"Target confirmed. Mental state stable."
A fine drizzle veiled the world as the security squad that had rushed in afterward swiftly restrained Lloyd. Moments later, medical personnel surrounded both men, beginning a thorough examination.
Lloyd obediently sat atop a heap of twisted steel, allowing the white-coated doctors to prod and inspect him however they pleased. Every so often, someone would pull down his eyelid to scrutinize the reaction of his pupils. Night Owl, meanwhile, had finally been lifted onto a stretcher. With the crushing burden stripped away at last, he slipped into unconsciousness before anyone knew where the medics carried him.
Heavy lifting cables descended slowly along the overhead rails, fastening themselves one by one onto the Black Angel before hoisting the grotesque Divine Armor into the air. Rain washed over the blood that stained its body, gathering into pale crimson streams that dripped steadily to the ground.
As though something deep within had been stirred awake, the Black Angel moved once more.
Its shattered wings folded inward, slowly enclosing its entire frame until it had cocooned itself once again into that pitch-black, egg-like shell.
At the same time, the masses of swollen flesh shriveled and withered away, retreating beneath the armor's steel plating. The scarlet eye embedded within its faceplate cracked apart, leaving behind nothing but an empty black slit—a soulless shell forged from iron.
"How do you feel, Lloyd?"
The elevator platform descended to ground level as Merlin and Nikola approached.
Merlin had already returned to that cold, hollow expression of his. For the sake of a beautiful ideal, they had all learned to bury their emotions beneath layers of reason.
"Not bad. The corruption is real," Lloyd answered without hesitation. "But it only clouds my judgment to a certain extent. It isn't capable of controlling me."
Then he patted the mangled remains beneath him—the Sword Dancer.
"For example, this thing. I only wanted to disable it... but that feeling..."
"It amplified the darkest parts of your emotions. The malice people never dare acknowledge. Is that what you mean?"
Merlin answered before Lloyd could finish.
He understood all too well. After years of research, although the Demons' power remained bizarre and elusive, that shapeless force had gradually taken on the outline of something humanity could finally begin to comprehend.
"...Yeah. Something like that."
Lloyd nodded.
"It made me more aggressive. More furious. But only by nudging me in that direction. In the end... I was still able to keep control."
He looked up at the Black Angel as it disappeared along the rails overhead.
It was a double-edged sword.
Fortunately, it was one he believed he could wield without letting it slip from his grasp.
"We've gathered enough data," Merlin said as he glanced over the records in his hands. Almost casually, he added, "Honestly... you're probably the ideal pilot for the Black Angel."
"Me?"
Lloyd barely paused to think before shaking his head.
"I'll pass."
Merlin blinked in surprise.
"Really? I thought you'd love it. There's no denying how powerful it is."
"It is powerful," Lloyd admitted, "but every strength comes with a weakness."
He thought for a moment before continuing.
"It isn't like carrying a sword or a gun. I can't keep it by my side wherever I go, can I? Besides..."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"I'm already strong enough."
"Metatron's Authority gives me protection, and my own mobility and stability aren't inferior to the armor's."
He paused briefly.
"In fact, if I had to fight the Sword Dancer again, I'm confident I could bring it down the way a Demon Hunter should."
Destroy its propulsion system, and the Sword Dancer's threat would plummet.
Once stripped of its mobility, that bloated, cumbersome frame would never be able to keep pace with a nimble Demon Hunter. Its external armor looked impenetrable—but only when facing another Divine Armor, or another monstrous abomination.
Just as in a duel between knights, the narrow gaps between the armor plates were its deadliest weakness.
Lloyd was certain that a single thrust through one of those seams would be enough to pierce straight into the cockpit.
"It certainly can't compete with ordinary weapons in portability," Merlin admitted. "That's precisely why we've invested so heavily in developing the Midgard Serpent System."
He folded the documents beneath one arm.
"I won't speak for anywhere else. But within Old Dunling, we're quite confident in our rapid deployment capabilities."
After years of expansion under the Purification Agency, Old Dunling had quietly transformed into an enormous fortress.
Its citizens simply had no idea.
The colossal Serpent coiled around Midgard had long since wrapped its immense body throughout every district of Old Dunling—even stretching across Inglvig itself. Working in tandem with the Watcher System, it allowed rapid-response teams led by Lancelot to appear on any battlefield within moments of a Demon's emergence.
