[h3]The Hunter's Clinic, in the outskirts of Yharnam[/h3]
The Mad One abundantly demonstrated that while it was fragile and had not seemed to regenerate before, it possessed incredible powers of healing now that it was continuously wrapped in that ominous light from whence it had come. First it grew an entire new lower body, and now replaced its lost head so fast that it seemed less like regeneration and more like an already fully-formed head simply emerged from within. And each time it had been hit – first when Torquil severed its leg, then several times in Farren's initial assault and now when he beheaded it – the pulsating purple glow within its body, though somewhat obscured by the red shroud surrounding it, grew even stronger.
Looking at the facts before them, it certainly seemed that Farren made the right choice in disengaging from the monster, and even more so that he quickstepped as soon as possible, as it helped him barely escape the swift, grasping hand that shot out to grab him. The once-slow and lethargic creature now seemed to be absolutely brimming with energy, to the point where new glowing cracks were constantly opening up in its skin and closing again.
As Torquil lay on the ground, his vision still blurry and his body heavy from the concussion his newly acquired Hunter-regeneration was doubtlessly working on remedying, he saw and, rather uncharacteristically for him, understood. While this inhuman black figure had seemed an unsettling but harmless puppet of the hoarse man, it was now clear that it was a fearsome opponent indeed; one that seemed indestructible, and seemed to be empowered by the damage it took.
So indeed, Torquil completely understood Farren running off, especially since he went back inside the clinic, where the bell-ringing bastard was. He even smiled a crooked smile of relief, happy that Farren was able to get away from this hopeless fight.

Torquil still smiled when the Mad One turned its blazing red eyes back to him, lying almost helpless right next to it, and the black hand that had failed to seize Farren instead palmed Torquil's face. Its long, clawed fingers closed around his skull with a strength that felt like it would have crushed the head of a normal human, and lifted him off the ground somewhat, raising his head what felt like a meter or so over the ground.
Then it slammed him back down again, lifted him, and slammed him down again. Over and over again, insanely fast and with impossible strength, painting the cobblestone of the road with Torquil's blood. Bits of hair and chunks of scalp were left behind, and Torquil's body just flopped around limply as the creature took out its anger on him. Only... after a few seconds of this, Torquil's body – and all the blood and bits of him that had been scattered on the ground – seemed to rapidly lose opacity, only to vanish completely in another couple of seconds.

Farren, however, did not witness any of this; he had rushed back inside the clinic and joined Victor in facing down the huntsmen. The situation did not seem to have improved since Farren's first glance through the doorway; though all but one huntsman – one of the riflemen – had bloodstained clothes marked with cuts or bullet-holes, they all bizarrely seemed to be unharmed. Farren would likely realize that regular Yharnamites were not supposed to demonstrate such immense powers of regeneration, though he would likely also realize that just like the Mad One and the beast-man outside, the huntsmen's eyes now burned with a supernatural fiery light. The once meek and fearful men fought fervently, even smiled and laughed in the face of battle, as the wounds Victor had cut into them – and the ones Farren cut to try to get past – healed almost as fast as they were inflicted.
Behind them, huddled in the far-left corner of the reception, the hoarse man kept ringing his bell. The cane in his right hand was wrapped in a crimson aura, and faintly visible ripples seemed to distort space around the bell itself.
[I] – ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding –[/I]
Going inside also meant getting closer to the bell, of course, which made the visions haunting Farren even stronger. He started itching all over, and it felt like there was someone behind him that was not actually there.

Beside him, Victor produced an inarticulate grunt as he slashed widely one last time in a vain effort to force back the huntsmen a little, only to then swiftly – continuing the arc of the slash – maneuver his hand around his back. There was an audible, familiar metallic click as the small sword locked into the blade-scabbard, which in turn detached itself from the mechanism holding it in place on his back. Victor grit his teeth and, leaving his blunderbuss hanging from his hip, grasped the hilt of his weapon with both hands before levering it over and off his right shoulder, bringing it down in a huge, diagonal swing, carving straight through two of the huntsmen... and clearing the path in front of Farren, leaving him free to approach the one he called Pallid.