Blood Blockade Battlefront: Echoes of Hellsalem's Lot
Three months ago, Leonardo Watch used the Gods' Eyes to help Klaus defeat Count Möbius—and the price was his little sister's sight. Now, every coin he earns disappears into an envelope bound for Michela, a silent penance he pays with a smile. But the Eyes are aching more often lately. The blur at the edge of his vision is getting harder to ignore.
In Hellsalem's Lot, a city stitched together from two worlds, Libra keeps the fragile peace. Zapp runs his mouth, Chain worries between insults, and
Blood Blockade Battlefront: Echoes of Hellsalem's Lot - The Price of Fog — The Ruined Church the Artificial Eye Points To
The fluorescent light in the break room flickered faintly.
Before sealing the envelope, Leonardo Watch checked its contents one more time. Twenty-three gold coins. Nearly his entire month's pay. He sealed it slowly, folding the paper's edge, breathing in the smell of glue, writing the address. *Michela Watch.* Every time he wrote his little sister's name, he felt the old wound deep in his chest throb like a living thing.
Leo remembered that battle from three months ago with perfect clarity.
Count Möbius. One of the thirteen elders of creation. The sworn enemy Klaus had pursued for his entire life. During that final confrontation, Leo's left eye had pushed past its limits and unleashed the Gods' Eyes. He had seen through the core of the Count's spellwork and brought Klaus victory. But the price had been far too heavy. The Eyes had run wild, and through Leo's optic nerves, they had burned the eyes of his sister, far away.
Michela said nothing.
"Big brother, it's okay."
Her voice over the phone had been almost cheerful. That only tore Leo's heart apart all the more. She had sacrificed her own sight to give her brother the Eyes. And now, her brother's Eyes had taken her sight in return. An absurd chain of events. Twice now, she had lost her eyes for his sake.
Leo gripped the envelope. The paper crinkled.
Through the small window of the break room, he could see the streetscape of Hellsalem's Lot. Beyond the fog, the outlines of countless buildings floated dimly. Ten years since the Great Collapse. This city, once called New York, was now the most dangerous place on Earth—a place where the otherworld and the human realm had been stitched together. Population: roughly eight hundred thousand. The fog that blanketed the city never cleared, not once all year, and otherworldly beings blended into everyday life.
Libra, the secret society Leo belonged to, was the organization that preserved the balance of this city. Around two hundred members. To counter the threats of the otherworld, they gathered those with supernatural powers. Founded by Klaus V. Reinherz, they were registered publicly as a "special security firm," but in reality they were a combat unit tasked with hunting aberrations and monitoring the gates.
Leo touched his left eye gently.
The Gods' Eyes. Supernatural vision obtained by transplanting the eyeball of a divine being from the otherworld. The power to see the truth. But that power always came with a price. The compatibility rate was a mere fifteen percent. The incompatible went mad. And even the compatible could not escape the curse—either "progressive loss of sight" or "stealing the sight of someone precious."
Leo had chosen the latter. No—he'd had it forced upon him.
"...I'm sorry, Michela."
He murmured it aloud. In the empty break room, the words dissolved like mist.
He tucked the envelope into his coat's inner pocket and left the break room. The corridor was dim, the pipes along the walls trembling faintly. Libra's headquarters occupied a renovated old city hall building—twelve floors above ground, three below. Leo's room was in the residential section on the eighth floor. Since most of his pay went to supporting his sister, his life was one of constant poverty. Dinner was usually just the cheapest soup and bread in the headquarters cafeteria. Even so, the money he sent to Michela was the one thing he could never cut.
On his way back to his room, he passed by the lounge. Voices came from inside.
"Oi, you bastard, you used my cigarettes again without asking, didn't you."
A familiar voice. Zapp Renfro.
Leo opened the door to find a silver-haired young man sprawled on the sofa. He'd forced his lanky, six-foot frame into a horizontal position, his spiky hair sticking up in its usual bedhead mess. Sharp blue eyes glanced at Leo. A cigarette dangled from his lips as if it belonged there.
"Yo, Leo. Sending money home?"
"Yeah. I can send a little extra this month."
Leo answered with a smile. Zapp was twenty-four. A practitioner of the Fighting Blood Art of Kagutsuchi, he was one of Libra's most formidable fighters. He was the very man who'd dragged Leo into Libra by mistake, but ever since, he'd looked after him for some reason. Foul-mouthed, irresponsible with money and women, often described as human garbage—but to Leo, he was an irreplaceable friend.
"Hmph, still living like a pauper, I see. Leave yourself a little for food once in a while."
"Michela's treatment costs money. Besides, I don't really—"
"Don't 'besides' me. You had nothing but soup at the cafeteria again the other day, didn't you? If you collapse, guess who has to deal with it."
Zapp crushed his cigarette into the ashtray with unnecessary force. Leo gave a wry smile. This man's kindness always took the form of shouting.
From the back of the lounge, another voice spoke.
"So noisy. I can hear you all the way out in the hallway."
Chain Sumeragi appeared, her black bob swaying. Her narrow, sharp black eyes looked down at Zapp coldly. Her small frame—barely five foot four—was wrapped in a black suit, a stack of documents in her hands. She was Libra's expert in intelligence gathering and internal investigation, and at the same time a member of the Werewolf Bureau's Special Intelligence Division. Her true nature was that of an "invisible werewolf." By diluting her existence, she could move without anyone noticing.
"Your voice is a pollutant. It muddies the air."
"The hell'd you say, you—! You're one to talk, with that rotten personality of yours!"
"Oh, I was merely stating a fact. Or were you unaware that your voice qualifies as a public nuisance? How pitiful."
Sparks flew between them. Leo thought it was the usual, but today, somehow, he found their exchange rather endearing.
