Gun of Ashes

The once prosperous manor is now in ruins, the vibrant lawn baptized by fierce flames, leaving only dead ashes scattered over it, swept by the howling wind.

In the end, there is a certain deathly grayness, everything appears so sorrowful.

Two monstrous figures gaze at each other from afar, their expressions either indifferent or enraged.

”Dean Lawrence, where exactly did you go that night?”

The ghost inquired once more, he was the survivor of the Night of the Holy Arrival, an impossibly existing survivor.

It was truly bone-chilling cold, like a familiar face emerging beneath a frozen lake, clearly dead, yet one day you’re walking over the ice and see that stubborn face once more.

Clearly dead, yet stubbornly trying to break through the ice to drag you down.

There are always things relentlessly pursuing you, some are memories, some are missions, and some are vengeful souls filled with rage.

”The Holy Arrival Night, what exactly did you all do?”

The haunting voice echoed again, the burning cavalry stepping over the scorched grassland, with blazing flames burning behind him, as if carrying a scorching sun.

The voice began to blur and overlap, as if countless people were questioning him simultaneously, those of all the fallen demon hunters.

Very few people knew the full details of the Night of the Holy Arrival event, after all, the disaster that swept through the entire Seven Hills was too terrifying, even the holy Pope died inexplicably in the end.

In memory, Medanzo was also one of those in the know. When the [Messiah] class containment broke through, he was the first to enter from outside the Saint Nalos Cathedral, but now he’s dead, and his limited will lives like a lonely ghost within the [Gap].

Lorenzo only knew a vague outline of it all, knowing nothing beyond that.

He suddenly recalled a conversation with Medanzo many years ago. As a Forbidden Guard safeguarding the Saint Nalos Cathedral, Lorenzo’s work was actually quite boring, since few reckless demons would dare assault this place. Even if they did, under its vast armed defense, they might not even be able to ascend the sacred steps.

The work at that time was extremely dull, but dullness was a good thing. No demons, no battles, aside from the Secret Blood flowing within him, Lorenzo was nothing more than an ordinary guard, everything was quite ordinary, immensely serene.

Lorenzo once asked Medanzo what he wanted to do after retirement. After all, he was the most outstanding in their branch and might succeed Dean Lawrence and become the new dean, with the possibility of donning the red robe for fun.

But Medanzo said he was not interested in that kind of life. He asked back what Lorenzo wanted to do, to which Lorenzo said he wanted to be a minstrel traveling the world, observing all its facets.

”That fits your style, but I don’t like roaming everywhere. I might open an agency with her.”

Medanzo replied at that time, saying he wanted to start a detective agency, yet now Lorenzo is the detective, while Medanzo is eternally dead.

No one could have anticipated that this would be the outcome years later, just like Lorenzo couldn’t have foreseen becoming who he is now.

”You... don’t seem to be him?”

Dean Lawrence obviously didn’t listen to Lorenzo’s words, still preoccupied with the mysterious familiarity he felt towards Lorenzo.

Then he smiled, with the same burning white in his cloudy eyes.

He had lived so long that even his memories filled him with a sense of unfamiliarity. He felt he should remember Lorenzo, yet with Lorenzo hidden beneath the armor, he couldn’t confirm his identity, but what did it matter?

Noble people like the Pope also die, whereas only people like him survive till the end. Nobody is worth remembering.

To be forgotten is to be dead, just like nobody would ever know what was once built on a desert, it’s utterly meaningless.

”Stop the nonsense, child, it’s all for different interests anyway.”

He raised his head, voice calm, gazing at the bright spotlight looming above, unconsciously realizing the Purification Mechanism had surrounded them, aerial cavalry poised in the night sky, one light after another igniting within the darkness, those being the Aluminothermic Rifles’ igniters.

There was a faint tremor from the tracks at night, perhaps some iron beast was rushing this way.

”Ultimately, hatred and all that are just angry words from children, truly grown-ups remain silent, doing whatever they desire.”

Dean Lawrence smiled, clearly indicating that tonight’s operation had failed, not capturing Eve in time and being thwarted by this suddenly appearing demon hunter.

”In fact, you’re still lucky, you survived. If it were me, I’d hide, find a place the church could never find, forget all about Secret Blood and demons, and live a good life... I’ve longed for such a peaceful life, yet it’s a pity I’ve never truly had it despite living for so long.”

”Do you think I would choose that?”

Lorenzo asked.

