Something seemed to be writhing faintly in the air.
It was something invisible, yet as it moved, it stirred up layers upon layers of ripples, disturbing everything around it. If a human being focused hard enough, they could just barely make out its outline.
The priest stared uneasily at the empty space ahead. Within that vast, deserted expanse, he could see a vaguely human silhouette, resembling a ghost.
As one of the few priests left behind in the Stagnation Cathedral to maintain this enormous relic, he had long since grown accustomed to the strange phenomena within these halls. After all, there was a saying that this was where the Demon Hunters had originated—the very place where the Gospel Church had first refined the Mystic Blood and begun its counteroffensive against the demons.
Those were stories that sounded more like myths than history, and the priest himself knew little of them. His position within the Gospel Church was far from high; otherwise, he would never have been transferred to this lifeless place.
He retreated uneasily until his back touched one of the ancient stone pillars. There were countless such pillars beneath the immense chamber, standing one after another, supporting the vaulted ceiling before disappearing into the endless darkness beyond.
Living as an ordinary man inside the Stagnation Cathedral was an arduous thing. The new Pope clearly had no intention of allowing news from this place to spread. Ever since his transfer, the priest had never once been permitted to leave. At times, he even felt as though he had already died, buried alive somewhere deep beneath the earth.
Yet everything he had endured before was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now.
He struggled to steady his breathing, but his heart continued to pound violently. He could clearly see the dust drifting down from the darkness overhead. And he could just as clearly see that the freely falling dust seemed to encounter something on its way down. Its trajectory bent ever so slightly, tracing out an eerie human shape in the air.
A grotesque apparition, like a wandering spirit.
The priest drew the short sword from beneath his robes. It was one of the weapons the new Pope had prepared for them, its blade coated with a small amount of Holy Silver. Officially, they were meant for the priests' self-defense. In truth, however, every one of them knew that if some genuine anomaly ever appeared, they would have no hope of resisting it.
His nerves were stretched to their breaking point.
Then, in the very next instant, the hazy apparition vanished.
It was as though it had suddenly collapsed within the air itself, dissolving into nothingness.
A hallucination?
Or something else?
The priest stood there in a daze, but before he could think any further, a suffocating sensation surged into his chest. It felt as though something had clamped a hand around his throat, leaving him unable even to scream. He struggled desperately, but his resistance was utterly meaningless. His face gradually turned blue, and in the end, he hung his head as though dead, half-collapsed against the stone pillar.
The silence lasted for several seconds.
Then the priest slowly raised his head.
But the expression in his eyes had changed completely.
Lawrence tilted his head back and gazed at the palace he knew so intimately from his memories. Seeing its present state of utter ruin left him momentarily dazed. He had never expected that his betrayal would truly succeed. Nor had he imagined that he would survive long enough to reach this point—let alone come so close to driving the Gospel Church itself into a dead end.
But he had not come to the Gospel Church today for the sake of nostalgia.
He lowered his head and looked at his palm.
The sheer reality of it felt strangely satisfying.
The deeper Lawrence delved into the study of the Authority known as Gabriel, the more keenly he became aware of how peculiar it truly was.
It was not merely the power to usurp another person's life. More mysterious still was the unknown mechanism by which that power operated.
It was something Lawrence had never encountered before...
But he had not come here today to study that.
Lawrence sheathed the short sword and began walking through the vast, empty halls of the Stagnation Cathedral.
He had only one reason for taking this risk today.
Ahead of him stood a black well so deep that it seemed capable of swallowing all light. Within it, pure darkness churned endlessly.
Lawrence encountered no one along the way. But that was hardly unusual for the Stagnation Cathedral. Throughout the many years under the Gospel Church's control, it had been maintained as the final fortress of the faith. It had been expanded and excavated deeper and deeper over the centuries. Much like the Cathedral of San Nalo, almost no one knew its full extent. It was entirely possible for someone to become lost within its depths and eventually starve to death.
Lawrence stopped at the edge of the deep well, his expression grave.
Long before he had betrayed the Gospel Church, while relentlessly searching for the truth, he had already sensed something deeply wrong about the Transcendence Well.
According to the laws of the Demon Hunter Order, whenever a Demon Hunter died, their body would ultimately be cast into this well.
It had been this way for centuries upon centuries.
It was impossible to imagine how many corpses had accumulated beneath the well over the ages. And more importantly, could these remains—each infused with Mystic Blood—really have remained so docile in death?
Then there were the voices that occasionally echoed within his mind.
The voices that came from the Heart-Pivot Network.
Through his research into the Authority of Gabriel, Lawrence had been able to confirm something astonishing: the Stagnation Cathedral itself was a colossal demon. It possessed an extraordinarily vast [Gap], through which it maintained a connection with every Demon Hunter.
