The Plague Doctor let out a painful wail, the excruciating agony saving it from the bizarre illusion realm. With the last of its strength, it staggered back and fell to the ground, the completely frozen arm striking the earth with a crisp sound. It shattered like glass, revealing the cross-section of flesh and bone.

Although its sight had already vanished, the Plague Doctor could still see the Angel breaking free from its bonds with a radiant light, bowing its head as if to kiss it.

"Lawrence!"

The Plague Doctor roared.

Dean Lawrence sauntered over, not directly touching the Plague Doctor. Instead, he drew the Nail Sword and plunged it into the Plague Doctor's thigh, dragging him away from afar.

"Are you alright?"

He asked casually, his gaze fixed on the gas-enshrouded center, where the Angel's corpse remained nailed to the cross. What the Plague Doctor saw was all an illusion.

The corruption was so terrifyingly intense that it consumed you before you even realized it.

The dam of rationality burst the instant contact was made, with no time for any warning.

"I... I almost got killed!"

The Plague Doctor writhed in agony on the ground, blood gushing from the severed limb, eyes completely melted, the liquid mixed with blood oozing through the cracks of the mask.

"I knew you wouldn't die... at least not so easily."

Dean Lawrence seemed to have anticipated what would happen to the Plague Doctor, unhurriedly waiting for him to recover as he stood aside.

Finally, the massive trauma overwhelmed the Plague Doctor, its robe splitting open as if a monster were about to burst from within. Yet when it swelled to the limit, it shrank back down, followed by the sound of tiny noises.

As if thousands of worms crawled within, damaged parts were abandoned, devoured as nutrients, and new limbs grew with fresh blood. After brief agony, new eyeballs slowly emerged from the sockets, the Plague Doctor curling up. After intense pain, he finally eased.

"Lawrence, I swear, if it happens next time, I will kill you."

He panted heavily, slumped on the ground, this damned feeling unbearable.

"It's all for your own good. After all, you'll be dealing with it. No warning is as vivid as letting you experience its horror directly, right?"

Dean Lawrence said, indifferent that the Plague Doctor might have died there had he not escaped.

It's after all the Holy Grail; even its abandoned corpse isn't something a mortal can shake.

"So, how does it feel? This thing is pretty amazing, isn't it?"

He praised, this fountainhead of everything, the origin of all chaos and disputes.

"Is this... what was inside the coffin?"

Struggling to calm his inner dread, the Plague Doctor stared at the body shrouded in mist, his eyes full of caution.

"Yes, the body of the Holy Grail."

Dean Lawrence said coolly.

"Its will has escaped, yet as the vessel for that will, this corpse still holds terrifying power. Without the Alchemy Matrix's confines, this body would revive... vitality, a soulless vitality like that of a living corpse."

"Like cells in a petri dish, lacking consciousness but endlessly proliferating and dividing, right?"

The Plague Doctor slowly stood, cautiously stepping back, keeping distance from that thing.

"Don't worry; the Demon Hunting Order has developed a mature containment protocol for it, as long as you don't cross the 'Winter' domain, it's merely a specimen."

Dean Lawrence raised his hand, pulling the valve. More frigid gas descended, bathing the pallid corpse. The Alchemy Matrix known as Winter confined this body, halting its resurrection and corruption.

"Thinking back to when I performed the transplant of its flesh for you, I feel lucky to be alive now."

The Plague Doctor shuddered, recalling when Dean Lawrence found him and provided a portion of the Holy Grail's flesh for the transplant. He thought the corpse would be desiccated and alien, but who could've imagined it would be so terrifying in reality.

"It was merely thorough calculations; the flesh you transplanted for me was grown after I removed a portion myself, the corrosion not being so severe, though it nearly killed me too."

He said, lightly touching his chest, this aging body still struggling to wield such power.

"Calculations? Shouldn't your church people be proclaiming faith and entrusting everything to loyalty to God?"

The Plague Doctor grumbled, still irked.

"Faith is merely a tool of control for the ignorant; it is the technology harnessing this unknown power that alters the world."

He wasn't angered at all, earnestly replying.

The once-murky eyes sharpened, like a nearly broken sword, still retaining the sharpness to sever steel.

"Plague Doctor, it's time to showcase your talents. I need you to figure out what this thing is... or what a Demon really is?"

"Me? Just touching it nearly killed me!"

The Plague Doctor shouted.

"Are you refusing?"

Lawrence suddenly asked, the Nail Sword in his hand still dripping with blood.

The two exchanged brief glances, then an eerie laugh emanated from under the beaked mask.

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