The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 124

It was an indescribable emotion, a mingling of vengeful elation and fury, and the bitterness of betrayal.

Though Lloyd had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the man—so fleeting that his features were blurred by the speed—he recognized him instantly. The man who should have perished on the Night of Divine Descent.

"I never expected you to still be alive, Father Laurence," came Lloyd's voice, devoid of any emotion from within the divine armor. It seemed that the knight within had already succumbed to the abyss, becoming more inhuman with each passing moment.

"L-Lloyd!" gasped Eve from behind him, her recognition of the monstrous figure clear in her voice.

Celine, standing nearby, cast a wary glance. She had heard Eve's words and, despite her reluctance to connect this terrifying presence with the man in her mind, the sense of familiarity when he turned his head was undeniable.

"Run, run away!" Eve shouted. The pressure that Father Laurence exerted on her far exceeded any previous threat. He was a harbinger of true death, and to face him would only bring doom.

But Lloyd shook his head, his voice resolute. "You go ahead. I need to stay."

Indeed, how could Lloyd flee? He had carried this enigmatic burden for many years. Sometimes he even thought he would die a mundane death in Old Dunling. But now, as all things began to awaken, he had grasped a piece of the truth once more.

This was a fateful reunion. After the Night of Divine Descent, Lloyd had thought he would never have another chance to uncover the whole truth. But now, the man who should have been long dead appeared before him.

Lloyd knew the might of Father Laurence. Before the dissolution of the Order of Demon Hunters and the outbreak of the Night of Divine Descent, Laurence had been the head of the Order, a cardinal of the Evangelical Church, a demon hunter who had lived for countless years.

Due to their uncontrollable nature, demon hunters were never meant to hold power. But Father Laurence was an exception, a grey mediator between black and white, bridging both.

Lloyd was acutely aware of the gap between himself and Father Laurence. Although Laurence was old, the secret blood within him did not age with time. He was still a sharp sword, only the scabbard around it had weathered.

Lloyd had no intention of fleeing. It wasn't just about revenge. Whatever Father Laurence's purpose for appearing here, only Lloyd could hold him off. He felt no fear. Lloyd had often revisited the Night of Divine Descent in his mind, convinced that if given a second chance, he would die there rather than live on as the last survivor.

Blazing with white-hot rage, the flames consumed the grassy expanse, the warm evening breeze carrying embers and grey ash swirling in the night.

Amidst the ruins, Laurence slowly stood up, staring at the pitch-black armor. Laurence was as shocked as Lloyd. In his mind, the Medanzo demon hunters were all dead. Yet, here in distant Old Dunling, they had met again.

"How is this possible? You should all be dead," Laurence muttered, disbelief etched on his face, though it soon gave way to a twisted smile, like an unexpected delight.

On that final night, the Seven Hills were sealed, the Templar Order unleashed in full force, blood flowing like rivers. Even then, some had crawled out from the heaps of the dead, among them Ed who had perished, and now, Lloyd seething with rage.

"Yes... why indeed?" Lloyd stepped through the flames towards Father Laurence. At this moment, he exuded an indescribable terror, almost as if he had become a demon himself, emanating a suffocating suppression.