Patrick Jason's house suddenly opened its front door, and a group of Nightstalkers in black wool coats ran inside.
Their faces were tense with alertness, as if facing an extremely terrifying enemy.
Stomp, stomp, stomp—A figure clad in silver full-body armor entered. It gave off an unusually heavy feeling; every detail adhered to ancient styles, and a smear of indelible dark red blood marred its left shoulder, blending with scattered red splashes elsewhere, creating a picture that was eerie yet beautiful, like a unique and luxurious decoration.
"Sustainer" Sostan took out his pocket watch and looked at it before saying, "Change."
The silver full-body armor stopped. It lifted its hand to reveal the face of a man beneath its helmet—Leonard Mitchell, a handsome man with dark hair and green eyes.
"Sostan Captain, the master bedroom bathroom on the second floor is ready for hot water. Don't waste time; otherwise, you'll return to the embrace of the goddess," Sostan instructed.
"Yes, Captain Sostan," Leonard Mitchell replied as he, with the help of other Nightstalkers, took off the heavy and bloodstained silver armor.
He did not exchange pleasantries or hesitate. He rushed up to the second floor and found a bathtub still steaming white fog.
Brush, brush, brush—Leonard quickly undressed and sank into the hot water without showing his nose above it.
His skin rapidly turned red, like cooked lobster, with strange silver streaks gradually emerging on its surface.
These silver streaks spread out like pure sword light until they merged into the hot water.
In just a dozen seconds, the white fog of steam disappeared, and a thin layer of transparent ice formed on the surface of the hot water!
Only after all the silver streaks dissipated did Leonard sit up, gasping for breath.
He tilted his head slightly as if listening to something before whispering, "Old man, do you know the origin of '1-42'?"
An old-sounding voice immediately echoed in his mind:
"You are becoming less polite.
I don't know where that strange armor came from."
Before Leonard could ask again, he chuckled:
"But I think I recognize the owner of the blood."
"Who?" Leonard curiously asked.
The old-sounding voice replied gravely:
"A deity before the Great Disaster."
...
In South District, near Mallow Lane on Rose Street, St. Harvest Church.
Clein stepped into the quiet prayer hall and saw Father Utravsky and vampire Emlyn White sitting in chairs, one after another, with their hands touching fingers, palms facing up, placed in front of their mouths and noses.
This was a unique praying posture of the Great Mother Earth Church.
At that moment, Emlyn White looked calm and peaceful; he no longer appeared arrogant or troubled.
Clein slightly curled his lips as he silently drew the Triangular Holy Emblem on his chest.
He found a spot to sit down, waited for the prayer to end, then walked next to Emlyn White and said with a smile,
"Today's you are extra devout."
"What?" Emlyn suddenly woke up, saying in a pale face, "What did I do? What did I do..."
His voice softened as he seemed to recall what he had done just now.
"It might not be so bad," Clein comforted him indifferently before sitting next to the vampire,
"I don't want others to say that, even though I feel less resistance... but, I can't betray the Moon!" Emlyn said with a somber voice.
Clein didn't continue on the topic that saddened the vampire and casually asked,
"Do you worship the primitive moon or a deity representing it? Or are they synonymous?"
"Both," Emlyn lifted his chin slightly. "For orthodox vampires, of course, we believe in the deity representing the moon—Lilith, our ancestor, an ancient god. Humans turned into vampires tend to worship the primitive moon more, normally, both can be equated, but sometimes they don't overlap and differ."
"Human turned vampires?" Clein was not surprised that Emlyn White could mention Lilith, a second age ancient deity, instead, he was more interested in so-called human-turned vampires.
This is what Mr. Azik mentioned about "vampires"? He thought to himself.
Emlyn spoke with a complicated expression,
"Yes, there are two types—those transformed by powerful vampires and those turned through consuming the corresponding potion; the latter are our most hated enemies."