The situation was somewhat peculiar.
Above Lloyd's head was a rust-stained metal ceiling, with rows of dim yellow lights stretching overhead. He was currently strapped into a chair that looked suspiciously like an electric chair. For all he knew, he might be turned into a charred corpse by a surge of electricity the very next second.
Lloyd's hands had been restrained to the arms of the chair. The restraints were, of course, incapable of actually limiting a Witcher's strength and were little more than decoration. Still, under the vehement insistence of the medical staff, Lloyd had reluctantly agreed to wear them. As they had put it, they knew the restraints were useless, but seeing Lloyd wearing them at least gave the medical personnel a little sense of security.
Humans really were strange creatures sometimes. Something could be completely useless, yet as long as it provided even the slightest sense of security, people could somehow find the courage to face dangers that would otherwise leave them uneasy.
"Mr. Lloyd Holmes. Profession: Witcher, detective…"
A nurse dressed in a spotless white coat stood before Lloyd. Her head was lowered, and her entire face was hidden behind the file she was holding, making it impossible for Lloyd to see what she looked like.
She carefully read through the information concerning Lloyd while he, within the limited range allowed by the restraints, quietly observed the woman in return.
She was not particularly tall. Her entire body was wrapped in layers of protective medical equipment, making her look as bulky as a fat penguin. A conspicuous emblem had been embroidered into the corner of her protective clothing.
A sharp scalpel descended along the fissure between the left and right hemispheres of the brain, piercing through the corpus callosum that connected them. Across the severed hemispheres, the brain's convolutions twisted together like a nest of writhing serpents.
"You people… scientists really do seem to have a thing for snakes, don't you?"
Lloyd could not help asking.
The symbol of the Perpetual Motion Pump was the same: an ouroboros, the serpent endlessly devouring its own tail in an infinite cycle.
"No… at least I don't like them. As for why, that actually has something to do with your Gospel Church."
The woman lowered the file. Through her protective goggles, a weary, almost listless gaze settled upon Lloyd. She then extended a hand.
"Abigail Branlin. Current director of Black Mountain Hospital. I'll be responsible for your upcoming experiments."
Lloyd stared at her with a strange expression, apparently not expecting the mysterious hospital director to be the woman standing before him.
Abigail retained the same exhausted expression. Her outstretched hand moved slightly through the air, as though that alone counted as shaking hands with Lloyd. She then pulled up the disinfecting respirator hanging around her neck. A deep, muffled breathing sound came from within.
"The Gospel Church was once the dominant power of the Western world. Under the protection of the Knights of the Holy Order, its missionaries spread your faith to every corner of the West."
As she spoke, Abigail walked to one side and began gathering various instruments. Lloyd had no idea what she intended to do next.
"So, in the beginning, everyone was your believer. But as your church declined and the faith became localized, people gradually stopped taking it quite so seriously.
"Our first director of Black Mountain Hospital and the chief technical director of the Perpetual Motion Pump were both staunch defenders of rationality in their youth. Yet as their bodies aged, they began believing in gods again. In the end, they even became fanatical believers themselves.
"The Perpetual Motion Pump and Black Mountain Hospital were both founded during the height of their fanaticism in their later years."
As Abigail spoke, she returned to Lloyd and rolled up his sleeve. She took a needle and drew blood from his wrist.
"Interesting, isn't it? Defenders of rationality eventually becoming servants of the divine. No one knows exactly what happened to them. They've been dead for quite some time, after all.
"As for the snake, that was something they decided upon while studying theology. In the Gospel, the snake tempted humanity and ultimately caused mankind to be driven from paradise. In the interpretations of many priests, the snake was regarded as the Devil, the embodiment of the sinful desires within the human heart.
"Because of it, humanity was expelled from a beautiful paradise.
"But those two old men came to a completely different interpretation."
"What?"
Lloyd asked with some curiosity.
He had once served as a priest within the Gospel Church himself and knew the contents of the Gospel well. He had heard more than his share of strange interpretations. Naturally, he was curious to hear how the founders of these institutions had interpreted it.
"They regarded humanity's paradise as a prison, and the gods as demons who had imprisoned mankind. The snake, which had traditionally been considered the Devil, was instead an angel that brought hope.
"It brought humanity the fruit called 'Reason.'
"From that moment onward, mankind would no longer be imprisoned by the illusions of paradise."
Abigail's voice became a deep mechanical rumble through the respirator. Perhaps she felt that drawing blood this way was too slow, because she simply produced a blood bag and hung it beside the chair.
Perhaps she also noticed the strange look in Lloyd's eyes. This time, she at least asked first.
"Witchers have fairly strong blood-producing capabilities. You shouldn't go into shock too easily, right?"
