Lloyd sat quietly in the chair, several vials arranged before him. Though each had been sealed with meticulous care, a strange scent still seeped through the glass and drifted into his nostrils. Unable to suppress it, he let out a sharp sneeze.
He lifted his head.
The vast underground factory stretched endlessly around him—a colossal abyss of steel and machinery intertwined into an immense mechanical well. He stood at its very bottom, and no matter how far he craned his neck, the sky remained forever beyond sight.
After repeated persuasion—and more than a little temptation—from Merlin, Lloyd had reluctantly agreed to participate in the experiment. Yet the decision was not made on persuasion alone. He had spent countless hours turning one question over in his mind.
Why had he survived?
Again and again, he examined every possibility, asking himself who had truly benefited from his continued existence. In the end, only one answer remained.
It was not Lloyd who was meant to live.
Watson simply refused to die.
His survival was nothing more than an unintended consequence.
Lloyd himself had become a prison, one that confined Watson within its invisible walls. As long as he remained silent, she would remain imprisoned forever. But should Lloyd perish, the last soul who remembered her would vanish with him, and Watson would lose the final anchor binding her to existence. She needed him alive.
Their relationship was less companionship than a grotesque form of symbiosis.
Of course, it was only a theory.
The true nature of the False Holy Grail remained shrouded in mystery, and speculation was all Lloyd possessed.
Watson had been born on the catastrophic Night of Holy Descent. Nearly everyone involved had perished in that apocalypse. Forget experimenting on the False Holy Grail—even those who knew Watson had ever existed could be counted on one hand.
Perhaps only Lloyd himself remained.
Even now, he believed he was among the very last survivors of that dreadful night, the lone witness still burdened with its unbearable memories.
"So... you're still watching all of this, aren't you?"
He murmured beneath his breath, his wary eyes sweeping across the factory.
Once again, his thoughts drifted toward the same unsettling conclusion.
After Lawrence's death, when he returned from the Black Angel, Watson had disappeared. The sinister devil no longer answered his calls. It was almost as though she had never existed at all—nothing more than a hallucination born from his own madness.
Or perhaps...
She had escaped her prison.
Yet Lloyd found another possibility far more convincing.
Watson was still inside him.
Silent.
Patient.
Watching him with that wicked smile of hers from somewhere beyond his perception, delighting in every moment of confusion, every doubt, every wandering thought. She was waiting—not to attack outright, but to wait until the fortress of his conviction developed the faintest crack.
Only then would she strike.
His gaze continued drifting through the shadows.
He was certain she was nearby, concealed somewhere within a darkness his eyes could never reach, quietly observing him.
But that certainty only gave rise to another mystery.
Where was Metatron?
The ghostly guardian had always existed within the Gap, serving as one of the shackles restraining the False Holy Grail. Yet now there was nothing.
No presence.
No voice.
No sign that he had ever been there.
Another puzzle settled before Lloyd like gathering storm clouds. Somewhere, danger was approaching with slow, deliberate steps. He could sense its arrival...
Yet not the direction from which it came.
"Mr. Holmes!"
Merlin's voice suddenly rang out, dragging Lloyd from the whirlpool of his thoughts.
The alchemist had clearly prepared for this long in advance. Every instrument and reagent had already been laid out in perfect order, making Lloyd wonder whether he had been maneuvered into this from the very beginning.
"Just call me Lloyd."
The honorific felt strangely uncomfortable after hearing it repeated so many times.
"Very well."
Merlin handed him a vial filled with Florend Serum.
"Start with this. We have no idea what you're about to encounter. Keeping your mind clear seems like the safest precaution."
Lloyd accepted the injector with practiced familiarity, pressed it against his neck, and drove the needle home.
A brief sting.
Then an icy chill spread through every vein in his body.
The world sharpened.
Every outline became cleaner, every sound clearer.
It felt... wonderful.
"Do you remember what happened the last time you piloted an Old Century Divine Armor?" Merlin asked.
Lloyd nodded.
Truthfully, every encounter with those ancient machines had been anything but pleasant.
