Black carriages rolled endlessly through the Lower District, carving deep ruts into the damp, muddy roads. One after another, they converged beside a twisted, grotesque structure. Distinguished guests stepped down wearing masks, escorted by attendants as they disappeared through its shadowed entrance.
The building itself seemed to open a vast and hungry maw. The scent of desire drifted from within, drawing people forward in eager swarms. They entered laughing, intoxicated by anticipation.
Shrike leaned against his seat, positioned perfectly to overlook the entire casino floor. Coins clattered against one another in a ceaseless metallic chorus.
He liked this place. In truth, he liked his work as well. Unless circumstances demanded it, Shrike rarely appeared on the front lines. His primary responsibility was maintaining peace throughout the Lower District and quietly regulating everything from the shadows.
The air was warm and comfortable. Around him, people breathed heavily, clutching their chips as though they were holding their very souls.
An immense fortune flowed through this establishment every night, and most of it would eventually find its way into the coffers of the Purification Agency. An organization of such scale consumed money at a terrifying rate.
An attendant approached from behind and refilled his empty glass.
Shrike lifted the goblet casually. Though he had run casinos for years, he had never developed a taste for gambling. As the man behind the curtain, he understood the rules better than anyone.
The house cheated.
No one could keep winning forever.
The casino could.
He raised the glass and took a drink.
Immediately, he frowned.
The familiar flavor was gone. Instead, a strange burning spice struck his tongue.
Shrike spat the liquor onto the floor.
At the same moment, laughter echoed beside him.
"If that had been poison, you would've died."
The man sat down beside him, openly amused.
Without even looking, Shrike reached into his coat and drew his silver revolver. At this distance, the caliber of Funeral Bell could punch through steel plating and still tear apart whatever stood behind it.
As the overseer of the Lower District, assassination attempts were hardly unusual. He had long since learned caution.
Yet when the barrel settled upon the stranger, Shrike finally saw his face.
"Could you not simply walk through the front door like a normal person?"
He lowered the gun slightly.
It was Lloyd.
Dressed as a waiter.
The very man who had poured him the drink moments ago.
Shrike had not noticed him at all.
Ever since perfecting his acting skills, this lunatic had developed a disturbing fondness for infiltrating places in disguise. Given his former line of work among noble ladies, Shrike suspected he had employed exactly the same methods there.
"I was testing your security."
Lloyd shrugged.
"One day that might save your life."
Shrike was unconvinced.
In his experience, Lloyd simply enjoyed watching him embarrass himself.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"Haven't seen you in a while. Thought I'd visit an old friend."
Shrike rolled his eyes.
"And you expect me to believe that?"
People like Lloyd never appeared without reason. He was a walking disaster—one of those men who somehow left explosions in his wake wherever he traveled.
Shrike generally preferred keeping a healthy distance.
"All right," Lloyd admitted. "There is something. Something complicated."
His gaze wandered across the noisy casino before returning to Shrike.
"You're not planning to discuss it here, are you?"
At those words, Shrike's relaxed posture vanished. If Lloyd had come with serious business, then it was worth hearing.
"Follow me."
He rose from his chair and led Lloyd deep underground toward his private office.
"It's been a long time."
Pushing open the door, Lloyd immediately made himself at home, dropping onto a sofa as though he owned the place.
Shrike sat opposite him behind a massive wooden desk.
"I think we need a stable line of communication," Lloyd began.
"A line of communication?"
"Exactly. Every time something happens, the Purification Agency comes looking for me. But whenever I need to find you people, it's practically impossible."
Even now, Lloyd had no idea where the mysterious Shattered Dome was located. Every contact had always been initiated by the Agency. Joey had once served as a reliable intermediary, but that intermediary had vanished long ago.
Everything connected to the Purification Agency felt dreamlike.
One day it existed.
The next, every trace disappeared.
"You people are impressive," Lloyd continued. "Or perhaps I should say your Cleaners are. An organization this large and powerful has existed in Old Dunling for so long, yet almost nobody even knows it exists. Maybe some people do know—but your Cleaners handled them perfectly."
Shrike's expression remained indifferent.
"The Cleaner Corps is... unique. Their efficiency is terrifying. Thanks to them, we've remained hidden in the shadows."
Then he raised an eyebrow.
