047 knew exactly what had happened. Deep beneath the city, within the Stillness Sanctuary, the secret experiment surrounding the Holy Grail had been underway that very night. He knew little of its true purpose, but one thing was unmistakable now—the experiment had failed. Corruption poured forth from the sanctuary like an endless tide, surging outward in waves that drowned everything in their path.
An overwhelming oppression descended upon every demon hunter's mind in an instant. A cold, profane distortion churned deep within their stomachs. Several hunters could bear it no longer; tearing away their iron masks, they doubled over and retched.
They were demon hunters—men forged through the Rite of Divine Grace and infused with Secret Blood, humanity's greatest defense against Corruption. Yet even so, 047 felt his resolve shudder violently.
The intensity of the Corruption surpassed anything he had imagined. It felt as though the slightest lapse in concentration would see his will swallowed whole by the darkness. He drew a slow, measured breath, forcing his mind to remain clear.
His gaze swept anxiously across the hunters behind him. One after another, the symptoms began to surface. It started with the body—nausea, trembling, weakness—then slowly invaded the mind.
That was the true nature of Corruption.
Like a black tide crashing against the dam of reason, it searched tirelessly for the smallest crack, seeped inside, widened every fracture, and eroded the foundations of sanity until nothing remained.
If even these battle-hardened hunters struggled so desperately, 047 could scarcely imagine what awaited those inside the Stillness Sanctuary. Not everyone beneath the cathedral was a demon hunter. Countless ordinary men and women had been there.
Most of them had likely become monsters the instant the Corruption erupted.
His fears were answered moments later.
From within the magnificent cathedral rose a chorus of inhuman howls. Their towering silhouettes, cast against seas of candlelight, resembled the ancient demons of forgotten myths as they emerged from the holiest sanctuary.
It was eerily similar to the tales recorded in the Gospel.
The abominations had crawled from the shadow beneath God's feet and turned against His heavenly kingdom.
All the impregnable defenses surrounding the Seven Hills had become meaningless. This time, the enemy had not come from beyond the walls.
It had been born at the very heart of the sacred land.
Even the evening breeze had grown thick, heavy with the stench of blood.
They still wore spotless white priestly robes, yet beneath the sacred cloth writhed grotesquely twisted bodies. Pale arms bulged with dark blue veins. Faces once familiar had withered into skeletal masks. Hollow eye sockets became endless black whirlpools. They whimpered as though chanting some blasphemous hymn, while streams of blood seeped from the corners of their mouths.
The corrupted priests gathered in great numbers.
They smelled the fear of the living.
Descending from the grand cathedral, they looked down upon the sword-bearing demon hunters like divine judges passing sentence.
It was a sight so revolting that even 047's iron will faltered.
Judging from the degree of their mutation alone, the Corruption had already reached a fatal level—and it had taken only minutes.
He could no longer imagine what horrors lay beneath, inside the Stillness Sanctuary itself.
The other demon hunters realized the same thing.
Fear crept into their hearts.
The hands gripping their swords began to tremble.
Before anyone could react, the monsters charged.
They hurled themselves down the cathedral steps with ravenous hunger, yearning for flesh and blood. Their mournful screams carried not only savagery, but unbearable agony, as though every roar were a soul crying in torment.
The hunters froze.
Like frightened prey trapped beneath a predator's gaze, their armored bodies shook uncontrollably.
They recognized the danger.
Yet none of them could raise a blade.
The monsters were powerful, yes, but together the hunters still possessed a chance of victory.
The true enemy was the Corruption itself.
It lingered everywhere, wrapping around them like thickening blood. The foul liquid seemed to seep through every seam of their divine armor, soaking into flesh and mind alike, gnawing relentlessly at their sanity.
They fought not only the monsters before them, but the crushing weight pressing against their very souls.
One mistake.
One fleeting lapse.
And a demon hunter would lose himself, becoming one more monster among the horde.
The abominations roared.
Claws and fangs tore through sacred robes.
Death had arrived.
051 had already lost every thought of fighting.
Only the bitter cold remained.
It felt as though icy needles had pierced every joint, severing every muscle in his body. Merely clinging to reason within that suffocating despair exhausted every ounce of strength he possessed.
He could not lift his sword.
He could only watch the monsters approach—
Until a streak of cold steel exploded across his vision.
"Do not surrender to fear, demon hunters!"
Someone roared through the despair.
Jet-black divine armor erupted from every gap between the iron plates, spreading like living darkness, while blazing white flames burst from within.
1.
Worthy of the name Medanzo.
Gripping his sacred spike sword, he stood alone before death itself and charged.
He had always been extraordinary.
Even before becoming a demon hunter, he had been the finest swordsman among every child raised alongside him.
His blade struck with terrifying speed.
Like a bolt of lightning, it pierced straight through a monster's heart.
