Under the torrential rain, a dark blue silhouette stood upon the pooled water, his gaze hollow, yet inside it swirled with searing white flames, gripping the hammer and sword like a ghost with nowhere to go.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
The Demon Hunters cursed angrily, their hearts filled with wrath, yet their sword-wielding hands couldn't stop trembling.
It was only now that they realized the vast gulf between themselves and Lorenzo. This Demon Hunter from the old Order had prepared for everything long before the events unfolded. Even more terrifying was that Lorenzo's power was formidable, even without those specially crafted "gifts."
In a body forged from the Holy Grail Flesh, he carried the will from the Night of the Holy Arrival. These Demon Hunters who had never truly faced despair were utterly harmless in Lorenzo's eyes.
