Gun of Ashes

Deep breath. As the Iron Coffin slowly opened, complex machinery began to unseal it. The cold temperature gradually rose as the black substance sleeping within awakened and became increasingly active.

The already narrow space was engulfed by an ominous aura, as if the cold object had come to life, or perhaps it had always been alive, merely dormant due to the low temperature.

Now, it was hungry, craving blood and flesh, and a whimpering murmur sounded in their ears, like a stranger from a distant land recounting ancient stories, grotesque and mad in equal measure.

”You know, this thing is essentially a Demon.”

Looking at the pitch-black Armor, Bola tried to make himself look as composed as possible.

Beside him, Blue Jade held the Spear of Melting tightly, standing by the door. If anything went wrong, she could seal the door, unsure if she could control Bola, but at least she could limit his actions.

”This is technology from Jiuxia. Their Emperor established a department called the Hidden Study Temple, specifically researching Demon technology. You can think of it like a Perpetual Motion Pump research institution. They discovered some unique traits common to powerful Demons: the brain and the heart.”

Bola spoke as he reached into the darkness. As his flesh approached, the black substance grew agitated, starting to gently shake. Although it was merely Armor, Bola could sense a feeling of joy emanating from it.

”To kill a powerful Demon, you must destroy both the heart and the brain. Simply destroying one of them leaves the bizarre body with a certain level of combat power. But later, scholars delved deeper, revealing the differences between the two.”

”Destroying only the heart allows the body to continue fighting, following the brain’s will. Destroying the brain, however, leaves the Demon’s powerful vitality allowing it to act on instinct. On this basis, the people from the Hidden Study Temple developed the Ghostly Floating Massacre, also known as the Armor of Original Sin.”

The eerie Armor began to move—not with a metallic sensation, but as a mass of formless flesh wriggling. It climbed up Bola’s body along his hand, the scarlet heart flickering in the darkness.

The murmurs grew louder, almost roaring in his ears.

As if enduring immense pain, Bola let out tortured growls. The black substance coiled around his arm like a snake, climbing upward as if a dark tide had engulfed him, covering every inch of his body in blackness.

”Are you alright, Bola?”

Blue Jade gripped the Spear of Melting tightly, the eerie scene forcing her to feel a touch of fear. The so-called corruption had already begun, human will drifting like a boat in a storm.

”If I lose control, then kill me. Put on the Armor yourself and continue the mission.”

He turned slightly, a hideous scene, almost suffocating—a familiar face twisted with rage, eyes bloodshot and vividly red.

”This thing is actually a Demon; it just lost its brain, leaving only the heart. Those lunatics transformed it into a controllable body, but what’s controlling it is human will.”

As Bola spoke, the truth of the Armor of Original Sin was revealed.

Through complex techniques and mysterious Alchemy, those lunatics successfully separated a Demon’s brain from its body heart. When needed, a human will would replace it, granting Demonic power—a dance with dragons perilous beyond measure, but the only slim chance to win.

Beneath the blackness, steel rose slowly, the internal machinery merging with Bola and the Armor, covering his body. Beneath the hardening metallic substance, a sturdy mechanical structure unfolded, a silver-white steel frame swallowing Bola whole, then filled by black material.

This was the integration of Demon and machine, the fine gears rotating at Bola’s joints, the entire body brimming with energy like a large Spring Knight.

”The controllability of the First Generation Armor was poor, so the second generation improved it, with machines taking over most structures and reducing the Demon’s presence within.”

As the words fell, cables connected, brass pipes slightly protruding from the Armor, and heavy Plate Armor dropped to protect vulnerable areas. In a short time, the eerie Iron Coffin became an equipment platform, like a craftsman forging steel, nailing iron Armor onto the Knight.

The heavy steam engine overlapped with the Demon’s heart, the black Armor mixed with a silver-white metal frame, hot steam pouring from the cracks, filling the space with an ethereal white mist.

This was the perfect integration of biology and machinery, the Perpetual Motion Pump taking another step toward forbidden knowledge.

Blue Jade couldn’t see Bola clearly, the thick fog obscuring her vision, until a harmonious green light shone from within, and the iron body strode forth.

”Let’s execute the mission.”

Familiar voice mixed with complex electrical sounds, this was a deteriorated version of the First Generation Armor, using mostly mechanical parts to replace and thus reduce Demonic erosion, allowing Bola’s willpower to temporarily withstand the corruption.

Blue Jade nodded, suppressing the grief in her heart, and stepped aside.

At this moment, she suddenly understood Bola’s aversion to Galahad donning the Armor. It meant infusing human will into a Demonic body, transitioning from holiness to annihilation—a foreboding path, yet the only path.

She felt sad, as if back in that snowy day buried in deep memory, regretful of her choice.

Mortal men had stolen ominous power, so the heavy door easily opened with Bola’s force, the steel blade lifted from the weapon rack—a sword beyond human strength to wield, perhaps better described as a Giant Sword, yet in Bola’s hand, its proportions were so perfect that it seemed it had been the designated weapon for this Armor all along.

The blade’s edge began heating, burning. It was also a product of those lunatics, a byproduct of the Aluminothermic Rifle. Cables on the blade connected to interfaces on the Armor, and a small battery pack on the back powered it. Conductors heated, the blade burned crimson, slicing through any obstacle effortlessly.

That moment, the hard flesh appeared so fragile and feeble. Gripping the burning blade, Bola stepped out of the carriage. The cold air cleared his mind slightly, and in a trance, he seemed to return to the past.

Bola hailed from Borhans, the industrial city, his hometown. He recalled running across the green field with excitement and sweat, watching the grim and brutal silhouettes of factories at sunset.

It was a long sundown, flocks of birds flitting by, clouds dissipating, in this transition from day to night, streetlights lit up one by one in the not fully darkened daylight.

Bola loved this time—like a private, childhood moment—the air filled with the smell of soft meadows and charred ash. So many years had passed, he seemed to return there somehow.

Indeed, endless Demons surged towards the Radiant at the horizon’s end. Bola bit his lip hard to keep himself awake, strands of blood seeping from the corners of his mouth.

No time to recall any beauty, thus he swung the burning blade down.

Rifle shots and sword strikes, an ominous Knight and a solitary Kingfisher stood before the Demons, an unwinnable war—but there was no way back except to move forward.