After the blizzard ceased, the intense burning that lasted for several hours finally gradually came to a halt, like a revelry after a sacrificial ceremony, with the remaining ashes swirling like black snow across the sky.

It seemed as if everything had ended—new enmities and old grievances, glory and shame—all cast into the scorching flames and burned to nothing.

The night sky deepened further, as if a colossal black creature was slowly diving down.

The giant whale of steel and machinery slowly cruised within the clouds, sails slicing through the cumulus, dense steam exhaled like breath, with engine sounds resembling thunder, as if carrying the wind and rain.

"How's the Geiger index response?"

"It's within the stable range; it appears Lawrence is already dead."

A brief dialogue took place in the command room. This time, Arthur personally led the team. In the somewhat dark space, various indicator lights illuminated his aged face.

He stood at the forefront of the command room, with transparent composite glass covering the floor beneath and ahead. Human eyesight could barely penetrate it to see the condition on the ground, where the fire was ablaze, with no knowing when it would extinguish.

"Do we need to continue observing?"

Red Falcon asked from the side.

Due to weight constraints, Sailing Dawn did not carry much ammunition; its current military strategy leaned more towards covert transport.

"Continue, we need to wait a bit longer."

Arthur said cautiously.

The fear of Lawrence had deeply planted itself in everyone's heart. He couldn't guarantee what might happen if Lawrence wasn't actually dead. If they rashly dived, perhaps they would step into that corrosive attack range. All they could do was wait further, ensuring there was no unexpected change in the situation.

"Do we need the Armor of Original Sin for reconnaissance? There are only a few First Generation Armors left in the cabin, ready to dive at any time."

Red Falcon proposed again.

"First Generation Armor?"

Arthur furrowed his brows.

"This is Merlin's suggestion. The Second Generation Armor is indeed controllable, but when facing Lawrence... even a dying Lawrence, its performance is somewhat insufficient. Therefore, the sealed First Generation Armor was taken out. Galahad is on standby at the rear; he can pilot it once more."

The cold voice echoed, and Red Falcon was well aware of what piloting it again implied. Since losing control last time, Galahad had been severely corroded. Using it this time would be his death, but currently, only he possessed the experience to pilot the First Generation Armor aboard the Sailing Dawn.

"What about Lancelot?"

"Also a consumable, Merlin said it should be used in more important places."

The conversation suddenly fell into silence, leaving only the mechanical operations and monotone signal sounds for the moment.

"There's already been enough sacrifice tonight, never mind."

Arthur sighed deeply, merely feeling exhausted.

"So, then, what should be conferred upon Lorenzo?"

"Conferred?"

Arthur was a bit confused by Red Falcon's words.

"Like some... recognition of identity? For instance, a knight's rank or something? Though for a Dead, such things don't matter anymore, it might still count as some proof."

Red Falcon pondered and continued, not quite sure how to express it himself.

"Not the Demon Hunter's part, but Lorenzo's existence as a human actually existed."

"I didn't expect you to think of this."

Arthur felt surprised.

"It's nothing, just suddenly realized, recognizing something can be quite important at times. Just like how I am no longer a street punk, but a wall guarding human rationality... Even though I'm still dancing on the edge of a knife, it seems even dying loses its hesitation."

Red Falcon continued speaking.

"That's how humans are, always moved by odd things."

"Is that so? Sounds not bad, I'll consider it."

Arthur replied.

...

At the edge of the flames, a slender figure swayed unsteadily. Selyu didn't know how long she had been walking, but in the end, she still arrived here following the sleepers, her expression wooden.

With no unnecessary explanations, she knew very well what had happened. It was just with a self-deceiving reluctance to believe, walking on a battlefield shrouded in smoke, the scorched earth still carrying that scalding warmth, and the not yet cooled molten iron slowly flowed, seemingly an advent of Hell.

Selyu roamed back and forth like a little girl picking up scraps in this metallic graveyard. In the end, she found what she wanted.

The detective in her memory who could take down a carful of men with a Winchester was gone. Half of his body lay crushed under a twisted carriage, eyes shut tight, dirty and grimy.

She dared not look, like a corpse burned to charcoal after a fire. Most of the surface of his body had been charred to black by the high temperatures, and the life force that the Demon Hunters prided themselves on could no longer save him, looking like a doll bitten apart by a beast, shattered and withered.

Indeed, unlike the lengthy sentimental scenes in stories, the emotions surged to the utmost and instead lacked anything genuinely touching. Selyu couldn't think of any words to say, nor could she feel any emotion, only blankness—a nightmare she couldn't wake up from, everything just blank.

Lorenzo had always been so restrained, restrained in his human part, clearly a living person, yet suppressing all emotions for the sake of that ridiculous vendetta.

Just as he said, those who got too close to Demon Hunters indeed had no good end. But in the end, Lorenzo still ensured Selyu's safe departure... No one could fathom what thoughts this Demon Hunter held in those final moments.

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