Like a reflection in a mirror, an iron knight resembling Lloyd stood before him. The torrential rain washed over the black God-Armor, and beneath Lloyd's gaze, the knight raised the blade of judgment high above his head.
Strength dragged the steel downward. Its razor edge tore through the cold, rain-soaked air, and a sharp wail rang out, as though the ghosts of those who had perished beneath the blade were crying from beyond the grave.
A succession of sparks erupted across Lloyd's God-Armor. The blade plunged into the ground beneath his feet, sending a sheet of water surging nearly half a man's height into the air.
The two remained locked at close range. Almost the instant the blade struck the ground, two spike swords crossed and slashed against the Metatron Demon Hunter's helmet. With Lloyd's precise swordsmanship, the slender tip of his spike sword slipped directly into a gap in the helmet.
The blade rose again and knocked Lloyd's spike sword aside. The two finally gained a little distance, but the Metatron Demon Hunter had no intention of surrendering the momentum of his assault. After deflecting Lloyd's sword, he viciously swept his own blade upward before bringing it down again. Every strike stirred a biting gale, each blow aimed at crushing Lloyd's God-Armor.
Lloyd stepped backward, barely avoiding the lethal strike. Without giving him even a moment to breathe, the Metatron Demon Hunter raised his sword again and stepped forward, bringing it down with the force of a falling mountain. Lloyd tried to evade that immovable sword force, but the Michael Demon Hunters surrounding him blocked his escape.
The Demon Hunters had encircled him.
Lloyd had been prepared for the possibility of being hunted down by them, yet when that moment truly arrived, he could not help but feel the weight of the pressure bearing down on him.
"Metatron..."
Beneath the pouring rain, Lloyd stared at that familiar Authority. Alongside the strange sense of nostalgia came an indescribable sadness.
The Authority was drawn forth through the alchemical matrices engraved upon the body, and Lloyd had long since prepared himself to be hunted by Demon Hunters wielding different Authorities. But when he actually saw this familiar power, the very same Authority that had once belonged to him, he still found himself momentarily lost in a daze.
It was as if that man were standing before him once again.
Only this time, they were no longer friends.
They were mortal enemies with drawn swords.
"What a nuisance..."
Lloyd muttered beneath his breath as he evaded another attack.
He had spent a long time preparing for the Demon Hunters of the New Church. He had even designed a corresponding weapon for every faction of Demon Hunter, including these nearly impossible-to-melt spike swords. Oscar had told him that they were forged from a metal called Palliron, a material with an extraordinarily high melting point and exceptional durability.
But the Metatron Demon Hunter before him had clearly exceeded Lloyd's expectations.
He understood this Authority far too well.
And precisely because he understood it so well, he knew that none of Lloyd's current methods would be enough to bring him down.
It was a shield.
An indestructible shield.
When they stood before you, those black God-Armors interlocked, becoming a wall of despair that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the heavens.
"Left!"
A Demon Hunter's voice came through the storm.
At the edge of the battlefield, another Demon Hunter had been watching Lloyd without blinking. They were the Zadkiel Demon Hunters, and they had seen what Lloyd was about to do.
At their warning, the Metatron Demon Hunter did not even look at Lloyd. He simply swung his blade toward the position they had predicted.
The heavy blow struck Lloyd dead-on, sending his entire body flying backward and crashing into the standing water.
After rolling several times, Lloyd slowly pushed himself upright. Cracks covered the place where he had been struck, but before long, the damaged surface was replaced by newly formed hardened material. Pale white flames continued to flicker between the seams of his God-Armor.
This was an exceedingly bad situation.
After the initial ambush, Lloyd had fallen onto the defensive in the direct confrontation. The Demon Hunters had completely surrounded him. The torrential rain obscured their faces, but through the dim silhouettes, he could see one black figure after another, each resembling a wandering ghost.
Lloyd raised his eyes and locked onto the approaching Metatron Demon Hunter.
The black iron wall of his armor was covered in similar cracks, especially around the faceplate. During their earlier exchange, Lloyd had driven his spike sword through a gap in the helmet. Through the fractured armor, he could see a burning eye, while blood continued to seep from beneath the eyelid.
"Nice coordination. You've been practicing this for a long time, haven't you?"