It sounded like a question, but Abigail did not wait for Lloyd's answer before getting to work.
"So, under the interpretation of those two old fanatics, the snake became a symbol of wisdom to us instead.
"Forbidden wisdom.
"Wisdom cursed by God."
"Interesting, isn't it?"
"Indeed. Very interesting."
Lloyd answered calmly.
In the interpretations of many people, God was sacred. Yet in the eyes of the Cleansing Bureau, everything had been turned upside down.
God was evil.
Paradise was an illusion.
Humanity needed reason to break free from ignorance, even if doing so meant falling into the hell of the mortal world.
"Ah… hold on a moment."
Abigail suddenly stopped what she was doing. She removed the filter cartridge from her respirator and replaced it with a new one.
Ordinarily, such a filter could be used for quite some time. But judging by Abigail's protective equipment, it seemed that she regarded Lloyd as some sort of gigantic virus.
Her wariness—and perhaps even disgust—toward him was impossible to miss.
"Am I some kind of virus?"
"Hmm? A virus? Viruses are acellular microorganisms. You're far too large to qualify."
Abigail answered.
Lloyd could tell from her tone that she was being completely serious. Utterly earnest.
For a moment, he could not decide whether she was genuinely answering his question or simply making fun of him.
"Oh, you mean all this protective equipment?"
She seemed to finally understand what he was asking.
The delay in her realization made Lloyd question her professionalism even more.
"According to Arthur's records, you are the last Witcher of the Old Order. Your body carries stable Mystic Blood and a False Holy Grail. Based on our calculations, your potential threat level is extremely high.
"As for why we're doing all this… you should understand that the corruption caused by supernatural creatures can essentially be regarded as a form of 'memetic contamination.'"
Abigail explained as she worked.
"The corruption of supernatural creatures can be transmitted and can linger. It is like books containing knowledge of supernatural entities, or paintings depicting them. Through different mediums, such things can influence beings capable of rational thought.
"What I'm doing is simply isolating myself from you as much as possible so that I don't become affected.
"After all, Arthur's records state that the corruption of the False Holy Grail appears to be undetectable by a Geiger counter.
"And you know, the first step humanity took toward fighting supernatural creatures was discovering their existence through Geiger counters."
"Then how do you intend to test me?"
Lloyd asked.
The New Order had yet to participate in the examinations being conducted on him. But Lloyd was certain they would not simply leave matters at that. There had to be something else waiting for him.
"That will have to wait until Merlin arrives. Because of your particular circumstances, this research is being conducted jointly by the Perpetual Motion Pump and Black Mountain Hospital.
"I'm the principal investigator. The Perpetual Motion Pump is only responsible for providing assistance."
Abigail lifted the blood bag she had filled.
She did not bother to stop the bleeding from Lloyd's wrist.
She simply watched the tiny puncture wound.
Within seconds of the needle being removed, the wound had already sealed itself. The blood disappeared, and beneath it, Lloyd's skin was completely intact, as though he had never been injured at all.
"Wow…"
Abigail muttered something under her breath.
"The poor little thing next door must be terribly jealous of you."
But with the respirator muffling her voice, Lloyd could not make out what she had said. All he could hear was the restless hum of machinery moving back and forth around him.
"Wait here for a moment. I need to conduct a little experiment."
"Aren't you afraid I'll escape?"
Lloyd asked.
There were only a few medical personnel assisting Abigail in the room. Not a single guard was present.
The only weapon capable of inflicting any kind of damage was the fragile scalpel.
According to the scenario Lloyd had imagined, when Abigail conducted experiments on him, there should at least have been several fully armed Old Era Divine Armors standing guard nearby.
Instead, the security here was practically nonexistent.
"No."
Abigail shook her head.
"Arthur said this is… what was the term? A relationship of trust?
"The Cleansing Bureau doesn't want to give up on you. Otherwise, the one holding the scalpel right now would be someone from the New Order.
"We're all trying to preserve this fragile trust."
With that, Abigail pushed open the door.
She did not go far.
The place where she intended to conduct the experiment was right next door.
When she pushed open the adjacent door, Arthur and Ovis were already waiting inside.
"He seems fairly cooperative," Abigail said to Arthur. "If you wanted to monitor him, why not use the observation room? Why do I have to run back and forth delivering messages?"
"Because a Witcher is far more perceptive than you imagine."
Arthur's expression was solemn.
"He would notice. And that would only make him uneasy."
His emotions were far more oppressive than his outward expression suggested.
"I think I understand Lloyd fairly well. He wouldn't simply surrender like this…"
Arthur smiled as he spoke.
"The New Order is plotting something. They secretly contacted the Queen and pressured me through her.
"But isn't Lloyd doing the same?
