The central square of London thundered with the sound of battle, growing more ferocious with every passing moment. Anderson no longer intended to hold back—he attacked immediately, not waiting for Alex or Alucard to react. He charged forward, silver bayonets gripped tightly in both hands, pages from the Bible swirling around him as he ran.

Shouting, Anderson rushed ahead and, once close enough, leaped into the air. Alucard, standing behind Alex, drew the blade she had wielded centuries ago and blocked Anderson’s strike. Sword and silver bayonet clashed in midair, and the Bible pages began spinning around Anderson and Alucard, igniting with blue flame.

Anderson clenched another silver bayonet in his other hand. But before he could launch his next attack, Alex appeared—kicking him square in the chest and sending him flying backward. Anderson managed to block Alex’s kick at the last second, but he was still hurled back, and the silver bayonet in his hand snapped instantly, absorbing the brunt of the impact.

“What a man… You’re just a human, yet you possess such indomitable will,” Alucard said, standing behind Alex.

“When a monster stands before me, I will never stop. For I am a weapon in the hands of God. Amen,” Anderson replied, drawing a fresh pair of silver bayonets.

“My sworn enemy! Show me how you’ll kill me. Show me how you’ll drive a silver bayonet through my heart. Just like five hundred years ago. Just like one hundred years ago. End my long sleep, my sworn enemy,” Alucard said in a calm voice, staring directly at Anderson.

“I will do exactly that—because I was born for it,” Anderson answered, crossing the silver bayonets in his hands.

While Alucard and Anderson exchanged their dramatic lines, Alex stood between them and saw only their lips moving. The reason? He had earbuds in, music playing in his ears. No matter how deeply Alex cared for Alucard, he had zero intention of listening to this melodramatic dialogue in the middle of a fight.

Still, Alex watched Alucard and Anderson closely, ready to see who would move first—so he could prevent either of them from killing the other. Anderson charged Alucard again, hurling a silver bayonet toward her. Before it could reach her, Alex intercepted it. With an upward kick, he sent the thrown bayonet soaring into the sky.

Before Alex could even lower his leg after launching the bayonet skyward, Anderson attacked Alucard once more. He leaped again, aiming to strike her with both silver bayonets. As Anderson swung, Alucard blocked with her sword once again. The two began exchanging rapid blows, and after only the third clash, cracks spread across the blade in Alucard’s hand.

Alucard didn’t care that her sword was fracturing. She delivered a wide overhead slash, bringing the blade down from above. At the same moment, Anderson twisted in midair, gripping both bayonets to strike downward. In the very last instant, Alex appeared between them—planting one foot on Alucard’s blade and shattering it completely, while his hand caught Anderson’s silver bayonets.

Before either could react, Alex squeezed Anderson’s hands and hurled him backward, then shoved Alucard away with his foot. Both Anderson and Alucard skidded across the ground after being pushed. When they finally stopped sliding, their eyes turned toward Alex—who was still listening to music, nodding his head to the beat.

“Knock it off, both of you. Anderson, I won’t let you hurt Carmilla. And Carmilla, I won’t let you kill Anderson. Just accept it,” Alex said in a bored tone, standing between them.

“My dear! My beloved! My chosen one! Is your greed really so vast that you’d go this far just to save this priest’s life?!” Alucard shouted with a wide grin.

“It’s not greed… I’m simply doing what I want. If I want to protect you—I will. Because I can afford to, my dear Carmilla. That goes for you too, Anderson. Keep attacking! Keep fighting! No matter how many times you swing those silver bayonets, not one of them will touch her. And now that you know this—what will you do, priest? Will you keep fighting, knowing you can’t kill the one you call a monster? Or will you choose to learn the truth that will open your eyes to this world?” Alex said calmly, looking between Alucard and Anderson.

Anderson stared at Alex, clutching the broken silver bayonets. Slowly, his gaze shifted to Alucard, who stood opposite him gripping her shattered sword. Taking a deep breath, Anderson tossed the broken weapons aside.

Alex watched calmly and understood that Anderson wasn’t giving up. And he was right. Anderson flicked his wrists slightly, and a fresh pair of silver bayonets slid into his palms—he clenched them tightly.

Seeing that Anderson had no intention of backing down, a wide smile spread across Alucard’s face. Alex simply sighed and cracked his neck lightly, realizing he would indeed have to beat Anderson into a state where he couldn’t even move.

