A Blood Demon?
Baron frowned. ’What in the world is that?’
But judging by the expressions on the faces around him, Baron figured that whatever it was, it was definitely nothing good.
Zod and a few other veteran Demon Hunters used their Hunter’s Eye ability, leaning down to examine the girls’ bodies. Sure enough, on their necks, they discovered tiny wounds that were almost impossible to spot without close inspection.
"It certainly looks like the wounds a Blood Demon makes when it feeds. Based on L’s estimation and the Blood Demon’s habits, it should still be hiding sowhere near Mundra Town."
When this news broke, the faces of many Demon Hunters, including Andre, darkened.
Yalilan imdiately dispatched another team of Demon Hunters, ordering them to hurry to Fude City and post a new bounty. They were to gather as many more Demon Hunters as possible and purchase more Crosses doused in Holy Water and a supply of Garlic from the Church.
’Blood Demon... blood-sucking... Crosses... Garlic... Aren’t these the standard thods for dealing with Vampires in movies and ani?’
Baron had a sudden realization. So, a Blood Demon was just a Vampire.
Just then, Maguire nudged Baron with his elbow and whispered, "L, how do you know so much? Were you really an Alchemist before?"
’Not an Alchemist. Just a miserable, low-level screenwriter for a film production company.’
’The kind of job where you know a little about everything, but your ultimate purpose is to be the scapegoat for every departnt.’
Baron replied casually, "Not an Alchemist. Just a lousy screenwriter. When you write a script for a certain genre, you have to know a little sothing about it."
"I see! So your previous profession was... it was..."
Maguire scratched his head. The word was on the tip of his tongue, but his mind was drawing a blank.
"A playwright," Zod chid in. "You were a playwright in Feinan... Let guess... You were exiled from Feinan for writing an opera satirizing the king, so you ca to Prole..."
He sized up the young man’s attire, his gaze lingering on the Gentiana Pattern Ring. "No wonder your clothes are so fine and you know so much."
’Thanks for filling in the blanks. My backstory in Prole is more or less complete now.’
Baron nodded, neither confirming nor denying it.
A commotion arose from outside the woods. The pot-bellied Mundra Town Mayor arrived with a large group of able-bodied young n from the town, carrying shovels.
After Andre explained the situation to them, the Mundra Town Mayor waved his hand, and the young n imdiately began to dig.
He then rubbed his hands together and greeted Yalilan, introducing Sister Teresa from the Blood Church, whom he had brought with him. He explained that she had recently returned from advanced studies in Steel City and was Mundra Town’s finest Blood Nun.
Sister Teresa was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. She was wrapped in a long nun’s habit, and beneath her coif was a pure, oval-shaped face.
She gave a solemn nod to Yalilan and the other Demon Hunters. The Demon Hunters excitedly made the sign of the cross over their chests. A few of the ruffians under Andre even whistled at the suggestive curves hinted at beneath her habit.
The Nun paid them no mind. She simply held a Cross in both hands, praying with the piety and innocence of a child holding a bouquet of flowers in a field.
Even with a pile of corpses seeping blood and crawling with maggots before her.
The moonlight bathed everything, and the lines of her profile were so soft and lovely in its glow. One could faintly see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.
"She truly loves the world on God’s behalf," the Mundra Town Mayor sighed with emotion.
The others, including Baron, agreed. Prole was a world of Polytheism. Although it was unclear whether the God of this Blood Church was good or evil, Baron felt its doctrines must be decent.
After all, to Baron, the quality of a god shouldn’t be judged by what the deity did, but by how its followers acted.
He quietly asked Maguire which deity the Blood Church worshipped.
"The Blood God Aisley, an Ancient God who wields the First Law of Blood, and the progenitor of the Blood Race." Zod, having procured a bottle of wine from sowhere, added, "He is also the incarnation of the Great Lord’s blood."
The Great Lord?
Baron’s heart skipped a beat. ’That na sounds... really la.’
Whistles for assembly sounded from all around. At the front, Yalilan announced that to uncover the truth about the Blood Demon, she had posted a new bounty. Those willing to stay could go to Mundra Town to rest shortly, while those who weren’t could leave now.
All the Demon Hunters chose to stay. All except Baron.
"L?"
Yalilan was rather surprised, to say nothing of Zod and Maguire.
