The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 110

The times are advancing, ever-changing, with new wonders unfolding each day, mesmerizing and enchanting the mind.

When Lloyd found himself once more walking the streets of Old Dunlin, he still had no inkling of where the Shattered Dome lay. He had entered blindfolded and exited the same way, breathing in the cold and damp air, with an inexplicable hint of a smile on his otherwise indifferent face.

His identity had transformed completely; from an external detective for the Suya Lan Hall, he had become an external investigator for the Purge Agency. In some sense, Lloyd had truly become a traitor to the Demon Hunters' Order, given the strained relations between the two groups before the Order's dissolution.

Behind him, a pitch-black carriage stood still, its door wide open. Inside, Joey watched Lloyd's departure from the carriage, his eyes filled with a distant farewell. As soon as Lloyd left the Shattered Dome, his information was encapsulated and sent through intricate channels, ultimately archived. In that moment, Lloyd Holmes had been officially enlisted in the ranks of the Purge Agency.

He could hear the creaking of gates, and in that instant, countless secret doors across the world opened for Lloyd. Though it might be temporary, he was no longer alone. Behind him stood the Purge Agency, Old Dunlin, and the colossal machine named Ylwig. It roared and churned, crushing any obstacles in its path.

"Mr. Holmes, we await your good news." Joey's voice echoed from afar. Lloyd turned back, only to see a hand waving from the carriage window, which soon vanished into the mist. The dim streetlights lined up in the fog, and Lloyd wrapped his coat tighter around himself, striding forward.

Yet his steady footsteps began to falter, then synchronized again, as if someone was trying to match his pace. A slight tilt of his head revealed Watson walking beside him. Lloyd was momentarily stunned by her presence.

She could take many forms, or perhaps she had no fixed shape at all. It was merely for Lloyd, a mere mortal, to comprehend her existence that she assumed a definite form. To Lloyd's surprise, she seemed fond of this appearance. Her face, one that should not be named, and her attire, always changing to suit various occasions, made her seem like an ever-adaptable companion, though only visible to Lloyd.

"This is quite an intriguing case," Watson remarked, dressed in a coat similar to Lloyd's. Despite her cold demeanor, she stomped playfully in puddles with her rain boots like a mischievous child. Yet she was but an illusion in Lloyd's mind, trapped in his vision, unable to interact with reality. So, her boots made no splash, the water remained undisturbed, as if she walked on its surface.

"Got any ideas?" Lloyd asked mockingly, knowing his understanding of Watson was rudimentary at best. Those who truly understood her nature had perished on the Night of the Holy Advent, making him wary of her.

"Of course. Want to hear?" she teased.

"I'd rather not," Lloyd declined directly, unwilling to deepen his interaction with this devilish figure. He was already engulfed in darkness, and any further would mean being completely consumed.

"Really, Lloyd? I know a lot. Don't you want to..."

"Shut up," he snapped, his icy gaze fixed on Watson. She had a face of exquisite beauty, one that Lloyd remembered from their first meeting during the most beautiful winter in his memory of Florence.

But now, he knew she was dead. What stood before him was merely the shell of an illusion, concealing an unspeakable monstrosity.

"Are you mad?" she taunted, her pale hand reaching to caress Lloyd's face, only to be harshly swatted away. Watson paused, then spoke again.