Lloyd had no idea who had sent that letter, but judging from the secret blood sealed within it, whoever the sender was, they clearly knew something—and they certainly bore no goodwill.
Yet, just as Oscar had said, this was an open scheme, one that Lloyd had no way of refusing. Even without the letter, he had already wanted to meet Xielmans. After all, among all those from Old Dunling, he was the only person who had known Lloyd in the past, the only one who had actually met him. Perhaps some of the doubts buried deep within Lloyd's heart could finally find their answers through him.
He stepped across the soft grass, moving steadily toward the manor.
Sneaking inside was not particularly difficult. There were not many guards stationed here, and most of them were merely the retainers Xielmans had brought away from Florence. Perhaps under the protection of the Cleansing Bureau, they had grown complacent, never imagining that anyone would be able to find this hidden place.
And in truth, such a place was becoming increasingly forgotten. With the advancement of steam technology, people had abandoned the outdated towns and flocked toward prosperous metropolises. Old Dunling was like a massive magnet, drawing in everyone from the surrounding regions.
Under such circumstances, even the once-glorious estates gradually fell into decline. Compared to these abandoned mansions, people preferred to live in the heart of Old Dunling.
The manor was spacious yet worn, clearly showing signs that Xielmans had only recently moved in. Lloyd concealed himself within the shadows, quietly searching for any trace of his target.
After the Night of the Holy Arrival, the Church itself had fractured internally. The mysterious new Pope had been crowned upon the foundation left by that upheaval.
The memories of everything that had occurred within the Silent Sanctuary surfaced in Lloyd's mind. Beneath that steel mask had been a pair of eyes burning with the same fierce determination as his own. There was no doubt—Seni Lotair was a Demon Hunter. But when he put on that mask and accepted the crown of the Pope, who exactly had he been among the Demon Hunters?
The aftermath of the Night of the Holy Arrival extended far beyond what Lloyd had learned on the surface.
Lost in thought, Lloyd avoided one patrol after another. Among those guards, several vaguely seemed familiar. He believed he had seen them before in the Seven Hills. This only further confirmed their identities—they were all followers of Xielmans.
Lloyd stopped moving. He pressed himself sideways against the darkness, hiding his presence. Before long, someone walked past him.
The man leaned heavily on a cane, limping with every step.
Yage did not sense the danger approaching. Supporting himself with his cane, he struggled forward. Xielmans had not waited for him, and at this moment, the old man himself had no idea where Xielmans had gone.
Lloyd watched his back from afar. Back in the Rat's Nest, it had been this man who had launched an attack against him. Now, everything had finally been confirmed—at that time, Xielmans had been searching for the whereabouts of the Book of Revelation.
But there was no trace of tension within the manor now. These people seemed almost as if they were on vacation.
Had they abandoned the search for the Book of Revelation?
But that was the only power they possessed that could stand against the new Pope.
Or perhaps… they had gained an even greater source of strength?
No one could give Lloyd the answer.
He would have to uncover it himself, little by little.
...
The curtains were tightly shut, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. Glowing candle flames rose quietly, circling around a sacred cross as they burned. Melted wax flowed across the floor, spreading like a frozen crimson sea.
Xielmans had done everything he could to recreate the devout atmosphere of the Grand Cathedral of Saint Nalo, but he knew very well that it was impossible.
No matter how carefully he reconstructed it, this place would never be the same.
He slowly sat down in his chair, placed a pair of thick lenses over his eyes, picked up his fountain pen, and opened an ancient yet exquisitely decorated book.
There was no title, nor was there any author's name.
Aside from the decorative patterns carved into its cowhide cover, the book was simply a dull dark green. Countless scars covered the spine, as if it had been modified and expanded countless times, with new pages continuously added throughout the years.
This was Xielmans' notebook—or perhaps his diary.
In truth, it was simply the book he used to record everything. The things written within were far too complicated and chaotic, making even him unable to properly categorize them.
Xielmans was an incredibly devout Cardinal. He possessed neither extraordinary wisdom nor terrifying strength, but his understanding of theology was profound. Although, in the eyes of atheists, his actions might have seemed utterly ridiculous—devoting his entire life to an empty and nonexistent god.
Throughout his long life, Xielmans had analyzed the Gospel thoroughly, attempting to comprehend that mysterious deity through the limitations of mortal thought. From the very day he became a believer, he had begun recording everything, and he had continued until this very moment.
He opened the thick book.
Inside were endless pages filled with his handwriting.
He flipped through them slowly, finally reaching the end. Like his own dying life, the notebook had only a few remaining pages left.
His withered hand gently brushed across the clean white paper.
He sighed softly.
There were not many pages left, but they would be enough.
He was too old now. Even his thoughts had become sluggish. For a moment, he could not remember what he had intended to write, so he could only turn back and read through his previous entries.
This notebook recorded not only Xielmans' entire life, but also the recent history of the Gospel Church.
The changes within the Church, the rise and fall of the Demon Hunter Order, the hunt for the "last demon"—the Holy Grail—and the eruption of the Night of the Holy Arrival.
Within those records were also the internal struggles for power inside the Gospel Church, as well as the endless conflict between the Faith Faction and the War Faction.
Xielmans himself never realized that it was precisely his unwavering devotion to faith and his lifelong study of theology that allowed him to remain in a neutral position, coldly observing and recording everything that happened.
