What, exactly, was a demon?
As Banir twisted into one before his very eyes, and as Lloyd fought him in a desperate struggle, the question kept returning to the demon hunter's mind.
Banir bore certain similarities to Sabo. Neither had undergone specialization or training before being injected with Secret Blood. Flesh and will such as theirs could never hope to command that forbidden power. Inevitably, they succumbed to madness, spiraled out of control, and became loathsome monsters.
Yet they differed from ordinary demons.
Even after their transformation was complete, fragments of reason still lingered within them.
Sabo had been the clearest example. He had retained enough awareness to resist corruption, enough to converse normally with Lloyd. Banir, however, was far inferior. A sliver of sanity remained inside him, but it was little more than the instinctive awareness of a beast.
Driven by survival, Banir fled through the darkness, evading Lloyd's pursuit. His elongated limbs propelled him forward with terrifying speed, carrying him across the chamber so swiftly that even Lloyd struggled to keep pace.
But this place was still a cage.
There was nowhere left to run.
And then the officers arrived.
Lloyd could not help but admire their courage—and their professionalism.
The battle raging here was nothing short of hell. Scalding steam exploded outward in violent waves, shockwaves rattling the tunnels. Any sane person would have turned and fled long ago.
Then again, how could ordinary people know demons even existed?
Passing the frozen figure of Press, the fleeting glow of a Dragon's Breath round illuminated the inferno.
For a brief moment, the darkness surrendered.
Water pooled across the floor, mingling with rivers of blood. Countless cracks scarred the walls and ground alike. No one could possibly imagine the ferocity of the battle that had taken place here before they arrived.
Banir lurked not far away.
His body had completed its mutation.
Several times larger than before, he had become a grotesque mass of flesh. Every victim he slaughtered left behind severed remains, and those remnants had fused into his own body. Eve caught sight of the abomination as well. The light lasted only seconds, but the image burned itself permanently into her memory.
Sharp claws erupted from his arms, splitting each hand into two grotesque halves. Several of these unnaturally long limbs extended from his bloated torso. At the center sat a swollen, pallid abdomen. His lower body had withered away, his shriveled feet hanging uselessly in the air. He no longer stood upon legs, relying instead on countless arms clawing against the ground to drag his bulk forward.
Press doubled over, retching.
Viscous crimson fluids stretched between the writhing limbs like strands of flesh. Deep within that nightmare, Banir's head could still be seen.
A deathly pale face.
A twisted smile.
With the aid of hallucinogens, he had died in bliss.
"W-What... is that thing..."
Press could barely move.
Fear had wrapped its fingers around his throat.
"A demon."
Lloyd's reply was cold and matter-of-fact.
White flames reflected along the edge of his folding blade. His armor was covered in deep scratches, silent testimony to whatever horrors he had endured moments earlier.
"A... demon..."
Press repeated the word under his breath, tasting the terror hidden within it.
Then realization struck.
That voice...
It sounded familiar.
His eyes widened as he stared at the burning figure before him.
"Lloyd? Lloyd Holmes!"
The shout echoed through the darkness.
But Lloyd did not answer.
He exploded forward.
At the same instant, Banir accelerated as well.
Several elongated arms lifted the swollen mass of his body as he raced through the darkness. He resembled a monstrous spider. Bone blades stabbed into walls and stone alike, producing shrill screeches as they carved their path.
Lloyd stayed right on his heels.
His shotgun thundered repeatedly.
Muzzle flashes erupted one after another.
Every blast was accompanied by the demon's agonized screams as limbs shattered and thick blood splattered across the battlefield.
In a distant corner, Donas was drenched by the flying gore.
He could not even scream.
All he could do was watch the monsters kill each other.
Banir unleashed a piercing shriek.
Several elongated arms swept toward Lloyd, bone blades slashing through the darkness.
The folding blade met them head-on.
Metallic shrieks erupted from the collision.
The bones were astonishingly hard.
For a moment, even Lloyd's blade failed to sever them.
Yet instead of retreating, Lloyd grabbed one of the bone blades with his free hand.
As Banir attempted to pull back, Lloyd surged forward alongside the retreating limb, forcing his way closer.
Banir was troublesome.
Far more troublesome than the countless lesser demons Lloyd routinely butchered.
Creatures that abandoned their human form entirely were always unpredictable.
Just as before, the moment Lloyd entered striking distance, the monster reacted.
Every bone blade struck at once.
It was as though Banir had thrown every fist he possessed in a single attack.
Dozens of blades crashed down simultaneously.
Like a storm of swords.
They hammered against Lloyd's armor, scattering dazzling sparks while driving him backward through sheer force.
This exchange had repeated itself countless times already.
Lloyd could not get close.
Banir could not penetrate the divine armor.
Neither side could gain the advantage.
But this time was different.
The instant Lloyd was forced backward, he pulled the trigger.
At point-blank range.
The shotgun's muzzle was nearly pressed against the arm.
Thunder erupted.
The limb disintegrated beneath the blast.
Fragments of flesh and bone rained to the floor.
For a fleeting moment, Lloyd found himself missing the Nail Swords of the Demon Hunting Order.
They wore down quickly, certainly, but few weapons were as effective against demons.
His folding blade possessed a coating of holy silver as well, yet only along the edge. Holy silver was precious, and the amount used had been deliberately limited. The reduced coverage greatly shrank its effective killing area, leaving Lloyd unable to cleanly sever limbs with a single strike on many occasions.
He retrieved several shells.
The shotgun spat out steaming casings.
Reloading with practiced efficiency, Lloyd continued fighting while gradually driving Banir backward, keeping the surviving officers behind him.
"Get them out of here, Eve!"
His voice rang through the darkness.
"This isn't a place for you."
Eve immediately broke into a run.
She had not yet decided whether she could truly accept Lloyd again, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty:
When it came to matters like this, Lloyd was the expert.
And amateurs were wise to listen to experts.
She signaled for Press to retreat toward the tunnel they had entered from while searching the darkness for any surviving officers.
Fortunately, most of them possessed a strong instinct for survival.
During Lloyd's desperate effort to hold back the demon, many had already escaped.
"It really is you, isn't it, Lloyd?!"
Press's voice echoed again as he ran.
This was hardly the ideal moment for old friends to reunite.
Yet he could not stop himself.
Over the years, he had accompanied the detective on countless investigations. Lloyd always took the lead, chasing bizarre and inexplicable cases wherever they appeared.
And somehow, Press had never once found himself in real danger.
For the first time, a thought occurred to him.
Maybe every strange case had ended the same way.
Maybe Lloyd had always been fighting monsters like these in the shadows.
Maybe afterward he would simply brush the whole thing aside, return as if nothing had happened, and occasionally extort a few meals out of him for good measure.
The detective was infuriating.
Absolutely infuriating.
Yet at this moment, he had never seemed more dependable.
"Don't die, Lloyd!"
Press shouted.
His voice carried genuine concern.
His legs, however, moved even faster.
Without looking back once, he sprinted through the darkness at full speed—a habit suspiciously reminiscent of Lloyd himself.
Lloyd, of course, noticed none of this.
Nor could he have imagined the whirlwind of thoughts racing through Press's mind.
At this moment, only one question remained in his own.
How to kill Banir.
He was the hunter.
And Banir was the prey.