The demon hunters had arrived.
They unleashed what could only be described as a devastating assault upon the manor. The guards of the Shermans family stood no chance against them. Those who had served for many years vaguely recognized who these people were, and their faces were filled with terror. Some even began to collapse into panic, abandoning their posts and fleeing for their lives.
But this was a massacre.
The demon hunters had no intention of allowing anyone to leave alive. Just as Shermans had said, many of the guards fled toward the railway beyond the fields, desperately attempting to climb aboard passing trains and escape this place. Yet the vast open land offered them nowhere to hide.
One body after another fell. Blood mixed with the rainwater pouring from the heavens, flowing across the emerald grass beneath their feet. It was as if even the sky itself mourned this slaughter.
Amid his desperate escape, Lloyd suddenly stopped.
He looked out through the window. The heavy rain descended like a curtain, and a faint mist rose from the ground. Through the blurred glass, he could see the manor consumed by flames. Beyond the estate, he saw the corpses scattered across the fields.
Some demon hunters stood beneath the rain, their figures resembling wandering spirits with no destination. They moved silently through the darkness, hunting down every person who attempted to escape. Occasional gunshots echoed in the distance—perhaps the remaining guards were still desperately resisting.
Lloyd withdrew his gaze.
The hand holding the black antimony throwing dagger disappeared into the shadows, while his other hand gripped the nail sword tightly. The remaining folding blades were strapped around his waist.
This battle seemed far from over.
Footsteps echoed.
And more than that—there were other sounds mixed among them.
Lloyd pressed himself cautiously against the wall. His body was already prepared to strike. The moment the enemy appeared, he would throw the black antimony dagger, use the explosion as an opening, and continue his assault until his opponents were completely incapacitated.
The door at the end of the corridor slowly opened.
Just as Lloyd was about to throw the dagger, he saw the person standing there clearly.
It was Yager.
One hand struggled to support his weight on a cane, while the other held a pistol. His body was stained with blood, covered in multiple wounds. No one could understand how a man with one crippled leg had managed to survive the demon hunters' assault.
He looked utterly miserable.
His face was pale, and blood slowly flowed down the length of his cane.
Lloyd and Yager stared at each other from opposite ends of the corridor.
At first, Yager's expression was filled with fear. But that fear quickly faded away. He raised his pistol with trembling determination and aimed it directly at Lloyd.
No matter what, Yager had never expected Lloyd to appear here.
The chase inside the Rat's Nest had already made him understand one thing—he was absolutely no match for Lloyd.
He was going to die.
Yet even so, he stubbornly raised his weapon.
"Lloyd!"
A hoarse, aged voice suddenly sounded.
Shermans walked out from the other side of the corridor. Surprisingly, the old man had not escaped very far.
His appearance caused the tense atmosphere to loosen slightly. Yager froze for a moment, staring at the old man before him with disbelief and sorrow.
Shermans' current condition was terrible.
His body was covered with sword wounds and burns. The swollen blisters had already dried and collapsed, wrinkled together like bark, clinging tightly to his aged face.
His once pure white clerical robe had been burned away, and what remained was soaked through with blood. Without knowing his identity, no one would ever associate this ruined figure with the once noble Cardinal.
"My lord!"
Yager hurried over with the support of his cane.
He could barely stand himself, yet he still insisted on helping Shermans.
"This is hardly the time for displays of loyalty between master and servant. The demon hunters of the New Church have surrounded this place. We need to find a way out."
Lloyd watched the two of them coldly.
Death could arrive at any moment.
Although he was capable of fighting against demon hunters, Lloyd had no way to protect Shermans while battling them. And if the number of demon hunters increased, there was even a chance that Lloyd himself would die here.
His gaze remained fixed only on Shermans.
He did not even spare Yager another glance.
In Lloyd's eyes, a man like Yager had no chance of surviving this situation.
After examining Shermans' injuries, Yager turned his wary gaze toward Lloyd.
"Lloyd… Lloyd Holmes."
Supported by Yager, Shermans spoke weakly.
At the same moment, the sound of gunfire outside the window grew fiercer. The remaining guards were still resisting, and their shots blended with the roar of thunder, shaking the entire manor.
"Old man, there are many things I want to ask you."
Lloyd spoke urgently.
There was no guarantee that a demon hunter would not suddenly appear from some hidden corner and stab Shermans to death. Lloyd did not care whether Shermans lived or died.
But he cared about the secrets hidden inside Shermans' mind.
"What are you doing?!"
Seeing Lloyd treat Shermans so roughly, Yager angrily raised his pistol.
But Shermans immediately stopped him.
"Ask, child."
Shermans gave a faint smile.
"Just as I said before… I will answer everything I know."
The old cardinal smiled bitterly.
Between life and death, there was little left that he could do. The only hope he had now rested upon Lloyd.
Although Shermans had never truly understood Lloyd, the former "Metatron" standing before him was the only person he could still trust.