Without slowing, he stepped forward, his body slipping past the creature in a seamless dance. The spike sword carved effortlessly through warped flesh. Wherever blessed steel met corrupted blood, searing white fire erupted.
The monster's head flew from its shoulders.
A heartbeat later, brilliant holy flames devoured the body whole.
It was a flawless execution.
Clean.
Merciless.
The headless corpse staggered several more steps before collapsing onto the cathedral stairs. It burned, writhed briefly, and finally came to rest at the foot of the staircase, consumed until nothing remained but gentle gray ash.
Behind the steel mask, an inferno blazed within the abyss of 047's eyes.
His gaze swept coldly across the remaining hunters.
Inspired by his fearless charge, several struggled free from the grip of despair. Though their hands still trembled with fear, they raised their swords once more.
At least now...
They had remembered how to fight.
"It is time to fulfill our duty," 047 said, his voice colder than winter steel. "We cannot allow these monsters to leave."
Saint Narlo Cathedral had become the epicenter of the contamination.
Under the Holy Grail's unfathomable influence, everyone within its walls was being transformed into far deadlier abominations.
Mad whispers echoed endlessly beside his ears.
The Corruption clawed at his mind without pause.
To ignore it completely was impossible.
All he could do was endure.
Like a sailor steering through a hurricane, he tightened every sail and refused to let the waves drag him beneath the sea.
Yet the tide of Corruption continued to spread.
The fall of the Seven Hills was only a matter of time.
Beyond them lay Fiorenze.
The monsters had to be contained here.
Invisible horrors shrieked all around them.
Their unseen claws scraped against reality itself, every piercing cry hammering despair into the hearts of the demon hunters.
The battle truly began.
More monsters poured endlessly from Saint Narlo Cathedral.
Most had once been priests who had faithfully served within its halls.
Some still retained the final fragments of their humanity. Blank-eyed, they continued murmuring sacred prayers even as they staggered forward, only to be cut down by blessed spike swords.
047 fought at the forefront.
His fury ignited those behind him, driving back the suffocating chill if only for a moment.
Again and again he swung his sword until countless chips scarred its edge.
Demonic blood flooded the holy staircase like crimson rivers, flowing downward to mingle with the ashes of the fallen, staining the sacred ground with the filth of sin.
Their armor was already battered beyond recognition.
Though divine authority continually regenerated shattered plates of black steel, fighting with such intensity beneath overwhelming Corruption pushed every hunter beyond human limits.
The fire that had burned inside them gradually flickered.
The monsters' endless screams smothered it.
Fear reclaimed them once again.
They did not understand.
They only suffered.
The battle had lasted far longer than it should have.
Yet it was as though the cathedral had been abandoned by the world itself.
No reinforcements came.
No new orders arrived.
Only the Medanzo hunters remained, standing alone against the armies of hell.
Throughout it all, 047 spoke not a single word.
He simply killed.
Mechanically.
Relentlessly.
He was exhausted.
Moments earlier, several monsters had surrounded him. Though his swordsmanship remained peerless, endless combat had dulled his blade. No longer could a single strike sever a monster's head. His armor still shielded him, yet every crushing blow left bruises blooming beneath the steel.
Behind his mask, he allowed himself a weary smile.
Looking toward the endless procession of monsters advancing beneath the cathedral's glorious candlelight, he suddenly realized something.
For a church that had seemed so empty...
There had been an astonishing number of priests.
Perhaps dawn was finally approaching.
The creatures now shambling toward him looked to be the last.
Hope flickered—
Only to be extinguished by a scream.
It came from behind him.
A demon hunter staggered unsteadily, clutching his spike sword.
Then he slowly collapsed to his knees.
Beside him stood another wounded hunter.
His blade had pierced straight through the back of his unsuspecting comrade.
Strange, broken laughter spilled from beneath his mask.
047's heart sank.
The worst had finally come.
Demon hunters avoided prolonged battles within heavily corrupted environments for exactly this reason.
Corruption never stopped.
It slowly twisted the human will.
Demon hunters could endure longer than ordinary people—but they were never immune.
And when one of them finally succumbed...
They became something far more terrifying than any ordinary monster.
Secret Blood granted them the strength to hunt demons.
Yet once they fell into darkness...
That same blood became the deadliest poison imaginable.
047 reacted instantly.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted toward the lower steps.
"Hold this position!"
he shouted to the others before launching himself forward, spike sword raised high.
The corrupted hunter writhed in unbearable agony.
His will remained far stronger than any normal man's.
Even amid his despairing screams, fragments of consciousness still survived.
He laughed wildly.
Yet tears streamed from his twisted face.
It was as though he were trying to apologize to the comrade he had just stabbed.
But he no longer controlled his own body.
Without restraint, the Secret Blood awakened completely.
Freed from the command of human will, it surged violently through his veins.
Within seconds, his body shattered the boundaries of human form.
