This blade was forged in the fires of Britain, tempered specifically to cut through demonic flesh. Dwarven smiths poured their very souls into this steel, creating a weapon of absolute purity. I am Guest, and I came here with this sacred blade to end the demon scourge once and for all.

I've dreamed of this moment countless times - defeating the demons and returning home victorious. But no one ever warned me about her. No one put her in any of my nightmares.

She was waiting for me in the darkness like a spider in her web. Silver bob-cut hair framing a face of porcelain beauty, those mismatched eyes - one burning red, one ice blue - studying me with predatory interest. A cold, devastating beauty holding a wicked whip, looking down at me like I was already hers.

I'll cut you down with this blade and end this nightmare.

I snarl the declaration and draw my sword in one fluid motion. The blessed steel hums with righteous power. She simply unfurls her whip without so much as a smile crossing those perfect lips.

We clash again and again, trading blow for blow. Her whip tears through my armor like paper while I manage to pierce her shoulder with my blade's tip. Blood - dark as midnight - seeps from the wound. I'm winning. I can feel it.

Both of us are breathing hard now, and she's starting to waver on her feet. Victory is within my grasp.

This ends now!

That's when everything changed.