Gun of Ashes

Chapter 31: Chapter 24 Death and Madness

It’s as if Hell has returned, with distortion and chaos filling the air. Under the influence of illusions, everything seems to come alive, countless faces growing from within, bearing emotions of all kinds, screaming loudly in agony.

The short figure resembles a slender ghostly shadow, the straight Thrusting Sword twisting under the illusion as if it were a living white snake.

This place used to be a dueling ground, where Gladiators stood in the dark underground, listening to the cheers from above, being bathed in the first ray of light as the chains of the elevator tightened.

Now, everything here is so similar to that time, the two of them are like those iron-blooded fighters, only one of them can survive.

Without any warning, the Thrusting Sword speeds in, its Swordsmanship as flawed as Sabo himself, one could barely discern some of the methods, but it was more akin to a theft of style with additional personal flair.

The blades clashed together, the crisp sound shaking the eardrums, Lorenzo firmly gripping the hilt before sliding the Staff Sword to one side.

This is a technique in Swordsmanship called deflection, changing the inclination of the blade at the moment of clash to achieve a leveraging effect, altering the direction of the opponent’s blade force. Of course, what’s important in this technique is not defense, but storing power during defense. The opponent will be slow to counter-defense due to the unrecovered force, and that opening is the fatal gap.

Lorenzo saw that fatal gap, the Thrusting Sword grazing past his side, the Staff Sword rising and then chopping fiercely, vicious and powerful like the blade of a guillotine.

Sabo couldn’t defend in time, his short body twisted forcefully to withdraw the Thrusting Sword, then sparks of dazzling light exploded.

Nimbly leaping backward, Sabo looked at Lorenzo with a bit of fear, the great force had left his arm numb, hard to imagine this detective having such might.

This attack ended with Lorenzo’s victory.

Sabo looked down at his Thrusting Sword, a noticeable chip on the blade, a mark left by Lorenzo. If his Staff Sword were just a bit heavier like a regular blade, that strike would have severed both the Thrusting Sword and Sabo’s head.

”Does a Priest need to learn Swordsmanship too?”

It’s something unthinkable for a detective, let alone a Priest.

”In Florence, being a Priest is essentially just a rank, just like those Holy Hall Knights. Before being promoted to Knights, most of them were Priests.”

He slowly raised the Staff Sword, the tip lowered forward, this is one stance in Swordsmanship.

”Courage, strength, skill, and... cunning!”

Few know these are the four principles of Swordsmanship; the courage to wield the sword, the strength of Steel Breaker, the deadly skill, and the insidious cunning. Ultimately, it’s just the art of killing. The so-called honor is merely a fig leaf of self-comfort after killing.

Suddenly stepping forward, the sword slashed down like thunder.

That was the sound of air being torn, under the distortion of illusion, it seemed like the wails of those souls under the sword.

Sabo’s short figure elongated, fully aware he couldn’t take this strike, but within the time of contemplation, the white light slashed down.

Red smoke erupted with the fall of the sword, amidst which, the treacherous Thrusting Sword attacked.

The Staff Sword barely caught the assault, but the Thrusting Sword was like a snake, twisting after a missed strike, then stabbing into Lorenzo.

The two entangled in the bewildering illusion, with beast-like roars.

The black suit was split open, pouring out a large stream of blood, and after this strike, Lorenzo suddenly surged forward instead of retreating, stretching out his hand in the distorted vision, forcefully grabbing that white snake.

The swift Thrusting Sword was caught by Lorenzo, startling Sabo, seemingly not expecting Lorenzo to keep up with his sword in such a situation, but that’s all there was to it, as the blade edge was a fracturing serrated blade; if he withdrew quickly, he could directly sever Lorenzo’s palm.

Sabo forcefully extracted it, but the blade didn’t move a bit in Lorenzo’s hand; lacking power was his weakness, under which Lorenzo firmly clamped the blade, then swung the Staff Sword again.

Before firearms and cannons ruled the battlefield, the rulers were war horses and Knights clad in Iron Armor. Unlike the novel depictions of injuring at touch or death upon brush, the knightly duels hundreds of years ago were somewhat cumbersome, two people essentially colliding dressed in dozens of pounds of iron cans.

Due to the iron forging technology back then, the blades couldn’t penetrate the heavy armor, so blades were mostly symbolic of rank, while the truly useful weapons were blunt instruments striking the innards directly. Yet, despite the times, there were still groups specializing in Swordsmanship who could shatter Iron Armor with unsharpened swords.

This is one of those skills, gripping the enemy’s weapon by hand, sacrificing hand injuries to take the enemy’s life.