"But I doubt you came here to discuss the history of the Purification Agency."
Lloyd shook his head.
"Of course not. I've experienced a few things recently. They've made me more curious about this city."
Old Dunling was far more than what appeared on the surface.
It was a vertical city.
A world stretching downward into endless subterranean depths, where darkness concealed countless secrets Lloyd had never imagined.
He fell silent, organizing his thoughts.
After a moment, he finally asked:
"Have you found the Apocalypse yet?"
Shrike's expression hardened.
The Apocalypse was critically important. Whoever possessed it could recreate the horrifying substance known as Secret Blood. Since Lawrence's death, the Agency had searched relentlessly for its whereabouts.
"No."
He paused.
"And honestly, that's strange. Lloyd, have you noticed something?"
"What?"
"From the moment Lawrence first appeared on our radar, he always operated alone."
The Agency had invested enormous resources into investigating every possible connection.
Nothing.
No associates.
No organization.
No hidden network.
Nothing at all.
"Some people have begun suggesting that Lawrence truly was a lone wanderer," Shrike continued. "Perhaps he hid the Apocalypse before the battle. Perhaps after his death, no one was left who knew where the forbidden treasure lay."
"It's possible."
Lloyd considered the idea carefully.
Then another thought crossed his mind.
"What about Florence? I heard they're trying to make a deal with the Purification Agency."
"You should ask Arthur. That's diplomatic business."
Shrike spread his hands.
"I'm not involved."
Deals between giants were rarely decided by men like them.
They were merely gears inside the machine.
"Still, the Agency will be contributing security forces during the delegation's visit."
"Why?"
"Because we believe the Apocalypse may be somewhere on Ingelvig soil."
Lloyd looked surprised.
"You reached that conclusion too?"
"Not everyone is an idiot, Lloyd."
Shrike leaned forward.
"If you could figure it out, why wouldn't we?"
After several internal discussions, combined with intelligence Lloyd had previously provided, the Agency had reached a disturbing conclusion.
"The Demon Hunter Order possesses something called the Stagnation Sanctuary, correct?"
"More accurately, it's their headquarters. Deep beneath Saint Naro Cathedral."
Memories surfaced.
The vast, silent halls.
The hunters trained there.
The Secret Blood implanted there.
"You told us that if a hunter's Secret Blood awakened beyond a certain threshold, the Sanctuary could detect their location."
"That's right."
"We suspect your battle with Lawrence triggered that mechanism."
Shrike's eyes narrowed.
"Which means the Order may not be coming merely for alliance or trade."
"They may also be searching for the Apocalypse."
For a moment, Lloyd was genuinely impressed.
The Agency had seen through far more than he expected.
Shrike seemed to read his thoughts immediately.
"The Purification Agency was founded beneath the shadow of the Demon Hunter Order."
His voice grew cold.
"Back then, your Order was more frightening than the demons."
Against the Gospel Church, no one in Ingelvig remained more cautious than they were.
The Church monopolized humanity's ability to fight supernatural threats. The Agency had been established in secret specifically to escape that control.
Had the Church discovered its existence in those early years, the outcome would have been simple.
Demon Hunters would have infiltrated Ingelvig.
And erased the organization from existence.
"Then let me ask you something else."
Lloyd shifted the conversation.
"Do you know anything about the immigrants coming from Florence? I've been investigating a group of smugglers recently. I think something about them is wrong."
Shrike sighed.
"There are too many of them."
Far too many.
No matter how many resources they devoted to screening and patrols, people still slipped through.
"And if Florence truly wanted to infiltrate agents into Ingelvig," he continued, "their best operatives would never be caught."
The ones who got arrested were simply the incompetent ones.
"So you're admitting your system has flaws?"
"I'm admitting reality."
Shrike shrugged helplessly.
"If someone is determined enough, they're getting in. Hell, crawl through the sewers and you can reach Old Dunling."
He pointed toward Lloyd.
"Look at yourself. You practically bled to death and still managed to crawl into the city. Imagine what properly prepared infiltrators could accomplish."
It was one of Old Dunling's unavoidable weaknesses.
Large-scale invasions could be stopped.
Small elite teams were another matter entirely.
That was precisely why the Serpent of the Court railway network existed—a vast web of tracks crossing the entire city, capable of deploying elite forces to any battlefield within minutes.