But how had the Gospel Church accomplished such a thing?
The deeper Lawrence dug into the history of the past, the more clearly he could sense the distortion and discontinuity embedded within this world.
Standing at the edge of the well, gazing into its solidified darkness, Lawrence suddenly felt his vision twist beneath his brief scrutiny. The scene before him began to rotate, warping together like a vortex until, in the end, it seemed to swallow him whole.
"The Transcendence Well..."
Lawrence reached out, as though he intended to touch the strange object.
But then a sudden sensation arose from within his mind.
A profound, inexplicable nausea.
It was as if his hand had touched an invisible wall, one that resisted him, refusing to allow him entry.
For an instant, Lawrence felt a sharp, tearing pain.
He had clearly destroyed the will of this body entirely, yet now he could feel an unmistakable rejection. Something was attacking his consciousness, attempting to drive him out of the body he had taken.
He abruptly stepped back, no longer daring to approach the Transcendence Well recklessly.
"You don't know?"
A man's voice sounded together with the steady rhythm of approaching footsteps.
"You cannot approach it. None of you can. That is your forbidden ground."
Lawrence whirled around.
What he saw was a mask of steel.
The new Pope was dressed in his sacred vestments as always, a magnificent crown resting upon his head. Behind the steel mask, his eyes were concealed within darkness.
He stood not far from Lawrence, a trace of curiosity in his voice.
"Your actions are becoming harder and harder for me to understand. You never used to do things this pointless."
The new Pope remembered his previous confrontation with Lloyd. He did not know Lloyd's true identity, and had merely classified him among those "things" the new Pope had encountered before.
Those things were known for their efficiency and ruthlessness. They rarely wasted their time on anything unnecessary.
His gaze gradually narrowed.
Then, recalling the information he had previously obtained from the former Pope, the new Pope seemed to realize something.
Lloyd Medici's plan had apparently succeeded.
"Cardinal Medici?"
He spoke the name softly.
Lawrence remained silent.
Although this was not his own body, the mortal vessel had already been pushed to the limits of its alertness. Yet what Lawrence felt most strongly was not physical tension.
It was fear.
Not fear of the new Pope.
Fear of the unknown mysteries that lay before him.
Those few brief sentences had revealed far too much information.
The new Pope knew that he could not affect the Transcendence Well.
But this was Lawrence's first time reaching this place in such a manner.
Or perhaps...
Long before Lawrence arrived, the new Pope had already encountered many others who had used the Authority of Gabriel—and had already fought them over the Transcendence Well.
You...
Yes.
That was the only explanation that made sense.
According to Lawrence's deductions, at some point in the history of the Gospel Church, the Authority of Gabriel had been sealed away for reasons unknown.
Then what had happened to the Demon Hunters of Gabriel before it was sealed?
Such an Authority was far more troublesome than the Authority of Anar. It could move between different bodies, surviving within the shadows of history.
Changing vessels again and again.
Endlessly continuing until the present day...
Excitement and fear surged together within Lawrence, mingling into a complicated storm of emotions.
He stared at the new Pope—the mysterious man who had abruptly usurped the throne of the Pope.
Lawrence was curious about his identity.
He needed to uncover more secrets.
"Cardinal Medici?"
Another voice suddenly interrupted.
"He is not."
It was a woman's voice.
Beneath the vast vaulted ceiling, there were clearly only Lawrence and the new Pope facing one another. There was no sign of a third person anywhere.
Yet soon, they saw her.
In a shadowed corner, old dust continued to drift down through the darkness, tracing the outline of a human figure.
The woman had not taken possession of anyone's body. She simply maintained the form of a ghost, her voice appearing directly within their minds.
"It has been a very long time since the Stagnation Cathedral welcomed so many guests at once..."
She paused.
"...guests who are still alive, at least."
The new Pope gave a strange laugh.
Clearly, these two people were entirely different from the kinds of things he had known before.
And in his search for the [Truth] of this world, the new Pope had just found a new clue.
"So, if you have not come here to kill me, then what exactly do you intend to do, my guests?"
The new Pope was already accustomed to fighting such strange apparitions. He sounded confident.
"To verify a few things," the woman replied.
"You seem to know quite a lot."
Lawrence spoke while staring at the indistinguishable patch of empty air. The falling dust around her was constantly distorted and scattered, outlining a presence that could not truly be seen.
"Yes. More or less."
There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Though not as much as you know, is it?"
Lawrence's expression darkened.
Her words seemed to imply that she knew him.
But he was currently occupying another person's body. How could she possibly recognize him?
And, on the surface at least, Lawrence was already dead.
He had died in his battle to the death with Lloyd.
