"What... what the hell is that thing?"
The follower stayed close behind the priest. He had witnessed Lloyd's fall with his own eyes, yet in that fleeting instant before it happened, Lloyd had already left him under immense pressure.
The strength he displayed in such a hopeless situation was far beyond what any ordinary man should have been capable of. Scaling walls and sheer cliffs as though gravity itself meant nothing. Inevitably, the follower was reminded of the monsters that had once existed within the Church. Yet according to the purge of that night, they should all have been dead.
The priest said nothing. He simply quickened his pace and pressed onward.
Of course, he understood exactly what the follower suspected, and that knowledge only made him more anxious. There were more monsters hidden within Old Dunling than they had ever imagined.
He dared not dwell on those thoughts. He dared not even confirm his own suspicions. If his guess was correct—if that kind of creature had set its sights on them—then perhaps not a single person in their group would escape these underground tunnels alive. The only thing he could do was lie to himself and keep moving faster.
Then suddenly, an unnatural sound echoed from behind them.
Everyone stopped.
The tunnels dug by the Ratfolk were not far from the Nest itself. From here, they could still see the raised platform above—the very place where they had opened fire moments earlier.
A pale sword-cane suddenly stabbed into the edge of the platform.
Then a man pulled himself upward from beneath the abyss, climbing solely by the blade lodged in stone.
He had not fallen into the reservoir.
As he plummeted, under the watchful eyes of the Information Broker and Kammu, Lloyd had driven the sword-cane deep into the wall. Through sheer strength, he halted his fall and forced himself upward once more.
Standing atop the ledge, Lloyd stared into the tunnel.
Within the darkness, fear spread across every face.
"A... a Witch Hunter?"
The priest muttered the words with uncertainty.
He had once witnessed the Church's true core strength. He knew very well that such superhuman physiques existed only among those monsters.
What he had not expected was that some of those monsters were still alive.
And worse—they had appeared in Old Dunling.
Yet alongside the fear came a flicker of excitement.
So they had been right.
Whether Lloyd was truly a Witch Hunter or not, such supernatural power already existed within Old Dunling. Their investigation had not been misguided.
"Believers... the time has come to offer yourselves."
The priest took a slow step backward.
His gaze sharpened like a blade as he tightened his grip around his pistol and looked toward the followers surrounding him.
Ever since the new Pope had taken office, a brutal purge had swept through the Gospel Church. Every opponent had been eliminated with ruthless efficiency. By the time resistance forces gathered enough strength to fight back, the new Pope had already secured total control.
Left with no choice, they had fled under the leadership of Cardinal Michael.
Over time, their conflict had quietly become the Gospel Church's first civil war.
Now, however, they had received news.
Lawrence had appeared in Inlvig carrying the Book of Revelation.
This was their chance.
If the new Pope obtained Revelation first, they would never have another opportunity to strike back.
But if they reclaimed it...
Then the Pope would cease to be a threat forever.
The priest had to survive.
At the very least, he had to carry this information back.
Their faction had already been pushed to the edge of destruction.
This was their final chance to overturn fate.
"Father Yag..."
The followers stared at him in disbelief.
Terror filled their eyes.
"As martyrs, the glory shall still belong to you."
Yag spoke calmly.
For a brief moment they exchanged glances. Then, as though faith finally overcame fear, they nodded with great difficulty and allowed Yag to flee toward the surface alone.
They still had a chance.
The tunnel was narrow.
If they held this position and continued firing, Lloyd would have nowhere to dodge.
They could stall him.
Perhaps they could even withdraw safely.
Yes.
There was no reason to be so terrified.
Maybe Lloyd was simply an exceptionally skilled fighter.
Maybe he wasn't a Witch Hunter at all.
The Witch Hunters were dead.
And even if any survivors remained, surely they wouldn't be hiding in a filthy rat nest like this.
Right?
The followers desperately tried to reassure themselves.
By then, Lloyd had already climbed back up.
Mist and water soaked his clothes.
Droplets slid from the polished surface of the sword-cane.
The damp fabric clung tightly to his body, outlining a dark silhouette.
His head hung slightly low.
Like a scarecrow standing alone in a dead field.
Then he slowly raised his gaze.
For a single heartbeat, his eyes met those hidden within the darkness.
The next instant, gunfire erupted.
