Beneath the torrential rain, a dark-blue silhouette stood upon the flooded ground. His gaze was hollow, yet within those empty eyes burned white-hot flames. A hammer and sword rested in his hands, and he looked like a wandering ghost that had nowhere left to go.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
The Demon Hunters cursed furiously, rage burning in their hearts, yet the hands gripping their swords could not stop trembling.
Only now did they realize the gulf between themselves and Lloyd. This Demon Hunter of the Old Church had prepared for everything long before any of this began. More terrifying still, even without those specially crafted "gifts," Lloyd's strength alone was now overwhelming.
Within a body forged from the flesh of the Grail, the will of the Night of Descent resided. These Demon Hunters, who had never truly experienced despair, appeared utterly harmless in Lloyd's eyes.
The roles of hunter and prey had been reversed.
Amid the fearful silence, the Demon Hunter Michael finally could not endure it any longer. Blazing fire surged upward around him, while the Mystic Blood burned like molten lava. It scorched his body even as it continuously healed him.
Demonization.
Someone had to make a sacrifice now. Only then would they have any chance of killing Lloyd instead of being slaughtered by him one after another.
Their original plan now seemed laughable.
They had actually intended to capture such a terrifying monster.
Fearful eyes reflected that lean yet immensely powerful body.
The Demon Hunters could not understand it. Why had the Demon Hunter who could once be knocked down so easily suddenly become this powerful, as though he had undergone some kind of transformation?
But Lloyd offered no answer.
The burning sun drew closer, bringing unbearable heat and clouds of scorching steam with it. Lloyd did not rush to attack. Instead, he slowly retreated, and before long his entire figure was swallowed by the howling wind and rain. As the Demon Hunter Michael approached, the rising steam grew denser, further obscuring their vision.
The Demon Hunter Shadophon froze for a moment, unable to understand why Lloyd had suddenly chosen to retreat. Then he roared.
"You fool! Stop!"
He shouted at Michael.
With so many Demon Hunters capable of undergoing demonization, fighting them head-on would be difficult even for Lloyd. But with the help of this terrible weather, he could move like a ghost, picking them off one by one. The steam rising just now had been an even greater gift, allowing Lloyd to vanish completely from the Demon Hunters' sight.
Why had Lloyd suddenly become so powerful?
The truth was, he had always been this powerful.
It was simply that one strange reason after another had held him back.
042 existed.
He existed.
Lloyd Holmes existed.
He did not know where Watson had ultimately escaped to, but he knew one thing for certain: Lloyd, the jailer, no longer needed to obey the rules he had once imposed upon himself.
He had broken free from that damned duty, from that damned curse.
He was free.
And so the Mystic Blood continued to surge, driving his power toward its absolute limit.
The white-hot flames burned ever brighter.
The Demon Hunters of Shadophon stared intently into the curtain of rain, attempting to precisely grasp the possibilities of the future. As their gazes swept across the battlefield, they suddenly saw it—a few seconds from now, a nail-sword would thrust out from that angle, attempting to assassinate another Demon Hunter.
"There!"
He shouted.
And just as he had predicted, a sharp nail-sword pierced through the curtain of rain.
But because Shadophon had warned them, the others had enough time to prepare.
Strangely, there was no one behind the sword.
It had been thrown.
"Sometimes, the future can be deceived as well."
A ghostly voice sounded from behind him.
The next instant, the sharp nail-sword pierced through his chest.
The Demon Hunter Shadophon stared in disbelief. He desperately gripped the blade protruding from his chest, trying to fight back, but he could do nothing.
A prediction of the future required a target. One could predict what would happen to oneself, or what changes would occur within a certain area. But the violent wind and rain had concealed Lloyd's figure, depriving Shadophon of a target to predict.
And he himself had been too afraid.
So the instant he saw the future, he had already made his decision.
"Lloyd Holmes!"
Shadophon roared.
A deep metallic rumble erupted from his entire body. Flesh wrapped around the nail-sword like vines, preventing Lloyd from pulling it free. At the same time, Shadophon swung his nail-sword backward in a savage slash.
There was nothing left to hesitate over.
Under these circumstances, the only way to fight Lloyd was to break through the limit and begin demonization.