Lorenzo gripped the blade and pulled it towards himself, then wielded the Staff Sword, a certain hit unless Sabo abandoned his weapon. Yet, once he abandoned this weapon, with his few fingers, he couldn’t possibly counter Lorenzo, and with such a hand, he couldn’t even fire a shot.

His short figure like a child, the Staff Sword swung down with a howling wind, landing accurately but hitting the ground instead.

The doubt lingered in Lorenzo’s mind for just a brief moment; he knew it was an illusion misleading his judgment. The next second, that blurred silhouette tumbled, and the thrusting sword in his hand loosened as Sabo abandoned it.

This was not a good omen. Although he’d been in contact with him for less than an hour, Lorenzo was well aware of what kind of person Sabo was. To win, he nearly lost all his fingers; a desperado like him would never admit defeat. Abandoning his thrusting sword only indicated he had another weapon.

With a swift spin of his body, despite being deformed, Sabo’s short stature under close-quarter combat was now incredibly lethal.

It was a piercing agony directly from Lorenzo’s back. As he suspected, Sabo had another weapon—blades mounted on his elbows. Even without fingers, he had joints, each deadly in its own right.

”Compared to being a detective, I think you’d have more potential as a Swordsmanship teacher.”

Though he praised with his mouth, Sabo moved without hesitation. Like a swirling whirlwind, in just a few breaths, Sabo had left numerous wounds on Lorenzo’s body.

”No need. So-called Swordsmanship is merely a relic of a bygone era.”

Lorenzo’s voice was cold, devoid of any fear.

Suddenly reminded of a night in Florence, Lorenzo’s Swordsmanship teacher drinking and crying. Lorenzo asked him what was wrong, and the teacher said he was reminded of his own teacher. At that time, guns had been continuously modified and became immensely powerful. The old master told him that the era of Swordsmanship was over; henceforth, the battlefield would be dominated by guns and cannons, and so-called Swordsmanship would become mere performances to entertain the nobility.

Enduring the pain in his hand, he swung his twin swords down forcefully, a wide arc of slashes. In the twisted illusion, Sabo was forced to retreat step by step. Lorenzo then threw his thrusting sword, attempting to pierce Sabo.

”Why is it? It’s truly a shame when such skills die out.”

Sabo still thought he could kill Lorenzo, thinking Lorenzo’s actions were a mistake. With only a few fingers, he easily caught the speeding thrusting sword, twirling it to produce sword flowers. The sword returned to his hand, but then Sabo saw Lorenzo had already raised his hand.

Blood flowed uncontrollably, soaking the short stock of the shotgun. Whether due to the illusion or not, the weapon seemed alive, devouring Lorenzo’s blood, making the intricate patterns appear to come alive.

”Because the times have changed, Sabo.”

Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. To aim at Sabo, he first abandoned the thrusting sword, barely correcting his mistake in its trajectory, then pulled the trigger.

The times have changed, the bygone era never to return. One must either conform to fate or die.

The cone-shaped barrage was like a rain of arrows, the muzzle flashing instantly like a Red Dragon spewing a breath. Sabo dodged to one side with all his might, simultaneously raising his thrusting sword to protect his heart. As long as his heart could still beat, he would continue to fight.

But it was all in vain; human speed could never match bullets propelled by gunpowder.

After the deadly clash, half of Sabo’s body was bloodied, several bullet holes streaming blood.

The kinetic energy carried by the bullets choked his movements, slowing him down.

Pulling the trigger again, the thunderous roars continued, until Sabo’s body was shattered, his already broken form teetering, continually pushed back by the bullets’ impact, finally standing precariously at the edge of the platform with the thrusting sword.

”Looks like I still won.”

Lorenzo emptied the bullets, slowly lowering the shotgun, his gaze slightly cold.

Sabo bowed his head, coughing blood. The real pain made him sober beyond measure, on the brink of death, yet he suddenly let out a hoarse laugh, the voice carrying an inexplicable demonic charm, as he looked at Lorenzo.

”This isn’t over yet, detective.” Like a stubborn child, he said.

”But you’re already dying.”

The figure was so desolate, Lorenzo couldn’t believe he could survive.

”Yes, so that’s why it’s frightening, isn’t it? Death is far from the story’s end.”

Struggling to lift his body, as Sabo moved, more blood gushed from the bullet holes. It’s hard to imagine so much blood could pour from a human body, seemingly endless.

”Better run, Detective, facing it, the outcome is like tossing a coin.”

Behind the strange iron stood eyes with a hint of madness, scrutinizing Eve at one side, the girl’s eyes filled with terror, tightly gripping that coin.

”One side is death, the other is madness.”