Baron said, "As Mr. Andre said, I’m not a professional Demon Hunter, just a defector from Feinan trying to get by... and that oxcart ride on the straw really took a toll on my already weak constitution..."
Andre, who had been secretly pleased that Baron was leaving voluntarily, was dumbfounded. ’When did I ever say that...?’ he thought.
But the look Yalilan gave him, combined with the rest of Baron’s words, made Andre realize what was happening. The man was forcing him to bow his head and admit his mistake!
’How dare he! How could he! What does he take , Andre Dewey, for! Even the noble Lady Yalilan, the Pure-blooded Fierce Tiger, would never humiliate like this!’
Andre forced a smile. "My sincerest apologies, Mr. L. Perhaps there has been so misunderstanding..."
"Then please, Mr. Andre, clear up this misunderstanding in front of Lady Yalilan," Baron said with a smile. "Because I’m afraid of soone stabbing in the back during the mission."
Andre looked at Yalilan. The Lady Viscount nodded at him.
Andre’s expression grew bleak. He stood dejectedly for a long mont, his silence illuminated by the moonlight. Betrayal, it turned out, was a lonely affair.
Andre said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, "My deepest apologies, Mr. L. My previous actions were improper..."
"And then there’s Zod and Mr. Maguire, who rode in the straw cart with . They’re aching all over from the arduous journey...
Oh, heavens! Mr. Zod is so traumatized by the mory of the bumpy cart ride that he’s just thrown up! He’s passed out! Poor Zod! His face is flushed from motion sickness... I think he might need so compensation for dical expenses."
A vein throbbed on Andre’s temple. He could tolerate the previous demands, but this one about Zod was too much.
’That scar-faced old drunk has had a bottle in his hand since the mont we got here. He’s obviously just had too much to drink!’
"Alright, I suppose we can forget the dical expenses. Zod, Maguire, and I will just need a comfortable and uncrowded room..."
Finally, seeing that even Yalilan was struggling to keep a straight face, Baron decided to quit while he was ahead.
...
In a guest room of the Blood Church, three wooden beds were spaced apart.
Baron’s bed was by the window, and he could see the twin moons when he looked up.
At Yalilan’s request, the Blood Church had specially allocated this guest room—one normally reserved only for Clergy during church exchanges—for Baron’s three-man team.
The rest, including Andre and the other Demon Hunters, were all cramd into the station house in Mundra Town, a place built for passing troops, with more than twenty people to a room.
Maguire and Zod were fast asleep nearby, their snores thundering through the room.
Baron wasn’t asleep. He lay with his eyes open, thinking about the night’s events, which felt like a dream.
No, rather than saying his current situation was a dream, it was more like everything that happened before, back on Britain’s surface and its Inner Side, was the illusion. Only now had he finally arrived in reality.
But... was it really reality?
He pulled the blanket over his head. His Golden Eye quietly lit up as he touched the Cross Scar that had appeared on his right cheek.
The searing heat, like a brand on his flesh, was the only thing that allowed him to slowly believe that he was in the real world, relying on playing the part of a naless Hunter to explore the mysteries of this world.
As sleep approached, he closed his eyes and faintly saw a vision through his Spiritual Vision: a sea of ethereal blue flowers, and in it, a young woman with a plain, unadorned face.
She held a Shepherd’s Staff, and beneath her was a black sheep.
Upon seeing Baron’s arrival, the corners of her mouth lifted into an arc that wasn’t quite a smile. Her rose-red lips moved, but the voice that ca out was that of an old man:
"Rember these numbers: November 20th, 1987, 3:30 PM... That will be the ti you embrace death."
Ti Death Judgnt—the sudden thought jolted him upright. He turned his head and saw that the twin moons outside the window were gone, replaced by the faint, gray light of dawn.
Damn it! Since crossing over, besides getting a general idea of the world’s background, he had completely forgotten to ask the one question that was most important to him right now, at this very stage!
What the hell is the year, month, day, and ti today?!
...
"Today is May 1st, 2007, in the Black Moon Calendar, Mr. L. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?"
In the main hall of the Blood Church, Sister Teresa, who was in the middle of her morning prayers, looked at Baron gently, her gaze as soft as the Holy Mother’s.
The weight in Baron’s heart was finally lifted.
Baron thought for a mont, then asked tentatively, "Sister, have you ever heard of Ti Grass?"
---
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