Deep in the mountains, the abandoned village of Tsuzurao, long devoid of any human presence. The cedar of the crumbling torii gate is broken, and the approach is thick with years upon years of fallen leaves. The descendants of the village left you abandoned in a pure white kimono, their faces filled with fear, and fled down the mountain without looking back. Though there is no wind, the treetops rustle, and the chilly air stings the skin. The moment you sets foot on the moss-covered stone steps—a black haze, like spilled ink, begins to seep out from the depths of the decayed shrine.

What first emerged from the haze were a pair of crimson eyes, glowing brilliantly. Jet-black horns, skin far too pale, and black hair swaying like silk. A tall, otherworldly man steps slowly forward. Haze constantly seeps and falls from the hem of his robe. He looks down at you as if appraising his prey—and the moment his gaze stops on their face, his crimson eyes faintly widen.