The Extinguished Torch

Outer District, East Ilins District, 121A Cork Street.

A week had passed since that night of madness. During this time, no one had come knocking, and nothing strange had occurred; it was all as if it had been a dream, leaving nothing behind once he woke.

Lorenzo had tried to find Shrike, fully armed under his pitch-black trench coat, looking every bit like a man intent on slaughtering the city. Unfortunately, Shrike had no idea what had happened and had not been seen for days.

He lay sprawled in the bathtub, the warm water washing away the exhaustion from his body, soaking in the hard-won tranquility.

Mrs. Fanrude was taking her afternoon nap, and his cheap roommate seemed to be working overtime at the factory, so Lorenzo was effectively the only one left in the small house.

Above him hung a dim light, and the sounds of life drifted in from the street. He couldn't help but relax, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag. It felt truly good.

Lorenzo hadn't dealt with monsters for many years. Even though his connection to the darkness had been on the verge of severing, the hideous shadow refused to let him go, grabbing hold of him just as he was about to forget it all.

He climbed out of the tub, wrapped himself in a white bath towel, and walked back to his room, dripping wet. His wounds were still healing; aside from the more serious ones, the minor injuries had mostly closed up, leaving behind only dark red traces that had yet to fade.

Since that night, not only had Shrike not contacted him, but Eve had also vanished. Lorenzo didn't care about that; the only things bothering him right now were a few lingering questions.

It was certain that Wall's abnormality was a form of monster-transformation. He had been a crew member of the Silver Fish and had come into contact with that mysterious Sacred Coffin. It was certain that everyone on that ship had been contaminated, meaning there were at least sixteen potential monsters roaming the city.

The next point of suspicion was the mysterious organization that had attacked the Underground Palace that night. He remembered encountering a massive clump of Stomach-Chewing Grass in the secret passage, yet after that night, there had been no anomalies in Old Dunling. There was only one conclusion: that mysterious organization had cleaned everything up perfectly.

Judging the whole by the part, Lorenzo speculated that the scale of that mysterious organization was likely no smaller than the Demon Hunter Order.

What a pain...

The situation was gradually becoming clear: this was a power struggle between two mysterious organizations, and he was the unlucky bastard caught in the middle.

The only thing still unclear was Shrike's position in all of this. Lorenzo had always thought of him as an underground emperor earning his wealth through smuggling, but now, Shrike seemed full of mysteries as well.

Sighing, Lorenzo put on his clothes, tidied himself up, and left the house.

Winchester was hidden beneath his trench coat, pressed tight against his body. He pulled his black deerstalker hat down low, slightly obscuring his gray-blue eyes. His cane sword had been broken in the fight with Sabo, and a new weapon was still being forged at the blacksmith's.

"How rare..."

He looked up. Endless light spilled down from the gloomy sky. It was hard to believe, but Old Dunling was actually a bit brighter today. Although the dark clouds remained, they had at least split open, allowing the light to filter through.

Lorenzo had a new life now. He shouldn't have been involved in these things. The best choice would be to buy a ticket for a cruise somewhere and get some rest. But everyone had a bottom line. While it was hard to associate a scoundrel like Lorenzo with such a concept, he certainly had one—it was just very low, about five meters underground.

Passing a flower shop on the street, he bought a white flower, humming a little tune as if he were on his way to meet a beautiful lady.

He boarded a steam tram and watched the scenery slowly drift away, filled with anticipation.

This was one of his hobbies: boarding a random steam tram and riding it to the final stop. Due to the speed and the sheer size of Old Dunling, this activity usually took an entire day.

Several hours later, Lorenzo finally reached the terminal.

Rarely, this place wasn't covered by dark clouds. A dilapidated church stood on the desolate grass, and not far away lay the iron city. Steam and railways were devouring the land bit by bit; it seemed that in a few more years, this place would also become a part of the iron machine.

When Lorenzo first arrived in Old Dunling years ago, there had still been a few priests here. But the nearby residents had all gone to the city factories, and eventually, everyone had left. In the end, even the priests had abandoned it. Only Lorenzo would come here from time to time to visit a friend.

Stepping over weeds and barbed wire, Lorenzo found the heavily weathered tombstone in a pile of rubble. The inscription had long since faded; if not for Lorenzo's memory, no one would have realized it was a grave.