The lull before the battle resumed lasted only a brief moment. Anderson roared and hurled his silver bayonets toward Alex. Alex caught the thrown weapons and saw Anderson pull another dozen bayonets from beneath his coat and throw them toward Alucard. Alex reacted instantly—kicking the ground and raising a stone slab in front of the incoming bayonets.

Without pausing, Alex flung the silver bayonets into the stone wall and instantly summoned Ebony into his hand. Spinning Ebony, he turned toward Alucard and opened fire. The bullets from Ebony collided midair with the shots Alucard fired from her Casull pistol.

The bullets clashed with sharp metallic sounds before falling to the ground. While Alex and Alucard shot at each other, the silver bayonets Anderson had thrown detonated, shattering the stone slab Alex had raised. Shards of the exploded slab flew toward Alex.

Without breaking his focus from shooting and blocking Alucard’s bullets, Alex flicked a finger upward. In response, a stone beam shot out of the ground toward Anderson. Anderson—who had just leaped over the shattered slab—was struck in the stomach and sent flying backward. He rolled across the ground and quickly rose to his feet, clutching his abdomen from the impact.

After deflecting Anderson’s attack, Alex immediately rushed toward Alucard to stop her from firing her Casull pistol. He closed the distance in an instant and, appearing in front of her, kicked upward—knocking the pistol out of her hand and sending it flying skyward. As Alucard’s arm was forced upward, a shot rang out, the bullet soaring into the air.

When Alex struck her pistol, a smile appeared on Alucard’s face as she looked at him. She immediately raised her other hand and threw a punch toward Alex’s face. But before her fist could connect, Alex exhaled an invisible burst of air that slammed into her chest.

By the time Alucard’s fist grazed Alex’s cheek, she felt her legs buckle. Her punch barely brushed him. Alex reacted instantly—grabbing her arm and sweeping her leg out from under her. He brought Alucard crashing to the ground, pinning her with his knee on her stomach.

When her back hit the blood-soaked concrete, Alucard’s eyes widened for a moment as she realized she was on the ground—with Alex looming above her. It had all happened so fast she hadn’t even processed it.

Narrowing her eyes, Alucard was genuinely impressed by Alex’s skill. In the past they had fought, but that had been nothing more than raw violence. Now she hadn’t taken a single wound—and she was the one lying on the ground.

“Impressive skill, my love. Where did you learn that?” Alucard asked, looking up at Alex with an amused smile.

“It happens when you get beaten up by the First Emperor of China. Want to keep going? I can fight like this for a long time without even injuring you,” Alex replied with a similarly light smile.

“Wonderful! Simply marvelous! I was right to choose you, my love. But this… checkmate,” Alucard said with a wide grin, pressing her other pistol—the Jackal—against Alex’s chest.

Alex looked down and saw the massive black pistol pressed against his chest. The Jackal—created by Walter specifically for Alucard to kill beings with enhanced regeneration and reflexes.

The Jackal required specially made 13mm rounds—everything from the casing to the bullet and propellant had been custom-modified. The first time Alex saw that pistol, he had wanted it for himself.

If Alucard had turned out to be a man, Alex wouldn’t have minded stealing it—but since she was a woman, he had to accept fate. Alucard gazed at Alex’s face with a smile, slowly cocking the hammer with a distinct click. Alex stopped looking at the Jackal and met Alucard’s eyes.

“You know I could dodge even in this situation, right?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow and staring at her blankly.

“I know… But what about him…?” Alucard replied with a wide smile, turning the Jackal aside.

Alex turned his head and saw Anderson charging toward them, silver bayonets clutched in both hands. Before she could fire at Anderson, Alucard kicked Alex in the chest—pushing him away so he couldn’t protect Anderson in time. With Alex shoved aside, Alucard fired at Anderson as he ran toward them.

Alex skidded across the ground after the kick to his chest. At that moment Anderson hurled his silver bayonets toward the incoming bullets. Each shot from the Jackal knocked several bayonets out of the air at once. Sliding across the ground and digging his fingers into the pavement, time around Alex seemed to slow as he exhaled a white cloud of vapor.

Iron needles instantly appeared in Alex’s hands—he flung them at the flying bullets. After throwing the needles, Alex pushed off the ground and slid directly under Anderson’s feet—tripping him. To both Alucard and Anderson, it happened in an instant. Just as a bullet was about to strike Anderson in the chest, he fell flat on the ground.