"The last time," Merlin continued, "you lost consciousness almost immediately. Yet interestingly enough, you never lost control. During the corruption, you seemed to enter a rather unusual state. Am I correct?"
So this had been his plan all along.
If anyone within the Purging Bureau wished for Lloyd to stay alive more than anyone else, it was undoubtedly Merlin.
After all...
Experimental subjects like Lloyd did not appear twice.
"The Weaponsmith..."
Lloyd searched his memory.
He had entered the ancient Divine Armor known as the Weaponsmith.
Then...
The Gap.
Suddenly, everything came rushing back.
He raised his head toward the suspended Black Angel hanging above like a hanged god, and an unsettling realization slowly took shape.
Every previous journey into the Gap had required Watson's whispers or Metatron's summons.
But that time had been different.
The Old Century Divine Armor itself had acted as a conduit.
It had allowed Lloyd to enter the Gap by his own will.
"The Connected... and the Administrator..."
He still remembered Metatron's description.
The Gap resembled an immeasurable psychic realm. Once corruption reached a certain threshold—once one was dragged deep enough into the abyss—its existence could finally be perceived. Until then, Lloyd had always been nothing more than one who was connected, drawn there by forces beyond his control, just as the Stagnant Sanctuary had once called to him.
The Weaponsmith changed everything.
Through it, Lloyd had established the connection himself.
Not only that...
He had witnessed the Gap that represented the Stagnant Sanctuary.
Where had the Gap come from?
And what exactly was the Stagnant Sanctuary?
Was it truly nothing more than a building?
"What is it, Lloyd?"
Merlin watched him with growing concern.
Although Lloyd kept his head lowered, Merlin still noticed the corners of his mouth twisting upward, gradually widening into something disturbingly close to a grin.
No...
Closer to hysterical laughter.
"Hm?"
Lloyd jolted back to reality, hastily suppressing the madness threatening to surface.
"Nothing... I was simply thinking about... a great many things."
Was this the connection between humanity and the darkness?
In a single instant, countless mysteries that had haunted Lloyd finally began to align.
Watson.
Metatron.
If he returned to the Gap...
He could verify everything with his own eyes.
"So," Lloyd said, the hesitation that had burdened him moments before now completely gone, "when do we begin?"
His sudden enthusiasm caught Merlin completely off guard.
"The Black Angel still requires a few final adjustments," the alchemist replied after a pause. "Until then... any last words?"
He sat down beside Lloyd, wearing an expression that attempted to resemble concern.
"You planning something?"
"Just a conversation," Merlin answered calmly. "Relieving stress and uncertainty may improve your chances of surviving the experiment."
"...Hold on."
Lloyd slowly turned toward him.
"What exactly do you mean by 'surviving'?"
"Because of the Black Angel."
Merlin shrugged matter-of-factly.
"We still don't understand what it truly is. On top of that, it's fused with Holy Grail flesh—and you happen to carry a portion of that same substance within yourself. Who knows what might happen once the two meet?"
He paused thoughtfully.
"Perhaps the Grail flesh will merge together and create some magnificent super demon."
Another pause.
"...Entirely possible."
Lloyd stared blankly at Merlin's face.
The alchemist's facial muscles were so lifeless they resembled carved stone. Every attempt at humor emerging from that expression somehow felt less like a joke...
...and more like an icy threat.
"Has anyone ever told you," Lloyd sighed, "that you're terrible at making jokes?"
Merlin considered the question seriously.
"Hm... probably not."
"I rarely tell any."
"Well," Lloyd replied flatly, "now you know."
The two eccentrics sat side by side in silence.
It was an oddly comfortable silence.
From time to time, Lloyd stole a glance at Merlin.
In certain ways, the alchemist reminded him of the Witch Hunters.
Both belonged to the sort of people ordinary society could never truly understand.
Though somehow...
Merlin's kind seemed even lonelier.
An awkward silence lingered for several seconds before Merlin suddenly spoke again.
"Have you considered writing a will?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop joking."
"I'm serious." Merlin's expression remained perfectly earnest. "Have you never thought about it? Lloyd, I always assumed people in your line of work carried a will wherever they went."
