The fiend seemed to awaken.
The moment it caught the scent of Lloyd's blood, its sluggish torpor shattered, replaced by a violent, ravenous agitation.
Within the narrow corridor, its bloated mass of flesh pressed and surged forward, writhing with manic force. The heat radiating from its body was so intense that the metal walls glowed red, then softened, then began to melt. Liquid metal splattered outward—an infernal spectacle, as though hell itself had breached the world.
"Arthur, fall back—now!"
The creature's aggression surged. Twisted limbs clawed at the ground, dragging its immense bulk forward. Razor-edged talons bit deep into the metal floor, carving grooves as it hauled itself onward.
Then—
it burst free of the corridor.
For the first time, its full form revealed itself to Lloyd.
A grotesque mass of contorted flesh—
countless arms writhed and lashed in chaotic frenzy, deformities layered upon deformities until the entire surface was buried beneath those frenzied limbs.
It was like a nightmare made flesh.
Only this time, there would be no waking from it.
Scattered gunfire cracked through the air. Arthur had taken the high ground, firing a weapon scavenged from somewhere unknown. But it was futile—mere forged rounds could not inflict meaningful harm.
Steam and heat thickened the air, blurring vision. Under the dim glow of failing lights, the fiend became a shifting silhouette—an indistinct mass of darkness. Its innumerable arms flailed wildly, tearing at anything within reach. Steel warped and melted, sparks bursting like dying stars.
The struggle continued.
Lloyd evaded and countered, cutting down the grasping limbs—but as before, something uncanny occurred. The severed appendages were gathered, dragged back, and fed into the creature's crimson maw.
"How much farther?!"
Lloyd roared. Though he had escaped the corridor, the space was still too confined for him to fight freely.
"Almost there!"
Arthur's voice echoed through the mist. The air itself burned—this was no longer an environment meant for human survival.
Then suddenly—
A thunderous roar.
The ventilation system howled to life. Massive blades spun violently, ripping the searing fog from the battlefield. Overdriven beyond its limits, the system forced fresh air into this hellish chamber.
The noise was overwhelming—yet to Lloyd, it was a blessing.
The mist collapsed, scattering into nothingness.
And the fiend stood revealed.
It was a vision that shook the soul.
Countless arms entwined across its flesh, interlocked and clenched together like woven fabric, forming a grotesque tapestry of living meat. At its center, this writhing mass shaped itself into a slowly opening maw—those sharpened claws serving as gnashing teeth.
Then—
All of the arms stretched outward at once.
A child's piercing scream echoed through the air.
For the briefest instant, Lloyd faltered.
And in that instant—
the fiend lunged.
"LLOYD!"
Arthur's roar broke with panic. Gunfire erupted again, frantic and desperate—but still ineffective.
The creature's massive flesh slammed into Lloyd, crushing him beneath its weight. It felt like being swarmed—like a mob of frenzied admirers dragging you into suffocation.
Its claws ground against his divine armor, shrieking like metal in a grinder.
Countless talons carved relentlessly into the armor. At first, it held—but no armor is without weakness. Under relentless assault and searing heat, the claws found every gap, every seam.
Lloyd tried to raise his sword—
but his arm was seized instantly, locked in place by twisted talons. There was no room to swing, no space to resist.
Then—
a burning pain pierced through his abdomen.
The armor had never been seamless. It could not be—else he would be unable to move. And now, the creature had found one such gap.
A claw drove deep inside.
As though savoring the intoxicating taste of his blood, the fiend let out a grotesque, ecstatic laugh.
"…You're… really… loud."
From within the writhing mass of limbs, the demon hunter lifted his gaze.
Through the narrow slit of his visor—
pure, blazing sanctified flame ignited.
Lloyd roared.
Though restrained, he would not fall here.
From the seams of his armor, a searing white fire erupted. The claw lodged within his body was instantly incinerated.
The arms could not grasp the burning inferno.
They recoiled—collapsed—turned to ash.
For a fleeting moment, he was free.
His nailed blade came crashing down, severing the remaining limbs, and he stepped back sharply—
The Winchester roared.
From its muzzle burst a torrent of flame, like the breath of a dragon.