Like the signal shot at the beginning of a race.
The followers fired.
And Lloyd charged.
The sword-cane dragged a pale arc through the air.
Deadly.
Unstoppable.
There was something indescribably oppressive about him.
Like Death itself arriving to collect a soul.
Once the Reaper decided to knock upon your door, nothing you did could stop him.
You couldn't even delay him.
His body exploded with impossible power.
The sword-cane flashed through the darkness.
Metal collided against metal.
This was not a carefully forged Nail Sword.
Nor was it made from the specialized alloys used by the Purging Agency.
At the moment of impact, tiny dents appeared across the blade.
With every swing, fresh chips tore along its edge.
Sparks erupted before him.
One after another.
The sword-cane cut them from the air with uncanny precision.
The flashes vanished almost instantly.
Lloyd surged into the tunnel.
More bullets followed.
The cramped passage barely left room to turn around.
From the followers' perspective, he couldn't even swing his weapon properly.
He should have been dead.
Bullets poured into the darkness ahead.
Yet once Lloyd entered the tunnel, his body blocked much of the light behind him.
The followers' vision became murky and uncertain.
Then more sparks exploded within the darkness.
They dared not stop firing.
Metal rang endlessly ahead.
But beneath the clamor came another sound.
A sharp whistle of wind.
The sword-cane tore through the darkness and impaled the first follower clean through.
Something was moving inside the shadows.
Fast.
Far too fast.
"Fire! Fire! Don't stop firing!"
Muzzle flashes illuminated the followers' positions.
Most of them remained crouched to avoid being struck by bullets from behind.
Then the flickering light revealed something that should not have been there.
Black armor.
A suit of dark divine armor.
It had not fully covered Lloyd's body.
Only one arm was encased within it, forming something like a crude shield.
Yet that simple shield blocked the overwhelming majority of incoming fire.
The tunnel offered no room for powerful punches.
But that did not mean close combat was useless.
Lloyd seized one follower and shoved him forward as a human shield.
The man hammered desperately against Lloyd's body.
A futile resistance.
Gunfire continued.
The followers shot through their own comrade.
Bullets tore into flesh.
Blood sprayed across the darkness.
Within that narrow, suffocating tunnel...
Lloyd looked less like a man and more like a monster.
Retrieving the sword-cane from a corpse, he continued advancing while dragging another follower before him.
When he reached the next target, he discarded the body and thrust forward.
The Nail Sword pierced the man's palm and pinned him directly to the wall.
"Promise me something."
Lloyd's voice emerged from the darkness.
"How about staying right here and behaving yourself?"
The pinned follower had already lost all courage.
Lloyd stood so close.
Yet he could not even find the nerve to pull the trigger.
The remaining followers had vanished.
Long before Lloyd reached them, terror had already driven them into flight.
Still, they had accomplished their task.
They had bought Yag time.
Lloyd glanced around.
When approaching the platform earlier, he had caught a glimpse of the priest.
The clothing alone was enough to identify him.
That man knew everything.
The problem was that the tunnels branched endlessly in every direction.
And unlike a demon, the priest left no trace Lloyd could track.
Then a faint rustling emerged from the darkness.
Lloyd narrowed his eyes.
A large rat crawled into view.
Wrapped around its tail was a yellow warning tag.
The creature stopped several paces away.
It looked at him.
Almost intelligently.
Then it turned and disappeared down one of the tunnels.
Lloyd blinked.
"That's... absurdly convenient."
He could hardly believe it.
Still, he followed.
Outside the tunnels, within the Rat Nest itself, the Information Broker stood at the edge of the platform.
Above him, the high ground sat empty.
Lloyd had disappeared into the tunnels long ago.
Yet the Broker still stared at the place, unable to hide the lingering mixture of fear and excitement in his eyes.
"You think a human can do that?"
The question came after a long silence.
Only he and Kammu remained.
Ratfolk were cautious creatures.
The moment the first gunshot sounded, they had scattered in every direction.
Kammu knew the question was meant for him.
He thought back to Lloyd scaling the wall like some impossible apparition.
After a long pause, he finally answered.
"I... I don't know."
Silence followed.
Then the Information Broker laughed.
He possessed too much information.
Countless scraps of gossip and overlooked details.
When assembled together, they formed stories.
Complete stories.
For every story, he assigned a numerical value.