"He isn't the sort of man who sits quietly and obeys. He must be plotting something too."
"What?"
"I think it's revenge."
Arthur's smile faded slightly.
"He's a man burning with rage. He was willing to throw away even his own life just to kill Lawrence.
"And now the New Order has provoked him.
"No one knows what he'll do next."
That was what truly troubled Arthur.
The New Order and the Cleansing Bureau were both the same in one respect: they were pieces being moved by players sitting higher on the board.
The goals of those players became their goals.
And those goals were not difficult to understand.
Ultimately, it all came down to profit.
Lloyd, however, was different.
He was an outsider caught between the two sides.
Material interests could not tempt him.
And because of that, no one could easily predict what he might do.
"But will what the New Order said really work?"
Arthur looked at the bag of Lloyd's blood Abigail was carrying.
The crimson liquid seemed to radiate an ominous presence.
"Using Mystic Blood?"
"Who knows?"
Abigail shrugged.
"If it succeeds, it will solve the curse that has plagued the royal family for generations.
"If it fails…"
Her gaze shifted toward the frail Ovis.
Beneath his respirator, his voice remained a low mechanical rumble.
"It will only mean the death of someone who isn't particularly important."
"Don't be angry, Ovis. You know she's always like this."
Arthur tried to comfort him.
Ovis, however, did not seem to care in the slightest.
"So what do we do next? Are you going to extract and refine the blood?"
Ovis asked.
"No need."
"No need?"
"That's right. Mystic Blood originates from supernatural creatures. I don't know exactly how the Gospel Church accomplished it, but they succeeded in wresting extraordinary power from those creatures.
"More importantly, they somehow managed to stabilize blood with an extremely high degree of memetic corruption and allow it to exist within the bodies of Witchers."
Abigail drew a small amount of Lloyd's blood and held it up beneath the light.
The blood shimmered like a flawless gemstone.
"This is far beyond anything our current technology can accomplish.
"Just like the Ranger Project.
"We tried to reproduce their Mystic Blood, but only after we began did we realize just how enormous the technological gap between us and the Gospel Church really was.
"Lloyd himself is the perfect vessel.
"Over all these years, he has tamed the Mystic Blood within him, turning something once violent and feral into something docile…"
She paused.
"Of course, that's only true while his awakening remains at a relatively low level."
"You're going to inject it directly into my body?"
Ovis asked.
He did not seem particularly concerned about the experiment.
If it succeeded, he would live a little longer.
If it failed, then he would merely be bringing an inevitable ending a little closer.
"If we inject it directly, you might turn into a supernatural creature," Arthur said.
"And with the Mystic Blood inside you, you could become something even more terrifying."
"That's fine."
Ovis glanced toward the adjoining room.
"Isn't that Witcher next door? He looks like he can fight."
It was an experiment that could determine life or death, yet Abigail's demeanor remained remarkably relaxed.
Perhaps she had never taken anything seriously.
Or perhaps this was simply how she normally behaved.
"But don't worry, Ovis. You're not someone unimportant, you know."
Abigail grinned and reached over to ruffle his hair.
"After all, we don't get many opportunities to experiment directly on a member of the royal family.
"If you accidentally die, we can't exactly ask the Queen to send us another one, can we?"
She rubbed Ovis's head again with a cheerful smile before her tone suddenly changed.
"But cheer up.
"If this succeeds, you'll become the first member of the Victoria family to escape the Royal Curse."
Ovis closed his eyes, preparing himself to accept whatever came next.
But nothing happened.
He remained there in the endless darkness for a long while before finally opening his eyes.
Abigail was injecting something into a small white mouse.
"Don't be nervous."
She glanced at him.
"Conducting the experiment directly on you would be too wasteful. You're not nearly as healthy as you used to be."
Ovis said nothing.
He and Arthur simply watched the little white mouse trapped inside the glass enclosure.
First, Abigail injected Ovis's blood into its tiny body.
Almost immediately, its white fur became stained with crimson.
The tiny wounds covering its body, which should have healed naturally, suddenly refused to close.
No.
It was more than that.
Without any medical treatment whatsoever, the tiny wounds began to wither and decay.
It was as though Ovis's flesh and blood itself were some kind of deadly poison.
The curse of royal blood.
"Now then…"
Abigail smiled.
"Let's see whether the blood of the Victoria family is more peculiar, or whether Mystic Blood is stronger."
As she spoke, she injected Lloyd's blood into the little mouse.
At the same time, Arthur drew his pistol.
The muzzle was pointed directly at the small creature behind the glass enclosure.
The beast's eyes stared back at the three of them.
Its flesh writhed and boiled within its tiny body, burning as its blood surged violently through its veins.