Red Falcon pointed to himself and then to Lorenzo, saying.
"Not everyone has your kind of strength. Mortals are very fragile, so much so that weapons designed to restrain demons are extrely lethal to us."
"Those conductive tal spears will easily penetrate the human body, and the electricity ant to restrain demons is fatal for humans. The mont they're hit, normal people will be scorched by the high-voltage current; resisting isn't even an option."
The weapons ant to fight demons have always been lethal to mortals. Like the Armor of Original Sin Lorenzo saw at the Jiuxia exhibition in the Far East; despite not knowing exactly how it works, imagine an Armor of Original Sin suddenly appearing on a mortal battlefield—it would be a one-sided massacre.
Lorenzo remained silent, feeling a long-lost sense of peril. Arthur had once spoken of the world's final trajectory. Once the demons that restrain the Purification chanism are completely eradicated, these weapons would, no doubt, make a grand appearance on battlefields between humans in the near future.
It's like the fate of demon hunters; once all demons are hunted to extinction, the only enemies left in the world are those infidels who do not worship God.
"What's wrong with you? Feeling uneasy?"
Red Falcon, seeing Lorenzo's uneasy expression, kindly asked. After all, every weapon here was ant to combat demons, and there wasn't much difference between demon hunters and demons.
Lorenzo shook his head and then said.
"Nothing, just feeling that the world is really complex."
Red Falcon paused and then laughed out.
"I don't have so many worries. I used to be a guy who worried all the ti, always thinking about saving the world, which was quite troubleso. But later, I found my place."
"Your place?"
"This world is a vast, madly operating machine. Even Old Dunling and the Purification chanism are just parts of this vast machine, a system. And we are just gears shing together, unable to decide the machine's direction. What we can do is spin with all our might to keep the machine from stopping."
Red Falcon was unexpectedly optimistic in this regard. Lorenzo thought for a mont but said nothing more.
After navigating through complex passageways, the two finally arrived in a relatively spacious area. People were moving quickly, everyone looking extraordinarily busy, gates opening and shutting with constant roaring sounds.
Looking up, countless translucent pipes crisscrossed the massive do above, seemingly transporting sothing at high speed, eventually disappearing beyond Lorenzo's sight.
Everyone had their function, fulfilling their role, spinning tirelessly to keep the machine ever advancing.
If the Purification chanism were a machine, then Lorenzo at this mont had already passed through its heavy and solid shell and was now at its precise yet fragile core.
"This is as far as you go, but you have to proceed on your own."
Red Falcon suddenly stopped, pointing towards the elevator at the end, saying to Lorenzo.
"This ti, it's Arthur inviting you, and the place you're going to is the Round Table Conference Room. Without an invitation, we upper-rank knights can't reach it."
"Is your internal hierarchy this severe?"
Lorenzo felt sowhat displeased. It seed that the Knight Commander was the one truly holding power, and the rest were rely tools.
But Red Falcon shook his head, saying to Lorenzo.
"You should know from the Demon Hunting Order that ordinary people can't resist the erosion of demons. The Purification chanism is composed mostly of mortals, and they are helpless against demons. Only a handful of specialized individuals can have so resistance to demon erosion, and our hierarchy to so extent depends on this resistance."
Red Falcon showed no dissatisfaction with this system.
"Sotis, this kind of hierarchy can save us."
"Like certain areas opened only to Knight Commanders, which contain erosion you couldn't withstand?"
Lorenzo recalled the occurrences within the Demon Hunting Order.
"Yes, so there's nothing to be dissatisfied about. The bigger the gear, the more pressure it bears, don't you think?"
As Lorenzo stepped into the elevator, the iron gate slowly descended; he caught one last glimpse of Red Falcon's smile before darkness enveloped him, with only the dim light allowing him to feel the slight sway and the lift of cables.
About a dozen seconds later, the elevator gate opened. It felt as though he'd stepped into a new world.
Monts ago, Lorenzo had felt enclosed within a machine, surrounded by oppressive steel and roaring sounds, with the air reeking of unbearable rust.
Yet now, it resembled a luxurious palace, stepping on a crimson carpet with artfully crafted vases and blooming flowers lining the hallway.
Portraits adorned both sides of the hallway, each face different, yet from the adornnt in each painting, Lorenzo could distinctly feel history's progression.
First, it was armor and swords, then cloaks and muskets. It seed the people in the paintings were historic great n, honored enough to be displayed here, yet Lorenzo recognized none.
With a tinge of appreciation, Lorenzo walked through, pushing open the final grand door.
A giant round table lay in the center, scarred by sword marks, surrounded by chairs with bookshelves rising beyond them, the scent of aged books filling the space.
Lorenzo felt a slight weariness; it had already turned to night when he left, and he'd been delayed considerably along the way. To ensure sincerity, they even stripped away all his weapons, leaving him without even a pocket watch, leaving him clueless about the current ti.
The Purification chanism was certainly giving Lorenzo face. After all, the true danger was Lorenzo himself. To truly guarantee safety, they should have had the so-called Electric Spear Gun and Aluminothermic Rifle trained on him constantly, binding him with plenty of Geiger Counters, and if the reading went haywire, unleash a torrent of firepower.
Of course, there's another possibility: the guide might not have been Red Falcon but that mysterious Lancelot... clad in the Armor of Original Sin.
Drawing a chair, Lorenzo unceremoniously sat down, looking towards the far end of the round table as Arthur slowly put his book down, eyeing this unwelco guest of his.
"Don't speak yet. Let think for a mont."
Arthur spoke first, pulling out a revolver, its caliber indicating it could easily turn Lorenzo's head into a mist of blood from this distance.
He seed to be contemplating sothing difficult, picking up and setting down the gun multiple tis; a few tis, the barrel was already aid at Lorenzo, but in the end, he resignedly lowered it.
Lorenzo could distinctly sense the tangible murderous intent in his gaze, yet Arthur seed at a loss due to the fight against demons.
After agonizing over it for so ti, Arthur appeared to relinquish the matter and said.
"You handle the conversation with him directly, or else I fear I might really shoot him."
Arthur never hid his distaste for Lorenzo, and just then, soone else erged slowly from behind the bookshelf. He was dressed in a gray robe, his exposed skin covered in obscure and intricate words, which made Lorenzo tense since he had seen sothing similar.
It was sothing he encountered during his ti with the Demon Hunting Order, where it was referred to as alchemy.
The gray-robed man sat beside Arthur, lowering his hood to reveal a young, handso face filled with a morbid deathly air, his hair completely white and wildly disheveled after uncovering his hood.
It was a peculiar individual, as Lorenzo sensed an old age about him, yet he was so young, exuding the aura of the dead, though indeed alive.
"Pleasure to et you, Mr. Lorenzo Hols."
He said, the voice raspy, not matching the youthful appearance.
"And you are...?"
Lorenzo beca serious, his gaze heavy, as the gray-robed man slowly spoke.
"I am the current head of the Perpetual Motion Pump, supposedly the last alchemist in Old Dunling. My real na is tainted due to past rituals, so it's best not ntioned. However, you may call by my code na."
"rlin."
His husky voice gradually narrated, regarding Lorenzo with a tinge of kinship. They were akin, remnants of a bygone age.
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