"I never thought you'd actually have… normal friends."
Selu followed close behind Lloyd, weaving through the narrow, elongated carriage.
"What's wrong?"
Lloyd didn't even turn his head.
"It's just… you feel out of place in this world."
"That would be natural. I am no demon, yet neither am I truly human… I live in the cracks—between two worlds, in the seams that bind them."
A faint, self-mocking smile touched his lips.
"Surprised? That I see myself so clearly."
Selu said nothing, only nodded—unsure whether he would even notice.
In her eyes, Lloyd was a magnet for trouble. The people he knew were never ordinary—crime lords, shadowy organizations… It was hard to imagine someone like him having anything resembling a normal life.
"There's a lot you don't know, Selu. For instance… what comes next."
As he spoke, Lloyd slipped his right hand into his coat.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be afraid."
A white-clad attendant walked down the center of the carriage. The aisle was wide enough, yet when two people passed in opposite directions, it became a silent negotiation—one had to yield.
Lloyd did not.
The witcher's gaze rested calmly upon the attendant. In the instant they drew close, a burst of pale light flared within his coat. Metal rang sharply—his folding blade snapped open in a heartbeat, striking down before anyone could react.
Selu froze.
So did everyone else.
The blade carved diagonally from the attendant's shoulder, cleaving through neck and throat. The sound—sickening, unmistakable—metal severing the spine within flesh.
Blood surged forth like a ruptured spring, staining the pristine seats crimson. The attendant's eyes bulged with terror as he clutched at the ruin of his neck, trying to speak—but the blow had obliterated his throat. Only ragged, panicked breaths remained.
"I could smell you from far away."
Lloyd wiped the blood from his face, his gaze cold.
That inferior secret blood—he could sense it even across several carriages.
He had been wary the moment he realized the intruders were the Remnants. He had hidden, evaded, fled eastward… yet they had still followed. They had boarded the train.
The blade drove down once more, piercing through skull and heart, leaving no chance for transformation.
A brutal execution.
The corpse convulsed and collapsed, blood spreading across the floor, soaking beneath every passenger's feet.
For a fleeting moment, silence.
Then chaos.
Screams erupted. Passengers panicked—some fled to the next carriage, others wept. A few, trembling with fragile courage, thought to confront Lloyd—only to lose themselves beneath that frigid gaze.
The carriage dissolved into madness.
Selu stood in the thick stench of blood, the grotesque death still before her eyes. She clutched Lloyd's hand, her face pale.
She didn't understand what had driven him to this—but years of hard-earned trust held her in place. Besides… there was nowhere else for her to go now, no path but the one that followed him into darkness.
"Let's go."
No one dared block his way. The folding blade, still dripping, rested in his hand.
The crowd scattered—but within the chaos, Lloyd found his next target with ease. His arm moved—he hurled the blade.
A passenger, too slow to flee, was pinned to his seat. Before he could react, searing white flames erupted from within him, burning through flesh as his screams tore the air.
Lloyd walked over at an unhurried pace, retrieving the blade as he passed. In the flickering light, Selu saw the handle clearly—lined with fine, backward-facing barbs.
A weapon made for him. Blood would flow along its grooves, feeding the blade.
"Stop hiding. Come out together."
In a witcher's sight, secret blood could never truly be concealed. Like fire in darkness—even the faintest spark betrayed itself.
Suddenly, he turned—swift as lightning—dragging Selu aside as his blade swept down, cutting apart a passenger who had crept up behind him.
The silver-edged blade split skull and body alike, cleaving the figure in two. Twisted organs spilled forth in a torrent of blood, like a slaughterhouse unbound.
Selu forced herself not to look.
She knew this cruelty was unnecessary. Yet Lloyd moved as though venting something buried deep within him—slaughtering every Remnant with merciless precision.
He did not know what Bishop Lawrence had promised them. Nor why they had accepted the secret blood.
He did not care.
They were enemies. And enemies existed only to be killed.
Those who could flee had already escaped. The carriage, paradoxically, grew emptier—yet more Remnants poured in.
The ordinary passengers were beneath notice. Their target was Lloyd… or rather, Selu behind him.
One hand held her tight; the other wielded the blade in relentless arcs.