"Good morning!"

Lorenzo greeted it with spirit, then took the white flower from his chest and placed it at the base of the tombstone.

"My, every time I come here, I get this feeling of, 'I can't believe you've been dead for so long.'"

He lacked any of the solemnity of a mourner, acting more like a rival, pointing at the tombstone and saying, "Didn't expect that, did you! I've lived longer than you."

After grinning and joking for a while, Lorenzo seemed unable to keep up the cheer. He hadn't expected to return here one day—a reunion that felt like fate.

He fell silent for a long time. His eyes turned sharp. He drew Winchester in one motion, whispered a prayer, and pulled the trigger.

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in the faith."

The low prayer accompanied the roar of the bullet. The solid stone crumbled bit by bit, revealing the hideous thing within. A strange, grotesque sensation washed over Lorenzo, as if he were releasing a demon, but he didn't care. There was nothing left to fear.

When the final bullet left the chamber, the sturdy seal shattered completely, and the pitch-black box was fully exposed to Lorenzo. Even though it had been sealed away for many years, the surface was as smooth as if it had just been placed there.

Dark gold patterns spread across it, and layers of holy scripture were inscribed upon its surface, singing praises to God and the divine. Lorenzo picked it up, pressed it against the familiar groove, and it clicked open.

"Long time no see."

A cold, icy glint flooded Lorenzo's vision. Under the light, they shimmered like diamonds, but as he focused, he saw they were perfectly crafted blades. Like Lorenzo's cane sword, they were simple combinations of blade and hilt, as slender as silver nails.

The smooth edges reflected Lorenzo's pupils, with fine textures engraved upon them. If they met blood, they would paint the most scarlet of pictures.

It was a pitch-black hall, illuminated only by the light spilling from the skylight in the center of the dome, which shone down upon a massive round table.

Looking up at the azure sky beyond the skylight, Kestrel sometimes couldn't tell where he actually was. This was the most confidential location of the Purification Agency; even as a High-Ranking Knight, he was blindfolded every time he came.

He hadn't moved much, so he was certainly still in Old Dunling, but Old Dunling had no such blue sky.

Beside him, Shrike shared the same confusion. Despite being in the Purification Agency for so long, the number of times he had been to the Shattered Dome could be counted on one hand. Sometimes he really wanted to break the rules and rush out of this conference room to see the rest of the world. If he could, today would be a good opportunity, but his injuries hadn't fully healed, and he had arrived in a wheelchair.

"Our situation is very dire right now."

The voice echoed from the other end of the round table. Following the table, which was scarred with sword marks, they looked toward the darkness. Both men knew exactly who was sitting there.

The head of the Purification Agency, the Knight King, Arthur.

Truth be told, both men felt a sense of trepidation. Who were they, mere High-Ranking Knights, to be invited to the round table to speak face-to-face with Arthur?

"What exactly is the situation? You summoned us here personally... and even a patient. I assume things must be spiraling out of control."

A reckless voice rang out, and it was only when the person spoke that Kestrel realized there was someone else not far from him.

The person made no attempt to hide, bathed in the dim light. She had a graceful figure and was draped in vibrant blue-purple robes; had she not been wearing that familiar mask, Kestrel would have mistaken her for a noble lady who had wandered in by accident.

"Blue Jade?"

Shrike was somewhat surprised to encounter her here.

"Alright, enough catching up for now."

Arthur's voice drifted over. Though he sounded cheerful, the three of them immediately turned serious.

"Most of the knights stationed in Old Dunling have been dispatched, leaving our defenses dangerously thin, and the enemy's whereabouts remain unknown."

"Since the Sacred Coffin entered Inverwig, demonic anomalies have erupted across various territories. The knight commanders are being run ragged. This is clearly a distraction; our enemies in the shadows are trying to protect the Sacred Coffin. Lancelot has already taken the Original Sin Armor and boarded the Dawn Voyager to hunt them down, but so much time has passed without a single lead. According to projections, we have about a week left. After that, there is a high probability the Sacred Coffin will be transported out of Inverwig. We must find a way to stop it!"

The eyes in the darkness seemed to burn with fire. The voice was calm, but all three could hear the gravity of the situation.