At the moment, however, the Agency had larger concerns.
"Though there is another piece of news from Florence."
Shrike seemed to recall something.
"You might find it interesting."
"What news?"
"Have you heard of Cardinal Miguel?"
The name stirred faint memories.
Faces flashed through Lloyd's mind before he finally remembered.
"One of the Gospel Church's Cardinals. Why?"
Men clothed in scarlet robes.
Princes of the Church.
Second only to the Pope himself.
Ironically, Lloyd had personally killed one of them not long ago.
"A report from inside Florence," Shrike explained. "The new Pope ascended the throne in haste. At first, the Cardinals controlled everything. Their plan was to reduce him to a puppet."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"It didn't work."
Instead, the new Pope quietly gathered supporters in secret.
Then, in a single night, he launched a violent purge.
Every significant opponent was eliminated.
Even through the retelling, Lloyd could almost smell blood.
"Cardinal Miguel was among the opposition."
"He survived?"
"He did."
Shrike nodded.
"He escaped alongside most of the dissenting Cardinals. They took enormous wealth with them."
The schism had wounded the Church severely.
Yet it had also achieved the opposite effect.
The new Pope now controlled every lever of power.
His authority stood unchallenged.
Even Shrike could not help admiring the ruthlessness of it.
No elaborate justifications.
No grand speeches.
Simply overwhelming violence.
Bloody.
Efficient.
And devastatingly effective.
Only one voice remained within the Church.
His.
"Many people fear the Pope's methods," Shrike continued. "Some even believe they could trigger the first civil war in Church history."
"A Church civil war?"
Lloyd nearly laughed.
"What are they going to fight with? Blessed swords?"
The Gospel Church had failed to keep pace with the modern age. Compared with Ingelvig, its technology lagged far behind.
"Which is exactly why the delegation may have another objective."
Shrike folded his arms.
"Purchasing weapons."
After all, Ingelvig was among the world's largest exporters of arms.
Lloyd blinked.
"Things are that serious?"
"That's the difference between you and Arthur."
Shrike's voice turned grave.
"You're a lone wolf. One assassin or a thousand assassins—it makes no difference. You only die once."
"But Arthur, the Agency, the Pope..."
He tapped the desk.
"We are responsible for nations, institutions, millions of lives."
Harsh though it was, that was reality.
"Think about what the Church fears most."
"Technological inferiority?"
"No."
"Loss of political influence?"
"No."
"The thing they fear most is the collapse of faith."
The words lingered in the room.
"Miguel fled with most of the Cardinals."
Shrike's gaze darkened.
"They don't merely represent power."
"They represent belief itself."
"If they openly rebel..."
Lloyd immediately understood.
"Centuries ago that would've been heresy."
He paused.
"Honestly, it still is."
Back then, the Church would have dispatched a Michael-class Demon Hunter to burn them alive.
Of course, most of those hunters were long dead.
"Exactly."
Shrike nodded.
"If Miguel finds allies willing to support him, we may witness the first true Church civil war in history."
He hesitated.
"Perhaps even a permanent schism of faith."
A heavy silence settled over the office.
None of it had happened yet.
The future remained uncertain.
But uncertainty itself was enough to keep the Agency awake at night.
No one knew what the visiting delegation truly intended.
Lloyd rubbed his temples.
The situation was becoming increasingly complicated.
Then, unexpectedly, another memory surfaced.
A man he had not thought about in years.
As a Medanzo Demon Hunter, Lloyd's duty had been protecting Saint Naro Cathedral. The opportunities to interact with Cardinals had been rare.
Most often, he served as their bodyguard.
Ridiculous as that sounded, it was true.
Then again, guarding a cathedral was little different from standing security.
Strip away the sacred rituals and mystical symbolism, and the Church was still just another machine—vast, complicated, and endlessly grinding forward.
Among the Cardinals he had known, one stood apart.
Cardinal Lloyd de Medici.
Calling him Cardinal Medici was probably less confusing.
An interesting old man.
Perhaps the most peaceful Cardinal Lloyd had ever met.
But that memory quickly faded.
There was still one final question.
One that had brought him here in the first place.
"Setting all that aside..."
Lloyd looked directly at Shrike.
"Do you know anything about the Rat King?"