Lorenzo slowly opened his eyes. His gray-blue eyes appeared sowhat vacant and lifeless as he leaned against the wardrobe tilted to one side, holding a half-burned cigarette in his mouth.
He didn’t speak, and the surroundings were extrely silent.
Heracles didn’t speak either. He didn’t dare to break the current silence, looking at the disheveled Lorenzo. At this mont, he resembled a dead man.
After an unknown period, Lorenzo’s stiff body finally moved slightly. He tried to sit up a bit and then spat the cigarette butt aside.
The ti within the mory Palace seed long; however, only a few minutes had actually passed, and the self-inflicted scars on his body had already begun to self-heal in this brief ti.
Lorenzo raised his hand dazedly, looking at his blood-stained palm. His gaze was sowhat disoriented, as if at this mont he was still holding the Nail Sword, clad in Iron Armor, with the roars of Demons ringing in his ears.
Suddenly, all the lost emotions seed to return to this body, with a trace of sadness on his cold face.
He began to understand what 047 had said. Regardless of who Lorenzo Hols really was, just as 047 said at that ti, he was full of regret.
"Those sleeping Demon Hunters will one day weep bitterly. They will feel cursed for not being able to die here with us..."
He murmured softly.
Lorenzo regretted deeply, regretting why he didn’t die with them, why he didn’t die during the Night of the Holy Arrival. Ultimately, the current anger towards the Demons rely stemd from the guilt he felt at that ti.
Although the ti with the Order was always accompanied by danger and slaughter, for Lorenzo, who didn’t have a particularly short life, most of the warmth he felt ca from that unpleasant ti, but now all of it had turned to nothingness.
His friends were all dead, and the old Order was obliterated in history. All stories concluded on that night, and Lorenzo was rely a wandering Ghost who survived by chance, lost and wandering in this world.
This was not luck but a curse. He was the sole mourner, bearing that solitary sorrow, unable to find any place to return to.
He was both sorrowful and angry. His friends died because of the Demons, so he wanted to destroy all the Demons. All these mistakes stemd from human greed, so he wanted to eradicate everyone’s attempts at that taboo.
Because of this, Lorenzo began to pursue death, to pursue danger, pouring all his fury into this Evil Anomaly, longing for the sa glorious death.
"Are you okay?"
Heracles’ voice rang out. He asked shakily.
Clearly, Heracles grasped most of the secrets of this city, but when it ca to the depths of the human heart, his gaze ultimately fell short.
He didn’t understand why Lorenzo had beco like this, yet he could vaguely sense the sa emotions.
Lorenzo gave him an ugly smile. He was like this, looking as if he was about to fall but always managed to crawl back up awkwardly.
"Although... although a bit unpleasant, I did acquire so useful information," Lorenzo said.
Behind that forgotten door, Lorenzo had obtained mories of the outbreak during the Night of the Holy Arrival.
Every ti Lorenzo recalled the Night of the Holy Arrival before deeply pondering the past, he would always vaguely rember the outline of an event, as if deceived by a disguise. But this ti, the mories were incredibly clear, and problems arose right after.
In the mories of defending the Celestial Kingdom, Lorenzo did not see himself, nor the so-called 042.
It was like this; from beginning to end, Lorenzo never discovered the presence nad 042. Throughout, he observed everything from the perspective of 047... or rather his own perspective; he was 047 himself who experienced all of this firsthand.
Though he didn’t want to admit it, this was the reality. Those mories belonged to 047. For reasons unknown, he had obtained those mories, or perhaps the two were reversed.
With the clarity of the mystery, more and more secrets unfolded before Lorenzo, just as he had once vaguely felt. This world was far more complex and bizarre than he imagined. Nowadays, all humanity does is maintain that fragile balance.
Seemingly a lot more clear-headed, Lorenzo slowly stood up and looked toward another room. Through the window, he could see a misty rain curtain still covering the entire Old Dunling.
Even after spending a long ti in Old Dunling, Lorenzo still found it difficult to adapt to the rainy season of Old Dunling. Generally, it would rain incessantly for weeks, with the sound of water droplets pounding down like an annoying drumbeat on one’s mind.
"I need a new set of clothes," Lorenzo said.
Heracles was startled, then imdiately asked, "Are you leaving?"
"Yes, I can’t disappear for too long, or else they’ll think I ran away... I won’t escape,"
Lorenzo said, just as Polo passed by his feet. His blood-stained hand rubbed vigorously against its body.
Polo clearly didn’t expect Lorenzo’s sudden action, and his clean fur was wiped by Lorenzo as if using a rag, and the large rat let out a slight noise of complaint.
Lorenzo didn’t pay attention to the squawking Polo, as this was akin to a prank played on a small animal.
After a while, Heracles prepared everything for him. Lorenzo put on a set of dark gray clothes, with concealed weapons hidden underneath the coat and wearing a black felt hat which cast a shadow to obscure his face, leaving only a ghostly gaze felt under the shadow.
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