The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 150

"Here we are......"

Lloyd looked around this clear, cold world with a puzzled expression. Just moments ago, he had been in the dim underground, but now he found himself here. Before him stood a naked man, shivering violently as if in immense pain.

"So cold... Why? Why didn't you take me with you?"

Horace crossed his arms tightly, hugging his chest. So many things eluded his understanding. He had always been so insignificant, so easily forgotten.

Stumbling, he moved slowly toward Lloyd.

"If I... if I just kill you, I can leave... right?" Horace muttered to himself.

Lloyd gripped his sword tightly, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. He had a suspicion about this place. This eerie [Interstice]—he recognized the familiar feeling, even if he hadn't seen the benches and falling moons many times.

This was not his [Interstice]; it belonged to the man before him, to the demon's [Interstice].

"So... demons can possess such strange realms? Or are there other conditions?" Lloyd mused, glancing around. His detective instincts pieced together many possibilities.

But before Lloyd could delve deeper into his deductions, Horace lunged at him. The sword gleamed coldly as it sliced downward. In this mental world, Horace was no longer the twisted mass of flesh but his original human form.

Blood splattered, staining the white snow.

Horace stared blankly at the metal piercing his chest. At first, he was terrified as blood gushed over him, and he cried out in pain. But soon confusion set in.

The pain was excruciating, but he did not die. Instead, a crazed laugh escaped his lips.

"This... this is hell!" he cried, tears streaming down his face like a madman.

An endless cold and hunger, with no escape, trapped forever. Suddenly, as if grasping at a last hope, he looked up at Lloyd. The mad look in his eyes sent a shiver through the hunter.

"You can enter... there must be a way out, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Lloyd didn't understand. His knowledge of the [Interstice] was limited.

"I need to rely on my own strength... my own strength." Lawrence's words echoed in his ears, a whisper like insects burrowing through soil, almost imperceptible, then growing into a cacophony. The poor will couldn't withstand the onslaught, descending into madness.

With a twisted face, Horace charged at Lloyd, now utterly insane.

Instinctively, Lloyd swung his sword. Though he inflicted wound after wound, it wasn't enough to kill him. This was Horace's world, a mental battlefield. How could metal slay a void-like will? Lloyd wasn't even sure if the weapon in his hand was real or just a figment of his desperate imagination.

The world seemed to resonate with Horace's madness, a storm whipping up, and the cold lashed at Lloyd, bringing a biting frost. They mourned for Horace, and raged because of him.

"A stronger will can destroy... or replace a weaker one."

A ghostly voice echoed. Suddenly, a rift in space appeared behind Lloyd, and Watson smiled at him. She raised her hand slowly, power surging from the cold [Interstice]. In that moment, Lloyd saw everything clearly, the paths of all the power flows.

From one [Interstice] to another, traversing them with furious energy.

In an instant, Lloyd witnessed fragments of memories, sharp as knives, cutting into his being. Horace's life flashed through his mind in chaotic fragments, tearing at his fragile mind.