This was a night of madness.
The burning manor had become a grand stage, and above the dark curtain of the sky floated airships as vast as whales. From their bellies fell pillar after pillar of harsh white light, each beam pinning the chaos below like the gaze of a silent god.
All eyes were drawn to the storm at its heart.
Loyd racing through the flames.
Eve and Selu fleeing in a desperate run for their lives.
And Arthur locked in a fight to the death.
Within the manor alone, countless events unfolded at once—far too many to name. And that was not even to mention the surging tide of demons, nor the iron wall of soldiers closing ranks against them.
This would become the greatest failure in the history of the Purging Agency. A demonic incursion had erupted directly within Old Dunling itself—worse still, in the very midst of a noble ballroom.
Beneath the shattered dome, Sapphire checked the map again and again, her brows tightening each time. Yet no matter how many times she examined it, she could not determine where the demons had come from.
They were simply… there. As if they had appeared out of thin air.
Fortunately, years of expanding the Atrium Serpent System allowed the Agency's response forces to arrive almost immediately. Under the strict blockade of the Royal Guard, the entire catastrophe was contained within the bounds of Salicado Manor.
Orders were sent cascading down the chain of command. Even the mounted police of Suaralan Hall were urgently deployed, their sharp whistle signals echoing through the silent night like the mournful cries of ravens.
Within several kilometers of Salicado Manor, a state of emergency curfew was declared.
To contain the demonic corrosion—and to conceal the truth from the public—the entire Scavenger Department had been mobilized.
Everyone was working themselves to the bone.
Yet within that sea of flames, two reckless souls were still moving forward with a strange kind of cheer.
As the saying goes, when a man and woman work together, the burden feels lighter.
But when two girls join forces… they might just burn the world down.
Under the joint "efforts" of Selu and Eve, the ancient castle was soon swallowed by roaring fire. In truth, it never needed to suffer such a fate—but under Eve's catastrophically destructive nature, the blaze spread like a passing apocalypse.
The two of them were, without question, arsonists of the worst sort.
Behind them surged countless demons, playing the role of relentless policemen chasing fugitives. Of course, if those "policemen" ever caught up, there would be no need for trials or judges.
Capture meant immediate execution.
Despite the chaotic energy of their escape, both girls were inwardly terrified.
Selu had no idea what those grotesque creatures even were.
Eve, on the other hand, was terrified precisely because she did.
After the Ender Town operation, Duke Phoenix had placed her under strict confinement. Forget returning to the police station—even stepping outside to look at the scenery required a tail of watchful attendants.
During these past weeks, the Duke had hired a parade of tutors to teach Eve. Not history. Not combat.
No.
They taught her how to become a proper wife.
Eve could not understand why Duke Phoenix was so desperate to marry her off, as if she were some kind of burning coal no one wanted to hold.
But Eve Phoenix was not someone who surrendered easily.
On the surface, she behaved like a model student. In secret, however, she had plotted several daring escape attempts. Unfortunately, she never made it farther than the train platform before being dragged back home.
The air around them rippled with suffocating heat.
The demonic corrosion pressed against her mind.
To be honest, Eve herself did not know why such memories suddenly surfaced at a moment like this. Perhaps it was her mind's way of protecting itself—thinking of something amusing so the terror would not swallow her whole.
But this time…
This time she could clearly feel death approaching.
Whenever Eve had faced demons before, there had always been someone formidable at her side.
Loyd.
Red Falcon.
And if nothing else, she had at least carried a thermite rifle—or her service pistol from the station.
But now?
Now there was only Selu.
The thin, fragile-looking girl beside her hardly looked capable of fighting at all. Worse still, Selu's ankle was injured. Without Eve dragging her forward, the future Duchess of Stuart would already have been sentenced to death by those demons.
Eve still wore the ceremonial divine armor upon her body.
But the thing was useless.
It existed purely for decoration—like a sword that had never been sharpened. Against demons, it offered no resistance whatsoever.
A heavy sadness crept into her chest.
The emotion called despair slowly began to claim her.
For countless ages, humanity had fought its endless war against demons. Their terrible corruption clung to the world like an inescapable nightmare. Even the strongest will could falter beneath it—doubting itself, sinking into the deepest darkness.
Against the great tide of death, a single human life was pitifully small.
Each step forward merely delayed the inevitable.
Just like every previous encounter with demons, humanity remained the hunted.
"You can let go of me."
The calm voice cut through the chaos.
Selu, who had been dragged along by Eve the entire time, spoke with quiet seriousness.
Eve turned to look at the girl—cold as ice—and shouted, ignoring the despair gnawing at her heart.
"You'll die!"
In Selu's current condition, the moment Eve released her, the demons would tear her apart. There would be no chance of survival.
But then Eve met her gaze.
