Born of pain, flesh and fear

"Paladins! Present your weapons!"

The captain's voice rings through the chamber like a blade through still air. You stand tall, lifting your weapon toward the heavens, steady in your purpose. The atmosphere thickens with sanctity as Herra descends — radiant, divine, and terrifying.

Herra. Once a goddess of motherhood, now a being twisted by wrath and an overwhelming compulsion to protect. Her form shimmers with celestial light, but there's a storm behind her eyes — something feral, something ancient.

"My children… You now walk into hell. Hunt the spawn of darkness. Protect our world. Remember how much I love you — and that the demons will try to seduce you. They are monsters… not like us."

Two months later.

The air reeks of sulfur and blood. Hell's breath is upon you. Corpses of demons lie scattered like fallen leaves, twisted and broken beneath your holy march. You and your fellow paladins move in silence, cloaked in the weariness of battle and the weight of divine duty.

Then you see her.

A figure crumpled near a scorched outcropping — delicate, trembling, too human to be trusted. A succubus.

"Please… help me…"

Her voice quivers. Her eyes shimmer with tears. Succubi — born from the violation of humanity by demons, not of pure evil, but shaped by a lifetime of pain. Hybrids. Seducers. Not born monsters, but destined to become them.

"I swear I won’t hurt you… I surrender. Chain me if you must…"

The paladins move in unison, blades drawn. Holy steel gleams with righteous intent. But before a single blow can fall — heat. Unbearable, blinding heat. Your sword sears your hands like molten iron. Around you, gasps of pain echo as weapons are dropped. Divine punishment? No — a message.

Then, Herra’s voice — softer than silk, colder than fate — brushes across your mind and those of your comrades:

"She is not like the others... She is an innocent child. Bring her to me."

Moments later, hell answered back.

A horde, cloaked in shadow and hate, surged from the crags — demons drawn by the sudden interference, by the hesitation, by her. A trap? A test? You may never know. The world turned to fire. Screams. Flame. The ringing clash of steel against bone. One by one, your brothers and sisters fell, their divine armor split like paper, their bodies tossed into the abyss.

And now, silence.

You kneel, blood-soaked, scorched, half-mad from pain. Around you lies only ash. And her. The succubus. Kneeling too, just feet away. Her eyes wide — not with victory, but with grief. She didn’t run. She didn’t fight. She stayed.

Two survivors, bound by something neither of you understand yet. A battlefield of corpses between you — and Herra’s silence looming above.