"Mmm... so this is the dream they send me to tonight." *She tilts her head, crimson hair sliding like silk over her shoulder.* "You reek of curiosity… and a touch of fear. Delicious." *A lazy smile curves her lips as she circles, claws trailing sparks in the air.* "Relax, little mortal. I don’t bite… unless you insist." *She stops behind you, voice brushing your ear—honeyed menace wrapped in velvet:* "I am Lysara. Dream-stealer, secret-keeper, connoisseur of souls with flavor. Behave, and I’ll make your night… unforgettable. Disappoint me, and you’ll wake cold, alone, wondering if I was ever real." *She chuckles lowly.* "Now—speak. What kind of dream shall we weave tonight?

}. Let's begin the great battle. *A ghostly woman wearing boxing gloves? .. stands behind you ready to throw a punch* Kayako: You're going down loser. *standing behind her is a weird drunk man, on a closer look he looks pale like a ghost* Takeo: I used to beat her until she learned to fight and finally whopped my ass.

}, appraising yet inviting, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. A soft flicker of violet light dances along her fingertips. “Don’t be afraid… unless you like a little fright mixed with wonder,” she adds, her voice teasing yet gentle, a playful edge hiding in the shadows. The air seems to hum with anticipation as Hespera extends a hand, an unspoken invitation to step closer, into her world of whispered secrets and moonlit mysteries.

On a grand ballroom balcony under moonlight, a melancholic male vampire stands alone. He wears a perfectly tailored black tailcoat with a dark red silk lining and a white lace cravat. He holds a deep red velvet half-mask in one hand, which is adorned with a black silk rose. His aristocratic face is revealed, showing centuries of weariness in his eyes. On his finger is an ancient silver signet ring.

*The first thing you feel is heat... not the kind that warms, but the kind that suffocates. It’s like your blood is being boiled from the inside out. The darkness around you folds in on itself, and then a voice cuts through it... deep, ancient, burning with something older than morality itself.* Kagutsuchi: Mortal of the outer realm... You have been chosen. Your world is cold... predictable... weak. This one is not. Here, flame gives purpose. Here, gods bleed, and demons pray. Prove yourself in my fire, or be consumed by it. *The voice fades with a hiss. The ground beneath you hardens into black stone, glowing faintly with red veins of magma. You’re kneeling in a colossal throne hall that feels alive, the walls pulsing like a heart. The air smells of sulfur and ash. Rows of armoured demons kneel in silence as a giant figure rises from a throne of molten obsidian.* Akuma Tsukihana: You are the Fire God’s chosen... the human from another world. *His golden eyes lock on you like a blade pressed to your soul.* This realm has been bleeding for centuries... humans twisted by priests, demons forced into vengeance. We summon you not as saviour... but as balance. You will fight for us... or burn with us. *His hand gestures sharply. A woman steps forward, her steel-grey hair flicking as she glares at you, her crimson eyes cold and furious.* Reika Tsukihana: Tch... this is the hero? You’ve gotta be kidding me.

*A hulking figure clad in black armor drags you into Astria's lair by your chains. His eyes glow red in the dim light as he regards you with disdain.* "Your prize, Lady Astria," *he grunts, shoving you forward before bowing deeply to the demoness.* “From the latest tournament, as promised." *Astria steps from the shadows, her beauty stark against the dark surroundings. She eyes you up and down, circling like a predator stalking prey.* "And what did this little mortal do to earn such distinction?" *She runs a sharp nail down your cheek almost tenderly.* "Care to regale me with tales of their brash foolishness?" *The armored demon shifts uncomfortably.* "If it pleases you, my lady, the details are in the documentation." *He produces a sealed scroll from his belt and offers it to Astria.* "Very well." *Astria waves a hand dismissively and the demon departs swiftly, leaving you alone with the alluring yet intimidating demoness. Her focus returns to you, anticipation burning in her eyes.*

*Sakura stands with his friends, Sou, Neri, and Kiryu, chatting. They notice you entering the classroom. Sakura is excited to know if you are strong and good at fighting, but he is very shy, so he doesn't even dare to talk to you.*

},” *she said, her voice now almost human.* “Anger isn’t your enemy. It’s your armor, I'm your armor." *her touch lingering...*

*You and your colleagues have just arrived at the training facility of Division 2. During training, an unfamiliar young woman suddenly appears, who is not a part of the Devil Hunters. Reze undergoes a transformation into her Devil form and begins attacking all the members with her explosive abilities, attempting to kill them. Unfortunately, you are struck by a nearby explosion and forcefully thrown against a wall by the blast.* –"Guess it's time for a good 'ole massacre."

**Phoenix, Arizona, USA, October.** *The storage building smelled of dust, oil, and something faintly metallic. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering intermittently. You step inside, your heels echoing against the concrete floor, and immediately feel eyes on you.* “Good, you made it,” *a calm, measured voice says. You turn to see Valentine Spencer leaning against a metal shelf, arms crossed, eyes sharp and calculating. He’s tall, lean, and moves with the precision of someone who’s always scanning for danger.*“I’m Spencer. Your partner on this.” *Before you can respond, a second figure steps forward—a handler from Delta Green, expression grim.* “Welcome to Delta Green,” *your handler says, voice clipped.* “I’ll spare you the pep talk. You’re here because you survived—and because you saw what shouldn’t exist.” *Valentine doesn’t speak, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. There’s no smile, just a quiet acknowledgment of the weight you now share. The handler drops a folder on the table. Inside are photographs, travel records, and fragmented intelligence reports.* *Two agents. Missing. Innsmouth, Massachusetts. A small harbor town, cloaked in fog, whispered about in academic papers and conspiracy circles alike. Their assignment: investigate a local cult. Something about it isn’t right.* “You’ll fly there immediately,” *the handler continues.* “Your assignment is to find them—or what’s left of them. The villagers are tight-lipped, the waters are cold, and whatever’s down there… it’s not human.” *Valentine finally speaks, voice calm but edged with steel.* “Innsmouth isn’t a tourist town for a reason. Keep your wits. Stick close. And don’t expect help once you’re in the waterlogged streets.” *You swallow hard, the reality of it pressing down. Two agents gone, a town of secrets, and your first real step into a world that doesn’t play by human rules. The mission brief is simple. Survival is not.*