Those clear blue eyes—deep as a frozen sea—reflected Eve's fear and despair with merciless clarity.
Nothing escaped Selu's perception.
Her eyes possessed a strange power, like those of a disturbingly perceptive psychologist. Every emotion, every hidden thought, lay exposed beneath her stare.
"If this continues," Selu said calmly,
"we'll both die."
Her tone was so steady that death itself seemed trivial to her.
"How can you… be this calm?"
Eve simply could not understand.
How could someone remain so composed when death was breathing down their neck?
"I'm just being rational," Selu replied.
"If we continue like this, we die together. But you still have a chance to escape."
Her voice carried neither drama nor fear.
"We're all just mortals. Everyone dies eventually—only the timing is different."
"I was a lucky beggar. If no one had noticed me, I would have died long ago in Gaulnaro. Which means every day I've lived since then has been a gift."
"In truth, Selu should have died many winters ago."
She paused, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared upon her usually cold face.
"When you think about it like that… death isn't so frightening."
"At worst, the beginning hurts a little."
Her smile widened slightly.
"It was nice meeting you, Miss Eve Phoenix."
Eve stared at her in stunned silence.
A swirl of strange emotions surged through her chest. She wanted to say something—but the words refused to come.
Slowly, the confusion in her eyes hardened into determination.
She tightened her grip on Selu and began running again, dragging the girl forward with renewed force.
"No."
"You're not dying."
Eve gritted her teeth.
She was a child of the Phoenix family. The blood of the undying firebird flowed in her veins. Her greatest dream was to stand in the Hall of Exalted Glory, walking beside the honored figures of legend.
She was meant to shine brilliantly.
How could someone destined for greatness accept failing to save another life?
Perhaps it wasn't even about Selu anymore.
Perhaps it was simply Eve's cursed pride.
If Selu died here, it would feel like Eve had surrendered to this miserable life.
And she refused to lose.
Absolutely refused.
"Move out of my way!"
Grabbing a chair from beside her, Eve hurled it straight at the demon blocking their path.
No one knew where such strength came from within that girl.
The chair tore through the air with a violent howl before smashing squarely into the demon's face. It shattered instantly, the impact knocking the creature backward.
Without hesitation, Eve planted her foot on the demon's head and vaulted over it.
They were almost free.
Almost out of this hell.
But at that very moment, Eve's pace slowed.
Then she stopped.
"I can buy you some time."
Selu steadied herself against Eve, lifting her injured ankle slightly.
If Eve abandoned her now, she might still escape.
But Eve only shook her head.
"Honestly," she said, glancing at Selu with forced lightness,
"how long do you think a body like yours would keep them fed?"
Not even Seriu alone—bring another squad of soldiers, and it still wouldn't be enough to feed the horde of demons closing in. Calling it "buying time" would be too generous. What it truly was, was a quiet, deliberate march toward death.
They never made it out.
Just as the two women reached what should have been the end of their escape, the demons closed in and surrounded them.
Strangely, the creatures had pursued them with purpose. From the very beginning they had maintained a careful distance, never rushing forward—like hunters driving their prey exactly where they wanted it to go.
And this place, it seemed, was the final ring of the trap.
In the shadows came the wet sounds of blood being sucked from torn flesh. The starving monsters were long past patience. Yet something—some unseen authority—seemed to hold them back, keeping them from advancing.
"It's like a dinner."
Seriu suddenly spoke, her voice cold and strangely distant.
"What on earth are you thinking about?!"
Eve stared at the girl in disbelief.
What are you doing? In the next second we're going to be torn apart and eaten, and you're talking about dinner? You're the future Duchess of Stuart! Were these people starving you all this time? Why is that what comes to your mind right before dying?
Perhaps it was Lloyd's influence. The more life-threatening the moment became, the more Eve's thoughts wandered off the rails—much like that detective who loved cracking cold jokes while performing cranial surgery on his enemies.
Lloyd once said that he did it to lessen the mental corrosion caused by demons.
Imagine standing before an army of thousands. A normal man would shout to the heavens, "My fate ends here!" and then obediently wait for death.
But if you faced that same army and simply asked, "Have you eaten yet?"
The terrifying grandeur would shatter instantly.
Once the momentum was broken, even an army of thousands wouldn't seem so frightening. After all, their mighty presence had already been undone by a casual question about dinner.
"Tonight is a banquet," Seriu said at last, her icy voice drifting through the air. "And we are the food laid upon the table."
In her sea-cold eyes burned the reflection of a blazing hell.
Seriu had always possessed a strange way of seeing the world—grasping truths from angles others could not perceive. Just as she had once realized that Lady Vanlud was not truly cruel; she merely longed for a family that would stay by her side.
