Lorenzo slowly opened his eyes. His gray-blue eyes seemed somewhat empty and lifeless. He leaned against the wardrobe on the side, holding an unburned cigarette in his mouth.
He didn't say anything and it was very quiet around him.
Hercule did not say anything. He was afraid to break the silence. Looking at the distraught Lorenzo, he was like a dead man at this moment.
After an unknown amount of time, Lorenzo's stiff body finally moved slightly. He tried to sit up a little, and then spat the cigarette butt aside.
The time in the memory palace seemed long, but in fact only a few minutes had passed. The self-inflicted scars on the body had begun to heal themselves in this short period of time.
Lorenzo raised his hand stupidly, looking at his bloody palm, his vision a little confused, as if he was still holding the spiked sword, wearing iron armor, and the roar of the demon was ringing in his ears.
Suddenly all the lost emotions seemed to return to this body, and there was a hint of sadness on the cold face.
He began to understand what 047 had said. No matter who Lorenzo Holmes was, just as 047 had said at the time, he regretted it.
"Those demon hunters who are sleeping soundly at this moment will one day weep bitterly. They will think that they were cursed and failed to die here with us..."
He whispered.
Lorenzo regretted a lot. He regretted why he did not die with them and why he did not die on the Night of the Holy Coming. After all, his current anger towards the demons was just due to the guilt he felt back then.
Although the time in the Demon Hunting Cult was always accompanied by danger and killing, for Lorenzo's not-so-short life, most of the warmth he felt came from that unhappy time, but now all of it has turned into nothingness.
All his friends died, and the old sect was lost in history. All the stories came to an end that night, and Lorenzo was just a ghost who survived by chance, wandering around the world in a daze.
This is not luck, but a curse. He is the only mourner, bearing the only sorrow, and can never find a place to return to.
He was sad and angry. His friend died because of demons, so he wanted to destroy all demons. All these mistakes were caused by human greed, so he wanted to eradicate everyone's attempts at that taboo.
That is why Lorenzo began to chase death and danger, pouring all his anger on this evil, longing for the same glorious death.
"How are you?"
Hercule's voice sounded, and he asked tremblingly.
It was obvious that Hercule knew most of the secrets about this city, but his vision was ultimately unattainable as to the depths of human hearts.
He didn't understand why Lorenzo became like this, but he could vaguely feel the same emotion.
Lorenzo gave him an ugly smile. That was how he was, looking like he was about to fall, but always able to get up in a mess.
“Although… although it was a bit unpleasant, I did get some useful intelligence,” Lorenzo said.
In that forgotten gate, Lorenzo gained memories of the outbreak of the Holy Night.