In the Blood Church, a priest with his chest puffed out had a gun pressed to his head by Baron as he perford a requiem mass for the young girl.
The girl with braided hair lay in a carved, solid wood casket, her face pale and peaceful.
The ceremony had been arranged in a hurry. In the vast church, aside from the priest and the clergy he led, only Baron and Al, whose wounds had just been bandaged, were present.
Hira had no family. Al said Hira’s parents were refugees fleeing famine who had passed away in Mundra right after she was born.
It was the Baron who took her in, letting her work in the mansion as a maid for ten copper coins a week.
Al said that when they were attacked, they were on their way back from Viscountess Yarilan’s. Her Ladyship had thoughtfully assigned two Demon Hunters to them, in case any Beasts erged from the fog on the Day of Regression.
But before the Day of Regression arrived, the very Blood Demon that was supposed to be hunted attacked them instead.
The Demon Hunters assigned to protect them were killed. Hira was caught by the horned Blood Demon, and Al was knocked unconscious. When he ca to, he found the girl’s body was already cold.
As Baron listened to Al’s words, his face remained void of sorrow or joy. His eyes were like a frozen lake, his thoughts unreadable.
Only when the priest had finished the mass, and Al tearfully declared his desire for revenge, did he finally speak.
His voice was low. "I understand."
The sun and the Black Moon rose together. Sunlight stread through the stained-glass windows at the back of the church, casting a massive shadow beneath the Cross.
He looked down at the sleeping girl. The little maid’s face was ghastly pale from blood loss, her eyes red and swollen. Her delicate clothes were covered in dust and torn, an utter ss. ’She must have been so desperate, so pained, before she died.’
The girl’s true cause of death wasn’t the massive blood loss from the Blood Demon’s bite on her neck, but the gaping wound that had pierced her chest.
The attacker had torn open her chest with unstoppable force, drained her blood, devoured her heart, and then departed.
Baron placed the flowers the maid had bought for him on her chest, covering the wound. He stared, lost in thought, at her profile in the shadows.
’The maid’s uniform looks so big on her. Her face, her hands... they’re so small. She was really just a child...’
A pang of grief suddenly washed over him. ’So sad... so sorrowful... I feel like crying.’
’There’s one less person in the world who cares about you. How could you not be sad?’
After the crowd dispersed, the Priest and Nuns went back to their rooms, yawning. Al had fallen into a deep sleep on a church pew, his shoulders twitching as if he were still crying in his dreams.
Baron stood in silence for a mont before finally pulling an old porcelain shard from his coat.
...
A Little Nun ran into the church, crying. Her sobs woke the sleeping Al. Baron asked what had happened.
The Little Nun said through her tears, "Sessi is missing."
"Go inform Viscountess Yarilan. Tell her the Blood Demon is in Baron Camberra’s Mansion. Have her go to Fude City and gather Demon Hunters. This mission won’t be easy."
He paused. "Tell her to prepare for the worst."
Without another mont of hesitation, Baron rushed out of the church and mounted the black warhorse he had taken from the prison. He snapped the reins, and the horse shrieked as it galloped away.
On the road, he ca across Sister Teresa, who was holding a child and chanting a Holy Poem.
The Nun wore a form-fitting black habit, and beneath her wimple, her face was strikingly beautiful.
She set the child down, waved to Baron, and asked where Mr. L was going.
The movent caused her sleeve to slide down, revealing a smooth, pale forearm that seed to faintly glow under the light of the co-rising sun and Black Moon.
On the night of the Day of Regression, there are two moons: one for the normal flow of ti, and one that recedes.
During the day, there are also two suns. But two suns would cause the land to dry up, the rivers to run dry, and all living things to be scorched by the light.
For this reason, one of the Old Gods, the Lonely Silver-faced Goddess, used the Black Moon to cover the regressing sun, at the cost of being sealed away herself.
This is also how the Black Moon Church ca to be.
Baron reined in his horse. "I’m going to Baron Camberra’s Mansion."
"What for? Are you going to see Miss Hira?"
The Nun didn’t know that the Baron and Lady Baroness had been arrested, and so, of course, she didn’t know that Hira was actually dead.
Baron opened his mouth, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the Nun the cruel truth.
He simply said, "Yes. I’m going to see Hira."
"Can you take with you, then? I have so business with Miss Hira, too."
So Baron helped the Nun onto the warhorse. The young nun held on tightly to Baron’s back, and a faint, virginal scent wafted from behind him.
Baron paid it no mind, simply telling her to hold on tight before snapping the reins, sending the warhorse galloping toward the mansion.
On the way, the Nun suddenly asked, "Mr. L, do you like virgins?"
Baron thought of the girl in the casket. He was quiet for a mont before saying, "Flowers like them very much."
"That’s not what I ant." Sister Teresa suddenly tightened her grip on Baron’s waist.
Demon Hunter L was stunned for a second, then said coldly, "Sister Teresa, you’re crossing a line."
But Sister Teresa said, "No, don’t go. God says not to go."
She said, "That place is Hell."
"Perfect," Baron said. "I’ve been wanting to see what Hell looks like."
The Nun fell silent.
But then his expression froze. He suddenly twisted his body and pulled the Nun into an embrace.
The Nun, held in his arms, was taken aback. But when she saw the reflection of a monster in the man’s clear, obsidian eyes, she pressed her lips together and buried her head in his chest, which was filled with the scent of tobacco and gunpowder.