This was not a good place for a conversation.
Nor was it a good time.
But Lloyd no longer had the luxury to consider such things.
He gathered all the questions buried deep within his heart and condensed them into one single mystery—the final riddle he had been chasing, the only remaining clue.
"Lloyd Medici."
The name caused Shermans to freeze.
He had never imagined he would hear that name again in this place.
"Lloyd Medici…"
Lloyd stared at him.
"What happened to him in his final years?"
He had no time to explain the mystery of his own identity, nor the fragments of those strange memories in which Lloyd Medici had appeared.
All he could do was summarize everything as briefly as possible.
"You… why are you asking about him?"
Shermans' voice became hoarse.
"I thought you wanted to know where the treasure of the Templar Order was hidden."
"Do you really think I care about something like that?"
Lloyd grabbed Shermans' blood-soaked collar.
His gray-blue eyes burned with rising fury.
"The secrets of the Church. The secrets of the Night of Advent. The secrets of Lloyd Medici."
"Tell me everything you know."
...
"Lloyd Medici…"
The three of them hid inside the wine cellar.
Shermans sat between Lloyd and Yager. Their backs rested against the stone wall, facing the entrance of the cellar. While listening to Shermans speak, Lloyd kept the black antimony throwing dagger in one hand and a shotgun in the other, both aimed toward the door.
Time.
At this moment, what Lloyd needed most was time—to uncover the secrets buried within the past.
That was why they had finally chosen this place.
Although it appeared to be a dead end, according to Shermans, there was another passage here.
Strictly speaking, it was not truly a hidden tunnel. It was simply that, unlike ordinary wine cellars, this place possessed two entrances. The other door led directly to the surface.
The manor was enormous.
At least for now, the demon hunters had not searched this area yet.
And that granted them precious moments of survival.
Shermans laughed loudly.
He held a bottle of wine in his hand and lifted it directly to his lips.
Although the manor had been abandoned for a long time, when Shermans moved here, he had brought with him many supplies provided by the Purification Bureau.
"I never thought I would be able to drink like this before death…"
Shermans stared at the liquid trembling inside the bottle.
Under the dim light, it looked almost like blood.
"Lloyd Medici…"
Shermans lowered the bottle slightly, his eyes drifting into the depths of memory.
"He was connected to Lawrence. He was connected to many people."
Just as Lloyd was about to urge him to continue, Shermans spoke first. His voice carried the slur of intoxication, but the alcohol was also dulling the pain that tore through his wounded body.
"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.
"Where should I begin?"
Shermans leaned against the cold stone wall of the cellar, his gaze becoming distant.
"Lawrence was originally nothing more than a puppet created by Lloyd Medici to control the Demon Hunter Order. But as Lloyd grew older, Lawrence gradually accumulated power in the shadows. The two of them fought against each other for many years, manipulating and countering one another."
"In the end, Lloyd Medici lost."
"Not because he lacked ability, but because time itself had become his enemy."
"That was when he withdrew from the world… the same thing you already know."
Shermans looked back upon the life of that legendary figure, and a trace of remembrance appeared on his weathered face.
"Of course, those were not the only reasons."
"When Lloyd Medici was young, he ruled over the entire Florence. But as time passed, everything he once held tightly within his grasp began to resist him."
"The Pope. The Cardinals. Lawrence…"
"He was the great man who led the world into the Golden Age, a figure whose name would be remembered forever."
"But in truth…"
"Everyone wished for his death."
Lloyd could no longer endure Shermans' slow recounting.
He interrupted.
"Go deeper."
"Was his final life really that peaceful?"
"Did he truly accept an ordinary death like that?"
Within those bizarre fragments of memory, Lloyd had seen himself bound upon an iron table.
Countless figures surrounded him.
He did not know what they were doing.
He did not even know whether the person tied upon that iron table was truly himself.
An old man gently brushed the forehead of a child, as if comforting him.
He hummed an unknown hymn, its melody echoing endlessly through the darkness.
Lloyd did not realize it.
As he moved closer and closer to the truth, his emotions were also being pulled along.
Like a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.
"Deeper…"
Shermans murmured.
"I do not know."
"After all, that was Lloyd Medici."
"No matter what he did, I would never have been surprised."
"Because that was simply the kind of person he was."
Shermans' voice was filled with admiration.
"However, after that, rumors continued to spread."
"People said he had never truly surrendered."
"They believed his silence was merely a period of preparation, a time spent gathering strength."
"The Cardinals were also wary of this possibility."
"After all, Lloyd Medici had controlled Florence for far too long."
"No one knew what secrets he possessed…"
"Or what kind of power he had hidden away somewhere."
"Continue."
Lloyd said.
He could faintly feel it.
This was what he had been searching for all along.
The answer to what Lloyd Medici had truly done during his final years.
"Some people said he was secretly planning a certain project."
