The year was 924 of the Invigian Calendar.
Warm sunlight spilled across the earth, while a cool breeze swept through the shade of the trees, carrying with it the soft rustle of leaves. For once, everything before the eyes seemed touched by a rare and almost fragile beauty.
042 lowered the sword he had been wielding and saluted the old man before him.
"How does your body feel, 042?"
After the simple greeting, Lloyd Medici asked about 042's condition. The young man before him could already be considered an adult, yet whenever Lloyd saw that faintly innocent face, he could never help but regard him as a child. Perhaps that was only natural. Against the backdrop of Lloyd's extraordinarily long life, almost everyone seemed little more than a child.
"I'm fine…"
042 flexed his fingers as he spoke. The priests had explained all of this to him before. After undergoing the [Divine Blessing Baptism], 042 had received the Silver-Binding Bolt and the implantation of Secret Blood. The process had been agonizing, but he had survived it, becoming one of the fortunate few.
"The Secret Blood and the Silver-Binding Bolt are both stable. I can control the power within my limits…" 042 hesitated, then frowned in confusion. "But I still can't use a Dominion. I don't even know which Order of Demon Hunter I belong to."
"That is perfectly normal. The alchemical matrix within you is not yet complete, so it cannot draw out a Dominion from the Secret Blood." The old man offered him a reassuring smile.
"How much longer will it take?"
042 was not surprised by the answer. By now, he had learned almost everything there was to know about Demon Hunters.
Their extraordinary powers originated from the Secret Blood within their bodies. Once an engraved alchemical matrix was applied, the power hidden within that forbidden blood could be guided toward a specific manifestation.
Yet the process inflicted tremendous corruption upon the Demon Hunter himself. Combined with the limitations of alchemical-matrix technology, this meant that each Demon Hunter could only guide their Secret Blood toward a single Dominion. Multiple Dominions could not coexist within the same Demon Hunter. Even if alchemical technology were advanced enough to overcome that limitation, the combined corruption would transform the Demon Hunter into a hideous demon in an instant.
"Today," the old man replied with a smile. "Today is a rather special day."
042 froze for a moment.
Two years ago, the old man before him had removed him from the Demon Hunter Order. Since then, everything concerning 042 had fallen under his care. Training, the implantation of Secret Blood—042 had been handled almost like a puppet, moved wherever the old man wished, until even now he had no idea which Order he would ultimately belong to.
But hearing those words, 042 felt a flicker of excitement.
The alchemical matrix within him remained incomplete. Only after its flaws were repaired could he awaken his Dominion and become a true Demon Hunter.
"We still need a little time. We'll have to wait for a while…" The old man gestured toward him. "Come with me, 042. No training for you today."
He turned and walked deeper into the mansion. 042 followed behind, and together they disappeared into the belly of the enormous building.
The retirement estate was not nearly as simple as it appeared on the surface. Hidden passageways led deep beneath the earth, opening into a vast underground chamber. For most of the past two years, 042 had spent his days down here, fighting captured demons and undergoing endless training.
But today, the usually empty and freezing underground had become crowded.
Many people stood there, dressed in ceremonial robes with long, slender blades hanging at their waists. 042 recognized those weapons. They were called Nail Swords—the weapons of Demon Hunters.
Were these people Demon Hunters, then?
042 looked at them with curiosity. Their faces were hidden beneath their hoods, buried in shadow. Not one of them spoke. They stood in an eerie silence. Had 042 not been able to hear their faint breathing, he might have mistaken them for corpses that had somehow been taught to stand.
"They are…"
"Don't worry about them for now. Come with me."
The old man led him deeper underground, all the way to the lowest chamber.
042 remembered this place.
This was where his Secret Blood had been implanted.
But the complicated machinery that had once filled the chamber was gone. In its place stood only a small table and two chairs. A pocket watch rested at the center of the table, quietly measuring the passage of time within the darkness.
"Come, sit down and rest. We have a long wait ahead of us."
"Wait for what?"
"A great many things…" The old man smiled mysteriously. "Perhaps a group of rather unwelcome guests."
"Guests?"
042 looked genuinely puzzled.
The old man had never revealed much to him, but after living here for several years, 042 had gradually sensed that this place was not what it seemed. No guests had ever come here before.
And now, for some reason, he felt a faint unease.
"But we have plenty of time, 042."
The old man smiled.
For some reason, the usually stern and imposing man seemed unusually cheerful today, as though something wonderful were about to happen.
A servant approached from the side, pushing a small cart laden with exquisite pastries and fine wine. He arranged them upon the little table, creating the unmistakable appearance of an afternoon tea.
Except this was a gloomy underground chamber, surrounded by silent Demon Hunters standing motionless in the darkness.
No matter how he looked at it, something was terribly wrong.
"Try this," the old man said. "You may not believe me, but I have always had a weakness for sweets."
It truly seemed as though this were nothing more than an ordinary afternoon tea. The old man paid no attention to etiquette. He simply reached out, picked up a pastry, and took a bite.
