Chapter 159

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Enshrouded in the pitch-black armor of the gods, Lloyd stood tall, fiery white flames slowly rising from the seams. After a brutal slaughter, drenched in blood, Lloyd seized control once more. The three remaining invaders stared at the demon hunter in abject terror. They had never encountered such a being, ignorant of the shadows lurking in their world; to them, Lloyd was a monster plucked straight from myth.

"I... I..." one of them stammered in panic.

They had seen armored soldiers and metallic constructs, but nothing as fearsome as Lloyd. Just then, a roar shattered the silence.

"Time to prove our loyalty!"

A shadow burst through the door, brandishing a hunting rifle wildly. The man's face was contorted with fury, ready to embrace death heroically.

"Lloyd?" the intruder's bloodshot eyes locked onto the demon hunter. His hands trembled violently as he gripped the rifle, sweat pouring down his face.

"Must have been a dreadful nightmare," Lloyd ventured.

The nightmare's influence lingered in the mansion, and Lloyd guessed the man, Yahweh, had just awoken from its clutches. The old butler seemed dazed, glancing from the blood-stained hall to the harmless-looking invaders. His rage and fear slowly dissipated, and he swallowed hard, steadying himself.

"Yes, a nightmare indeed," Yahweh said wearily, collapsing by the stairs. Despite his age, it was a relief he had no heart condition. He then urgently pulled the girl, Seiru, away from the gruesome scene, shielding her eyes—though she had already witnessed everything.

"So... who are you?" Lloyd turned his gaze back to the invaders. Their preparation and organization were evident; their goal clear. They had used the nightmare's illusion to paralyze the mansion's occupants, then moved in for the kill. Everything was meticulously planned, except for the unforeseen encounter with Lloyd.

"Don't make me ask again," Lloyd threatened, but no one answered. They were paralyzed with fear, struggling against Lloyd's oppressive presence. Unhurried, Lloyd observed them, casually driving his blade through their thighs.

Watching them endure such cruel torment was the greatest punishment, their agony and bloodshed extracting every secret. Lloyd, like a seasoned torturer, knew precisely how to inflict non-lethal injuries—knowledge he had picked up in his time at the Royal Medical Academy. Blood flowed in relentless streams, and though they suppressed their screams, the stifled moans of pain were even more chilling.

Yahweh had covered Seiru's eyes, horrified by the metallic sounds of flesh being pierced. He began to see Lloyd as a complete psychopath, though none could fathom Lloyd's true intentions. He was observing, scanning his surroundings. This attack targeted the Stuart heir, and Lloyd knew these invaders were mere pawns, clueless about the real mastermind—the elusive dream weaver.

Uncertain of its location and wary of the dense urban landscape, Lloyd was careful not to spook the true enemy. Amidst the torture, Lloyd's senses stretched out, seeking the source of corruption.

"Spare me!" one invader suddenly screamed, breaking under the relentless pain. The others glared at him, enraged by his betrayal. His face was a mess of tears and blood, voice quivering with fear. His sanity shattered under Lloyd's brutality—after all, he was just a regular man.

"I am..." he began, but his voice abruptly stopped. All three invaders stared at Lloyd, their expressions eerily identical, as though possessed by a single consciousness.

"Hello," they spoke in unison, their voices blending into one. This chilling phenomenon made Lloyd wary. Before he could react, the three rose, attacking with twisted, contorted limbs.

Such attacks were insignificant to Lloyd, but he remained vigilant. After a brief struggle, one invader lunged at Lloyd, gripping his head tightly despite the sharp armor slicing his hands.

"Hello," he repeated, his voice a maniacal echo in Lloyd's mind, followed by excruciating pain. Instinctively, Lloyd drove his sword through the madman, spilling blood and entrails. The remaining two collapsed, inert.

"What... are you?" Lloyd muttered, lowering his sword and clutching his head. The pain, originating from within his mind, was all too familiar. He glanced at the unconscious pair, a complex look in his eyes.

Lloyd's mind raced, his surroundings coming into focus. The corruption had receded, no longer detectable. It was as if the dream weaver had never existed—or perhaps, it never had.

"A direct attack on the mind..." Lloyd mused, realizing the gravity of the situation. He looked at Seiru, who was slowly recovering, sitting beside Yahweh on the stairs, her breath steadying, her pale face regaining color.

A chilling realization dawned on him: there was no dream weaver, no illusion. This was an attack from the Gap—a mysterious mental realm someone had breached to assault Lloyd and his companions.

The Gap, as Medanzo had once shown him, was a place of dim stars, a pathway from one realm to another. As Lloyd's divine armor fell away, he stared at his reflection in the blood-soaked floor. Perhaps it was time to seek Medanzo's counsel.

"There is no curse, Seiru," Lloyd suddenly said.

"What?" Yahweh responded, puzzled.

"Yes, such mystical nonsense doesn't exist," Lloyd replied, binding the unconscious invaders. "If you don't believe, it holds no power. Once you waver, those horrors exploit the gap in your will." He turned to Seiru, his gaze cold. "Demons are like that. They flood endless fear into any crack in your resolve."

Seiru, still clutching her chest, didn't understand. "Why would the demons target me?"

Before she could finish, the reason dawned on her—the connection Lloyd had forged between her and the darkness. Perhaps out of guilt, Lloyd looked somewhat dejected as he continued.

"Their target was you, from the very beginning," he admitted.

"Who?" Seiru asked, desperate to know who wanted her dead.

With a mix of wariness and unease, Lloyd answered, "Lawrence... Bishop Lawrence."

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