"You know each other?"
The new Pope found the situation increasingly interesting.
The three of them began quietly probing one another, each trying to discern the others' intentions.
"Actually, to some extent, we all have a certain 'connection' with one another, don't we?"
The woman gazed toward the bottomless black well.
She had no physical body, and yet both men could somehow feel the presence of her gaze.
It rested upon the Transcendence Well.
The origin of the Demon Hunters.
The origin of the Mystic Blood.
"It is coming."
The woman's voice broke through their thoughts.
Both the new Pope and Lawrence looked puzzled.
But very quickly, the new Pope sensed that familiar presence.
He drew his silver-bright nail sword, his body lowering into the stance of a predator ready to pounce.
A vicious killing intent erupted from him, spreading outward from his body like a tangible shockwave.
Lawrence also drew the short sword.
But there was little fighting spirit in him.
The body he currently occupied belonged to nothing more than an ordinary, timid man. If he were dragged into a battle of this scale, he possessed virtually no ability to fight.
"You can sense them?"
The new Pope asked.
This was an ability he had never seen before.
"I am simply familiar with them."
The woman remained elegant and composed.
"Like Demon Hunters and demons. We are each other's opponents. We understand one another, yet we also share the same origin."
Her words were calm, utterly unaffected by the terrifying killing intent filling the chamber.
Then the violent erosion began to spread from before the new Pope and Lawrence.
"Here it comes!"
In an instant, an invisible gravitational force twisted the surrounding space with brutal intensity.
A distorted singularity appeared.
Black arcs of light coiled around it.
And then, from within that central, invisible singularity, a mass of white bones reached outward.
An arm.
There was no flesh upon it, only bare bone.
Yet the moment the arm extended into the air, crimson flesh began to grow along its surface.
It happened with terrifying speed.
With eyes sharp enough, one could see muscles arranging themselves in precise layers, blood vessels forming and threading their way through the growing tissue, until newly formed skin spread over everything and concealed it from view.
It was like some forbidden ritual.
Within the black arcs of light, an invisible door had been opened.
First came the arm, passing through the threshold.
Then the head.
Then the body.
Just as they had witnessed before, flesh extended over the bones, and then came a sight far more horrifying.
A humanoid creature was appearing out of thin air.
Half its body consisted of exposed, densely packed bones.
The other half was enveloped in flesh, still knitting itself together.
And the "creation" was not yet complete.
Within a matter of seconds, a living humanoid creature stood before the three of them.
A newly born body.
It seemed not yet accustomed to its own existence, its stance wavering slightly.
Beneath its feet, the floor had caved in deeply. Part of the ground seemed to have been annihilated by the black arcs of light.
Or perhaps...
Perhaps the vanished portion of the floor had been transformed into this creature.
It seemed accustomed to such a posture.
Then its hollow gaze turned toward Lawrence and the new Pope.
The surrounding light illuminated its body.
Its skin was an almost sickly white, utterly spotless, without the slightest trace of impurity.
Then, in the next instant, a pair of deformed wings unfolded from its back.
The wings appeared soft, almost featherlike, yet viscous fluids still clung to their surfaces. The countless feathers intertwined with one another, producing a shrill sound like the clash of steel.
"An angel..."
Lawrence recognized the form.
When he had completely dissolved the Sacred Coffin, the bodies submerged within the flowing Holy Silver had possessed a similar appearance.
But then he clenched his teeth.
The pressure was so great that his teeth creaked against one another, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
The pain briefly brought him back to his senses.
And then he understood.
This was no damned angel.
This was the [Holy Grail].
For an instant, Lawrence felt as though he had touched some terrifying [Truth].
Every previous theory and conjecture he had made about the [Holy Grail] shattered completely.
What in the world was going on?
"You have seen it too?"
The new Pope looked at Lawrence and spoke casually.
"I thought you were supposed to be one of its kind."
Lawrence's expression was one of sheer horror.
He had believed himself calm enough to withstand anything.
But this mortal body could no longer bear the weight of his consciousness.
"What exactly is going on?"
Lawrence demanded.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
The new Pope shifted his gaze away from Lawrence and looked toward the angel.
"But this is the first time I've ever seen how they are 'born.'"
As he spoke, Saini Lothair walked toward the angel.
Blood flowed from his palm, washing over the slender nail sword.
Then blazing white flames of fury erupted across the steel.
The woman continued to observe everything from the side.
Her voice was soft.
"When the will of the void gains a physical form, it can interfere with matter."
She paused.
"But in gaining a physical form, it also becomes something that matter can interfere with..."
The ominous wings suddenly beat with tremendous force.
Countless metallic shrieks intertwined and overlapped, filling the vast cathedral as they stirred up waves of searing white light.