"Surprised?" he asked when he noticed 042 staring.
"A little."
042 nodded.
Lloyd Medici.
The man who had once guided the Golden Age. The man who had ruled all of Florence, holding both the Gospel Church and the Demon Hunter Order firmly within his grasp.
To artists, he was a benevolent patron. To his political enemies, he was a terrifying nightmare. To ordinary believers and citizens, he was the incarnation of God upon the mortal world.
And yet that same man was now stuffing his mouth with pastries, cream smeared across his hands and crumbs caught in his beard.
He looked at 042 and laughed with such genuine delight that, for a fleeting moment, the old man seemed young again.
"People are like this," Lloyd said. "When they encounter something they do not understand, they fill the gaps with speculation. Over time, those guesses turn a person into a god. But in truth, I am only an ordinary man. I too have been ravaged by the years."
He paused, then looked at 042.
"But what about you, 042? Do you have anything you like?"
"Something I like?"
"Yes. Even I have a weakness for sweets. Surely someone like you must have something you enjoy."
042 hesitated.
"Can I say? I remember that Demon Hunters…"
Before being taken away by the old man, 042 had spent many years being trained within the Demon Hunter Order. Under the guidance of Archbishop Lawrence, he had learned that a Demon Hunter was supposed to suppress his emotions as much as possible, to become cold and detached—to become a weapon.
And weapons, after all, were not supposed to have preferences.
A weapon only needed to obey its orders.
"It's fine. Your alchemical matrix isn't complete yet, so you aren't technically a Demon Hunter. Go on. Tell me."
The old man's manner was strangely different today. So warm and amiable that 042 was almost beginning to forget what kind of man he truly was.
"Stories," 042 said quietly. "I like reading stories. Though I don't really know how to explain it. I just… want to see a larger world."
"A larger world?"
"Yes. I had a few very good friends in the Order. We…"
042 suddenly fell silent.
He realized he had nearly said too much.
Sharing the contents of one's [Divine Blessing Baptism] with another was strictly forbidden within the Order.
"You told each other about your [Divine Blessing Baptism], didn't you?"
The old man saw through him instantly.
"I'm sorry, my lord!"
"It's all right. It's all right."
Seeing the panic on 042's face, the old man merely smiled kindly.
"So, what did you see?"
"Stories. One strange story after another. A world of countless colors…" 042's eyes seemed to drift somewhere far away. "It was far more beautiful than Florence. Far greater than anything we have ever believed this world could contain."
"Ever since then, I've felt as though my body and soul were stolen away by those beautiful, unknown worlds. I want to see them for myself…"
"But such a place does not exist in this world," the old man said regretfully.
"No. It does, my lord."
042 shook his head.
"Invig, Old Dunling. 047 used to tell me about them. He said Old Dunling was the most advanced city in the world, that it had everything we could ever want. When he retired, he wanted to go there. He said he would open some kind of agency and become a detective."
As he spoke, 042 seemed to lower his guard entirely. He talked about the future as though it were already waiting just beyond the horizon.
"That sounds wonderful," the old man said. "It is a shame I am not a Demon Hunter. I will never be able to see the sights you have seen with my own eyes."
There was something almost wistful in his voice.
It was rare—astonishingly rare—to hear Lloyd Medici speak with envy.
"I had a friend like that when I was young. He was a Demon Hunter. It sounds impossible, but that is how it happened. For all sorts of reasons, the two of us were people who should never have crossed paths. Yet somehow, we met."
"Did he tell you about his [Divine Blessing Baptism]?" 042 asked.
"Something like that."
The old man smiled at the memory.
"He was an interesting Demon Hunter. In fact, aside from carrying Secret Blood and occasionally cutting down demons, he hardly seemed like a Demon Hunter at all. On the surface, he behaved himself. Behind closed doors, he thought nothing of mocking the doctrines of the Church. He once told me that his greatest wish was to become an adventurer—to travel to different kingdoms, different continents, and search for the things he had seen during his [Divine Blessing Baptism]."
The old man reminisced about events from decades ago.
They belonged to a distant past.
Back then, he was not yet Cardinal Medici. He was nothing more than a foolish young boy, much like 042, yearning to see those strange and wondrous places beyond the world he knew.
042's expression became somewhat peculiar.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" the old man said.
"He had no idea who I was back then. That idiot thought we were both Demon Hunters. Later, when he discovered that I carried the Medici name, the look on his face was absolutely priceless."
The old man became animated as he spoke, his expression lively enough to make it difficult to imagine that this was the same terrifying figure who commanded such fear.
"He looked utterly resigned and said, 'Ah, sorry for violating the doctrines. Is it burning at the stake or beheading? For the sake of our long friendship, could you at least make it quick?' Something like that."
"According to the doctrines, that Demon Hunter was practically the greatest sinner alive. He had violated almost every rule there was. He had even burned the scriptures right in front of me once, simply because we had run out of firewood while roasting a rabbit. Truly, what an unforgivable sinner he was…"
The old man chuckled.