Once the fighting ended, the mysterious Cleanup Division would take over.
Damaged streets.
Scattered corpses.
Terrified witnesses.
Everything vanished beneath their hands until the entire incident resembled nothing more than a strange nightmare.
And when morning came, it was as though none of it had ever happened.
"...That's true."
Lloyd couldn't deny it.
The Purification Agency and the Demon Hunter Order represented two completely different philosophies.
One marched toward the future.
The other clung ever tighter to the past.
"But the Black Angel still has one thing I can't ignore."
His voice softened.
"Its ability to travel through the Gap."
For now, that remained a secret shared only between him and Merlin.
Merlin nodded.
"I'll have the Black Angel sealed away. As for strengthening both you and the armor, we'll discuss that later."
His expression grew thoughtful.
"And regarding the Gap..."
Today's trial had yielded far more than anyone expected.
Not only had it revealed the future direction of Divine Armor development, but it had also exposed something deeply unsettling hidden within the Gospel Church.
They were nowhere near as simple as they appeared.
"We'll need to discuss that carefully."
He offered Lloyd a faint smile.
"But that can wait."
"Get some rest."
Lloyd rose to his feet.
A sharp sting spread through his body with the movement, the strongest pain centered at the back of his neck.
Inside the Black Angel, tendrils of living flesh had connected directly to his nervous system.
He reached up and gently touched the wound beneath his collar.
Tiny punctures remained.
They hadn't been made by electrodes.
Those fleshy tendrils had burrowed beneath his skin like countless microscopic limbs, intertwining themselves with his nerves before intercepting every command his brain sent to his body—and redirecting those commands into the armor itself.
Though he had piloted Divine Armor only a handful of times, Lloyd could already sense how profoundly unnatural the process was.
Oddly enough...
He found himself barely caring.
Perhaps he had simply blamed everything on the Grail Flesh.
After all, he and the Black Angel shared the same origin to some extent.
Perhaps that was why it had accepted him so completely.
"I'm heading home."
Lloyd nodded toward Merlin.
He had grown thoroughly sick of the underground.
For someone who had lived his entire life in darkness, few things were more appealing than an endless sky beneath brilliant sunshine.
Merlin waved him off.
Someone escorted Lloyd upward through the countless underground levels until, at last, he stepped once more beneath the open sky.
Holding the newly collected data close, Merlin hurried back toward his laboratory.
Every crisis seemed to be arriving at once.
There was no room for mistakes.
One wrong decision could tip the balance of their struggle against the Gospel Church.
Before he had gone far, someone stepped into his path.
Sir Gawain.
His face remained as resolute as ever, like the oath-bound knights of centuries past.
Only now, instead of medieval armor, he wore one of the Old Era Divine Armors—the pinnacle of modern engineering.
"Sir Gawain."
Merlin greeted him politely.
Though they both served the Purification Agency, he had never spent much time with the knights stationed beyond headquarters.
"Director Merlin..."
Gawain frowned.
"You know our current stance regarding Lloyd."
He hesitated.
"So why..."
"It doesn't concern us."
Merlin's tone was unusually relaxed.
"I know you believe in rules."
He smiled faintly.
"But some of our rules..."
"...are that there are no rules."
He continued before Gawain could respond.
"I'm fully aware Lloyd deceived us about his identity."
"And yes, he's carrying something unimaginably dangerous."
"But for now, he stands on our side."
"And more importantly..."
"He's useful."
"If we benefit him, and he benefits us..."
"That creates the strongest partnership imaginable."
Merlin spoke calmly.
Any lingering doubts he once held about Lloyd had vanished the moment Lloyd successfully traversed the Gap and reconnoitered the Frozen Sanctuary.
From that instant onward, Lloyd's value to the Purification Agency had skyrocketed.
The advantages far outweighed the risks.
"Besides..."
Merlin looked directly at Gawain.
"If we judged everyone solely by their pasts..."
"If even the smallest stain branded someone forever suspicious..."
"Then at least half this organization would be untrustworthy."
He chuckled quietly.
"Myself included."
He continued,
"Not everyone is as righteous as you, Sir Gawain."
"My own hands are soaked in blood."
"So are Shrike's."
"Blue Emerald's."
"Red Falcon's."
"Even Joey's."
"None of us are clean."
Gawain fell silent.
Debating others had never been his strength.
