

All present hang on the Pope's words, waiting for him to continue.

"The Saintess is coming to Neuesdorf! The incarnation of our goddess's will is coming to bring us light in these dark times."
The elderly man trembles as he reveals this news, to the point that Van Merkel approaches to offer him support.

"Praise Chand!"
"Praise Chand!"
"Praise Chand!"

In the depths of the destroyed city, fate wraps around them like a dense fog, as the Holy Crusade takes shape in the darkness, promising divine justice and uncertain hope.