Blood Moon Madness

Firelight shone on Henrik's face, revealing a trace of confusion and worry.

By now, it was no secret that blood ministration caused madness and beastly afflictions, but the people of Yharnam could no longer live without it.

They would rather drown in the fleeting afterglow provided by Blood Wine and blood ministration, degenerating into mindless Beasts, than find the resolve to ban these things entirely.

Moreover, even Byrgenwerth Academy, which had always advocated staying away from and revering the Blood of the Ancient Gods, maintained an eerie silence on the matter.

Now, First Mentor Gherman was nowhere to be found, Paladin Ludwig stood guard at the Grand Cathedral without taking a single step away, and Logarius, leader of the Executioners, was locked in an intractable battle with the bloodborn. The situation was a complete mess.

Hunters like them, the ones responsible for wielding blades, could not understand the games being played above them. They could only do their jobs and throw themselves into slaughtering fully transformed werewolves and the monsters roaming the streets.

Still, he did not know how much longer these old bones of his could hold out...

Henrik gazed at the eerie crimson sky and sighed gloomily, unable to stop himself from missing his old comrade, Father Gascoigne, with whom he could rely on one another and keep each other alert.

Sadly, the Beast Calamity was too severe, and Yharnam had also undergone expansion. There was a shortage of people everywhere.

Old men like them, who could barely keep things under control, could only lead separate teams into different districts to suppress the chaos, hoping to endure until dawn.

That old friend of his should have been sent near the cemetery in the new district. He wondered how he was doing now.

Henrik let out a long breath