There was something Lloyd loved about shotguns—
you could load them with just about anything.
Scattershot to widen destruction. Slugs for devastating single-target impact. Flechettes to shred flesh with surgical brutality.
In the end, the only limit was imagination.
During his battle with Bishop Lawrence, Lloyd had witnessed a dragon-breath firearm—an idea that had ignited something within him.
And so—
he created his own.
Magnesium powder mixed with sanctified silver.
The Winchester erupted in holy fire.
Burning magnesium spread outward, carrying with it clouds of powdered silver. The flames alone might not destroy the fiend—but the silver dust clung to its flesh, hissing like acid as it corroded its form.
At that very moment—
Arthur fired again.
"Take cover!"
The bullet streaked across the distance—
and missed.
Lloyd was about to curse Arthur's failing aim—
when a nearby pipeline exploded.
That had been the target.
From the ruptured conduit, a torrent of freezing gas burst forth, white vapor engulfing the fiend entirely.
As the ventilation system cleared the battlefield, Lloyd finally saw where he stood—
before a collapsed gate.
Faint markings lingered upon it.
Containment Chamber Four.
The containment system was linked to a cooling network—designed to keep the fiends in a constant state of low temperature.
The creature shrieked.
The undispersed freezing gas swallowed it whole. Frost spread visibly across its flesh. Its writhing slowed, weakened—
and then—
its arms snapped, brittle as plaster.
Yet it did not die.
Deep within, its heat still burned, resisting the cold.
Lloyd made his decision instantly.
He raised the Winchester—
and fired relentlessly into the pale freezing mist.
Flesh froze—
then shattered under impact, collapsing like broken statues.
"...So cold…"
From within the grotesque mass—
a faint, fractured consciousness whimpered.
Horner ran across the frozen wasteland, the cold gnawing at his bones like a silent predator. He could no longer remember how he had come to this place, nor how he might ever leave it.
In his mind, only one figure remained—Lawrence.
He chased that fading silhouette, step after desperate step, yet the cold and the hunger devoured him all the same.
For a fleeting moment, the frozen world shattered—collapsing into something else.
It overlapped with crimson steel, molten and suffocating, and from within that vision, a black-clad knight slowly raised his gun toward him.
"No… no…"
"No!"
Amid that scream, the abomination surged forward.
Its flesh, stiffening and congealing, tore itself apart with every movement. Chunks of its own body split and fell—but still, it advanced.
It was not enough.
It could not die.
Not yet.
It had finally stepped onto the stage—how could it accept such a meaningless end?
Scalding blood dripped like molten lava. Countless hands reached toward Lloyd, igniting into towering flames as they stretched.
Watching the creature howl within the inferno, a suspicion in Lloyd's mind quietly settled into certainty.
The inferior secret blood had gone out of control.
What stood before him now was something akin to a fully demonized hunter—yet disturbingly, without undergoing any alchemical matrix refinement, the creature still possessed a fragment of Authority.
That unbearable heat…
Michael.
Propping itself up with its mangled arms, the creature lunged at Lloyd once more.
But this time, Lloyd did not dodge.
Nor did he counter.
He simply reloaded the Winchester.
And allowed the creature to slam into him—dragging them both into the containment chamber.
What horrors the creature had unleashed to break free were impossible to fully imagine.
The chamber was a ruin. Blood smeared every surface, thick and suffocating. Even without witnessing it, Lloyd could envision the grotesque feast that had taken place here.
Razor-sharp claws carved against his divine armor. A crimson maw lunged forward, seeking to swallow him whole—
But at the final moment, the Purifying Flame surged again.
Lloyd tore free and slipped away, moving swiftly across the chaos.
Now, the creature stood fully exposed in the open.
For the first time, Lloyd beheld its complete form.
A monstrosity stitched together from countless severed limbs—hands swaying like seaweed in a dead tide.
Gunfire cracked through the chamber.
Arthur stood at the entrance, blasting apart several pipelines. Freezing gas erupted outward, slowly spreading across the entire room.
This would be the final arena.
The hunter's nail-sword dipped slightly.