"But no one knew what it actually was."
Shermans thought deeply.
In truth, signs of Alzheimer's disease had already begun appearing within him. There were many times when even speaking had become difficult, and his memories often slipped away like sand between his fingers.
But today was different.
It was as if fate itself had shown him mercy.
His thoughts were clearer than they had been in years.
And the fragments of that forgotten story were slowly piecing themselves together again.
"This is only my speculation…"
Shermans placed the bottle down.
"I suspect that Lloyd Medici discovered something within the Book of Revelation."
His expression became solemn.
"The Gospel Church possesses far too many secrets that cannot be spoken aloud."
"And those secrets can only be understood by those who truly hold power."
"If there is one secret that stands above all others…"
"Then it can only be the Book of Revelation."
"From it, we built the Gospel Church that exists today, and from it, we ruled the Western world for nearly a thousand years."
"It is a book of miracles."
Shermans stared deeply into Lloyd's eyes.
"We obtained the power of secret blood from it."
"But is that truly everything recorded within the Book of Revelation?"
"Even now, no one truly understands all the knowledge contained within that book."
Lloyd felt an invisible pressure descend upon him.
A sensation of being watched.
As if something hidden within this wine cellar was silently observing him.
"Lloyd Medici possessed power, wealth, and fame."
"As a human being, his life had already reached the absolute peak."
"But that was not enough."
"It was never enough."
"He spent his entire life creating the Golden Age."
"How could he possibly allow it to fade away?"
Shermans' voice became lower.
"This was the terrifying truth."
"Perhaps even a forbidden truth."
He had never been able to speak of these things before.
Because if he did, everyone would simply believe that he had lost his mind.
But today was different.
Today was his final celebration before death.
"He possessed a will that surpassed ordinary men…"
"But he was imprisoned by the limitations of a mortal body."
Shermans finally spoke his own conclusion.
"I believe this was what Lloyd Medici spent his final years doing."
"He was studying the Book of Revelation."
"And the secret blood he obtained from it created beings as powerful as you."
"So why would saving an old man who was already approaching death be impossible?"
Lloyd's pupils contracted.
He had no choice but to believe Shermans' words.
Because within those strange memories…
He had heard it.
Clearly.
The Blood of the Holy Grail.
"Lloyd Medici…"
Lloyd's voice trembled slightly.
At that moment, he suddenly realized that the power of Cardinal Lawrence was nothing compared to this.
This mysterious existence was the true terror.
A figure who had begun preparing his plans many years ago…
Perhaps even during the era of the Golden Age itself.
A conspiracy that had stretched across generations, continuing until the present day, still leaving behind its invisible influence.
"Immortality…"
"Only immortality…"
"Only by achieving immortality could he preserve that magnificent Golden Age forever."
Speaking caused his wounds to reopen.
Shermans lifted the bottle again and drank from it, but the pain became unbearable. He coughed violently, spitting the wine back out.
Blood mixed with the alcohol.
The two became impossible to distinguish.
A countless number of invisible threads had woven themselves into a vast net, trapping everyone within it.
No matter how brilliant the light became, it still could not dispel the shadow of the divine.
Let alone the fragile history of mankind.
Someone was hiding in the darkness.
Someone was manipulating the direction of the entire world.
Lloyd Medici.
For a brief moment, Lloyd heard that nameless hymn once again.
The melody was so familiar.
It spiraled upward, twisting through the air like an echo from another age.
Lloyd Medici had once hummed that song.
And so had 047.
It was like an invisible ghost, living within everyone's memories.
As memories shifted and distorted with time, the melody itself changed as well.
Or perhaps…
It was simply forgotten completely.
Without realizing it, Lloyd began humming along with the voice inside his mind.
The melody was soft.
Almost weightless.
But the moment it reached Shermans' ears, the old man, who had been half-drunk only moments before, suddenly froze.
That song.
How could he possibly forget that melody?
Many years ago…
That old man had been just like this.
Humming the nameless hymn.
Looking toward the distant horizon.
Footsteps suddenly echoed.
They came from the direction of the wine cellar entrance.
Lloyd stood.
He drew his weapon.
A blazing flame ignited within his eyes.
With his back facing Shermans, he stepped forward slowly.
And as he walked away, the melody gradually became distant, fading into the darkness.
"Perhaps…"
"Perhaps he really succeeded."
Shermans stared toward the cellar door with unfocused eyes.
A light appeared beyond the entrance.
Within that blurred, pure white radiance, a figure seemed to move.
Like an angel descending from the heavens.
Like a messenger come to guide him toward paradise.
"Perhaps Lloyd Medici never died."
"Perhaps he is still alive…"
"Somewhere in this world…"
"Quietly watching over us."
Shermans looked at Lloyd's retreating figure.
Then he burst into laughter.
Ignoring Yager's attempts to stop him, he raised the bottle once again.
And drank deeply from the wine.