But one bullet still grazed his arm—while all the others were pinned to the wall by iron needles. Having tripped Anderson, Alex grabbed the priest by the leg and began spinning him—then released. Just before Anderson flew away, Alex delivered a spinning kick straight to his chest.

Anderson raised both arms in front of his chest to block Alex’s kick. But when the blow landed, Anderson felt it fully—his bones cracking under the impact.

From that strike, Anderson was sent flying backward. He hurtled through the air at high speed until he crashed back-first into a wall, punching straight through it. When Anderson broke through the wall with his back, debris from the shattered structure collapsed on top of him.

Before Alex could even exhale, another shot rang out. He jerked his head back to dodge the bullet fired at him. Turning, Alex looked at Alucard—who was aiming the Jackal at him with a light smile on her face.

Gritting his teeth in exhaustion, Alex clenched his fist and slammed it into the ground—creating a shockwave that surged toward Alucard. Cracks spread across the concrete, racing toward her. At the very last moment, Alucard pushed lightly off the ground and leaped upward before the shockwave could reach her.

Alucard landed gracefully on the roof of a building, looking down at Alex from above. Still smiling, she aimed the Jackal at him and opened fire again. Alex dodged the bullets with ease, barely moving from his spot. When Alucard stopped shooting, large bullet holes surrounded his feet—but he hadn’t shifted an inch.

“I told you, my dear. You can’t hit me,” Alex said, lighting a cigarette.

“Really? But who said I was aiming at you, my love? I know exactly what you hate most… You shouldn’t have punched the ground,” Alucard replied with a tender smile, looking down at Alex from above.

Alex looked down and saw cracks beginning to spread beneath his feet. Seeing this, he tiredly lifted his gaze to Alucard and let out a heavy sigh at the smile on her face. Before he could complain, the ground beneath him collapsed—he fell downward.

Alex dropped into a sewer tunnel filled with blood and the corpses controlled by Alucard. The moment he hit bottom, the dead seized him and carried him forward like a raging river, dragging him farther and farther. Alex gritted his teeth in irritation and quickly broke free from their grasp.

After shaking off Alucard’s familiars, a golden aura flashed around Alex for a brief moment as he struck forward. From his blow, part of the sewer tunnel simply collapsed—stone debris falling onto Alucard’s familiars.

Exhaling, Alex struck upward again—blasting a hole through the ceiling to escape the sewer. From his strike, several blocks and buildings simply sank underground—including the building Anderson had crashed into and the one Alucard had been standing on.

Before the building could fully collapse, Alucard leaped from its roof. As she jumped back, the building she had been standing on sank into the ground—along with part of the street. Landing on a surviving structure, Alucard took a step forward, jumped down, and looked at the destruction Alex had caused.

At that same moment another impact rang out—the street was destroyed even further as a massive hole opened in the ground, and Alex leaped out from it. Back on the surface, he brushed dust off himself and tiredly looked at Alucard. Alucard met his gaze with calm composure as the empty magazines fell from her Casull and Jackal pistols. While reloading, she never once took her eyes off Alex.

But in the next instant Alex suddenly appeared beside her and struck forward. His fist passed by Alucard’s head and slammed into the building behind her. When his fist touched the wall, there was a small pop—and the entire residential building instantly shattered into pieces. Alucard watched Alex, tilting her head to the side and staring straight into his eyes with her crimson gaze.

“Still not ready to hit me, my love? Just like the first time—when you destroyed my body with every strike. Each blow took one of my lives. But now you’re not even trying to kill me,” Alucard asked in a gentle tone, gazing directly into Alex’s eyes.

“It’s hard to hit someone you love. Because I can forgive all your little pranks. As for the past—it’s in the past. We live here and now, not back there,” Alex replied, tapping her nose with his finger.

“You’re right. Absolutely right! We live only in the present,” Alucard said, looking at Alex with a wide smile.

Alucard’s gaze grew increasingly obsessive as she stared at him. This battle alone was no longer enough—she wanted more. The desire to die at the hands of a human capable of ending her long un-life had begun to fade ever since she met Alex. Her existence had become far more interesting than the monotonous wait for the end of her endless life.

Alex saw Alucard’s familiar obsessive look and nearly sighed. Before he could do or say anything, Alucard grabbed his cheeks and kissed him deeply on the lips. Her hands slid from his cheeks to his neck, then to his back—pulling him tightly against her as though he might escape.