"Leo, is that envelope your support money for Michela?"
Chain turned to face Leo. Her tone was clearly different from the one she used on Zapp. She was somehow gentle with Leo and Zed. The fact that she showed Zapp no mercy whatsoever was—well, probably just a matter of compatibility.
"Yeah. I can send a little extra this month. That's good."
"I see. ...You had nothing but soup again, didn't you. The cafeteria lady was worried about you."
Chain's narrow eyes narrowed just slightly. She seemed to worry about Leo's living situation more than he did himself. Sharp-tongued, but constitutionally incapable of ignoring someone in trouble.
"Ahaha... You noticed."
"Of course I did. Anyone can see it from your diet. Think about yourself a little."
"But Michela comes first..."
"If you collapse, that doesn't help Michela either, does it."
Leo had no reply to that. She was right.
Just then, the lounge door opened quietly, and a cool draft of air flowed in.
"Um... Seniors, good work today."
Zed O'Brien entered hesitantly. A thirteen-year-old fish-man. A smooth head with large black eyes, a slender body with lean, efficient muscle. He breathed through gills rather than lungs, so he wore a custom-made air gill system. He was the legitimate successor of the Fighting Blood Art of Shinatobe, Zapp's junior disciple, and Leo's kouhai.
"Oh, Zed. What's up? You look all tense."
"I'm not tense. ...Um, I need to confirm something about tonight's watch duty."
Zed held out a document with a serious expression. Zapp took it carelessly.
"Ah, this. Anyone can do watch duty, right?"
"It doesn't work that way. You always skip it, senpai."
"Shut up, don't sweat the small stuff."
Zed's brow furrowed in distress. He was earnest and honest, and he respected his seniors. Zapp gave him grief with an endless variety of insults, but Zed had the guts to keep following him anyway. Looking at his kouhai, Leo found himself remembering what it had been like when Zapp first dragged him in.
The atmosphere in the lounge shifted.
The communicator mounted on the wall blared to life with a shrill alarm.
"Headquarters, emergency transmission!"
The voice of the communications officer burst from the speaker. Leo and the others tensed instantly.
"A remnant faction of the Bloodline Clan appears to be conducting a ritual at the abandoned church in the outskirts—St. Agnes's Chapel. Details unknown. Immediate deployment requested."
Zapp sprang up from the sofa.
"So they've shown up."
Chain had already set her documents on the table and was reaching for the communicator.
"This is Chain. I'm moving in for advance reconnaissance. Send me the details."
Zed checked his air gill system with a tense expression.
"I'll... deploy too."
His voice was trembling slightly.
Leo stood as well. But in that instant, a sharp pain shot through his left eye.
"...Ngh."
The edge of his vision blurred. The Eyes were aching. Over the past few days, these pains had been coming and going. Leo rubbed his eye without thinking. He felt a faint heat at his fingertips.
"Leo, you okay?"
Zapp turned around. Leo hurriedly forced a smile.
"I'm fine. My vision just blurred a little."
"Don't push yourself. You've been having a lot of that lately."
Zapp's blue eyes were fixed squarely on Leo. This man, rough as he was, was strangely sharp at times like this. Leo shook his head to brush it off.
"I'm really fine. Anyway, we need to hurry."
The four of them headed for the headquarters' operations room.
Klaus V. Reinherz's massive frame was already there.
A giant of a man with red hair. Sharp, narrow eyes behind glasses, and a prominent lower canine that showed even when his mouth was closed. At twenty-eight, the man who led Libra stood in a white dress shirt, tie, and waistcoat, staring at a wall of monitors. His back was like a wall itself.
"Everyone, I'll explain the situation."
Klaus's voice was heavy and quiet.
"St. Agnes's Chapel is approximately twelve kilometers northwest of the center. A church built before the Great Collapse, now half-destroyed. Beneath it lies a sealed chamber from before the Collapse. The report came from a member on patrol in the area. It is highly likely that a remnant faction of the Bloodline Clan is conducting some manner of ritual there."
Klaus operated the monitor, and a photo of the abandoned church's exterior appeared. A stone structure shrouded in fog. The spire was broken, and a large crack ran through the wall.
"I'm assembling a deployment unit. Zapp, Chain, Zed. The three of you will rush to the site. I'll have Steven handle a separate matter. K.K. is currently on monitoring duty at the Seventh Rift."
Klaus's eyes turned to Leo.
"Leonardo, you will remain on standby at headquarters."
Leo was momentarily speechless.
"What...? But if it's the Bloodline Clan, my Eyes can—"
"Your Eyes are indeed a trump card. But this situation is far too unclear. I cannot expose a non-combatant to danger needlessly."
Klaus's voice was calm, but it left no room for argument.
"Heh, the dead weight can sit this one out. We've got this handled ourselves."
Zapp grinned. But his eyes weren't smiling. It was his own way of keeping Leo out of danger.
"Stay at headquarters and monitor the comms. I'll contact you if anything comes up."
With that, Chain began diluting her existence on the spot. Her outline thinned, and then she vanished entirely. The invisible werewolf. She left the operations room without anyone seeing her go.
"Leo-senpai... I'm heading out."
Zed refastened his air gill system and gave a small bow. His hands were trembling slightly.
"Be careful, Zed."
"Yes!"
The three of them left the operations room. Leo watched their backs as they went, pressing a hand to his left eye.
The pain was stronger than before.
And it was clearly pointing in a certain direction.
Northwest. Toward the abandoned church.
The Eyes were heating up on their own. As if telling him that something was there.
"...What is this?"
A faint streak of light ran across Leo's vision. Something the Eyes had caught was stretching out from the direction of the abandoned church. It was red, pulsing, calling to him.
"Leona
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