Lloyd asked.
But no one answered through the rain.
The Demon Hunters remained silent, like grim reapers who had no need for words.
During the earlier ambush, they had gained a profound understanding of just how terrifying Lloyd was. He was precise and lethal. In the blink of an eye, he had killed two Demon Hunters. If the Metatron Demon Hunter had not arrived in time to block his attack, their casualties might have continued to mount.
But now the hunting net had been fully drawn tight.
Lloyd had no opportunity to expand his advantage.
As long as the Metatron Demon Hunter continued to hold him back, the Demon Hunters scattered around the battlefield could slowly wear him down until he was rendered incapable of fighting.
Lloyd understood their plan as well.
The greatest advantage of the Authority—Metatron—was its terrifying defensive power. For a Metatron Demon Hunter, combat was a simple matter. Either kill the enemy before they could destroy your God-Armor, or be killed yourself.
Against such a formidable defense, the other Demon Hunters possessed no sufficiently effective means of piercing the armor. Even if the Michael Demon Hunters could use their tremendous heat to burn the flesh beneath the armor, once Lloyd had these special spike swords, he had a chance to cut off their heads before they could burn him to death.
"Looks like I have no choice."
Lloyd murmured to himself.
At the same time, the Mystic Blood within his body began to surge.
It rolled and roared like a raging inferno, until that ominous power was driven into every inch of his flesh.
The iron armor did not continue to grow.
Instead, it began to fall away.
Piece by piece, the armor detached itself until Lloyd's original form was exposed.
It looked as though he had abandoned all resistance and cast aside every layer of protection.
But in the next instant, he moved.
Under the interference of rain and wind, within the dim and chaotic battlefield, the Demon Hunters suddenly found it difficult to determine where he was going.
[Mystic Blood Awakening: 31%. Critical threshold exceeded.]
This world was far more complicated than Lloyd had ever imagined.
The naive fantasies he had once held about the Night of Advent now seemed almost laughable.
The truth concealed behind the Veil was far more complex and terrifying than he had imagined.
And he could not die here.
Not yet.
There were still far too many things he had to do.
The road to the Promised Land was a sheet of fragile ice floating above a freezing abyss. To avoid plunging into the dark and frigid sea below, one had to be willing to abandon something.
And so, to oppose the unknown and the profane, humanity had always been forced to sacrifice something.
That was why they took the initiative to step toward the forbidden unknown.
Why they pushed open the door into darkness.
In an instant, the burning Purifying Flame surged higher.
Every Demon Hunter felt the oppressive force of the corruption before them.
First came panic.
Then disbelief.
As Demon Hunters themselves, they naturally understood what Lloyd was doing.
But there was one crucial difference.
The Demon Hunters of the New Church were not bound by the Binding Silver Nail.
Lloyd was different.
He came from the Old Church that had already been destroyed.
He was like a dead man who had clawed his way out of his own grave, stubbornly marching toward a world he intended to take revenge upon.
The Binding Silver Nail began to heat and melt.
Alongside the power it released came excruciating pain.
Yet Lloyd's gaze had never been calmer.
He had broken the shackles he had placed upon himself.
Not merely to destroy the Demon Hunters before him, but because he wanted to know what Watson truly was.
The corruption spread outward.
At that moment, Lloyd seemed to have become something akin to a demon himself.
He waited.
But in the end, nothing happened.
"So, Watson... you really did escape?"
The memories he had lost were gradually returning.
Within the Palace of Memory, only one final door remained locked.
Perhaps what lay behind that door was the secret of Watson.
But there was no need to think about it now.
His burning eyes swept across the surrounding Demon Hunters.
They watched every movement Lloyd made, yet there was also a faint sense of relief within their hearts.
They understood perfectly what breaking through the critical threshold meant for an old-world Demon Hunter like Lloyd.
To them, Lloyd was nothing more than a cornered beast, making one final, hysterical struggle.
As long as they continued to delay him, Lloyd would inevitably lose.
And they had nothing to fear.
Without the restrictions of the Binding Silver Nail, the Demon Hunters of the New Church could cross the critical threshold without hesitation.
Lloyd slowly raised the two spike swords, holding them level on either side of his body.
Rain washed over their metallic surfaces, which occasionally reflected the burning radiance around him.
