It was an ancient history, buried deep in the shadowed side of the world—a history that every soul who understood its weight would keep in silence, passing it on only at the moment of their departure.
"The first to fight the demons were the Evangelical Church—or more precisely, the secret order beneath it, known as the Demon-Hunting Choir."
Lloyd began recounting that tale which should have long been forgotten. His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if he could still see those who once raised their torches and bared themselves to the night.
"In the beginning, humanity couldn't stand against the demons. The only way to win was to bury them in bodies. It was the darkest, most wretched era—either we cowered behind our fortresses, or sacrificed our own to stave off demonic raids. It was an age soaked in blood… until one day, someone claimed he had received a revelation from God."
Eve felt herself drawn into Lloyd's story.
"A… revelation?"
Lloyd nodded. As with every myth steeped in the bizarre, there is always one person who opens the path.
"He said the divine had spoken to him, saying that in the far North lay something sacred—something that could free mankind from the demons. So he gathered those who believed him. They became the first believers in the world. They crossed the darkened earth, sailed away from the kingdom, and journeyed through countless years toward the frost-covered North, stepping onto an abandoned field of ice."
"Many years passed. Everyone forgot them. Those who remembered assumed they had died on the road. But then, one day—they returned. They carried bronze urns sealed with gold and holy silver, adorned with craftsmanship far beyond anything the world could have produced. As if gods and ghosts alike had been imprisoned within the metal. Their faces were twisted, guarding the knowledge sealed inside."
Within those urns were books written in an ancient tongue. Only the man of divine revelation and those who followed him could read them. After many more years, the scripture was finally translated.
As Lloyd whispered on, the thread of strangeness grew tighter. Eve felt as though she was walking into another world.
From the street came the rise of strings and a low murmur of prayer. The two realized a church stood nearby—a cathedral of the city, hosting some ceremony that night. The pipe organ thundered in solemn splendor, and the faithful whispered their devotions.
"They named the translated scripture the Gospel. And so the Evangelical Church was born. It was built upon seven hills, rising out of that barren land. Then came the spread of its faith—the Holy Evangelical Papal State inscribed itself upon the map of the world."
It was the genesis of an ancient order, wrapped in legend and myth so vivid that Eve briefly forgot her own unease.
"Of course, I don't believe such tales. Stories are easy enough to craft. But one thing is certain—the Gospel is not simple. And in truth, it has two volumes. The first is what everyone knows: the Gospel, preaching God and faith. The second circulates only within the Church."
Lloyd lit a cigarette and drew deeply, letting the smoke rise. This was where the true secrecy began.
"The second book is called the Revelation. If the Gospel built the Evangelical Church, then in the shadows, the Revelation built the Demon-Hunting Choir. No God. No doctrines. Only knowledge of demons."
It was knowledge carved from the world's deepest, most silent layers—and Lloyd spoke of it as casually as if it were worthless, though it had been purchased with countless lives.
"With faith, the Church united nearly all of humanity and built a kingdom of men within a world drowned in darkness. But it wasn't enough—not against demons. So the believers opened the Revelation in the name of God and founded the Demon-Hunting Choir."
"When confronted with death, humans become far more terrifying than they realize."
Lloyd laughed again, a bitter and mocking sound.
"Ethics discarded. Morality abandoned. All lines crossed—simply to survive."
"…What did you do?"
Eve felt something cold coil around her. Like a nest of serpents winding about her skin.
"To kill a demon, you must first become one."
The words struck her like a tolling bell. She felt it—that deepening connection, that indescribable yet unmistakable sense of something uncanny unfolding. As if her world had gained another layer of meaning. As if she had been a mere operator of a dormant machine, and now the machine's hidden functions were awakening before her eyes.
"Demons are strange. Their vitality borders on absurd—they need little sustenance, can tear plate armor like cloth, and possess the power to erode our will. Fire barely harms them, steel struggles to kill them. Compared to them, humans are… fragile."
Eve stared at Lloyd, breath quickening, her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears.
The door had opened—the door of darkness.
"You… you…"
She had guessed something but dared not speak it. The fear rising in her chest felt almost magical, as if naming the truth would make it real.
Lloyd smiled faintly, surprised by her insight.
"The technique is called Secret Blood."
"We killed demons and extracted their blood through a process known as alchemy. Then we consumed it. It granted us strength like theirs—but at a terrible cost. According to the Choir's oldest records, those who first drank Secret Blood were disposable. Their sanity lasted only minutes before they fell fully into darkness and became demons themselves."
"The side effects were devastating, yes—but for the first time, we won. And then came centuries of experiments. Subjects were caged in iron, dozens of spears aimed at them—if they lost control, they were killed instantly."
"That's… insane!"
Even from afar, Eve felt the suffocating despair of that history. She curled into the sofa like a frightened creature.
"How could you accept that?"
"Compared to freeing humanity from fear? The price was cheap."
Lloyd's tone was cool—no one alive had the right to judge that era's darkness.
"The experiments lasted centuries, until the first stable vessels appeared. They could wield demonic power and retain their minds. They were the compatible ones—the first demon hunters. For the first time, humanity had the strength to face demons head-on."
He lifted his hand. The wound on his arm was already slowly closing. Lloyd smiled at her.
"Sabo died because he wasn't compatible. His body couldn't withstand the pressure of Secret Blood. But you're different, Eve. I'm guessing you became compatible long ago—you just never realized it."
This was Lloyd's conclusion: Eve was a vessel of Secret Blood who had unknowingly lived with it for years.
"Impossible!"
Eve screamed. She couldn't understand how she could be tied to something so monstrous. The memories of her past flickered—familiar scenes suddenly veiled in unreality.
"It's the only conclusion. Like a mathematical formula—the result may seem absurd, but the equation never lies. You carry Secret Blood. You lived with it for years. Had tonight not happened, it might never have awakened—not even at your death."
The detective delivered his deduction like a cruel prophecy.
"At some point in your past, you touched it. From that moment, the darkness was bound to you…"
He stopped speaking. Cold sweat gathered. Lloyd lifted his eyes to the patterned ceiling, gaze piercing the material as though looking toward the heavens beyond. He seemed to be searching for someone—someone who tugged at the threads of fate.
Something unseen was there. Perhaps a god, or something far stranger—manipulating destiny's filaments. Eve had been bound to the darkness long, long ago. It had never let her go. Tonight was merely the moment long postponed.
In a way, it wasn't Lloyd who found Eve and dragged her into this night of madness.
It was the ancient connection that guided him to her—like a fate-forged spear hurled ages ago, with Eve's destiny fixed at its tip, finally striking its mark tonight.
This was destiny—inescapable and absolute.