Bank of Westminster

Chapter 12

Mr. Constantine...

Julius wrung her hands, distressed as she looked at Baron—who had been pinned to the floor—his expression gloomy, his eyes dim.

But the Baron on the ground did not seem to care. Instead, he stared at the girl with burning eyes. "I thought I'd hidden myself well. Never imagined I'd be exposed by a flower-seller like you."

Julius's face turned deathly pale, and she could not find a single word.

Baron kept taunting from the floor. "I saw the newspaper. You never meant any good from the start... You spotted Frank's bounty notice, then dabbed perfume along the way to draw the lion-knight... I was too simple-minded. I underestimated you flower girls.

A fourteen-year-old girl—if her body and heart were pure and spotless, how could she survive on the Inside—smack!"

"Shut up!"

Ferdinand, the boy, summoned his courage and stepped forward in fury, slapping Baron across the face. "Don't you dare slander Older Sister Julius!"

The blow was light, but it startled Baron for a moment; then he laughed. "Haha, a roomful of future bandits, thieves, scoundrels..."

He glared at Julius, lips trembling for a long while before he spoke in a frigid rasp. "And whores... Take your bounty and hide. As long as I'm breathing... sooner or later I'll—urk—"

Blood spattered the floor. A sword had plunged into Baron's right shoulder blade, nailing him to the ground.

The sudden turn froze everyone in silence; only Baron's howls of pain remained.

"Baron Constantine, second son of House Constantine, the infamous bloodless scion... Ever since the Lancelot girl broke your engagement six years ago, you vanished. Turns out you were hiding on the Outside."

Bill ground his heel against Baron's face, vicious. "Everyone thought you slunk away after the broken betrothal, tail between your legs. No one guessed you were plotting revenge in secret..."

"Revenge?" Baron laughed through the blood seeping between his teeth. "If I'm taking revenge, it should be on my noble, arrogant fiancée..."

The pain twisted his features into something savage, like an enraged lion.

Bill snarled, "Why did you attack me on the Underground?"

Because queue-jumpers deserve worse than death.

"Would you believe me if I said it was love?"

Bill gave a cold grunt, yanked the sword free, then drove it into the left shoulder blade. Baron groaned again, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

From the look in Bill's eyes, Baron understood completely—the demon-hunter had intended from the very start to torture and kill him, never to turn him in. Even shoving him off the train wouldn't have drawn this much hatred.

Baron spat blood, laughing weakly. "You're in love with my fiancée, aren't I right?"

Bill froze, staring at Baron on the floor in a daze.

Seeing this, the other hunters wordlessly released Baron's hands, set down the black suitcase they'd been carrying, then left the room and closed the wooden door.

Young Master Bill was about to explode.

"November 17, 1987, 3:20 p.m. The fugitive Baron Constantine resisted arrest and died after a fierce battle with the demon-hunter squad led by Bill Frank."

Bill spoke softly as he opened the black case. Amid the splash of silver light he drew out two cruciform hooks.

Julius's face went chalk-white—she recognized them. Rumor called them the hunters' execution tools!

Bill expressionlessly pressed a pill into Baron's mouth.

"Poison...?" Baron sneered.

"Wrong. It's a styptic. I'm afraid you'll die too soon."

Bill slowly bent down, staring into Baron's eyes. Those deep black pupils were calm, fathomless—as if the darkest abyss itself. For a moment Bill flinched, suddenly certain that if he kept looking, that darkness would swallow him whole.

He kicked Baron hard in the gut. As the young man curled in pain, Bill stomped on his face, pulled out the sword, and whispered:

"Don't think I can't see—you're taking the blame for them."

Baron froze. Julius froze. Ferdinand's eyes brimmed with tears.

Bill gave a cold laugh, nailed Baron's hands to the floor with spikes, threaded the cruciform hooks through the already pierced shoulder blades, and chained the body in place. Thin blades sliced the tendons of wrists and ankles, then two silver prongs sealed both knees.

Baron's screams dwindled into ragged breaths.

When it was done, Bill drew the long sword at his waist and carved a bleeding cross into Baron's right cheek.

Then he lifted the blade toward Julius. "Miss Julius, I now suspect you of harboring and colluding with the criminal Baron Constantine—an offense under the Old-Blood Act decreed by Prol Court. In the name of the Hunter Association, I hereby perform a righteous search!"

