Francis led the trio to the square in Yhar'gul. Surgit had tried to teleport them to the chapel the kidnapper had led him to, but the messenger refused to for reasons they couldn't explain. The little creatures were dumb mutes after all.
They took the lantern toward the Cathedral Ward and escalated the stairs toward the Great Cathedral. In his haste to explore Yahar'gul, Francis had forgotten to light the dream lantern in the square. They had to walk all the way back to the chapel and into the tunnel the Amygdala guarded.
As they escalated the stairs, Surgit remembered something he heard in the Nightmare Frontier. "Didn't Gavril tell us to meet him in the Cathedral?" he asked Karla.
"Are you sure you're ready to face that crazed killer?" Karla retorted.
"There are three of us, and only one of him," Francis put in.
"The last time we fought him all together, we suffered a humiliating defeat," Karla said.
"I didn't say we should fight him," Surgit cut in before Francis said anything. "All I'm saying is that we should be on our guard. He could be lurking in the streets for all we know."
The beasts that roamed the Cathedral Ward didn't pose much of a threat to the three hunters. They dealt with them with extreme ease. Even the sleeping giants weren't spared. They slaughtered them, as a hunter ought, then moved up the steps leading the Great Cathedral.
They heard loud grunts and swords clashing in the distance. The three hunters' immediately became tense. Swords clashing meant hunters fighting each other. Gavril had to be one of them. As they climbed the stairs, they kept all their senses on high alert.
"It definitely smells like two hunters. I don't recognize Gavril's scent, however," Francis noted.
"I recognize one of them," Surgit said.
"It's the man with the club, isn't it?" Karla asked, to which Surgit nodded.
"I don't know who you're talking about, but I recognize the other scent. It belongs to that woman in crow feather garb," Francis said.
Surgit sniffed the air then his eyes widened. "You're right. We should hurry. She could be in trouble."
Francis snorted. "Have you ever seen the woman fight? She's a shadow in human form."
"Be that as it may, we all have our weaknesses," Surgit replied. He quickened his pace and Karla followed on his heels.
Francis shook his head then sighed. "Why is he so obsessed with helping others that are not in need?"
They hurried up the steps until they reached the Great Cathedral's main door. Eileen was dancing around the man's elongated weapon. The Beast Cutter, originally made as a serrated club, could be elongated to become a heavy bludgeoning weapon. It whooshed as it cut through the air.
Eileen had managed to dodge all of the hunter's attacks, but she could never reach him. The Beast Cutter had the advantage of reach, while Eileen's Blades of Mercy relied solely on close quarter combat.
Surgit and the others had reached the foot of the stairs just in time to witness the end of the battle. The hunter retracted his Beast Cutter and tried to hurl it at Eileen. The latter whipped her gun and shot the hunter, stopping him in his tracks. The shot hadn't staggered him, but it offered Eileen the opening she desperately needed.
She threw her gun aside and dashed forward, splitting her blades as she did. The hunter tried transform the heavy chain into a club. One hit from the serrated club and Eileen would be reduced into minced meat.
She didn't give him time to succeed in his plans though. She slashed at his chest. The hunter retreated one step and gasped. Blood gushed out of the open wound and showered Eileen. She struck for the second time, then the third, then the fourth...
The three hunters watching the scene had lost count after five slashes. Eileen was moving so fast her arms had become a blur. The hunter's body jerked with each strike. Surgit never knew a human body could contain so much blood. By the time Eileen was done with him, the hunter resembled shredded paper.
He lay on his back, in a pool of his own blood. Eileen was panting heavily. She abruptly lifted her head and sniffed the air. She sharply turned toward the hunters, ready to attack. When she noticed Francis and his company, however, he shoulders dropped.
"I thought you were one of his friends," she said, out of breath.
"We come in peace," Surgit announced then climbed the stairs. "Have you met a man in a crow feather garb in here?" he asked as he reached hunter of hunters.
Eileen shook her head. "That hunter is my mark. Don't go near him," she said in a firm, asserting tone.
"He's been but a thorn in our sides. We want to see him fall as much as you do," Surgit said.
"A hunter must hunt beasts. You leave the hunting of hunters to me," Eileen said. Behind her plague doctor mask, Surgit could see the woman's eyes glaring at him.
He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Something else had caught his attention. He looked at the dead hunter with arched eyebrows. "Why hasn't he disappeared?" he asked.
Eileen followed Surgit's eyes. She seemed as baffled as the young hunter was. "This can't be..." she whispered.
Karla and Francis joined them then. They were all looking at the hunter whose body was cut to thin shreds.
"He should have revived by now. Is he dead?" Francis asked.
"No more dreams for the wicked I suppose," Eileen said.
No more dreams... Surgit had the feeling he'd heard this before, but he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried.
"So he's dead, like dead, dead? Is that even possible?" Karla asked.
"We don't know how it happens or when," Eileen replied. She sighed heavily. "If you've been dreaming for as long as I have, the end seems... like a heavy weight lifted off your shoulders."
The three hunters fell silent. Each of them pondered at Eileen's words in their own way. Francis looked shaken. Color had deserted his face. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. His eyes fixated his feet, as though he'd just suffered a devastating loss.
"So hunters evade death, only to die in the end," he finally said in a defeated tone.
"Let these thoughts worm their way into your brain, and you'll become as crazed as the very hunters you despise," Eileen replied.
"Maybe they were right to lose their minds," Francis said, not really noticing whom he was speaking to.
"Then maybe I'll be right to cut your head off when the time comes," Eileen retorted. She was still holding her blades in both hands. She looked at Francis from head to toe and the latter shuddered. "A hunter must hunt. There is no way around it."