"No matter how many ordinary soldiers we have, it won't be enough. I need knights whose nervous systems have been specialized to resist demonic erosion. Unfortunately, our casualties have been higher than expected. Currently, you three are the only ones available in Old Dunling."

"What about Galahad?"

Thinking of his friend, Shrike asked hurriedly. Under normal circumstances, Old Dunling had three knight commanders. Two were currently dispatched to track the Sacred Coffin, and Galahad had gone missing after that night.

The voice in the darkness was silent for a moment before answering.

"This mission was originally meant to be led by Galahad, but he has been detained by the Perpetual Motion Pump. Between his physical state and the level of erosion, he is unable to act for the time being."

"So, you will lead this mission, Shrike."

"Me?"

Shrike was stunned. He hadn't even fully recovered from his injuries, and they wanted him back in the field?

"I know this order is difficult, but you are the one who understands the situation best. I need you to lead them, and I will provide you with full support."

"No... isn't this too rushed!"

Kestrel added from the side; they didn't even know the objective of the mission.

"I don't want this either, but we truly have no time. According to Lancelot's report, he has tracked down the general location of the Sacred Coffin. I don't need you to kill the enemy; I only need you to go there, cause a disturbance, and hold them off as long as possible. Lancelot will handle the subsequent engagement."

Arthur's voice remained flat, but this was essentially a suicide mission.

"Then why can't Lancelot go there directly?"

Blue Jade, who had been silent until now, spoke up. She didn't understand why it had to be so complicated.

A long sigh echoed from the darkness. After a while, Arthur spoke.

"Because he can't make it back in time. Recently, all the knight commanders have been under active assault by demons. The constant harassment has pinned them down. The demons aren't hiding their intentions this time; they are focused entirely on the Sacred Coffin. Even the Dawn Voyager has been forced to stop at Raindona Port because it ran out of fuel; it needs to be refueled."

"For the first time in so many years, the demons have poured out in full force. We underestimated their numbers, so we can only scrape together the likes of you. You know as well as I do that ordinary people fighting demons will eventually be eroded, which would only bolster the enemy's ranks."

"No... there must be more to it than that, right?"

After thinking for a long time, Shrike asked slowly. He didn't care about his own life, but he sensed a different kind of crisis.

"Inverwig is our home turf. Even mobilizing the army should be enough to crush them easily. Why go through all this trouble? Is it really just fear that the so-called corruption will cause the army to collapse?"

As Shrike spoke, his hand rested on the edge of his wheelchair, near a storage box containing a gun. In his memory, Arthur was always perfectly rational and never made meaningless sacrifices, but today his words were full of holes, forcing him to be vigilant.

After all, when fighting demons, it wasn't impossible for the leader to suddenly go insane.

"Indeed."

Arthur slowly stood up and stepped out of the darkness. His eyes were filled with exhaustion; the gray hair and wrinkles made the once-handsome man look incredibly aged, like a lion in his twilight years, as if he had just emerged from a long war.

"I wouldn't have been so anxious otherwise. After all, we possess the most advanced fleet in the world, and there is no possibility of the Sacred Coffin escaping by sea. But this intelligence changed my mind."

As he spoke, a document was tossed from the other end of the round table. It bore a top-secret seal on the parchment, something Shrike and the others had no clearance to view.

"Read it. It's no longer a secret. After all, once these matters are concluded, I intend to convene a Round Table meeting and announce this to everyone."

He pulled a cigarette from his coat. Arthur usually didn't smoke, but when under immense pressure, he couldn't help but take a few drags, as if trying to escape reality.

"I know some of my recent actions have drawn criticism, such as supporting the development of the Original Sin Armor or conducting neural specialization experiments, but there was no other way."

Listening to the rustling of pages, everyone's breathing seemed to hitch. Their eyes were filled with disbelief and fear, until Arthur's voice rang out again, breaking the deathly silence.

"Before the invention of the steam engine, the Gospel Church controlled all nations. The reason wasn't faith, but simply because they possessed the Demon Hunter Order. Only they had the ability to contend with demons. Although we later established the Purification Agency and broke free from the Church's control, they remained the experts in fighting demons—the brightest torch in the dark night."

Arthur's voice trembled slightly.

"Yes, just as the report says. According to intelligence, it has been confirmed that the Demon Hunter Order officially disbanded six years ago."

"The brightest torch in the dark night was extinguished six years ago."