He folded his arms, speaking with unsettling composure.
"Think about it. Human life is absurdly fragile. One careless step, a slip, your head striking a jagged stone... and that's the end. Or perhaps a demon leaps from the shadows and devours you. Of course, I know Demon Hunters aren't that fragile—but neither are you invincible."
Lloyd frowned in confusion, but Merlin continued.
"Take you, for instance. Every time you kill a demon, you come back wounded. Sometimes you don't wake for days..." His hollow eyes settled upon Lloyd. "Have you never wondered what happens if one day... you simply never wake up?"
Lloyd searched those empty eyes, yet found nothing within them.
"You haven't been yourself lately."
"What do you mean?"
"Florence. The Book of Revelation. Things like that." Merlin smiled, though the expression was unnaturally stiff. "I may look like this, but I'm remarkably sensitive to changes in people. Lloyd... you've started keeping your guard up around us."
His smile deepened.
"What is it you're afraid of? Let me guess."
Everything about the alchemist felt wrong. Lloyd had long suspected that somewhere along his pursuit of truth, Merlin had transformed himself into something no longer entirely human.
"You're worried we'll become the next Demon Hunting Order, aren't you?" Merlin asked.
"The Book of Revelation isn't something ordinary people should study," Lloyd replied instead of answering directly. "It awakens humanity's worst instincts. That's exactly what happened to the Demon Hunting Order. They began by protecting the world... and ended by trying to conquer it."
"I've thought about all of this, Merlin," he continued quietly. "I've thought about it for a very long time... and I still haven't found an answer."
Their eyes met—one filled with resolve, the other an endless void.
"Warnings? Persuasion? None of it matters. Even the Gospel Church, people who understand the true history of demons better than anyone, would kneel before temptation eventually. What chance do the rest of you have?"
His voice remained calm, almost detached.
"You're an organization. A collective. One person's will can never overturn the will of the whole. Besides..." Lloyd gave a faint, bitter smile. "The one who truly decides your nation's future is Her Majesty Queen Victoria, isn't it? Compared to the interests of the entire Kingdom of Inlvig, what are demons?"
Merlin regarded him thoughtfully.
"And if one day everything you fear truly comes to pass... what will you do?"
"I'll deal with it the same way I always have."
Lloyd answered without hesitation.
"The demons must be eradicated."
"Exactly." Merlin nodded slowly. "That's what I've always believed."
"What do you mean?"
"There is no such thing as good or evil. Only different standpoints." His hollow gaze never left Lloyd. "Take you, Lloyd Holmes. Everything connected to demons deserves to burn alongside them. That's your conviction."
"But mine is different."
"Our paths will eventually force us onto opposite sides of the battlefield. One day, we'll draw our swords against each other."
He smiled faintly.
"And yet... neither of us would truly be wrong."
"Only different."
After a long pause, Merlin asked quietly,
"Have you ever heard of the Curse of Knowledge?"
Without waiting for a reply, he slowly laid bare the secrets he had kept hidden.
"My relationship with the Purification Bureau is nothing more than cooperation. Much like yours. We simply share part of the same destination, and that overlap allows us to become allies—for now."
"I develop technologies to fight demons. In return, they gather the lost alchemical manuscripts for me."
He rested a hand against his own chest.
"If your lifelong pursuit is the extermination of demons... then mine is Truth."
"The truth no one else has seen."
Merlin paused, carefully choosing his words.
"So let's return to the matter at hand."
"The Black Angel is incredibly important to me."
"I believe it's a key."
"A key capable of opening a door that has remained sealed for ages."
Lloyd looked at him uneasily.
"You sound like some kind of prophet."
"The curse of humanity," Merlin murmured. "We can never truly understand one another."
"And that... is the Curse of Knowledge."
He looked almost blissful, yet painfully so, as though yearning itself had become a form of torment.
"Do you remember telling me about the Divine Benediction?"
"Lloyd... I'm a scholar."
"Your story fascinated no one else."
"But it captivated me completely."
"That world..."
"It was unimaginably beautiful."