For a moment, Lloyd resembled a cross.
Yet there was something of a scarecrow about him as well, standing alone in a field beneath the storm.
Then lightning tore across the heavens.
At the instant that blinding white light stretched from horizon to horizon, Lloyd moved.
Once he had shed his God-Armor, his movements became impossibly fast. He tore through the wind and rain, while lightning and the torrential downpour disrupted the Demon Hunters' vision. For an instant, they could not determine the direction from which Lloyd's attack would come.
The Zadkiel Demon Hunters exchanged glances.
They attempted to peer into the brief fragments of the future.
But within the tangled possibilities before them, they could not see Lloyd.
No.
It was simply that Lloyd did not appear in the future they had seen.
That was one of the flaws of the Authority—Zadkiel.
According to their calculations, Lloyd would attempt to break through the encirclement. From his perspective, the highest priority should have been the Michael Demon Hunters. Their flames were terrifying, but Lloyd had already demonstrated during the previous assault that he possessed the ability to kill them.
Yet under the gaze of the Zadkiel Demon Hunters, the Michael Demon Hunters remained untouched.
At the same time, the "future" became "reality."
Hot blood splashed into the rain.
Beneath the faceplate, the Metatron Demon Hunter's eyes widened with shock and disbelief.
He could never have imagined that Lloyd's final choice would be to attack him first.
The razor-sharp spike sword slid along a seam in his God-Armor and pierced downward, injuring the body beneath.
The sword rose again, attempting to strike Lloyd.
But Lloyd had already shed his God-Armor, and after breaking through the critical threshold, both his strength and speed had reached an entirely new level.
Even Lloyd himself had not yet realized just how different he had become.
Beneath the rain of fire, what was rebuilding his body was the flesh of the Grail.
The flesh of the Silent One.
His figure flashed forward.
Lloyd did not retreat.
Instead, he stepped onto the spike sword embedded beneath the God-Armor, driving it deeper into the wound. At the same time, he closed the distance with the Metatron Demon Hunter and leapt high into the air.
The spike sword crashed into the faceplate once more.
With the force of his entire body behind the blow, the tremendous impact struck like a massive hammer smashing into a skull.
The Metatron Demon Hunter felt a violent wave of dizziness, followed by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
After a brief moment of disorientation, dense hardened material once again began reconnecting the shattered armor.
At the same time, the Metatron Demon Hunter could not help but increase the flow of his Mystic Blood.
He knew exactly what that meant.
He, too, would descend into that dark abyss.
But the unease in his heart forced him to make the choice.
It felt as though, if he did not do it, he would be unable to withstand Lloyd's next assault.
No.
He had already lost his chance.
The sensation was strange.
Almost intoxicating.
All pain was cast aside.
There was only absolute power in his grasp.
In midair, Lloyd performed a movement that no ordinary human could have accomplished. Using the momentum of his sword swing, he twisted his body and delivered a vicious whip kick directly into the Metatron Demon Hunter's head.
The incompletely repaired faceplate split apart again.
Lloyd continued attacking the same point without pause, striking again and again until he destroyed it completely.
"Fall back!"
One of the Demon Hunters sensed that something was wrong and shouted toward the Metatron Demon Hunter.
The other Demon Hunters began closing in as well.
The Metatron Demon Hunter followed their command and swung his blade while attempting to retreat.
But the sharp pain in his leg slowed him down.
It was the spike sword embedded beneath his armor.
Like a massive nail driven through wood, it had pierced directly into the joint beneath his God-Armor. And because the armor surrounded it, the blade had become firmly lodged in place.
So this was what Lloyd had been trying to accomplish.
The God-Armor protected the Demon Hunter.
But at the same time, it restrained him.
The reason Lloyd had discarded his own armor was because he needed greater speed and sharper attacks to end the battle as quickly as possible.
If that was the case...
The Mystic Blood within the Metatron Demon Hunter surged violently.
Black serpentine strands coiled around his body like vines.
He abandoned the idea of retreating and instead continued reinforcing his God-Armor.
As long as he could hold Lloyd off until the other Demon Hunters arrived, Lloyd would no longer be able to pursue him.
Then came the sound of something tearing through the air.
The seemingly indestructible God-Armor shattered.
