It was then that Father Anderson, dragging Constantine in tow, finally appeared in Nimue's dwelling.
The Blood Queen, once infamous and notorious, was now sitting quietly in a chair by the window, gazing distantly at the scenery outside.
"Lady Nimue, I think we can have a chat."
Constantine was the first to break the silence, asking directly.
To be honest, the moment he saw Nimue as she was now, his heart gave a fierce jolt as if seized by an invisible hand. Her exquisite and tranquil face was truly captivating. Coupled with her sheer, light clothing, even Constantine felt his soul being tugged by her charm.
To prevent Anderson from saying something counterproductive to communication, he spoke first.
"Nimue. I intend to kill you."
Anderson shot Constantine a dissatisfied glare. To him, Constantine's words were far too polite.
There was no need for nuanced conversation with monsters.
Although Anderson didn't know if he could kill this legendary, immortal creature, he was prepared to give it a try.
"Now tell me what you intend to do!"
Anderson roared loudly, veins bulging on the back of his hands.
The tall, robust figure pressed one hand against the crucifix on his chest, his eyes radiating anger even through the cracked lenses of his glasses.
Nimue was a monster transformed from a human. Seeing her discard her humanity, Anderson's anger was mixed with a sense of disappointment, like a teacher furious at a wasted talent.
Nimue slowly turned her head, then turned back just as leisurely.
Perhaps to her, the view outside the window held more meaning than looking at Anderson and Constantine. However, this was a decent start; at least she didn't seem inclined to refuse communication.
"Father Anderson, we aren't here to fight. Do you remember?"
Constantine lowered his gaze and spoke slowly.
He then walked over to Nimue, pulled up a stool, and sat directly in front of her. Constantine had abandoned any hope in Anderson's conversational skills, deciding to handle this his own way.
"So, Blood Queen, how do you plan to carry out your revenge after this resurrection? Do you intend to spread a plague across this world, or quietly await the arrival of death?"
Constantine's tone carried a hint of eeriness, his fingers twitching restlessly.
At this moment, he resembled a reporter waiting for a big scoop, speaking with an urgent tone while appropriately revealing a few traces of admiration.
Masterful acting was one of his specialties. After all, when dealing with demons, one couldn't be too honest about one's true thoughts—that would be dangerous.
"I am waiting for that fated meeting. When that time comes, I can accept the end that is destruction."
Nimue stared blankly out the window as she spoke.
She hadn't been entirely ignorant of the moment Agamotto and Merlin appeared. Since she knew the person she wished to see would appear before her at the very end, nothing else mattered.
As for Constantine's feigned admiration, she didn't care. This human simply hadn't angered her, so exchanging a few words was no problem.
"Heathen!"
Father Anderson ground his teeth with a cracking sound, then puffed up with rage and sat down on a chair by the door.
Suppressing the urge to fight was no easy task for him. Ever since arriving at Hellsing, he had been constantly assaulted by the disgusting sensation of monsters nearby.
Father Anderson's identity dictated that he would not try to redeem a monster, for long experience had taught him that monsters were not to be trusted. Compared to conversation, the bayonet transformed from his Bible was far more reliable.
At least the bayonet wouldn't debate with the monster.
"Father, what can I gain by believing in your Lord?"
Nimue slowly turned her head, revealing a mocking smile directed at Father Anderson. Her crimson lips parted lightly as she spoke.
"Back then, I was perhaps even more devout than you. I hoped your Lord would bring him to me. That devotion persisted until I was on the verge of death from grave illness.
Father, tell me, does your Lord truly exist? Have you never doubted your Lord? Do you truly live for yourself?"
Nimue plucked at Anderson's nerves, the smile at the corner of her mouth growing increasingly rampant.
Mocking faith was something she had learned over her long existence. No one cared if her thoughts were correct, but exchanging them with a priest like Anderson was a decent pastime.
She could clearly see that Father Anderson didn't intend to fight. Even if he did, she would not be afraid.
"Hell exists, therefore the Lord exists. All I see are the Lord's gifts; all the suffering I endure is the Lord's tempering. The Lord is by my side; I fear no evil, and I dare to be an enemy to all of the Lord's enemies."
Anderson was exceptionally restrained during this interrogation-like dialogue. Even though his muscles were tense, he spoke to Nimue in the calmest tone possible.
Since Nimue had initiated a debate on faith, he would not retreat.
Perhaps no one in the Church was more devout than he. However, he was not the type of priest who meticulously studied ecclesiastical scrolls, so his words lacked persuasive power.