Even he felt a trace of difficulty facing this twisted mass of flesh.
He needed to destroy its head and heart—
But now, it had no discernible form. No structure to read. And within it burned that extreme heat.
There would be little room for error.
"Cooling pipes!"
Arthur's voice suddenly burst through the communicator. The old man knew he could do little more—so he remained at the doorway.
"Be clearer, Arthur!"
Lloyd fired again. This time, Dragonbreath rounds roared forth, a curtain of flame surging outward. It could not deal decisive damage—but it obscured the battlefield.
Beneath the blazing veil, Lloyd lowered his stance and moved swiftly. Agility was one of his greatest advantages.
"The main cooling line runs beneath the chamber!" Arthur shouted. "It might freeze that thing solid!"
"Where?"
"Right under it!"
The creature stood at the center of the chamber—exactly where Arthur and Merlin had stood not long before.
"The pipe is beneath a metal plate! It's heavily protected—but you've seen how hot that thing is!"
That was enough.
Lloyd understood.
Provoke it—drive it into a frenzy. Force it to burn hotter… until it melts everything beneath it.
And then—
Let the freezing gas consume it entirely.
Like standing atop a volcano on the verge of eruption.
Except what would burst forth… was deathly frost.
It was the best option.
Without hesitation, Lloyd charged.
Time seemed to slow.
Claws lashed toward him from every direction, a storm of death closing in. Yet within that chaos, Lloyd found a single safe path—straight to the creature.
The nail-sword rose.
Fell.
Severed limbs scattered as he pressed forward relentlessly.
Scalding blood poured out, melting the metal floor beneath them. Liquid steel began to flow.
Lloyd had no choice but to keep moving.
He needed more wounds.
More blood.
It became something inhuman—a brutal exchange.
Endless arms descended with lethal claws, while the nail-sword cut them down before they could strike.
The creature could regenerate.
But his weapon could not.
The sacred silver coating was wearing thin. Cracks spread along the blade, fractures widening with every clash.
Then—
A claw struck.
It slammed into Lloyd's armor, carving a deep wound.
A flaw appeared in his defense.
And in an instant, countless claws followed, raining down like a storm.
The tide shifted.
His blade was suppressed—if only for a moment.
Then—
The counterattack.
But this time, Lloyd abandoned defense entirely.
He let the claws tear into him.
And in return—he struck deeper.
The Authority of Medanzo granted him an armor of unparalleled resilience.
For a brief time, it allowed him to match the creature's regeneration.
To trade wound for wound.
Then—
At last—
The molten blood burned through the steel floor.
And from below—
An overwhelming cold erupted.
Lloyd instinctively retreated, narrowly avoiding the freezing surge.
But the creature—
Too bloated. Too slow.
It was engulfed instantly.
White mist swallowed it whole. Its claws froze mid-swing, frost spreading across them.
The Winchester roared.
Round after round, metal was driven into its body, shattering the frozen flesh.
This was the only tactic.
Freeze it—
Then break it completely.
Heart. Brain.
Everything.
Gunfire continued for nearly half a minute.
The lethal cold spread across most of the chamber.
The creature no longer reacted.
Only the sound of frozen flesh cracking under bullets remained.
Then—
Silence.
Lloyd lowered the gun.
Only two sacred silver rounds remained.
The rest were gone.
Arthur approached slowly, staring at the lingering mist, unease written across his face.
"Is it dead?"
"I don't know."
Lloyd's answer was short.
Even for him, the freezing gas was lethal. He dared not approach recklessly.
He glanced at his cracked blade—
Then looked up again.
The mist surged.
A grotesque maw burst forth, covered in frost. It lunged from the fog, its flesh collapsing, pale bones twisting outward to hold its form together.
In that instant—
Lloyd could only shove Arthur away with all his strength.
And then—
The maw swallowed him whole.
When Lloyd saw the world again—
Above him stretched a clear sky.
Beneath his feet lay endless white snow, reaching to the horizon.
He gripped his nail-sword.
And before him—
Horner stood trembling in the snow.
Seeing the hunter who had suddenly appeared, he gave a vacant, foolish smile…
And slowly stepped closer.