Chapter 1460: Homecoming (Part 3)

Seeing this, Samuel felt a moment of relief, suddenly thinking it was all worthwhile again.

“Do you know, Nord, I once heard Fr. Anthony tell a story like this.”

As Samuel swung his sword, he shouted, while Nord looked perplexed, unable to understand why Samuel was telling a story now.

“He said that on the Night of the Holy Arrival, there was also a demon hunter who battled numerous demons, bearing the name of an angel and called Yanar.”

Scarlet threads danced wildly, picking up the scattered sword blades on the ground; he was like a specter wrapped in threads.

“I… I might also become ‘Yanar’.”

With those words, Samuel’s voice blurred and grew hoarse, and Nord could only see a scarlet lion gnashing at the demons. The flesh continually multiplied, but was quickly torn apart and shattered, with his screams echoing painfully loud.

This was a deadly struggle between beasts, while the Holy Hall Knights sat like spectators in the arena, watching in terror. In the end, Nord could barely distinguish Samuel from the demons before him.

He clawed and bit, using anything he could, until he was exhausted, until the heavy steel knocked him down; the iron-armored demons breathed foul air, approaching from the distant streets.

Samuel fell to the ground, his vision soaked in blood and blurred, the threads on him gradually ceased their wild dance, losing their strength to sew his wounds, barely sustaining his life.

“I guess it’s still not possible, huh…”

He murmured, realizing he wasn’t strong enough; surrounded by the demons, Samuel couldn’t hold on anymore.

Perhaps he truly had to break his promise, knowing his life still had its final use.

Step into the darkness, unleash the Secret Blood.

The footsteps of the demons grew closer; Samuel enjoyed a last moment of peace, waiting for them to approach, prepared to give everything to the darkness for a final blood battle.

Thinking so, gradually, all surrounding howls vanished, no longer a cacophony but an eerie silence.

In the silence was only the sound of flames burning and approaching footsteps.

Someone was coming?

No… many, many people, their steps uniform, thunderous in rhythm, then suddenly ceased.

No, they stopped.

“Huh? Is this Lorenzo de’ Medici? The sculpture doesn’t even look like him.”

A voice sounded beside him, surprising Samuel, who struggled to lift his head and managed to see a figure standing beside the statue, wiping the blood from its face, commenting thus.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve returned; Florence has changed so much, it’s truly a pity.”

He continued lamenting, seemingly noticing Samuel still clinging to life, turning to reveal a cold metallic mask.

“Who… are you?”

Samuel asked, his mind blank, as if something threatened him, a peril so terrifying it prevented any thought beyond what was before him.

“Oh, me?”

He walked over, squatting beside Samuel, his voice light and seemingly delighted.

“You can call me… Lawrence.”

He said.

“Lawrence?”

Samuel’s voice was numb, reciting with no emotion as the terrible nightmares drawn by this name emerged in his mind.

“Yes, Lawrence.”

He said, standing up, surveying the square, where one iron-masked figure after another advanced, brandishing steel and blood, eradicating all demons along their path.

Like a massacre.

“Former Dean of the Demon Hunting Order, current Pope of Orthodoxy.”

He smiled.

“I am Lawrence, this is my battle.”