The Church Ultimate Edition

Verse 5 : Unseen Bargin

Daniel winced in pain as he struggled to his feet, his body aching from the impact of being tossed aside by Zephyrus.

“What have you done with Holly?” he demanded.

Zephyrus laughed sadistically, relishing Daniel's distress.

“Ah, your dear Holly,” he taunted. “She may very well be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Or perhaps she's become a delightful feast for my loyal nightwalkers. Who knows?” he added with a twisted grin.

“You sick bastard!” Daniel shouted.

Zephyrus smirked. “You and me both, Daniel. Aren't you the one who left those people back at the asylum to die? Does little Holly know her ‘savior’ is just a heartless coward too?”

"I'm going to kill you!" Daniel roared, charging at Zephyrus in a fury.

---

Meanwhile, Holly's hazy vision began to clear as she regained consciousness. She found herself lying on the ground, every inch of her body aching. As she looked up, she caught sight of a man with long blond hair, gracefully dispatching the nightwalkers with his silver and gold handguns—the Cartel Twins, Fate and Fortune.

Each shot was precise. Deadly.

Holly watched in awe as he effortlessly gunned down the creatures.

The man approached her and lifted her gently, carrying her toward his car. Holly, still disoriented, instinctively tried to get out of the moving vehicle.

"Hey, stop that! I'm trying to save you," the man said, a teasing grin on his face.

Confused and concerned, Holly asked, "Who are you? Where are you taking me?"

The man flashed a charming smile.

"Oh, excuse me. Where are my manners? You may call me Sir Arthur the Brave. And you, my lady, are?"

Holly calmed down slightly. "My name is Holly," she said, still uneasy. "But you still haven't told me where we're going."

Sir Arthur’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Ah, my apologies. We're headed to the Church’s Western Branch. You are fortunate, my lady, to be in the care of an IV-ranked knight like myself."

"Okay... but I can’t leave without my friend Daniel," Holly insisted.

Sir Arthur replied, "Fear not. I am aware of Daniel’s plight. My boy Michael is on his way to retrieve him as we speak."

---

Back at the police station, Zephyrus dragged a bloody and unconscious Daniel across the floor.

"Finally, I can drop the whole ‘imposing villain’ act. It really drains me," he muttered, rambling as he went.

His mind raced with ideas as he spoke to himself and the unconscious Daniel.

"I have this machine called the... well, never mind that. Working on a new weapon too... should I call it the Chaos Blaster? Or Malevolence Beam? Sofia says those names are dumb, but meh, I know you get it..."

He laughed to himself.

"Wait, wait! I just realized... I can make you like Soul, but stronger. Hah, forget Valentine."

However, before they could get far, the sharp, distinctive roar of a motorcycle cut through the air.

Zephyrus raised an eyebrow, perplexed by the familiar noise.

A small blade suddenly pierced Zephyrus’s leg, causing him to stumble.

“Damn it, what’s this?” he muttered, yanking the blade free.

To his horror, the wound wasn't healing.

From the shadows, a man appeared.

He wore a long black leather duster, a sleek black top hat casting a shadow over his piercing gaze. The black and white details of his outfit created a striking contrast, and at his side hung the slender Yin-Yang Blades, their design embodying both grace and danger.

“That’s a Holly Blade, boy,” said Father Michael. “No creature of the night can withstand the arsenal I possess, Zephyrus—you should know that.”

"Michael, you bastard!" Zephyrus spat, though he laughed as his voice echoed through the night.

“The last time I saw you," Zephyrus continued, "at the Battle of the Twilight Cathedral... your damn subordinate took Sofia from me.”

"...I don’t have time for meaningless dialogue, Zephyrus," Michael said flatly.

“Well, it seems my time’s up... sike! Get him!"

At Zephyrus’s command, nightwalkers burst from the buildings, their claws and fangs bared, ready to tear into the bishop.

But Michael was no ordinary man. His very presence forced the creatures to shrink back, cowed.

“You’re such a buzzkill, Michael,” Zephyrus said, grinning.

The ground trembled. Buildings crumbled.

From the depths, monstrous abominations emerged—twisted amalgamations of rotting flesh, towering 20 feet tall.

“What do you think of my failed experiments?” Zephyrus asked.

Michael's expression hardened. "These poor souls..."

With a swift motion, he drew his Yin Blade. The black metal held no reflection under the moonlight; it consumed surrounding light, pulling it into its void-like surface.

Michael moved with otherworldly grace, his blade a blur of death among the abominations.

One strike—then another.

Creatures were flung aside as he danced between them, flawless, precise, almost effortless.

He anticipated every attack, countered every movement, and ended every unnatural life with clean, merciful swiftness.

“The Black Blade, Yin,” Zephyrus mused aloud.

"I was kinda hoping to see Yang. Valentine said at the Battle of the Twilight Cathedral it was... something else."

He smiled, remembering.

"In contrast to the black blade, Yang shimmers—shines brighter than the sun itself. So bright it leaves an imprint on your soul... But honestly, I'm kinda glad you didn't use it."

Zephyrus watched, fascinated, as his creations fell.

"I knew they were no match for you, Michael," he said.

"But winning was never the point."

Despite the circumstances, a wicked smile curled on Zephyrus's face.

Then, in an instant, he vanished—melding with the darkness, slipping away like a ghost.

Michael’s eyes darted around, searching for any trace of him.

“All this chaos... just to see a blade," Michael muttered.

From the darkness, Zephyrus's laughter filled the air.

"Oh, Michael, you just don't get it," he said.

"This is far from over. I'll see you again—and next time, I'll bring the surprise I've been cooking up for you."

Michael huffed, unamused.

Without wasting another second, he hurried to Daniel, who lay unconscious amidst the rubble. Gently, he cradled the young man and carried him away from the ruined police station, rain pouring down around them.

The remaining nightwalkers, leaderless and afraid, scattered into the night.

Their next destination:
The Church's Eastern Branch—Headquarters. A safe haven.