The sword shredded her thin garments; the girl's delicate body was bared as the cloth fell away. The hunters' mocking laughter echoed, and from the next room came a muffled, despairing roar.

The three children could bear no more; the two little girls burst into sobs.

Ferdinand shed tears, wiped them away, and gritting his teeth, dried his sisters' eyes. "Martha, Annie, don't cry! You may shed tears, but don't weep!"

Pain, mental torment, and bodily ruin blurred Baron's consciousness.

"Don't cry!"

It hurts... hurts so much I want to cry... I don't want to die... I want to live... kill this bastard... kill him...

"You may shed tears, but don't weep!"

Tears... they won't come... all the blood will drain... the Inside... the verdict... kill them all... Mother, it hurts...

"Mom, live well. I landed a decent screenwriting job—your medical bills will be covered!"

"Mom, the director praised my scripts and gave me a bonus. He said he'll raise my pay at year-end."

"Mom, you can't skip dialysis twice a week. If you're gone, my life loses meaning."

"Mom, the dark circles from overtime are normal. Gotta go—the director's pushing for the next draft."

"The subscriber you are calling is temporarily unavailable... Mom? Hello? Mom?"

"Your call cannot be connected. The other party has left a voice message—tap to play... Yike, live well."

Sky. A griffin-drawn carriage in flight. Clouds like boiling lava.

Baron felt the wind roar past. "Besides Opening the Eye, are there any other techniques to awaken spiritually?"

Lawrence answered without hesitation. "Rage. Legend says an Old-Blood once fought nine alone in fury, only realizing afterward that he'd signed the Knight Codex and awakened as a Contract Knight."

Baron was silent a long while. "How does one become angry?"

"How to become angry?"

Lawrence looked at Baron as if he'd asked a metaphysical riddle. After some thought, he said, "When the pain makes you want, more than ever, to destroy everything—then destroy."

Pain and destruction... what a headache... I must be the most miserable transmigrator in history... merely staying alive is this hard...

"To be, or not to be?"

The witch's whisper sounded again at Baron's ear, like a dirge from unseen voids. Thunder crashed, storms raged, demons tore open the gates of Hell roaring.

To be, or not to be?

Hah—what kind of choice is that? Children pick one; I choose both.

I survive—and you are destroyed!

Under Bill's startled gaze, the youth pinned by torture devices, the man whose fury had made him like a lion, slowly stood up!

Bill sucked in a breath. He clearly remembered severing the tendons, stabbing the knees with silver, paralyzing the spine with prongs. Even the proudest alchemist would need weeks to heal such wounds—what was happening?

"What... what are you!?" Bill drew his sword.

The man did not answer. He stood, half his body crimson, half pale, as though he were a living flame.

And flame did ignite!

Scarlet fire burst from him in sheets, like volcanic mist racing outward. The scorching heat made the hunters outside sense something wrong.

They burst in—and stared.

"That's... a knight... but isn't he a bloodless scion...?" the lion-knight gasped.

Wasn't it common knowledge that a bloodless scion could never awaken even after signing the Knight Codex? Yet the scene before them was unmistakably the [Sanction] of a Contract Knight!

Bill said nothing. He was drowning in terror and rage—terror at the unknown sight of the torture implements melting, rage at being frightened by it.

"Whatever you are, the verdict has been passed—only death awaits!"

Bill's pupils turned bronze. Scales rippled over arms and legs. He lunged, sword cleaving at Baron!

The surrounding hunters bit off their leather gloves in the same instant. Three strange runes on each hand blazed, and anti-magic silver-mercury mist sprayed from their palms!

Baron tilted his head slightly; he could hear echoes in his breathing.

Blood—burning.

Fire—flowing.

Eyes black as lightning.

He raised his hand. Flame fluttered like war banners, and he was emperor of the flame.

Sanction...

Dragonfire.

The great fire devoured everything.

It lit the world like noon.

Except for those two gleaming, golden dragon eyes.

...

Atop the Tower of London, lecturing his disciple, the white-robed wizard Isaac Newton suddenly tugged his beard, startled. After a moment he turned to his pupil and sighed:

"The Dragon-Knight... has returned at last."