But what followed was the clang of metal striking metal.
Lloyd did not defend against the blow.
He simply let it fall.
Yet the nail-sword failed to injure him. It was stopped by dense God-Armor.
"That shouldn't be..."
Shadophon could not understand.
Lloyd had clearly shed his God-Armor back then.
Then his pupils contracted.
At the point where the nail-sword had struck, the armor was already beginning to peel away.
It was temporary armor.
Although it could be generated almost instantly, its strength was considerably lower. After enduring only a single attack, cracks were already spreading across it.
This was Lloyd's application of Authority.
Before an attack landed, he generated God-Armor over a specific part of his body, sacrificing durability in exchange for faster combat and the ability to mislead his enemy.
Lloyd raised the armor-breaking hammer high.
Within his burning gaze, the future of death and the present moment overlapped.
Whether driven by fear, anger, or the instinct to survive, Shadophon surrendered everything to the devil hidden within his bloodline.
His body twisted into something grotesque and unnatural.
Countless futures flashed through his mind, one after another, destroying what remained of his sanity.
Demonization.
Shadophon screamed.
The sound was like the piercing cry of a newborn child seeing the world for the first time.
But the scream was drowned out by a deep explosion.
The armor-breaking hammer crashed violently into his skull.
He was no Medanzo Demon Hunter. He possessed no indestructible God-Armor.
Under Lloyd's overwhelming strength, his skull split apart instantly, the hammerhead driving deep into flesh.
And that was not the end.
The force unleashed by the ignition of lacquer-antimony drove the hammer farther downward, brutally smashing apart his entire head and chest in a single blow.
Only half of his head remained.
After demonization, the Demon Hunter had already begun to approach the nature of a true demon. His monstrous vitality kept him alive, with only a few strands of flesh barely holding the remnants of his skull together. His chest had been blown completely open, exposing pale bones and steaming flesh beneath.
Even the heart Lloyd had pierced began beating again under the force of the transformation.
Through the hideous wound in his chest, one could see a lump of flesh rhythmically expanding and contracting.
"Lloyd! Lloyd! Lloyd Holmes!"
His flesh spasmed.
A distorted voice emerged from his ruined windpipe, sounding almost like a curse.
The Shadophon Demon Hunter swayed unsteadily.
After demonization, a Demon Hunter's reason would steadily deteriorate until the corruption completely transformed him into a demon.
Through the grotesque wound, it was clear that Lloyd's brutal hammer blow had shattered his spine.
Yet he did not collapse.
The proliferating flesh instead wrapped tightly around his spine, forcing his body back into alignment.
"Lloyd! Lloyd!"
The Shadophon Demon Hunter continued to growl.
Under the corruption of demonization, he could no longer form a complete sentence. All he could do was repeatedly curse that name.
He tore the nail-sword from his own body and tried to hack down the Demon Hunter before him.
But all he could manage were meaningless swings.
The Shadophon Demon Hunter could no longer see Lloyd.
This was his first attempt at a critical breakthrough. But as a Demon Hunter of the New Church, he had never experienced true despair, nor did he understand how terrifying the Mystic Blood truly was.
He was like a child suddenly handed a massive sword.
He had no idea how to wield such power.
His Authority began to spiral out of control.
Countless futures flickered within his eyes, layered over one another like countless overlapping mirrors.
He could no longer distinguish illusion from reality.
"How pitiful..."
Lloyd spoke as he lowered the armor-breaking hammer and instead drew his shotgun. He drove the barrel directly into the wound in the Demon Hunter's chest.
These Demon Hunters were nothing more than servants of the New Pope, assembled at will to serve his desires. They had never understood the true price of this power, nor how unbearably heavy that price could be.
Lloyd pulled the trigger.
Blazing fire erupted from the wound, roaring as it burned through flesh.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
One after another.
Lloyd turned his head.
All he saw were grotesque silhouettes, each carrying that utterly frenzied power.
Demonization.
Under the threat posed by Lloyd, every Demon Hunter chose to undergo the critical breakthrough.
And in order to keep Lloyd here forever, that power continued to rise, twisting their bodies until they became demons.
No.
These men clearly did not possess the resolve to march willingly toward death.
Something was interfering with them.
"Is it you, Moriarty?"