While Alucard kissed Alex, completely forgetting everything else, Anderson crawled out from the sunken building. Emerging from the rubble, he looked at his arm—hanging limply from his shoulder. The last kick Alex had delivered had broken it.

Even his regeneration couldn’t repair the damage he had taken. Anderson was in terrible condition: his head was split open, blood flowed not only from the head wound but from his nose as well, one arm was broken, and his coat was torn. Every part of his body ached from the building collapsing on him.

Anderson wiped blood from his face with his good hand and looked at his broken arm. He tried to move it—but all he managed was to clench his fingers. The arm itself remained limp, refusing to move no matter how much strength he put into it.

Stopping his examination of the broken arm, Anderson raised his gaze and looked ahead. The entire street was destroyed—buildings had sunk underground, blood flowed from the cracks, transforming into corpses that filled the ruined street. Shifting his attention away from the dead, Anderson looked farther down the street—the only part still intact—and saw Alucard’s back.

Gritting his teeth in irritation, Anderson raised his broken arm and bit down on the sleeve to hold it in place. Clutching a silver bayonet in his broken hand, Anderson looked at the corpses approaching him—he had no intention of stopping until he reached his goal.

“As long as my hands can grip a blade… As long as my legs can carry me forward… I will continue on my path and never stop until life leaves my body or until every spawn of the night ceases to exist! For I am a weapon in His hands, and I am the blade that punishes the wicked of humankind! AMEN!” Anderson began to speak, his voice growing louder with every word until it became a roar.

Roaring, Anderson charged at the corpses—ignoring the pain in his body, ignoring his broken arm and the blood clouding his vision. He was ready to fight until his final breath. Anderson swung his silver bayonets, cutting down dozens of corpses that kept pressing toward him.

The sound of rending flesh and the groans of the dead reaching for him echoed across the ruined street. Anderson advanced like a machine built solely for killing. He used every ounce of his arsenal, squeezing every drop of strength from his body to slaughter as many of the dead as possible.

With every swing of the silver bayonet in his hands, his coat billowed, revealing flashes of more silver bayonets beneath. When one dulled or broke, Anderson hurled it into a corpse and immediately drew another.

The bayonets he threw embedded themselves in the dead and detonated—scattering consecrated silver dust and silver shrapnel that struck nearby corpses. Even as he took random wounds, Anderson never stopped—he continued carving his way forward through the army of the dead.

With every step, his body became more covered in blood; with every step, more wounds appeared—but he pressed on toward his goal. Even knowing Alex stood in his path, Anderson refused to stop. This was the path he had chosen. And no matter what truth Alex wanted to tell him—he had a duty to fulfill. Otherwise, all these sacrifices would have been in vain.

At the same time, Alex and Alucard watched Anderson as he carved his way through the ranks of the dead without any intention of stopping. At first Alucard had seen Anderson as nothing more than the Vatican’s attack dog. But watching him fight on despite his wounds—despite having no chance of victory, continuing forward—she began to see him as a human being.

And Alucard was someone who respected people willing to fight monsters at the cost of their own lives. Unconsciously, she sank into memories from a century ago—when she had fought a group of humans who managed to defeat her despite being mere mortals.

Alex’s eyes shone as he looked at Anderson and at his soul. He could clearly see Anderson’s soul beginning to bloom. Alex recognized in Anderson the same potential he had seen in Doom Slayer’s soul and in Dean’s. He wanted to witness Anderson’s limit—and how long he could keep fighting.

“Almost… Just a little more… If he keeps fighting, his soul will fully bloom. If he keeps fighting, he will become the hurricane he was born to be,” Alex said, continuing to use his magical sight to observe Anderson’s soul.

“He’s not a dog… He’s a man with astonishing willpower. He’s like them—one hundred years ago,” Alucard said, standing beside Alex without taking her eyes off Anderson.

“If you mean Van Helsing, you’re wrong. Anderson is different—completely different,” Alex replied, shaking his head slightly.

“How different? What exactly do you see in him that I don’t?” Alucard asked, turning her head toward Alex.

“I’ve seen a soul like his only twice before. Anderson is the third. He has the potential of a true avenger. Someone who will stop at nothing until his mission is complete. And that’s exactly why I chose him,” Alex answered, never turning his head, still watching Anderson.