Before either man could speak again, Percival strolled over, effortlessly breaking the tension.
"Oh, don't look so serious."
She sighed dramatically before sticking out her tongue at Merlin.
"Gawain's always like this."
"Too stubborn for his own good."
Compared to Gawain, the two of them could hardly have been more different.
One was as immovable as stone.
The other carried enough laughter for both of them.
"Director Merlin," Gawain continued firmly, "the reason we've tolerated those... imperfect individuals is because even if they became threats, they would remain manageable."
"But Lloyd is different."
"You needn't worry."
Merlin interrupted him gently.
"Arthur and I prepared for every possibility the moment we first made contact with him."
"And it was precisely because we prepared for every possibility..."
"...that we've managed to come this far."
Gawain stared at him.
"...And if one day he truly becomes a threat?"
"Who will bear responsibility?"
Merlin did not answer immediately.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
Quietly.
Meaningfully.
"Someone will."
...
The carriage rolled to a stop outside 121A Cork Street.
The moment Lloyd stepped through the door, the roar of bustling traffic washed over him.
He didn't go inside immediately.
Instead, he slowly surveyed the familiar street before lowering himself onto an old sofa sitting outside the building.
It had long since fallen apart.
The leather upholstery had split open, exposing clumps of faded stuffing beneath.
After winter, Mrs. Vanrold had dragged it outside, intending to throw it away someday.
She simply never had.
So Lloyd sat upon that battered relic, quietly watching the street as though he were nothing more than another passerby.
He liked moments like these.
Watching strangers come and go.
Watching the mist drift through the air.
Watching daylight surrender to evening.
Only then did he truly feel like an ordinary man living an ordinary life.
A life filled with that indescribable warmth people simply called...
living.
It wasn't bad.
Come to think of it, the endless years spent as a Demon Hunter hadn't been nothing but bloodshed.
There had been gentle memories, too.
Spring and summer would bring rocking chairs beside the sofa.
A parasol would cast welcome shade.
Mrs. Vanrold would set out fruit and desserts.
On lazy afternoons, Lloyd, Mrs. Vanrold, and Sig would waste entire hours sitting there together...
Provided, of course, that Lloyd had remembered to pay his rent that month.
He wasn't entirely sure why he had suddenly wanted to sit there today.
Perhaps everything he had experienced underground had been too inhuman.
Too distant from ordinary life.
And now...
He desperately wanted to lose himself in something normal.
To keep believing the world was still beautiful.
"Lloyd?"
A hesitant voice called his name.
Lloyd looked up.
"Hm?"
"Sig."
"Just got off work?"
It was an automatic greeting.
Despite living under the same roof for years, the two rarely spoke, and neither truly knew the other.
Sig had once lost his job because of hallucinogenic drugs.
Now he'd quit.
Apparently, he'd even found new work.
"No."
"I just came back from a support group."
His answer surprised Lloyd.
It was unusually sincere.
Sig had always been afraid of him.
Though Sig believed he hid it well, Lloyd had always seen through the act.
He knew exactly what kind of terrifying monster he appeared to be in Sig's eyes.
Not that he could really blame him.
After all...
Coming home drenched in someone else's blood was hardly a reassuring habit.
"A support group?"
"Oh."
"Right."
Lloyd remembered.
People often formed groups like that—to encourage one another.
Alcoholics.
Recovering addicts.
Those struggling simply to keep moving forward.
"...You look different."
He studied Sig for a moment.
"In a good way."
"What happened?"
This wasn't merely looking better.
For the first time in all these years, Lloyd saw genuine brightness in Sig's eyes.
Something had changed.
"I made a new friend."
A faint smile appeared.
"That's great."
Lloyd meant it.
Sig had always been painfully withdrawn.
He'd arrived in Old Dunling as a child and had lived in the house behind Lloyd's ever since.
He never left.
He never spoke about his family.
Most days he simply stared blankly at the world around him.
Sometimes even Lloyd couldn't understand where all that sadness came from.
"Coming inside?"
Sig unlocked the front door before glancing back.
He was trying, in his own awkward way, to let other people into his life.
Perhaps it started with something as simple as holding an ordinary conversation with Lloyd.
Lloyd merely shook his head.
He wanted to linger a little longer in this ordinary warmth.
Though...
He had to admit.
Seeing Sig smile instead of wearing that perpetually gloomy expression felt strangely unfamiliar.