His voice grew softer.
"And that's precisely where the suffering begins."
"No matter how desperately I imagine it, I cannot construct that world inside my own mind."
"You've seen it."
"I haven't."
"You could explain every detail a thousand times over..."
"...and I'd still remain blind."
His gaze drifted upward toward the suspended Black Angel.
Bathed beneath the laboratory lights, the grotesque creature possessed a twisted sort of holiness, as though the entire chamber had become an ancient sacrificial altar.
"I've deciphered countless alchemical journals."
"The deeper I delve into their knowledge..."
"...the more terrifying one realization becomes."
He turned back toward Lloyd.
"Have you ever considered..."
"...that demons themselves are the unknown?"
"And perhaps everything we know about them..."
"...is nothing more than the Curse of Knowledge."
"Information asymmetry."
Lloyd finally spoke.
The casual indifference he had worn until now quietly disappeared. He found himself listening with genuine concentration.
"When the steam engine was first invented," he said slowly, "people hated it."
"They believed it violated the natural order."
"A machine stronger than human hands shattered everything they considered common sense."
"Before steam engines, everything depended upon manpower."
"Some even believed we were sorcerers..."
"...that we'd trapped human souls inside machines to labor for us."
He shook his head.
"That wasn't truth."
"That was ignorance."
"It was the gap between what people knew... and what reality had become."
Merlin leaned close, lowering his voice into something barely above a whisper.
As though speaking a forbidden truth.
A blasphemy.
"Then tell me, Lloyd Holmes..."
"What if..."
"What if demons were never unnatural to begin with?"
Within those hollow eyes was only endless darkness, reflecting Lloyd's own face.
"What if corruption merely caused humanity to forget what they truly are?"
"Just like the world you witnessed during the Divine Benediction."
"No matter how meticulously those ancient scholars described it in their alchemical manuscripts..."
"I still cannot imagine what demons originally looked like through their eyes."
Merlin slowly rose to his feet.
The seeker of truth gazed silently upon the hanging Black Angel.
Perhaps...
that grotesque being truly was the key that would unlock the final door.
"It's no different from someone a century ago witnessing a modern airborne warship."
"They wouldn't understand it."
"They couldn't even find the words to describe it."
"And if they tried..."
"Everyone else would simply call them insane."
Suddenly, Merlin laughed to himself.
"Yes..."
"Who would ever believe it?"
"How could steel possibly fly?"
He smiled bitterly.
"Perhaps..."
"...we are the ones who have been cursed, Lloyd."
Silence followed.
Long, suffocating silence.
At last, Lloyd spoke.
"If you said all of this in Florence..."
"...they'd burn you alive."
The implications behind Merlin's theory were staggering.
Lloyd felt as though his thoughts had frozen solid.
That was the only response he could manage.
Yet Merlin merely shook his head.
His eyes remained fixed upon Lloyd.
"Then tell me..."
"Has the Church's doctrine been preventing us from discovering the truth all along?"
"Those condemned to the stake..."
"Were they truly guilty of heresy?"
"Or..."
"...did they simply learn something humanity was never meant to know?"
Lloyd froze.
For a fleeting moment, the iron chains binding his convictions seemed to crack, allowing something freer to emerge beneath them.
"So..."
He glanced uneasily toward the suspended Black Angel.
"I suppose we begin the experiment now?"
Just imagining himself climbing into that grotesque mass of flesh and machinery sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"Hm..."
"Not yet."
Merlin examined several instruments before speaking again.
"You'll have to wait."
"What happened?"
"You're a Demon Hunter."
He adjusted the readings with growing excitement.
"Ordinary experimental parameters won't do."
"If we're going to conduct this experiment..."
"We might as well extract every last bit of useful data."
He gestured toward the exit.
"Get some rest."
"We need to recalibrate everything—the power supply, the output values, all of it."
"Once the adjustments are complete..."
"...we can begin."
Moments earlier, Merlin had been overflowing with enthusiasm.
Now, wearing an expression as cold as carved stone, he unceremoniously shoved Lloyd out of the laboratory and shut the door behind him.