In a rather remote spot in Pessote City, there was a building made of stone. It looked rough and was a cathedral that needed some construction work.
The most eye-catching and intricate part was the altar. Erected over it was a wooden cross and a tall figure carrying the cross.
Ascetic Snowman was sitting in the first pew, facing the divine statue, his head bowed and his eyes closed in focused supplication.
He was a middle-aged man who wasn't considered old but had some wrinkles. He was wearing a simple white robe that had been washed countless times. He had brown short hair, and on his exposed arms, shoulders, calves, and feet, there were all kinds of old scars and scabs.