“Interesting… So that’s why you wanted to protect him from me? Now I’m curious too—what he could become, and whether he can keep his humanity in the process,” Alucard said, shifting her gaze back to Anderson.

Alex gave a small nod in response to Alucard’s question. All this time Anderson continued fighting every corpse that came near him. Behind him stretched a trail of blood and the bodies of the dead he had permanently slain. Anderson could no longer feel his body, but his mind remained clear as he pressed forward.

Throwing away yet another broken silver bayonet, Anderson grabbed the chain on his coat with his good hand and pulled out an entire row of silver bayonets. Swinging the chain attached to the bayonets, he hurled them forward. The bayonets embedded themselves in the dead and detonated—clearing his path ahead.

Feeling no fear for his life, no exhaustion despite his wounded body, Anderson continued advancing. Even when a spear pierced his torso, he simply ripped it out and drove it into a corpse. His regeneration worked at full strength, healing minor wounds—but his broken arm remained unrepaired. He didn’t care as long as he could keep moving forward.

Even when he saw mounted corpses charging toward him with spears, Anderson refused to retreat. He simply gripped his bayonets tighter in his good hand and clenched his teeth harder to hold the sleeve of his broken arm in place. When the cavalry of the dead drew close, gunfire erupted from behind him. Bullets riddled the bodies of the mounted corpses. Anderson whipped his head around and gritted his teeth in fury.

“You…! What are you fools doing here?!” Anderson roared in anger, staring at those who had come to his aid.

Behind Anderson appeared the members of Iscariot who had come to help their leader. Despite his fury, they continued fighting—pushing back the army of the dead commanded by Alucard. Heinkel, like the other Iscariot members, fired both pistols and reloaded them with practiced speed when the magazines ran dry.

Yumie wielded her katana, slicing corpses into pieces. The Iscariot members pressed forward to reach Anderson, who glared at them with rage. He had ordered them to leave London and retreat. He was the only one who could fight Alucard when she had only one life left after releasing all the souls imprisoned in her body.

Anderson had given that order because he didn’t want any more of his people to die. And he had been prepared to sacrifice his own life for that. Now he rose to his feet, glaring at his subordinates in fury—but they ignored his anger and continued fighting their way toward him.

“Father Anderson… If we had returned to the Vatican on your orders, we wouldn’t be ourselves anymore! Not Section XIII of Iscariot. Just a bunch of cowards stuffed with guts and blood. You yourself said: ‘So be it—we shall cleanse this world!'” Heinkel shouted, continuing to fire her pistols into the dead.

“Didn’t you teach us this very thing, Father Anderson? Now we will act as fanatics are destined to act!” Yumie said, cutting down dozens of corpses with her katana.

Hearing the shouts of those who had always followed him, Anderson clenched his silver bayonets tighter—his gaze growing heavier. But in the next instant, resolve filled his eyes as he turned his back to those who had disobeyed his order and followed him anyway.

Anderson’s gaze shifted to Alex and Alucard. They both stood on the rubble of a collapsed building, watching him directly. He knew his chance of victory was minuscule—so tiny that only a miracle could let him win this fight. Gathering his thoughts, Anderson took his first step forward as his subordinates drew near.

“Fools who decided to die to the last man! Even knowing that Limbo is already overflowing and the Vatican will be emptied… Very well. Let us all hurry to Hell together. Continue to follow me as you always have,” Anderson said with firm resolve, beginning to advance.

Anderson charged into battle first—sweeping everything before him and carving a path for his people. The Iscariot members following him did not retreat or falter—they walked behind Anderson without fear, even knowing that death awaited them at the end.

Alex watched it all and clicked his tongue in irritation. His irritation stemmed from the fact that he would now have to intervene in this battle to stop this farce of self-sacrifice. Before even one member of Iscariot could die, Alex summoned Yamato and leaped down from the rubble of the collapsed building.

Alucard shifted her gaze to Alex as he jumped down, curious about what he planned. Alex stepped forward and drew Yamato—making a single swing. In that instant every corpse was beheaded, yet the Iscariot members continued running forward, ignoring the fact that all the dead had instantly been decapitated. Alex sheathed Yamato and sharply drew the blade again.

In that same moment the street was neatly sliced lengthwise—separating Anderson from the rest of the Iscariot members. Anderson stopped and turned his head back—seeing what had happened to the street—then looked toward Alex. Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly as he understood what Alex had done. The Iscariot members saw the cut in the street and raised their gazes to Alex. No one could comprehend how he had done it without even moving from his spot.