In the cramped space, its reach was limited. The Remnants, recovering from their fear, began to react. One drew a pistol—
—but before the trigger could be pulled, a nail-sword pierced his skull, pinning him to the wall. White fire followed, devouring him from within.
"What a nuisance…"
Lloyd frowned, raising the Winchester from his coat. He fired.
Pellets scattered, tearing through flesh. Fear had already cleared the innocents—those who remained were enemies. He no longer cared for restraint.
Bodies staggered under the impact. Another shot rang out—heads shattered one after another.
If even these Remnants had found him, then Bishop Lawrence could not be far.
The thought brought a flicker of irritation. He quickened his pace—
—and stopped.
A flash of steel cut his path.
The man's sword descended—but Lloyd raised his beloved shotgun just in time. The blade struck the barrel, halted.
He cursed, lunging forward with a kick. The man slipped back, evading, then surged again—steel flashing.
Troublesome.
Lloyd twisted aside, releasing Selu's hand.
The man fought with fury—perhaps for fallen comrades. Lloyd didn't care. In fact, he almost laughed.
Only one of them dared face him.
The others watched, frozen in fear—and that pleased him.
Death could ignite anger… but excessive brutality bred terror. And terror ruled them all.
All but this one.
"You're not bad."
Lloyd moved—fast as thunder.
The descending blade tried to withdraw—but his hand seized it. His grip was iron. The man could not pull free.
Blood ran down the edge.
Cold metal pressed against his forehead.
The Winchester fired.
His skull burst apart in a spray of gore.
A nightmare worse than any demon.
At last, someone screamed in despair. Gunfire erupted—bullets poured toward Lloyd.
He lifted the corpse before him like a shield and charged straight through the barrage, slamming into the carriage wall.
He tore the blade free from where it had lodged—limbs fell, severed.
Silence returned, heavy and final.
Turning back, Lloyd extended a hand to Selu, who stood amid the blood.
"Time's running out. We need to move."
But this time, she did not respond.
She stared at his blood-soaked hand, fighting the urge to retch.
"You… are more like a demon than any demon."
"Perhaps."
He seemed indifferent. Yet something in him had shifted—an urgency, a tension, as though something inevitable was closing in.
Regardless of her will, he seized her and dragged her onward.
The next carriage awaited.
When the door opened, fear flooded the space before he even stepped inside. Faces turned pale. The air tightened.
They were trapped with a monster.
Lloyd ignored their stares.
"Move."
No one did.
Until he raised the blade.
Then, a narrow path opened.
"D–Devil!"
An old woman collapsed into terror, her voice breaking into accusation.
Whispers spread—fearful, hateful.
Lloyd paid them no mind.
They understood nothing.
Like lambs within a fence—their world ended at its borders.
Then—movement.
From both sides, someone lunged.
Lloyd felt the killing intent. He could have struck first—
But something was wrong.
No taint. No scent of secret blood.
His blade faltered.
Pain exploded at his side.
A dagger pierced his abdomen. More blades followed, striking from the crowd.
"Ordinary people…?"
For a fleeting second, he did not understand.
Then he almost laughed at himself.
Not all drank the secret blood. Not all knew of demons.
"Remnants?"
No answer.
Only anger.
"So that's it… sometimes, you can't judge a 'monster' by corruption alone."
His voice dropped.
Then he moved.
Power surged through him—terrible, unrestrained. The blade flashed, too fast to follow. Only the howl of its passage remained—
—and the rising crimson.
Each cut found a throat.
Human bodies were fragile things. No screams came—only choking hands pressed to fatal wounds, as life slipped away.
At last, the old woman broke. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out against him.
"You will go to hell!"
"Then I look forward to it, madam!"
Lloyd dragged Selu forward, stepping over the dead, muttering to himself—
"I've killed priests… knights of the sanctuary… and now I'm on my way to kill a former cardinal. My greatest wish? To heap dung across every inch of the Seven Hills. And if I could set Saint Naro Cathedral ablaze—so much the better."
The final door opened.
A blade of icy wind swept through, driving out the suffocating stench of blood.
Lloyd turned back, offering the old woman a courteous smile.
"Thank you for your blessing, madam. May you have a pleasant day."