Lionel walked through the streets of the fallen city, not ruined by Night Kindred or the undead or even the workings of the Abyss.
It was done by the hands of man.
Corpses scattered across the snow-covered streets, their faces twisted in despair and madness as their blood stained the pristine white with a crimson hue that seemed ominous when lit up by the rays of the bloodied Nighteye.
His expression was grim, as though he'd tasted something bitter and perhaps he had but not in a physical sense.
Out of a whole city of almost five hundred thousand, only a few thousand were spared.
He trembled as his Mind's Eye continued to relay everything his swords detected.
The sights, the cries, the wanton destruction… It was gut-wrenching even for a Saint.
"Master." His Homunculi assistant, ever present as she was, kept a short distance away from him, her expression impassive though her eyes struggled to stay dry.