Furthermore, the great fire during the Night of the Holy Arrival had destroyed countless documents. Because of that, the notebook in his possession had become an invaluable historical record.
Yet even so, Xielmans never once considered such things.
He simply continued his research.
"Demons…"
Xielmans whispered softly.
His stiff thoughts gradually began to awaken. He lifted his pen and continued writing upon the blank pages.
The Night of the Holy Arrival.
That was a night that changed countless lives.
The old order was destroyed. Archbishop Lawrence betrayed the Church and stole the Book of Revelation. The once-mighty Gospel Church began its decline from that very moment…
A power that had endured for countless ages collapsed in a single night.
Xielmans was fortunate. Because he had remained neutral and never participated in those struggles, he had also been excluded from the experiments concerning the Holy Grail. That night, he was in Florence, avoiding the shadow of death.
Even now, he still remembered everything that happened that night with absolute clarity.
It was as if that memory had lost the ability to fade away, permanently carved into the deepest corner of his mind.
At that time, Xielmans had felt an indescribable sense of dread, as though some unseen existence was warning him.
Then he left his study and witnessed that horrifying scene.
Under the dark veil of night, the sacred Seven Hills had been completely consumed by flames.
Burning.
Raging.
After that night ended, all that remained was a scorched ruin.
Xielmans did not know what those people had attempted to do, but from the terrifying consequences left behind, he could vaguely glimpse the truth.
And afterward, his thoughts were no longer limited to pure faith.
He began pondering another question.
What exactly were demons?
"I searched through countless documents, but I could never determine when demons first appeared in this world. It is as if they did not suddenly emerge at a certain point in history, but had always existed alongside this world.
"Yet there is something strange about this.
"If demons were born together with this world, then during that distant and ignorant era, when humanity had not yet mastered iron and fire, when humans possessed no ability to resist them, those terrifying powers and unstoppable corruption would have spread like an uncontrollable plague.
"By all logic, humanity should have been completely exterminated during that age.
"And yet we survived.
"Not only did we survive, but thousands of years later, we even managed to temporarily contain the Holy Grail."
After a brief silence, Xielmans seemed to remember where he should continue.
His hand, dry like dead wood, tightened around the fountain pen. His lips moved slightly as if strengthening his own memory, while black ink slowly appeared upon the white page.
"We are still alive.
"Having survived in such an unnatural manner, could this prove that within some forgotten blank period of history, during an era erased from everyone's memories, demons did not exist?
"And perhaps, at some unknown moment in the future, they suddenly appeared within this world."
Xielmans suddenly stopped writing.
If this was true, then everything seemed to become logical.
But a new question immediately emerged.
If this was truly the case…
How were demons born?
Nothing could appear from nothing.
So where had demons come from?
"This world is strange…
"The world we live in possesses abnormalities. I do not know exactly where the problem lies, but every time I attempt to understand history, the past, and demons, I can always feel it.
"That strange and distorted sensation entangles me.
"I can only devote myself entirely to faith, attempting to use it to resist these feelings.
"Sometimes, I even find it astonishing that the rigid and stubborn Xielmans would temporarily abandon faith and investigate these unsolved mysteries.
"That does not seem like something I would do.
"But there is nothing strange about it.
"People always change."
Xielmans revealed a faint smile.
He often mocked himself within his notebook.
It was one of the few forms of entertainment he allowed himself.
But soon, his expression became cold again.
"It is like an abyss without an end.
"The deeper I dig into the past, the stronger that strange sense of contradiction becomes.
"Then I suddenly realized something…"
Xielmans' pen stopped.
He hesitated to write.
Somewhere beyond perception, he felt as though something was watching him.
It seemed that the moment he wrote down that bizarre truth…
No.
Even if it was not the truth itself.
Even if he only touched upon a fragment of that strange reality…
He would be killed by some unknown and sinister force.
This was forbidden knowledge.
Something unknown was guarding these secrets.
Yet at this moment, Xielmans felt no fear.
Instead, he felt an inexplicable joy.
He had been obsessed with this for far too long.
So long that he had unconsciously merged theology and demons into one.
Yes.
He should have understood this long ago.
Just as the Gospel stated—
The sinister demons were born from the shadow of God.
They were inseparable.
Xielmans' eyes became covered with blood vessels. One hand supported his forehead, while the hand holding the pen began trembling violently.
Suddenly, he understood.
It was as if the wall that had always blocked his thoughts had finally collapsed.
And at that moment, his imprisoned will was finally freed.
"Looking back upon the history of the Gospel Church, I discovered that we have always been fighting humanity itself… fighting against our own kind.
"Yes.
"That is the truth.
"The demons we have killed were all humans who had undergone corruption.
"But what about the so-called [Primordial Demons]?
"Just like a plague, there must be a patient zero.
"There must have been an origin point that began everything."
A sharp chill pierced into Xielmans' bones, flowing through his blood and tightening around his heart.
"We have always ignored these things…
"Or perhaps there has always been some unknown force preventing us from thinking about them.
"The demons we killed were originally humans.
"The only exception was the Holy Grail.
"That demon which possessed the very concept of demons themselves.
"The [Primordial Demon] known as the Holy Grail.
"But was it truly the only one?
"Do we really understand them?
"What exactly… are demons?"