"Plans? Wait—what plans?!"
Hongsun froze on the spot, utterly bewildered. Wasn't this supposed to be a meeting? Weren't plans meant to be discussed during the meeting? How had it already begun?
Lloyd offered no further explanation. With a flick of his wrist, he cast out the folding blade—the faint weight of it settling into his grasp felt… right.
"It doesn't matter. For security reasons, you wouldn't know much anyway. Just inform Arthur."
"Then what are you going to do?"
Hongsun instinctively stepped back, unsettled by the killing intent radiating from Lloyd.
"Do what I must."
The answer came low and steady, as the secret blood surged.
Power beyond mortal limits flooded his body. The secret blood churned violently through his veins, proliferating, rewriting flesh and bone—reshaping a human vessel into something far closer to a demon. His gray-blue eyes trembled, and from the abyss within them, a pale, searing flame began to rise.
Archdeacon Lawrence's target was Se Liu. Lloyd did not yet understand what made that unfortunate girl valuable—but if Lawrence intended to invade, then surely it would be her.
All he needed to do… was wait.
Provided, of course, that Lawrence did not succeed first.
Lloyd broke into a sprint. Explosive force propelled him forward, his hurried footsteps echoing through the corridor like the advance of some unseen beast.
Even this had caught him off guard. He hadn't expected Lawrence to arrive so quickly—and even less that he could infiltrate this place at all.
According to Medanzo, traversal through the Interstice required corruption as a beacon. Which meant that somewhere within this mechanical institute, something—or someone—was already emitting Lawrence's taint.
The pawn had been here all along.
Only now had it revealed itself.
A monster who had lived for untold ages… of course he had planned everything in advance.
Lloyd. The Purge Agency. Even the Gospel Church itself—every one of them was merely a piece within Archdeacon Lawrence's script, moving as he willed, advancing the story he had already written.
Then the alarms screamed to life.
Their sharp echoes reverberated through the steel fortress. The massive lift shaft connected to the perpetual pump sealed shut, and one gate after another slammed down, locking the entire structure into total isolation.
This had been Lloyd and Arthur's contingency.
If Lawrence could use the Interstice as a bridge, then he could spread like a virus through the crowd. Now, cut off from the outside world, even if they failed to capture him, they would at least tear out every beacon he had planted within the Purge Agency.
Now, Lawrence was trapped inside.
Attached… to some unfortunate host.
Dense scales erupted across Lloyd's body. Layer upon layer of black, impenetrable armor formed over him, until it resembled darkness itself wrapping him whole. Pale flames seeped through the seams of the divine armor, flickering like something not meant for this world.
He rounded the final corner.
Only a single step now separated him from Se Liu's door.
Perhaps alerted by the heavy footfalls, Se Liu had stepped out, glancing curiously toward the sound—
—and saw the black-armored figure raise its blade.
"Get down!"
She obeyed almost instinctively.
A violent gust tore through the corridor. Metal split the air with a shriek so sharp it seemed to shatter the senses.
She didn't understand what had happened—not until the storm passed and silence crept back in. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked ahead.
At some point, a soldier had approached the doorway.
And in the final instant—Lloyd had intercepted him.
The black knight stood between them like an unyielding wall. Without the augmentation of secret blood, the soldier's human body stood no chance. He raised his rifle without hesitation and fired. Bullets streaked forward, striking the black armor in bursts of fleeting sparks.
The folding blade cut down with a howling wind.
The soldier barely evaded the first strike—but the second came faster.
In a single instant, the blade shattered the rifle in his hands. The force of the impact tore his grip apart, his arms thrown wide.
Lloyd seized his throat and lifted him from the ground.
"Archdeacon Lawrence?"
The voice beneath the helm was low and muffled—yet tinged with a savage amusement.
"Impressive… you've learned well."
After a brief silence, the soldier's voice twisted unnaturally, barely recognizable.
Now that Lloyd understood Lawrence's objective, it had become easier to predict his movements.
At present, this host was nothing more than an ordinary man—incapable of much. Yet with a strange, echoing laugh, strength surged into him from nowhere. His hand snapped up, gripping Lloyd's arm.
"And have you learned this as well?"
Then—
Pain exploded within Lloyd's mind.
It was all too familiar. Just like before.
So it had always been Lawrence.
And yet, through the distortion of agony, Lloyd smiled.
"Just what I wanted… Archdeacon."
The demon hunter did not resist the pain.
He embraced it.
The corridor collapsed.
All sound stretched and warped. Common sense fractured. The laws of physics unraveled and rewrote themselves. The world shattered like a broken kaleidoscope, fragments of reality reflecting something grotesque—
Until, at last, a cold wind swept through and erased it all.
When vision returned, the world had changed.
An endless wasteland stretched before him. The aftermath of battle lay scattered across the land—corpses strewn everywhere, embers of war still smoldering among the ashes. Half-burnt straw lifted into the air, carried away by the wind.
The blazing sun had begun to set, half-veiled behind clouds, staining the sky in vivid crimson.
Lloyd stood still for a moment, disoriented—then tightened his grip on his weapon.
He looked toward the figure beneath the dying sun.
That shadow stretched endlessly, as though it sought to swallow the earth itself.
"So… this is your Interstice?"
His voice echoed from beneath the black helm.
Archdeacon Lawrence did not answer at once. Instead, he lingered, gazing upon the long-vanished landscape as if mourning something lost to time. Then, with a quiet sigh, he tightened his grip on the nail-sword, admiration gleaming in his eyes.
"Yes… it seems I have yet to fully grasp the power of the Interstice. Otherwise, you would not have turned it against me."
He paused, then asked:
"How did you do it?"
"An idea. Nothing more… a moment of inspiration."
Lloyd's reply was calm.
"When you invaded—did it not mean I could trace you in return? Find your Interstice?"
"Like a fishing line," he added softly. "Careful… or the big fish might drag you under."
A faint, mocking laugh echoed from within the black armor.
Slowly, he raised the folding blade.
On its polished surface, a woman's face was reflected—Watson, smiling silently as she always did. Like a curse that never left him. Like the pain in an unhealed wound.
A constant reminder.
"So… this is the battlefield I wanted."
Lloyd murmured.
No one else.
No soldiers. No Arthur. No Se Liu.
Only him… and Archdeacon Lawrence.
No entanglements. No consequences.
Only a duel to the death.
"Come, teacher," Lloyd said lightly, almost at ease. "Let me show you how much I've learned."
He watched the old man approach—
his figure silhouetted against the dying sun, as though he bore the weight of a blood-stained sky upon his back.