"So those demons are the guests?" Eve shrugged. "I just hope their mothers taught them not to play with their food."
She decided to go along with Seriu's nonsense, though the two were clearly speaking on entirely different wavelengths.
"No," Seriu replied softly. "They're only the stray dogs beneath the table… waiting for their master to toss them scraps."
Her gaze shifted past the demons—toward the inferno burning behind them. For the first time, a faint ripple of emotion stirred in her voice.
"The true guest has only just arrived."
At once, the demons stepped aside.
From between them, a man slowly emerged.
His hair was ancient white, thin and brittle. Though he stood amid what looked like the gates of hell, a peaceful smile rested upon his face. His wrinkled skin folded like the bark of a withered tree.
A faded crimson robe hung over his shoulders, worn and torn—the color of dried blood. A gleaming silver cross rested against his chest.
It seemed he had not appeared in such solemn attire for a long time. He adjusted his glasses awkwardly, then slowly lifted the nail-sword in his hand.
With his arrival, every demon retreated.
An invisible pressure settled over Eve and Seriu, something impossible to describe. Both women instinctively stepped backward until their backs struck the wall.
There was nowhere left to go.
"A… a demon hunter…"
Eve's voice trembled.
She didn't know who the man was. But she recognized that sword—the same weapon Lloyd carried.
A nail-sword plated with holy silver.
What terrified her even more was the realization dawning upon her now: this mysterious hunter appeared to be standing with the demons.
She had seen Lloyd's terrifying power. If a sliver of hope had existed before, then the man's arrival had snuffed out the last flicker of it.
But why?
Why would a demon hunter stand beside demons?
Why would a blade forged of holy silver point toward her?
"Ah… finally found you."
Lawrence spoke with casual ease.
Horner had done well. He had drawn all eyes toward himself. The purification agency's forces had chased after him, leaving this place conveniently unnoticed.
Eve's face stiffened.
She remembered those words.
They were the same words spoken by the creature she had once seen in her spirit-vision.
They had found her.
"Looks like our roles need to switch now," Eve said grimly.
Lawrence's target was clearly her. There was no reason for Seriu to die alongside her.
But Seriu only shook her head.
The demons still lurked in the shadows. No one was leaving this place alive. Whatever Lawrence's goal might be, the sheer scale of tonight's operation made one thing clear—
His target was either Eve… or Seriu.
Either way, neither of them would survive.
As Lawrence drew closer, Eve took a deep breath. Her expression slowly calmed.
Then she turned to Seriu and spoke with sincere warmth.
"I'm glad I got to meet you, Miss Seriu Stuart."
And then Lawrence moved.
Though his body was old, secret blood flowed through his veins. The rising power dragged the mortal flesh toward forbidden realms. Dying flesh grew young again, bursting forward in a crimson arc as he lunged straight for Eve.
The sharp nail-sword became a streak of blazing white lightning.
The souls slain beneath that blade screamed in welcome, greeting Eve as their newest companion.
The sword grew larger and larger in her eyes.
Death had arrived.
In that instant, memories shattered across Eve's vision like fragments of crystal. Each shard reflected a moment from her life—from childhood to adulthood, from her first ride on horseback to the first day she joined the police force.
For a fleeting moment, Eve seemed to understand the Duke of Phoenix's intentions.
That island he had given her as a dowry would have been her paradise. The Duke would have stood as an unbreakable shield, keeping every danger far away. She would have lived there happily—
Instead of dying here.
The Duke of Phoenix did love her.
It was simply a love difficult to understand.
Like a piece of overly sweet candy—beautiful, but sometimes too cloying to swallow.
Then suddenly—
Heavy footsteps thundered through the distance.
Someone was running toward them.
Running as though accompanied by an army of thousands.
There was no time to wonder who it might be.
A sharp cry rang out, followed by a thunderous roar.
Realizing something instinctively, Eve grabbed Seriu and pulled her close.
The next moment—
The entire wall behind them exploded inward.
A suit of black divine armor burst through the stone, blazing with white fire. It soared over their heads like a falling star of pale light.
Without the slightest pause, the Black Knight swung his massive greatsword.
The blow struck Lawrence squarely.
Like a baseball smashed from the bat, the crimson figure was hurled backward, crashing across the battlefield before vanishing into the ruins beyond.
Dust scattered as flames rose.
The jagged armor resembled a pile of ancient bones stacked together. The knight breathed deeply, and with every rise and fall of his breath, white fire flared and dimmed within the cracks of the armor.
[Warning: Secret Blood Awakening 26%. Approaching critical threshold.]
The Black Knight lifted his head toward the ruins where Lawrence had vanished.
He tightened his grip on the burning greatsword.
Then, from beneath the armor, came a faint laugh—
A ghostly laugh.
As if celebrating a reunion long awaited.