The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 66

It was like an endless chase, a relentless hunt between two wolf-like figures. They clashed and tore through obstacles, forging a path over hills of flesh and severing steel barriers. Blazing white flames burned wildly, their movements fleeting like colliding meteors.

Ed's sword, engulfed in explosive flames, struck heavily against Lloyd, then sent him crashing away like a charging bull. Ed stood his ground, his body undergoing strange changes. Tattoos similar to Lloyd's roamed across his skin, causing his muscles to swell and grow more powerful.

"What are you waiting for, witcher? If you don't unleash your secret blood, I'll kill you."

Pointing his burning sword at Lloyd, Ed's expression was one of rage. It felt like he was being toyed with—Lloyd hadn't shown his true strength from the beginning.

Lloyd said nothing, merely staring at the tattoos on Ed's body, as if deciphering a hidden meaning within them.

"You're... from Michael's squad."

The familiar markings made Lloyd realize he wasn't the sole survivor of the Sanctified Night, as he had thought.

"Have you recognized me? Is that why you're afraid to use your secret blood?"

Ed tore open his shirt, fully exposing the roaming tattoos. Though they appeared as tattoos, they were in fact alchemical inscriptions etched into the flesh, used to perfectly control the secret blood and prevent it from corrupting the witcher's will. Each witcher's body served as a vessel to seal the secret blood, reinforced by alchemical inscriptions that acted like holy prayers.

Lloyd wasn't an alchemist, and there were likely few left in the world. However, he understood these bizarre inscriptions. When the secret blood was activated, they would come to life. The Order had divided its squads based on these inscriptions, and Ed's marked him as a member of Michael's unit.

"I just don't want to remember the past. I've forgotten it for so long."

Lloyd's cold response came as he forced Ed back with a sudden sword strike.

Feeling the weight of Lloyd's blade, Ed grinned menacingly. Lloyd's secret blood was awakening, something beyond his control.

The secret blood originated from demons, its potency tied to the strength of the parent demon. The more powerful the witcher, the stronger the demon from which their blood came. However, this power came at a great cost: the blood's corruption was a constant threat, trying to conquer the witcher's humanity. Many succumbed, becoming perfect vessels for the demon's resurrection. To ensure safety, every witcher was implanted with a binding silver clasp.

Lloyd had always refused to reveal the depths of his secret blood, but its innate corruption would force its awakening eventually. The relationship between a witcher and their secret blood was a twisted symbiosis, with the struggle for dominance never-ending.

"Can't we just talk this out?"

Two streams of white flames collided, and Lloyd firmly parried Ed's strike. Their eyes met, coldness and madness intermingling.

"Afraid you'd refuse me, wouldn't you? I want to know what happened to the Order. Will you tell me?"

Ed's voice was hoarse. He doubted Lloyd would share anything, not even his name.

Lloyd remained silent, just as Ed had predicted. He would not reveal anything about those events.

"So I'll just have to subdue and interrogate you."

Ed roared in anger, swinging his heavy blade to smash Lloyd away again.

The battle raged on, their positions shifting constantly. Swords clanged, and flames burned through flesh and bone.

"Seems you haven't had it easy all these years either," Lloyd remarked, noting the familiar madness in Ed's eyes, reminiscent of his own early days in Old Dunling.

"What do you want to say?"

Ed slowed his assault, curious about Lloyd's rare willingness to speak.

"Like me at the beginning, we witchers spent our lives fighting for the Order, battling demons. But suddenly, we weren't needed anymore. We could retire."

Lloyd chuckled, reminiscing about his early days in Old Dunling.

"I felt the same at first, like I'd lost all purpose. I lived for this, like bards in stories, now relics of the past. With the rise of modern communication, we were swept into the dustbin of history."

Lloyd continued, "But, Ed, everyone needs a dream, right? All this fighting gets boring. Don't you think?"

"Everything you're doing now is to find a reason to keep living, a reason to keep swinging your sword. Whether it's the Sanctified Night or Order 13, or something else, it's just your reason."

Lloyd looked at him with pity. "Living like that is too sad."

Silence fell between them as they stared at each other.

Ed was another survivor, like Lloyd, a kindred spirit lost on a deserted island. Lloyd didn't want to fight him, nor did he wish to reveal those dark stories, the darkest part of the Order's history. It was enough that he alone bore that burden.

"So you've been running away under the guise of dreams, witcher?"

Ed's flames burned brighter as he raised his head again. He wasn't swayed by Lloyd's words, his anger unquenched.

"You have no idea what we went through after the Sanctified Night!"

There was no mutual understanding. Ed couldn't fathom Lloyd's silence about those events, just as Lloyd couldn't grasp Ed's rage.

Thus, the secret blood surged, breaking past its limits.

Blazing white flames roared, burning flesh into ethereal fire. Ed stood tall, his body mutating towards demonic form. His sword melted, merging with his hand, while more silvery spikes protruded from his skin, armoring him completely.

"You are traitors," Ed finally spat.