The warhorse shrieked in pain, its hooves digging into the ground as it stopped. The two of them rolled off its back, still locked in an embrace.
The horse’s cry was cut short as if by a blade. Its head, bridle and all, was sliced clean off. The monster steadied the headless body and buried its own head in the severed neck, drinking greedily.
Baron released the Nun and got to his feet, facing the monster—a Blood Demon.
’It’s still dayti. To run into a Blood Demon head-on on a wooded path like this...!’
This only made Baron more certain of his suspicions.
His eyes quickly scanned the monster’s right leg and head. No horns, and no injury on its right leg.
His heart tightened. ’This isn’t the one that killed Hira, nor is it the one Viscountess Yarilan badly wounded. This is a third Blood Demon!’
The Blood Demon looked at Baron, its erald-green eyes lingering for a mont on the Nun behind him.
The next mont, it hurled the warhorse’s corpse at Baron! Following right behind the carcass, it roared and swung its claws toward him!
"Close your eyes. It’s about to get bloody," Baron said to the Nun.
Teresa closed her eyes, crossed her hands over her chest, and began chanting a Holy Poem. She was actually praying.
She said, "God loves all..."
’Faith really is a frightening thing.’
Baron gave a silent smile. A naless fire of fury and majesty ignited within him. A Cross Scar appeared on his right cheek, and his obsidian eyes burned, shimring like Gold!
The instant the horse’s corpse flew toward him, a raging Fire erupted, as if a Demon had broken its chains and crawled out of Hell.
For a mont, his mortal body seed to turn translucent in the searing flas, and his very breath carried sparks.
She said, "God gives all..."
He caught the charging horse corpse—several hundred kilograms of flesh and blood felt as light as a feather in his hands. He drew the Longsword from the horse’s saddlebag. The mont the horse hit the ground, the Fire incinerated it, sending a cloud of ash like black leaves blowing toward the Blood Demon, which cleaved them apart!
She said, "God says all who do not die in peace shall be given life..."
The Blood Demon’s bat-like wings unfurled. It flicked a long tongue, its Sharp Claws glowing with a savage light as they stabbed toward the barrier of flas surrounding the man.
The Demon Hunter exhaled deeply. In the searing light of the Fire, his body went taut, like a fully drawn bow.
He swung the Longsword in a simple, unadorned arc.
Sword t claw. The Sharp Claws were unhard, but the blade shattered from the imnse force of the impact.
This blade was rely a weapon for a Prison Guard to keep inmates in line. It wasn’t one of the Alchemy Swords Demon Hunters typically used, forged by an Alchemy Master and imbued with Enchantnt.
’How could it possibly stand up to a Demon Fiend whose skin is like rock and whose claws are like steel?’
A cold, savage glint of surprise flashed in the Blood Demon’s eyes.
Its roar nearly pierced the inferno. It could barely contain its excitent, and from its monstrous form ca a human phrase:
"Is that... all..."
Its eyes widened as it saw its own headless body from the air.
The Demon Hunter’s silhouette glided past its corpse. The fire on the Broken Blade flowed in a desolate arc.
He had replaced the shattered part of the blade with fire!
The thought surfaced in the Blood Demon’s mind, but it was already too late.
Its head fell to the ground. The fire reflected in its erald eyes slowly died out, and the man’s figure vanished from their sight.
At that very mont, the Nun finished her chant: "...God says all who do not live in peace shall be put to death..."
When everything fell into a deathly silence, only the rustling of the wind in the treetops could be heard.
She opened her eyes to see the Demon Hunter pointing the pitch-black muzzle of a gun at her.
"You’re a nun from the Sisterhood of the Blood of the Lamb, aren’t you."
Even with a gun to her forehead, she smiled faintly and said in her usual gentle voice, "Mr. L, when did you figure it out?"
A molten glow flowed in the Demon Hunter’s eyes. He spoke in a detached tone, "The mont I lost my sense of sll for blood."
He had used a Taboo Item, a Shard of the Dagda Cauldron. In exchange for never being able to sll blood again, he learned the killer’s identity from the dead girl’s final whispers.
"Lost your sense of sll for blood?" The Nun smiled wryly, lowering the dagger she had been pressing against Baron’s chest. "Mr. L, you’re the sa as ever, always saying things that are impossible to understand."
Baron said coldly, "That’s only because you’re not even human."
"So you really do prefer virgins after all, Mr. L," Sister Teresa said.
Even with a gun pointed at her, her expression remained gentle, like a river that simply flows around a mountain in its path.
Baron didn’t answer, but the Nun continued, "From the first mont I saw you, I knew you hated ."
The Demon Hunter stared at her. Her charming, oval face was now filled with a deep, lancholic resentnt.
"Because... I’m not a virgin anymore."
As she said this, her eyes welled with tears. A moving mix of hatred and resentnt was etched between her brows. With her long eyelashes and fair face, she looked just like a disciple of God in a mural.
After a mont of silence, he smiled. eting her pitiful, despairing gaze, he said, word by word:
"A life for a life. You can tell your story to the Demons in Hell."
He pulled the trigger. The Nun fell backward, a vibrant spot of crimson blooming between her eyebrows.
Baron didn’t linger. He picked up the broken hilt from the ground and sprinted toward the Baron’s Mansion.
’This was his first ti killing a human. But thankfully, he was still pretty good at it.’
’Maybe because he was killing an acquaintance.’
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