The Order of Purification

The second night was already underway, and the Crystal Palace was filled with feverish activity. The throne hall lay in a cool, bluish light that radiated from the large holographic map in the center. The map hovered heavily and pulsed above the floor, showing Neo-Tokyo in real time: red zones spread like blood, blue barricade lines flickered restlessly, and small glowing points kept extinguishing — people who were no longer reporting in. At the sides of the map, officers in crystal-white uniforms worked tensely at terminals. Their faces were pale with exhaustion, their fingers racing across holograms as they processed incoming reports and constantly updated the map. The soft hum of technology and the muted murmuring of the officers filled the hall.

During the day the entertainment district had been completely sealed off. Large, rusty shipping containers had been placed across the streets, every access point blocked and guarded by heavily armed soldiers of the Guard. Searchlights cut through the darkness, and behind the barricades one could occasionally hear screams and the distant moaning of the transformed. Attempts to evacuate the people trapped inside had failed. Most of those who went in never came back out. On the main street, on a wide parking lot, a quarantine center had been hastily established — provisional container buildings, fenced in and heavily guarded. The infected were temporarily locked away there, and scientists in white protective suits were already working feverishly on blood samples and possible countermeasures.

Neo-Queen Serenity — Usagi — stood in her gleaming white dress beside an officer, speaking quietly with him, when the large, heavy doors of the throne hall were pushed open with a dull bang. An older man in dark, richly embroidered priestly robes entered. Bishop Kastan was in his early sixties, tall and gaunt, almost bony. His face was narrow and pale, with deep lines around the mouth and dark shadows under the eyes that gave him a drawn, almost sickly appearance. His thin, graying hair was combed strictly back and shone slightly oily in the holographic light. His eyes were light gray and unusually alert — they gleamed with a cold calculation that did not suit a humble man of God. A thin, colorless mouth occasionally twitched into a faint, barely noticeable smile that never reached his eyes. Behind him followed four figures in long, heavy hooded cloaks of dark, worn fabric that smelled of old incense and metal.

A palace guard tried to stop them, his hand already on the grip of his weapon.

“You must wait! You cannot simply walk in!”

Usagi raised a hand. The guard fell silent at once, bowed deeply, and withdrew. The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

Bishop Kastan stepped forward. His steps were quiet and measured, almost stealthy. He bowed with a movement that was polite and at the same time too smooth, too practiced. “Your Majesty, thank you for receiving us.”

Usagi stood upright, yet the exhaustion weighed heavily on her features. Her silver hair fell unordered over her shoulders, and dark shadows lay beneath her eyes. She smiled weakly, without real warmth.

“You let yourselves in, Bishop Kastan. What can I do for you?”

The Bishop smiled that thin, calculating smile and bowed again, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves. “Your Majesty, the relationship between the Church and your claim to rule has never been particularly close. Yet the Pope himself has sent me to you.”

Usagi raised an eyebrow. “Has he? And what moved His Holiness to take this step?”

“The Church knows your enemy,” the Bishop answered in a quiet, insistent voice that, despite its softness, carried something cutting. “It is not a disease. It is an ancient evil — sealed long ago and, to our shame, forgotten.”

“Ancient evil?” Usagi repeated softly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. A Queen of Darkness. And I must also tell you that those who have been transformed have no way back. Yet the Pope has also sent you help.” He pointed with a bony, pale hand at the four hooded figures behind him. “The Order of Purification. Trained hunters who know how to deal with this threat.”

He raised his hand. The four figures stepped forward, went down on one knee at the same time, and spoke in unison with clear, young, yet completely emotionless voices:

“Here to protect the living and destroy the enemies of God.”

Then they removed their hoods.

There were three women and one man, barely older than twenty. Beneath the cloaks they wore tight, dark combat uniforms of matte, reinforced material — black and dark gray, form-fitting, with light armor plates on the shoulders, chest, and forearms. Across the chest and at the hips ran tactical straps and holsters of black polymer. Instead of traditional blades and crossbows, they carried modern, specially adapted weapons: compact assault rifles and pistols with extended magazines, their ammunition silver-coated and treated with consecrated compounds. On their shoulders and belts they carried additional magazines as well as small UV emitters and injection devices filled with highly concentrated holy water solution. On their thighs hung short tactical knives with silver blades and engraved symbols. The weapons looked functional, modern, and lethal — clearly designed for vampires.

The first woman had short, ash-blond hair that looked unevenly cut, and a striking pale scar running from her left eyebrow to her temple. Her eyes were cold and gray. The second wore her dark hair in a strict, low braid, her face sharp and expressionless, her lips thin. The third had reddish-brown strands that showed beneath the edge of her hood, and cool, almost silvery eyes. The man was lean and tall, with a sharply cut, clean-shaven face and closely cropped black hair. All four wore the same expression: young, hard, and completely without doubt.

Usagi looked at them, surprise clear on her face. “And what is their mission here, Bishop Kastan?”

“They will go to the center of the evil and eradicate it at its root. Once and for all.”

Usagi exchanged a long look with the officer beside her. Then she looked back at the Bishop. Her voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.

“Let us discuss this first. The protection and aid of the population come first. If you wish to help, we naturally thank the Church. But command authority remains with the Guard and Disaster Protection. Let that be clearly understood.”

Bishop Kastan inclined his head. The thin smile returned and lingered a little longer this time. “Of course, Your Majesty. If we might request information on the current situation… I will send a priest to serve as liaison and to compare our information with yours. He will supply you and your people with intelligence, if that is acceptable to you.”

Usagi nodded slowly. “Thank you. That would be helpful. If you do not mind, I will continue my work now.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The Bishop bowed deeply — again that too-smooth, too-practiced movement — and turned to leave. The four hunters followed him in silence. The hoods slid back over their faces, the modern weapons disappearing beneath the dark cloaks. Usagi watched them until the great doors closed behind them with a dull sound. Something about the Bishop and his young companions left an unpleasant prickling at the back of her neck. She did not know whether this was truly help — or whether it would only make the situation more complicated and more dangerous.

The holographic map flickered again. Somewhere in the red zone another point went out.

The second night continued.