Grotesque masses of flesh burst outward, reshaping him into something monstrous.
At that very moment, the awakening Secret Blood activated the Silver Binding Spike.
Cracks spread rapidly across the black divine armor.
Golden light shone through every fracture.
The seal was melting.
Consecrated silver flowed together with the rising Secret Blood, destroying his body while forcing it to regenerate again and again.
047's expression never changed.
Even with the Silver Binding Spike activated, the corrupted hunter would remain alive for a short while before the holy silver finished killing him.
He had to end this.
Now.
Without the slightest hesitation, 047 swung his sword at the man who had fought beside him only moments before.
The monster struck back.
Perhaps exhaustion had finally slowed him.
For only the briefest instant.
The corrupted hunter's spike sword slammed into his own with overwhelming force, hurling him backward several meters.
Wind screamed.
The monster attacked again.
Secret Blood still burned within its veins.
Blazing white fire continued to consume it.
A demon born from a hunter was infinitely deadlier than any ordinary abomination.
Especially beneath this unbearable Corruption.
The Corruption of the Holy Grail itself.
047 tried to evade.
Then agony exploded inside his body.
Blood spilled beneath his iron mask.
Death pierced his mind like an icy blade.
It was too late.
He could no longer dodge.
He would fall.
He would be wounded.
Perhaps he would die.
Or perhaps, in those fading moments between consciousness and oblivion, the Corruption would claim him as well.
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
Yet the greatest regret remained painfully simple.
He had never seen Old Dunling.
He had never opened the detective agency he had always dreamed of.
He had never lived as an ordinary man.
But the fatal blow never came.
The spike sword halted above his head.
It never descended another inch.
047 slowly looked up.
Before him was a face twisted by grief.
Still crying.
Perhaps this was the stubbornness unique to mankind.
Even transformed into such a monster...
The hunter still wished to die as a human.
His mouth struggled to form words.
Only meaningless whimpers emerged.
047 watched the movement of those trembling lips.
He understood.
Rising to his feet, he grasped the other spike sword.
Twin blades flashed through the air.
The grotesque face relaxed.
As though finally freed, it became strangely peaceful.
The burning head crashed heavily onto the stone floor.
At that instant, the Silver Binding Spike melted away completely.
The hunter's body remained kneeling.
From the wound in his chest flowed radiant silver light.
With his death...
The final monster fell.
Crimson blood poured from the magnificent cathedral like an endless scarlet carpet, washing down every stair until it flowed around the feet of every surviving hunter.
047 turned around.
Only exhausted warriors remained.
They silently withdrew their spike swords from the bodies of fallen comrades...
...and watched them die.
His breathing stopped.
More than one hunter had succumbed.
While he had battled the corrupted warrior, the others had been forced to kill their own brothers as well.
Yet the night was far from over.
The terrible Corruption continued spreading.
Throughout the Seven Hills, screams echoed without end.
More and more people transformed into monsters.
Soon enough...
The demon hunters themselves would join them.
For the first time, 047 felt utterly powerless.
Even Medanzo's greatest warrior could not save this doomed battlefield.
Corruption magnified every shadow lurking within the human heart.
At this moment...
He could not even save himself.
Perhaps...
Perhaps I should run.
The Seven Hills had already fallen.
Monsters were everywhere.
No one would notice his disappearance.
Run.
Leave this place.
Leave Fiorenze.
Leave the Holy Evangelical Papal State forever.
Something invisible seemed to coil itself around him.
A formless creature whispered softly into his ear.
Run.
Go to Old Dunling.
Begin the life you've always dreamed of.
If you stay here... you'll only die.
"Medanzo!"
A voice suddenly shattered the whispers.
047 froze.
Then terror overwhelmed him.
He could not bear to imagine what might have happened...
...if he had answered that voice.
Turning around, he saw a bloodstained iron mask.
051 looked directly at him.
"We should withdraw, 047."
"Staying here is nothing but waiting for death."
"Withdraw..."
Yes.
Withdraw.
Not flee.
051 was right.
Remaining here meant certain death.
But...
But...
His thoughts dissolved into chaos.
His hands trembled uncontrollably.
He was terrified.
Deep inside, he knew that agreeing to this decision might become a mistake beyond redemption—
A mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Then...
A low, thunderous rumble echoed from the cathedral atop the stairs.
Every demon hunter heard it with terrifying clarity.
It sounded as though countless monsters lurked beyond those walls.
Grinding their teeth.
Licking blood from sharpened fangs.
Panting with unbearable hunger.
Their claws scraped slowly across solid stone...
As they crawled upward...
From the abyss.
From beyond the Gates of Heaven.
A despair greater than anything before descended upon them.
It swallowed 047.
It swallowed every demon hunter.
Only now...
Did the darkest hour of the night truly begin.
There was no moonlight.
There was no hope.