He called it the Deviation Index.
Because those stories were built from deduction rather than firsthand truth, they inevitably differed from reality.
To preserve logical consistency, he allowed himself certain corrections.
Minor adjustments.
Reality bent slightly to fill the gaps.
For example, had he not witnessed Lloyd's climb himself, he might have concluded there were hidden footholds in the wall.
That would have been a reasonable correction.
But only within limits.
A man stopping his own fall with a sword-cane and climbing back up moments later?
That was excessive.
The deviation was far too large.
The Information Broker carried countless stories in his mind.
Many of them contained absurdly high deviation values.
Shrike.
Lloyd.
Old Dunling itself.
He could see the flaws.
The holes.
And to patch them, he would need to make corrections so unreasonable they bordered on madness.
Yet stories were one thing.
Reality was another.
Could reality truly be this unbelievable?
And if it could...
Then what force was making those impossible corrections?
Whatever it was, it was terrifying.
And it hid somewhere within the shadows of Old Dunling.
Now he had seen its traces with his own eyes.
Perhaps this was the closest he had ever come to the secret.
Something lurked in the darkness.
And he was about to see it.
"The Rat King will be pleased."
The Information Broker smiled.
Kammu had no idea what was going on inside the man's head.
"Stop!"
A voice suddenly echoed through the Rat Nest.
One of the fleeing followers had become hopelessly lost within the tunnels.
After wandering in circles, he had somehow returned here.
He raised his pistol toward them.
"Stay where you are!"
Kammu froze in terror.
He was only a scavenging Ratfolk trying to survive.
Instinctively, he obeyed.
The Information Broker merely turned around.
He looked at the lost follower.
There was a smile on his face.
Yet his eyes held only pity.
"You people really don't know how to follow the rules."
"Shut up!" the follower roared. "Get me out of here!"
The tunnels were too complicated.
He couldn't find the exit.
The pistol never wavered.
But the Information Broker ignored it completely.
"Lower District may be chaotic, but invisible laws still hold it together. That's why people can survive amidst the disorder."
He paused.
Then smiled.
"Break the rules... and you die."
He raised a hand and whistled.
The sound was sharp.
Piercing.
The follower opened his mouth to fire a warning shot.
Then countless whistles answered from behind him.
From deep within the tunnels.
His face went pale.
He spun around.
Something was moving inside the darkness.
Something crawling.
Then it emerged.
A black tide.
A tide of death.
Rats.
An endless swarm of rats.
Drawn by the whistle, they flooded forward and engulfed him completely.
Their harmless appearance vanished.
Teeth and claws tore into flesh.
Again.
And again.
And again.
His screams echoed through the Nest.
He fired wildly.
Useless.
The rats leapt endlessly onto his body.
Their teeth locked into him.
Their weight multiplied.
Eventually he collapsed.
Curled helplessly on the ground.
Covered by a living blanket of feeding vermin.
The Information Broker walked calmly past him.
Blood seeped from beneath the swarm.
Through shifting gaps, glimpses of torn flesh and exposed bone could be seen.
The screams weakened.
Then faded.
Only the wet sounds of feeding remained.
Kammu was so terrified he forgot how to breathe.
Never in his life had he imagined the rats he casually played with could become something so horrifying.
Slowly, he turned toward the Information Broker.
The man had taught them how to train rats for carrying messages.
But never this.
Never how to kill.
Kammu's heart hammered violently.
It felt as though a single whistle would be enough to unleash that black tide upon him as well.
As though sensing his fear, the Information Broker spoke casually.
"You're one of us. Relax. I don't kill people just to silence them."
Whether that was a lie or the truth, Kammu couldn't tell.
But it eased his terror slightly.
The Information Broker gestured for him to follow.
"Come on. The Rat King is waiting for us."
"The Rat King?"
Kammu stared.
Could such a person truly exist?
"Kammu," the Information Broker continued, his strange smile never fading, "you've already seen things you were never meant to see."
"Which means you now have two options."
"Prove your value. Show that you're worth investing in."
"Or prove that you're disposable."
Kammu stood frozen for a long time.
He understood one thing clearly.
He had no right to refuse.
So he followed.
The two disappeared into the tunnels.
By then, the feast had ended.
The rats scattered in every direction.
Only bloodstains and shattered white bones remained behind.