The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 120

Just like a fleeting hallucination, Watson's figure vanished into thin air as she moved, but the icy touch of her fingers lingered on Lloyd's cheek. Something was about to happen...

Lloyd's breathing grew heavier. He knew Watson wouldn't scare him without reason. Though she was a detestable demon, she had never lied to him. She only presented one harrowing truth after another, dragging everyone involved into their own personal hells.

The three people in conversation seemed oblivious to Lloyd's change. The atmosphere was delightful, and with Sayre's arrival, more people gathered, currying favor with the future Duchess. But Lloyd couldn't immerse himself in the revelry. Slowly, he raised his hand, slipping a sharp dinner knife into his tense sleeve.

This was a noble ball. Lloyd had come unarmed, leaving his Winchester and cane sword on Cork Street. He cursed himself, seething with regret. The Lloyd of old wouldn't have been so careless. He was a cold, efficient demon hunter, always armed and alert, not a detective oblivious to impending danger.

"Do you know why no one has names?" A distant voice echoed in his mind. Lloyd couldn't understand why he recalled this now. It was a tale from long ago, when the church stripped names from orphans. They were weapons in training, needing only a dispensable codename.

People feared, grieved, erred, and panicked. But weapons were different. Weapons were cold steel, efficient and flawless, devoid of human frailty. Breathing deeply, Lloyd's eyes, under their grey-blue veil, gleamed with a rising light. He concealed it well, avoiding eye contact, and no one noticed his strangeness.

He pondered the source of the threat until he overheard a conversation in the crowd.

"Duke Salicado, your recent reputation isn't stellar."

Someone said.

"I heard your factory employs many exiles, and there have been numerous deaths lately. The guilds are preparing to investigate you."

The man chuckled in response.

"Investigate me? They protect workers from Inglewig, not Gaulnalo. Without me, they wouldn't even have food."

To him, the exiles were ideal labor—cheap, without benefits. Some fell silent, reluctant to offend a financial titan, while others echoed his sentiments, eager to please.

Lloyd stared blankly at Duke Salicado, realizing the end of all clues was unexpectedly here. Pushing through the crowd with an aura of icy death, Lloyd moved like a lifeless machine. His presence cleared a path.

"There's something wrong," he whispered into Duke Phoenix's ear. Phoenix was about to reprimand Lloyd but paused at his words.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think?" Lloyd asked. What else could it be but a demon?

Without another word, Lloyd left, not even bidding farewell to Sayre. He glanced one last time at Duke Salicado, who remained unaware of the encroaching danger. Lloyd stepped into the shadows, muscles tensing as his clothes tore, like a beast breaking free. The sharp knife slid from his sleeve, and the secret blood began to surge.

"Have you figured it out?" Watson walked beside him in the shadows, their pace quickening.

"Yes, this is the perfect place for revenge. The nobility gathered here, including three known dukes, make it an ideal target."

"So, what will you do now?" Watson taunted.

"Find it. Kill it," Lloyd replied emotionlessly, ripping the ornate decorations from his clothes.

"But it's hiding in the dark. You can't protect everyone," Watson warned again.

"Just like the Night of the Sanctification. No one understood or helped you. You fought alone."