Something sharp and immensely heavy broke through the hardened material and struck viciously against the Demon Hunter's skull.
"You rely on your God-Armor too much. It's a tool we use to fight, not something we use to stay alive."
Those were the final words the Metatron Demon Hunter ever heard.
A violent explosion followed.
His entire head erupted.
Everyone froze where they stood.
They stared at the headless corpse, unable to understand how Lloyd had broken through that seemingly impenetrable armor and killed the Metatron Demon Hunter.
Then they saw it.
At some point, Lloyd had discarded the other spike sword.
It was embedded in the ground.
And in Lloyd's hand was a scorched spike hammer.
As he released the mechanical lock on its handle, the hammerhead detached and fell away.
Lloyd then inserted the bare handle into the carrying case.
The grooves aligned with a metallic click, and a new hammerhead locked into place.
To fight the Demon Hunters of the New Church, Lloyd had prepared a gift for every faction.
And this was his gift to the Metatron faction.
It was a weapon known as the Armor-Breaking Hammer.
A creation of the Perpetual Motion Pump.
Its original form had been several meters long, shaped like a massive barrel. It had originally been designed as a weapon for old-world God-Armors, intended for siege and fortification-breaking.
Inside the barrel was a metal spike weighing an entire ton.
When activated, it worked much like pulling a trigger. The spike would be propelled by fuel like a bullet, and even steel plates several meters thick could be pierced with ease.
But Merlin had eventually rejected the weapon.
It was too inefficient.
And it wasted too much material.
Lloyd, however, had never abandoned the idea.
In his eyes, a weapon designed for breaking fortifications was simply perfect for fighting Metatron Demon Hunters.
After redesigning it, Lloyd turned it into a single-use weapon. Highly combustible lacquer-antimony served as the propellant, while a flint mechanism was installed inside. As long as the hammer received sufficient impact, the lacquer-antimony would ignite, driving the spike hammer forward for a second layer of armor penetration.
This was a new age.
Even the once-terrifying Demon Hunters could be killed with modern weapons.
And perhaps demons themselves should disappear along with the old world.
"By any means necessary... never stop..."
For some reason, the face of Lloyd Medici surfaced in his mind.
That old man.
Ancient, stubborn, and already dead.
How strange.
He was clearly dead.
Yet Lloyd could never shake the feeling that he was still alive.
Like a child confronted with the impossible world of a fairy tale, even now Lloyd could not bring himself to believe it.
Could not truly believe that he was dead.
Lloyd raised the spike sword.
He drove it down through the grotesque opening at the corpse's neck and twisted viciously, stabbing again and again until the heart was completely destroyed.
Only when the corpse's blood had grown cold did the crimson liquid begin to seep through the gaps in the God-Armor.
He was like an emotionless god of death.
He turned toward the Demon Hunters closing in around him.
Lloyd understood Demon Hunters better than almost anyone.
He understood their strength.
And he understood their weaknesses.
Hammer and sword in hand, his figure moved once more.
The Zadkiel Demon Hunters watched Lloyd intently.
They saw what was about to happen.
They saw the future.
And then the cold of despair swallowed them whole.
After his battle with Lawrence, Lloyd understood the Authority—Zadkiel better than anyone.
Ultimately, the method of opposing such an Authority was incredibly simple.
One merely had to become strong enough.
Strong enough that even if they saw the future, they would have no power to change it.
At this moment, Lloyd seemed to have reached the same height as Lawrence.
The Mystic Blood churned and boiled within him.
Under the forbidden power, the blade dragged out a blazing white arc of light.
In the eyes of the Zadkiel Demon Hunters, future and reality overlapped.
For a moment, they could no longer distinguish truth from illusion.
All they could do was raise their spike swords and make a meaningless attempt to resist.
But the Armor-Breaking Hammer struck first.
It smashed directly against the spike sword.
A deep explosion thundered through the rain.
The spike sword shattered.
And through the fragments of broken metal, a pale sword of light descended.
Another headless corpse slowly dropped to its knees.
Then it collapsed into the torrential rain.
Lloyd mechanically replaced the hammerhead.
His gaze turned toward the end of the railway tracks.
Amid the roar of the wind and rain, the faint sound of a steam whistle echoed through the storm.