“Mercy, Anderson. You remember. This is already the second time… that I’m preventing your people from dying. If you were fighting alone—I would wait for you… But their interference changed everything… From the very beginning, I was watching only you,” Alex said, brushing his hair back.

“What are you trying to achieve, monster?!” Anderson shouted, staring at Alex.

“Me…? I crave to see you reach your full potential. That’s the only reason… And now—will you continue fighting? Or shall we talk?” Alex asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Anderson looked at Alex and fell into thought. It wasn’t hard for him to understand that if Alex had wanted him dead, he would have already done it—beheading not only the corpses but every member of Iscariot, including himself. Anderson still couldn’t grasp what Alex wanted to talk about—or why it mattered so much.

In that moment Anderson hesitated for the first time: should he keep fighting or retreat? Alex waited calmly for Anderson to make his choice, not rushing the priest. The Iscariot members noticed Anderson’s hesitation.

“Don’t listen to him, Father! Do your duty!” Heinkel shouted, refusing to let Anderson waver.

“Quiet, Heinkel. This isn’t your life to give advice about. Free will exists precisely so a person can make their own decisions. A little brat like you shouldn’t be giving advice to adults,” Alex said, kicking a small stone toward Heinkel.

The stone Alex kicked flew straight at Heinkel and struck her square in the forehead. From the impact she staggered and fell backward onto her rear, her forehead turning red. Anderson once again looked at his people and confirmed yet again that Alex could have killed them at any moment—but chose not to.

Anderson turned his gaze back to Alex, then looked up at Alucard—who stood on the rubble of a collapsed building with a bored expression, as though the entire spectacle had grown tiresome and no longer brought her any pleasure. Looking at Alucard, Anderson remembered his goal—the reason he was willing to sacrifice his life: to kill every monster so that no child would ever lose their family to such creatures again.

Anderson’s eyes grew resolute. He drove a silver bayonet into the ground and reached into the inner pocket of his torn coat. A moment later he pulled out a long, narrow wooden box.

Anderson crushed the wooden box in his fingers. When it broke, only a single silver nail remained. The eyes of both Alex and Alucard narrowed instantly when they saw that silver nail.

“A nail? The Holy Shroud, the Holy Grail, the Spear of Longinus… Are you saying the Vatican has already used up all its sacred relics, and this nail is the last remnant of a miracle in your hands? The Nail of Saint Helena,” Alucard said irritably, staring at Anderson.

“Yes. The last miracle…” Anderson replied, clutching the silver nail tightly.

“Don’t do it, Anderson. That’s not a fragment of a miracle—it’s an abomination you’re holding. Put that filth away and learn the whole truth instead. Rather than becoming a monster,” Alex said, trying to stop Anderson from doing something foolish.

“Listen to his words, Anderson. Do you truly want to become a plaything of divine power and immortality? With faith in God or without—monster remains monster,” Alucard said, stepping beside Alex.

“We’ve fought so much… Surely both of you should have understood by now. It’s enough for me to be merely a bayonet in His hands. A bayonet of divine justice. And if I become a monster—so be it. So be it. Amen,” Anderson replied, seeing the looks Alex and Alucard gave him.

His final words drained the last of his strength. Anderson fell to his knees as exhaustion and pain from all his wounds finally overtook him. Clutching the Nail of Saint Helena, he prepared to drive it into his own chest. With a loud cry, Anderson raised his hand to plunge the silver nail into his heart.

But before he could drive the nail into himself, Alex appeared beside him and gently caught his arm—preventing him from piercing his own heart. Anderson lifted his gaze and met Alex’s eyes—eyes filled only with sorrow. Anderson shifted his gaze to Alucard and saw the same sorrow in her eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing: the ones he considered monsters were looking at him with genuine sadness.

To be continued…

(Ugh, my head started splitting while I was writing this chapter. The damn weather decided to take a sudden turn. The sun was shining this morning, and then it started pouring rain, and the sudden change in weather gave me a severe headache. But now I can just lie down, play Spider-Man, and eat something tasty and drink coffee. I recommend you do the same. As for the plot? Well, the Battle of London is almost over. I wish I could say so, but it’s not over yet. You know, like a damn wizard, I can pull a plot out of my magical pony. Peace, love, and HERESY!)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep