The change was unmistakable.
Ever since the two Grand Knights had taken command, the atmosphere within the Perpetual Pump had transformed completely. Perhaps it was simply a reflection of the times, but everything had become colder, tighter, wrapped in an oppressive discipline that left little room for warmth.
Armed guards stood watch outside every entrance. Inside the heavily secured conference chamber sat only Lloyd and the two Grand Knights.
Faced with two complete strangers, Lloyd remained unusually cautious. They were not acquaintances, and around unfamiliar faces, many of his less agreeable habits were kept firmly under lock and key.
What followed, however, was something he had never anticipated.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glancing sideways at the woman whose strange stare had been fixed on him ever since he entered.
Percival circled him once.
Then again.
And then a third time.
She examined him the way one might study some impossibly rare creature, gasping in amazement after every step.
"Gawain! Gawain! So this is what a Demon Hunter looks like?"
Lloyd's expression stiffened, though he obediently remained seated, saying nothing.
Even Gawain's perpetually stern face softened beneath such absurdity. Just as he was about to stop her, Percival leaned even closer toward Lloyd.
"They said you've... transplanted demon blood into yourself? And they say you can burst into flames!"
Curiosity sparkled so brightly in her eyes that she hesitated for a moment before asking with almost childlike caution,
"Um... Mr. Holmes, right?"
"...What is it?"
An uneasy feeling crept over Lloyd.
Gawain sensed the danger as well. Before he could intervene, Percival eagerly asked,
"Would you mind... demonstrating your fire-breathing?"
"...?"
"That's enough!"
Gawain finally lost his patience.
His thunderous rebuke echoed through the chamber.
Percival immediately withdrew her mischievous grin and returned to her seat, leaving Lloyd sitting alone with a face caught somewhere between bewilderment and humiliation.
"Please don't take it personally," Gawain explained. "We've never been stationed in Old Dunling. Our order has always operated abroad. Everything we've heard about you has been rumor until today."
"So you're basically a bunch of damned curious children?"
Lloyd was beginning to suspect these people genuinely had something wrong with them.
"Absolutely!"
Percival answered loudly without the slightest shame.
Apparently, spending too much time fighting demons had driven even good-hearted women a little insane.
"You're a Demon Hunter! Someone who only existed in our Strategic Council reports!"
Before the Night of Divine Descent—or rather, before the new Pope re-established contact with the Purging Agency after so many years—the Demon Hunter Order had always been the Agency's greatest hypothetical enemy.
Compared to the Demon Hunters, the Purging Agency's military strength had always been painfully fragile. Some contingency plans against the Order even assumed total annihilation.
Yet now, one of those very enemies had defected to their side and had repeatedly aided them.
With hostilities dissolved, how could anyone not become curious?
Much like their fascination with demons themselves.
Percival made no effort whatsoever to conceal that curiosity.
She wore it openly.
"Silence, Percival."
Gawain's voice hardened once more.
Only then did she finally settle down.
Watching the exchange, Lloyd began to understand the peculiar pairing before him.
Of the two, Gawain was unquestionably the one truly in command.
"Joey said you possess intelligence concerning the Book of Revelation."
Without another word, Gawain moved directly to business.
It wasn't difficult to guess that recovering the Book of Revelation was also one of the diplomatic delegation's primary objectives.
On the surface, everyone smiled politely.
Beneath that civility, however, the struggle had never ceased.
"I do," Lloyd replied. "But it isn't about the Book's whereabouts. It's about another group that's entered the game."
"...Another group?"
Gawain's expression immediately sharpened.
The situation was already chaotic enough.
Now there was another player?
"The exiles of the Gospel Church. The faction led by Cardinal Michael."
Lloyd looked directly into Gawain's eyes.
"I'm sure you're already aware of them."
"I am."
Gawain nodded.
"In fact, that's one of the delegation's objectives. They hope to cooperate with our North Delro Company in hunting those exiles."
"Wasn't that obvious?"
Lloyd shrugged.
"I have reliable intelligence."
He continued.
"One of the exiles—Cardinal Shermans—has already arrived in Old Dunling."
The memory of the carriage that had sent him flying resurfaced in his mind.
It remained one of the greatest humiliations of his entire career as a Demon Hunter.
"He isn't operating alone."
"He has people inside Old Dunling helping him."
Otherwise, there was no way they could have escaped from him.
"And their objective is simple."
"The Book of Revelation."
Gawain's expression shifted ever so slightly.
After a brief silence, he asked,
"Why are you so certain?"
"Use your brain, Grand Knight!"
The frustration that had been quietly building inside Lloyd finally erupted.
"The Book of Revelation can produce an endless supply of Sacred Blood! Even if it isn't used to create stable Demon Hunters, simply manufacturing unstable demons would create a terrifying army! Once they possess it, those exiles can march straight back to the Seven Hills! Isn't something that obvious clear enough?"
"Please calm yourself, Mr. Holmes."
Gawain gave a slight nod.
"I understand perfectly."
He studied Lloyd in silence, seemingly weighing something in his mind.
Beside him, even Percival remained unusually quiet.
Apparently, madness was not her permanent state.
"We'll give your information serious consideration," Gawain said at last. "And we'll relay everything to Arthur."
"...That's it?"
Lloyd frowned.
The indifferent response irritated him.
Ever since stepping into this room, an inexplicable anger had been rising inside him.
"We're unable to disclose anything further."
"So now I should just get the hell out?"
"Not at all."
Gawain calmly pointed toward the door.
"Merlin is waiting for you. He wishes to speak with you."
Lloyd stared at him for several long seconds.
In the end, he said nothing.
Arguing with these people was pointless.
He would rather storm Phoenix Manor himself and confront Arthur face-to-face.
The door slammed violently behind him.
Percival frowned.
Though naturally cheerful, even she couldn't understand Gawain's attitude.
"Poor man..."
She sighed softly.
"He fought his way from Florence to Old Dunling, waging an endless war against demons... only to end up trapped by filthy political interests."
She smiled bitterly.
"Just like Shrike said."
"Mr. Lloyd Holmes is an unusually pure man."
"All he wants is to eradicate demons."
"He doesn't care about power."
"He doesn't care about profit."
Turning toward Gawain, she asked,
"You could have treated him more kindly."
"So why provoke him?"
Gawain remained silent for a long time.
Eventually, he released a weary sigh.
"...Arthur's orders."
He lowered his gaze.
"Without betraying the Purging Agency, I've already warned Mr. Holmes as much as I possibly can."
"I only hope he understands."
"And leaves Old Dunling before it's too late."
Thinking back over Lloyd's intelligence, Gawain knew the man was right.
If Lloyd could deduce these things, then so could the Purging Agency.
Information the Rat King could gather became trivial once measured against the Agency's enormous manpower and resources.
Lloyd understood the complexity of the situation.
But he still underestimated just how ugly political interests could become.
…
"Your name is Galahad?"
Inside a dimly lit chamber, Shermans examined the man before him.
Every inch of his body disappeared beneath layers of clothing.
Even his face remained hidden beneath a hood.
Only fragments of scarred, twisted flesh could be seen where the shadows failed to conceal him.
"It's only a codename."
Galahad's voice was rough and weathered.
His survival itself bordered on a miracle.
Ancient Age Divine Armor had corrupted his body, killing him once.
The power of demons had resurrected him, leaving him forever suspended between life and death.
"So you borrowed your name from legend."
Shermans smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
Though he appeared composed, inwardly he felt strangely lost.
It had been decades since he had last sat across a negotiation table.
Unlike the younger generation, whose vigor allowed them to fight for every advantage, Shermans had long since grown old.
Time had taken not only his strength...
but his fury as well.
During the latter half of his life within the Gospel Church, he had done little more than cast votes.
He had rarely made decisions.
Today was different.
Today he had to negotiate with the Purging Agency himself.
"There's a scent about you."
Shermans narrowed his eyes.
"It's unpleasant... yet oddly familiar."
"It reminds me of the holy Seven Hills."
Galahad gave a dry laugh.
"So demon corruption reminds you of someplace 'holy'?"
"Your Church really does have something wrong with its collective mind."
"Not quite."
Shermans answered calmly.
"A veteran who sees a battlefield corpse remembers the war he once fought."
"The memories are dark."
"But remembering them still has value."
His gaze lingered upon Galahad's withered body.
"I'm curious."
"How did this happen to you?"
"Normally someone in your condition would have long since become a demon."
"Our technology is good enough."
"My will is stronger."
Galahad shrugged.
"Though don't misunderstand."
"The Purging Agency is a ruthless employer."
"They invested far too much in creating me."
"Until I've repaid every bit of that investment..."
"They have no intention of letting me die."
He had no interest in further small talk.
In only a short conversation, he had already figured Shermans out.
Without that crimson robe, the Cardinal was nothing more than an ordinary old man.
Galahad casually flipped through the documents lying on the table.
The eyes hidden beneath his hood gradually turned icy.
A hoarse laugh escaped him.
"So..."