Lloyd called into the raging wind.
No one answered.
But Lloyd no longer cared.
At this life-or-death moment, Lloyd suddenly closed his eyes.
Authority: Raphael could drag a person into a hazy illusion, but its activation had one prerequisite.
He had to make eye contact with the person invoking the Authority.
Lloyd had never been able to figure out exactly when he had made eye contact with Moriarty before.
But later, he had more or less figured it out.
It was the rain.
This seemingly endless storm.
The transparent water created a mirror-like surface. Perhaps at some unnoticed instant, Moriarty had used those countless reflective surfaces as a medium, establishing a connection with Lloyd's gaze.
But the burning eyes of the Demon Hunters were so conspicuous in the darkness.
The best way for Moriarty to conceal that flaw was to use the flashes of lightning.
When the blinding white lightning overlapped with those burning eyes, that was the instant Lloyd fell into illusion.
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Lloyd kept his eyes tightly shut.
If he opened them, there was a good chance Authority: Raphael would seize him once again.
But if he did not, the Demon Hunters would tear him apart.
At this critical moment, a loud whistle suddenly rang through the storm.
Something sounded as though it were a steel beast racing through the rain.
An Iron Serpent thundered forward, but the heavy rain obscured the tracks and made it impossible to determine where it had come from.
At that moment, Lloyd pulled the final weapon from the case.
If his plan was correct...
If everything proceeded exactly as he had envisioned...
No.
There was no reason to doubt himself.
He was the great Lloyd Holmes.
He would not lose.
Lloyd pulled the trigger.
The grappling hook shot into the curtain of rain.
Moments later, tremendous force yanked Lloyd forward. The Demon Hunters had no time to intercept him. He seized the cable and pulled with all his strength, smashing through the curtain of rain before landing heavily atop the Iron Serpent.
Only then did he open his eyes.
At the far end of the rain, he could see a familiar figure watching him.
Authority: Raphael had a range limit.
On the speeding Iron Serpent, Lloyd had already escaped the range of Moriarty's influence.
At the same time, crimson fire suddenly illuminated the sky.
Lloyd could not help but raise his head.
A burning trail streaked across the heavens like divine punishment. Even the violent wind and rain could not slow its advance.
At last, it plunged into the curtain of rain like a meteor.
A thunderous explosion followed.
An even brighter crimson light bloomed in the distance.
Ascalon.
That damned heavy cannon.
Someone was firing into Old Dunling...
No.
Blackmount Hospital.
Someone was firing at Blackmount Hospital.
Lloyd stared in astonishment at the burning light. He had no idea what was happening inside Blackmount Hospital, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
He had no strength left to worry about anyone else.
There were more important things he had to do.
He leapt into the Iron Serpent.
Inside, he found that the train had been modified. Apart from a single chair, the walls of the carriage were covered with weapons, while medical kits had been placed across the floor.
Lloyd noticed a note stuck in one corner.
Written across it were the absurd words:
"Sponsored jointly by the Stuart Family and North Dero."
Two Iron Serpents traveled one after another along separate tracks.
One served as bait, drawing the Demon Hunters into an ambush.
The other carried Lloyd rapidly away from the battlefield, giving him time to rest and prepare for the battle to come.
No matter how brilliant the great detective might be, he was still only human.
Eventually, even he would feel exhaustion and fatigue.
He leaned back against the chair, allowing the agitated Mystic Blood within him to gradually settle.
Then he lit a cigarette.
As smoke curled upward, he took out several sheets of paper that Oscar had torn from an aviation manual and handed to him.
He needed to find a place without any "mirrors" and fight Moriarty there.
And with North Dero's assistance, that battlefield was already prepared.
Lloyd had no fear that Moriarty would refuse to take the bait.
Just as Moriarty had once told him, Lloyd was too obsessed with eradicating the demons.
That obsession had given Moriarty the opportunity to design everything against him.
But looking at it now, was Moriarty really any different?
He was obsessed as well.
Obsessed with destroying Lloyd.
Obsessed with turning Lloyd into a monster just like himself.
Under such a pathological fixation, Moriarty was destined to walk straight into the trap Lloyd had prepared.
Every thread was finally drawing together.
There was only one road left.