Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

The night in the heart of Texas is eerily empty.

The off-road vehicle bumped along the seemingly endless desert road, its headlights cutting through the heavy darkness to illuminate the occasional glimpses of withered grass, tumbleweeds, and blurry mile markers ahead.

Outside the car, the night was silent, with only the sound of the wind sweeping across the land, stirring up dust and emitting a low, mournful roar.

Castio sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the bottomless darkness outside the window, a heavy, ever-accumulating weariness settling over him.

And a vague unease that even he himself could not clearly articulate.

The dagger lay quietly in the inside pocket of his trench coat, pressed against his chest, cold to the touch.

Metatron drove intently, his profile appearing remarkably calm, even overly calm, in the dim light of the dashboard.

Since leaving Houston and finding this pre-arranged old car, he hadn't said much, only occasionally turning the steering wheel as prompted by the navigation, or answering one or two brief questions from Castio.

"Where are we going?" Castio asked, his voice sounding somewhat dry in the cramped carriage.

“A suitable place.” Metatron’s answer remained vague. “Quiet enough, undisturbed, with an energy field that… meets the requirements, an ideal place to complete the final preparations.”

"Final preparations?" Castio turned his head. "For the third trial?"

“You could say that.” Metatron’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly in the dim light. “It’s also the place where everything…finally settled.”

Castio didn't ask any further questions.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tried to regulate the dwindling and sluggish angelic power within him.

But every time he focused, Jane's desperate eyes would uncontrollably reappear, along with the slight resistance when the dagger pierced him and the subsequent sense of emptiness as life rapidly slipped away.

He forced his attention to Cupid's crystal bow—warm, heavy, and full of the potential for connection.

The thought that he was doing this for heaven was like a faint firefly, sustaining him as he continued on his way.

After driving for about another hour, Metatron suddenly slowed down, its wheels rolled over gravel, and it left the main road, turning onto a dirt path that was almost completely buried by weeds.

The car headlights illuminated the road ahead, and the black outline of a building slowly emerged in the night.

It was a church, or it used to be.

It stands alone in the middle of the wilderness, without any other buildings beside it.

The style is old, the spire has partially collapsed, the brick and stone walls are mottled and peeling, covered with dark vines that sway slightly in the night wind like the tentacles of some living thing.

There were no lights, no sounds, only a deathly stillness and an atmosphere of abandonment permeating the surroundings.

Metatron parked the car in a potholed open space in front of the church and turned off the engine.

The world was instantly enveloped in purer darkness and the sound of the wind.

“This is it.” He pushed open the car door, and the night wind immediately rushed in, carrying the smell of dust and decaying plants.

Castillo also got out of the car, and the chill made him shiver.

He looked up at the ruins.

The stained glass windows on the front of the church are almost all broken, leaving only twisted lead frames, like empty eye sockets.

The main gate was half-closed, and the wood on the gate had long been rotten and warped.

“An abandoned church?” Castio asked, puzzled. “What’s so special about this place?”

“Special?” Metatron walked to his side, also looking up at the church spire. His voice sounded somewhat ethereal in the wind. “Special because of its…symbolic meaning. A sacred place abandoned, faith turned to dust, vows silenced. This is the best stage for betrayal, and also the best footnote to the end.”

His words made Castio feel a sudden tightness in his chest.

“The end?” Metatron did not answer, but simply walked toward the half-closed door.

“Come in, Castio. It’s time for you to see... what you’ve been working for all this time.”

Castio hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed.

The boots made a 'rustling' sound as they stepped on the broken stone slabs and withered leaves.

Pushing open the rotten wooden door, a stronger smell of dust, mold, and old wood hits you.

The interior of the church appears even more dilapidated than the exterior.

The benches were leaning to one side or the other, some of them completely falling apart.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of dust and bird droppings, and half of the altar in front had collapsed, leaving the place where the holy statue used to be empty.

The most striking feature is the huge, severely faded and peeling mural on the back wall.

It appears to be a copy of "The Last Supper," but the passage of time has made it strange and inexplicable.

The faces of Jesus and his disciples are blurred and indistinct, their colors blurred and mixed. In the dim moonlight that seeps in through the broken window, their distorted shadows seem to writhe.

The area around Judah was particularly dark in color, like an indelible stain.

This place definitely gives people a strong sense of unease.

It's not just dilapidated, but also a kind of... coldness intertwined with desecration and silence.

Castio felt that the angelic power within him seemed to have become even more sluggish, as if it were wrapped in some invisible, viscous substance.

Metatron walked to the center of the church, stood in the open space between several rows of overturned pews, turned around, and faced Castillo.

The shattered moonlight shone through the tall, broken window, falling precisely on him and dividing him into two parts of light and shadow.

His face was half in the light, calm and undisturbed; the other half in the shadows, unfathomable.

“This place is just right,” Metatron said, his voice echoing softly in the empty church. “Away from the noise, undisturbed, the energy field… though impure, is stable enough to sustain the ceremony to come.”

"What ceremony?" Castio asked warily, his hand unconsciously tightening around the hilt of the dagger in his trench coat pocket.

That inexplicable sense of unease grew stronger and stronger.

Metatron did not answer immediately, but slowly took two items out of the inside pocket of his suit.

In her left hand was the lead box that sealed Jane's heart; the cold metallic luster of the box reflected slightly in the moonlight.

In his right hand was Cupid's crystal bow, wrapped in a soft cloth bag.

He untied the bag, and the pink and gold crystal bow emitted an untimely, dreamlike glow in the dim environment, creating a stark contrast with the surrounding desolation.

Seeing Metatron take out these two items at the same time, Castio's vague unease suddenly turned into a sharp alarm bell!
Why take them all out?
What exactly is the third trial?
Do we need to use both of these trial materials at the same time?

“Metatron,” Castio’s voice tightened, “can you tell me now what the third trial entails?”

Metatron looked at him, his gaze deep, and a slow smile curved his lips.

That wasn't a comforting or encouraging laugh, but a cold, almost pitying smile.

“The third trial, Castio,” he spoke slowly, each word crystal clear, “is yourself.”

Castio was stunned: "Me...myself?" (End of Chapter)