"You originally had no intention of cooperating with us."
"Let me guess."
"You planned to sneak into Old Dunling."
"Find the Book of Revelation."
"And afterward, it wouldn't matter who became Pope."
"With the Book, you could simply build an entirely new Church."
"Given enough time..."
"Even the Purging Agency wouldn't be able to stop you."
"...Am I wrong?"
Silence filled the room.
Only the two of them remained.
Shermans listened quietly.
After a long pause...
he nodded.
That answer genuinely surprised Galahad.
"I thought you'd deny it."
"I'm old."
Shermans smiled wearily.
"Very old."
"Men my age should be preparing for death."
"I have no family."
"No children."
"I devoted my entire life to my God."
"And in the end..."
"I watched that holy place fall into evil hands while I fled overseas as an exile."
He neither lied nor defended himself.
There was no point.
"Yes."
"We intended exactly that."
"But just as those reports say..."
"We were naïve."
"A handful of old priests who spent their lives praying inside cathedrals could never survive the brutality of the outside world."
"True enough."
Galahad nodded.
"You were never capable of competing for the Book."
The exiles possessed no military power whatsoever.
Perhaps they were wealthy.
But wealth meant little before steel and artillery.
Let alone against both the Purging Agency and the new Pope.
"That was Michael's decision."
Shermans answered.
"Instead of wasting what little strength remained..."
"We chose to cooperate."
"The Book of Revelation won't be shared with you."
Galahad stated flatly.
"It doesn't matter."
Shermans answered with astonishing serenity.
"Perhaps you'll make better use of it than we ever could."
"Isn't Inglvig proof enough?"
"Faith belongs to the old age."
"You are the masters of the new one."
His calmness was almost frightening.
Even Galahad found himself speechless.
For a fleeting moment, he could no longer tell whether the old Cardinal was an ally...
or an enemy.
"Don't look so surprised, child."
"I'm not like the others."
"If you insist on placing me within some faction..."
"Then perhaps I'm one of the faithful."
"A truly faithful man."
"I care less about whether demons live or die..."
"than I do about my God."
"And about the day that false Pope is finally hanged."
His aged skin clung tightly to brittle bones.
His hollow eyes resembled bottomless caverns.
"You understand our position, don't you?"
Shermans continued.
"Compared with that false Pope..."
"We are far more valuable partners."
"Once the Book is gone..."
"The only bargaining chips he possesses are filthy secrets."
"Isn't that right?"
Every word was honest.
And because it was honest...
it tempted Galahad all the more.
"We know more than he ever will."
"He is merely a usurper wearing a stolen crown."
"We are the Cardinals who witnessed the Gospel Church throughout its true history."
He tapped his temple.
Within that decaying skull rested knowledge the entire world desired.
"It will only cost you a very small price, Galahad."
Galahad suppressed the impulse stirring inside him.
Slowly, he steadied his breathing.
"...Arthur will make that decision."
"I don't mind waiting."
Shermans smiled gently.
"I've already waited a very long time."
"A little longer changes nothing."
"If the Purging Agency wishes to negotiate with both the Gospel Church and us exiles simultaneously..."
"That's acceptable as well."
He had no desire to compete.
But he understood everything perfectly.
"We're merely survivors."
"We're no match for you."
"The new Pope rebuilding the Church..."
"He's your real enemy."
"As long as that false usurper is the one who suffers in the end..."
"That's enough for us."
"...That's all?"
"What else could there be?"
Shermans spread his hands.
"The moment we contacted the Purging Agency..."
"We placed our lives in your hands."
"If that isn't trust..."
"What is?"
This was Old Dunling.
The instant Shermans exposed himself before the Purging Agency, his life had already ceased to belong to him.
Galahad inhaled deeply.
After a long silence, he produced a sealed document case and slid it across the table.
"You should discuss those matters with Arthur personally."
"My purpose today is something else."
"What is this?"
"Intelligence from the diplomatic delegation."
"Or more accurately..."
"From the new Pope."
"We've been unable to verify whether it's genuine."
"We need you to confirm it."
The exiles hated the new Pope with absolute conviction.
So absolute that they were willing to cooperate with the Purging Agency simply to kill him.
Galahad trusted that Shermans would not lie.
"I see."
Shermans opened the document case.
Several black-and-white photographs spilled onto the table.
They had clearly been taken in secret.
The angles were awkward, almost clumsy.
Yet one face appeared again and again.
A man with a cigarette between his lips.
Walking through every corner of Old Dunling.
Galahad slowly drew a breath before asking,
"...Who is he?"