"But I did not kill him. Instead, I helped him hide everything."
"It was a strange friendship."
"I was a son of the Medici family, raised beneath the shelter of holy faith. The path had already been laid out for me. Once I came of age, I would become a cardinal. After death, I would be regarded as a saint and buried within the Seven Hills, bringing my devout life to its ordained conclusion."
"But then I met that idiot with something clearly wrong with his head."
"Through his nonsense and his ridiculous fantasies, I suddenly realized that the chains faith had placed around me were beginning to loosen. And by the end, perhaps I had become a heretic just like him."
"And that man was truly fascinating. In order to describe the things he had seen during his [Divine Blessing Baptism] more accurately, he eventually began drawing pictures for me."
The old man stuffed another pastry into his mouth as he spoke, cream and crumbs spreading across his white beard.
"But his drawing was absolutely terrible. It was as though someone had covered a chicken in paint, dropped it onto a canvas, and let it run wild. I could never understand what the hell he was trying to depict."
"Eventually, he realized that himself. So he stopped drawing. Instead, he would simply sit with me and talk, telling me about all the things he had seen."
The old man's voice gradually slowed.
042 looked at him.
His eyes had lowered. His withered face still carried the smile of a young man.
For the first time, 042 felt as though he were meeting this old man all over again.
The man who made everyone around him feel suffocated by his presence had once possessed such an ordinary past.
"He said the world he had seen was so beautiful. So beautiful that sometimes he was willing to devote his entire life to finding that era."
"But eventually, he died."
"Just like so many Demon Hunters before him."
The old man leaned back against his chair and gazed toward the black rock overhead. His eyes seemed to pierce through the earth itself, searching for the beautiful sky hidden beyond.
"It was a beautiful age."
"The sky was gilded by the dying light of the sun. There were no demons. No corruption. People played along the shore while cool waves washed over their ankles…"
"He called it the Golden Age, and he spent his entire life chasing it."
"But until the day he died, he never managed to glimpse even the smallest fragment of that beautiful world."
"I thought he was an idiot. He devoted everything he had to something so vague and intangible. Why wouldn't he listen to me?"
"If he had stayed in Florence, I could have made sure he lived a peaceful life. I would even have found him a good teacher and saved him from that truly miserable excuse for artistic talent."
"But he died…"
"At the time, I thought nothing of it."
"But then, one day, I suddenly realized how sad I was."
The old man's face was expressionless.
It was impossible to tell whether he was happy or grieving, as though an unknowable mask had been fastened over his face.
"That was when I realized something."
"I, Lloyd Medici, had lived for so many years, yet that idiot had been my only friend."
"And my only friend had died."
"Killed by demons."
"Will you avenge him?" 042 asked. "Kill every demon?"
"How could I?"
The old man laughed.
"Who would want to avenge that idiot? I am Lloyd Medici. If I play my cards right, perhaps I might even become Pope. Power, wealth, women—which of those things is less interesting than revenge?"
"And besides, avenging a Demon Hunter whose name I never even knew, a man who was known only by a number… wouldn't that be ridiculous?"
He laughed again.
It was as though the sorrow he had shown moments ago had been nothing more than a lie.
"But one day, I saw a painting."
"It was the painting he had once made for me—the one depicting the Golden Age."
"Ah, but his painting was truly terrible. I stared at it for a very long time, and I still couldn't understand what in the world he was trying to draw."
"But that was when I suddenly understood something."
"The so-called Golden Age does not exist anywhere in this world."
"No matter how desperately that idiot chased after it, it was nothing but an illusion."
The cold expression on Lloyd Medici's face slowly melted away.
The wrinkled skin of his withered face gathered like the features of some grotesque beast, revealing a smile that sent a chill through the air.
"But…"
"Although the Golden Age does not truly exist…"
"It can be created."
"I have already possessed everything a mortal could ever desire. The finest wine in the world tastes no different to me than plain water. Nothing in this world holds any meaning for me anymore."
"Nothing…"
"Except that Golden Age which existed only inside that idiot's head."
"And that idiot is dead."
"All he left behind was a collection of laughable paintings."
Lloyd Medici stared directly into 042's eyes.
Beneath those cloudy pupils lay a soul that had been shackled for far too long.
It was young.
It was furious.
Yet it was trapped inside a body that continued to wither toward death.
"042."
"In that moment, I believe I finally found the meaning of my life."
"I want to see what the Golden Age truly looked like."
"I want to know what that idiot was trying so desperately to show me."
The old man's voice remained calm, but beneath that calmness lay a simmering fury.
Blue veins bulged beneath his shriveled skin.
For a fleeting instant, the old man before 042 no longer looked human.
He looked like something ancient and sinister that had merely borrowed the shape of a dying man.
"I, Lloyd Medici…"
"…will create the Golden Age."
An eerie laugh echoed through the darkness.
Then he spoke again.
"But in that beautiful age…"
"There will be no place for demons."