"There is a person who watches me every day, telling me that if I deceive others, harm life—even my own—or commit any unrighteous act...
...Then I will be tortured by demons in Hell, boiled in cauldrons of oil, my body eaten by fiends, becoming ugly and burning in flames for all eternity.
And this person tells me: He loves me.
That is what your Lord does."
Nimue glanced at Constantine, who looked like he was watching a good show, paused for a moment, and then continued.
"What has your Lord given me? In my hunger, I prayed to him for food. In my cold, I prayed to him for warmth. When I was so heartbroken I wished to die, I poured my heart out to him, wanting only for him to tell me that my tomorrow would be better.
But there was nothing.
Every day I had to labor in the fields, my hands turning from tender to rough. I curled up in the cold just to avoid freezing to death in the night wind. When I was sad, I could only huddle in a small corner.
Your Lord never took pity on me.
On the contrary, only the sun.
Only the sun gave me warmth. Only the sun gave me food. Only the sun let me feel the beauty of life.
So why should I believe in your Lord, and not in the sun?"
Nimue's words made Father Anderson somewhat uneasy.
Her calm tone sounded like she was stating facts. Everything Father Anderson had endured told him these words were meaningless. His faith did not waver, yet at this moment, a feeling of compassion—an emotion that shouldn't appear when facing a monster—arose within him.
Without witnessing the Lord's existence, who could believe wholeheartedly?
"At least the sun doesn't tell me what I should do or shouldn't do. Before the sun, I am equal. I have seen angels, but I have never seen the existence of the Lord. But the sun... I see it often."
Constantine spoke loudly with a tone of schadenfreude, then offered an ingratiating smile to Nimue.
Constantine was much the same; he didn't believe in the Lord. Or rather, he believed in no one but himself.
At this moment, he felt some agreement with Nimue's words, though he quickly tossed that sentiment to the back of his mind. Trust wasn't something gained with just a few sentences; that emotion wasn't so cheap. But taking a jab at the Church cost him nothing, and Constantine was happy to oblige.
"Boring hypotheses. The Lord arranged everything. He arranged your suffering, arranged your revenge, but all of this is your opportunity for redemption."
Anderson took off his damaged glasses, holding them in his hand as he spoke slowly.
His hand rested on the cover of his Bible, stroking it gently.
These words couldn't shake his faith, but they did expose the limitations of his meager vocabulary, leaving him unable to offer a forceful rebuttal.
"Boring fatalism. If your Lord were a woman, she wouldn't have arranged everything in the world so terribly."
Nimue turned her head away, intending to end this somewhat tedious conversation.
At this point, Constantine pulled out his favorite cigarettes and offered one to Nimue.
Nimue accepted the cigarette nonchalantly, lit it, and took a deep drag.
"I am waiting for death, waiting for one last meeting with that person. Leave my place now. Aside from those fellows who tormented me, I will not harm another person."
Nimue gently exhaled the smoke. In that instant, she possessed some of the flair of Audrey Hepburn holding a cigarette holder.
Her calm face held a longing for the future, and almost imperceptible wrinkles began to appear at the corners of her eyes.
"I will remember your words. I hope I won't meet you in battle when the time comes."
Anderson stood up calmly, his previously tense muscles relaxing.
He hadn't abandoned his anger and killing intent toward monsters, but the Nimue before him was already dying.
The master of the power within him told him so: Nimue's soul was fading.
When a body that was never supposed to age began to age, the soul of this witch also started its countdown.
When Nimue was at her weakest, a stroke across the neck with the Sword in the Stone would be enough to end this existence. Instead of merely dividing her into several parts, like Arthur had done.
He didn't use teleportation to leave immediately; this was his final respect for a once-devout believer.
The next thing he had to do was locate the Sword in the Stone.
"Honestly, were you injured by Bul-Kathos? That old guy from back then?"
Constantine lit a cigarette as well and asked.
Constantine was much more sensitive than those clueless folks. Regarding the passage of time, he could understand a lot from just a few clues.
Since Nimue's march toward destruction hadn't drawn attention from others, it meant this was the tacitly accepted outcome.
He just wanted to satisfy his curiosity.
"I am waiting for the end."
Nimue didn't give a clear answer; she simply reached out the window to flick the ash from her cigarette.
"Alright. I think when the person you're waiting for arrives, it's going to be a super big trouble."
Constantine rubbed his eyes. The process of smoke drifting into one's eyes was always trying; the stinging and soreness were quite uncomfortable.
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