A long silence followed, then Dean Lawrence smiled.

”No, indeed, how could you? Just like I once abandoned a peaceful life, back then I was about your age—or perhaps a bit older—but the fire inside me hadn’t been extinguished yet, thoughts of vengeance and self-sacrifice for brothers and all that, one might always do something unexpected when young and impetuous.

”Just like how people of different ages will make different choices, but at least these are our own choices, there’s no need to regret anything.”

Dean Lawrence’s gaze was as cold as ice. He was once young, with a fire burning in his chest, but now he was old, the fire extinguished. He was a boring adult, stopping at nothing for his own purposes.

”If you’re a Demon Hunter, I should have taught you that you must always hide your thoughts... Weapons have no thoughts.”

”I’m so tired of hearing that phrase.”

”But haven’t you learned from all the times you’ve heard it?”

The old wrinkles twisted together, and he looked like a true teacher.

Lorenzo initially didn’t understand Dean Lawrence’s words, but then the reason lost to fury returned, and belatedly he remembered some things, unconsciously tightening his grip on his sword.

”Those inferior Secret Bloods are related to you, aren’t they?”

The mysterious disappearance of Dean Lawrence during the Night of the Holy Arrival, if he had taken the Revelation then to develop the inferior Secret Blood, everything would make sense.

But then Lorenzo thought of another thing. If this hypothesis was true, then how did Dean Lawrence know for sure a Messiah-level containment breach would occur? Although unclear about the security measures of the Revelation, only that one night when Saint Nalos Cathedral was completely overtaken gave him the opportunity to act.

Or... did he orchestrate it all, just like tonight, causing endless chaos while his true intentions lurked in the shadows?

On the surface, it was revenge against the nobility, but in reality, it was to kidnap Eve, releasing terror on the Night of the Holy Arrival, secretly stealing the Revelation...

Suddenly all the wrath of revenge vanished. He watched Dean Lawrence smiling on the other end, as if a gigantic shadow had shrouded him, extending from the Seven Hills six years ago to the present-day Old Dunling, something was fermenting in the dark, the aftermath of the Night of the Holy Arrival far from over.

Lorenzo looked at Dean Lawrence in shock, his mind in complete turmoil.

”Child, we are all chased by the chariot of fate.”

Dean Lawrence laughed heartily.

”Some escape the wheels that crush everything, while others are ground to dust...”

After the laughter, he slowly raised the broken Nail Sword, looking desolately at Lorenzo.

”You thought you escaped like I did, didn’t you?”

With those words, the wind rose.

Intense flames almost solidified, emerging from those aged eyes, Dean Lawrence’s expression commanded respect without anger, and the nameless wind tugged at his red robe.

In that instant, Lorenzo could only glimpse a flash of scarlet, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the air being torn apart, the tip of the broken sword pointed straight at him.

”You really are still a child.”

A sigh arose, Lorenzo swung his Great Sword trying to cut down the thunderclap, but the swift thunder veered slightly on its path, just enough to graze past Lorenzo’s blade, then it fell behind him.

”Hide your intentions, never let anyone know your aim until the weapon truly falls. Consider this a belated lesson.”

That voice still echoed in his ear, a nameless fear fell upon Lorenzo as he could only see the broken sword’s light cleaving through ash and smoke, crossing ruins and a sea of fire.

His target was not Lorenzo.

Aluminothermic Rifles fired in unison, countless gunshots merged as if the ancient giant’s deep murmurs.

The burning Aluminothermic Bombs in midair trailed hundreds of fiery lines, slow-motion red lines frozen in the air, weaving a burning web blocking all routes for Dean Lawrence.

And in that moment, an alarming power surged, the ancient doors opening slowly under the will’s command with dust and decay, as the aged beast stepped out of its cage once more.

The thunder headed straight into the fire net, never slowing, instead growing more rapid, then, like avoiding Lorenzo’s sword strike, it swayed slightly dodging the Aluminothermic Bombs one by one.

As if... as if he knew the trajectory of those Aluminothermic Bombs from the start.

At this moment, Lorenzo was frozen in place, suddenly recalling deep memories of Dean Lawrence’s exploits; an elder once called him by that title.

Shangdafeng.

Indeed, he was the Dean of the Demon Hunting Order, once bearing the Angel’s name, whether it was his sword strikes or the burning trajectories, everything had been foreseen by him.

Eve could only see the approaching brilliance, whether the Aluminothermic Bombs or the soldiers before her, they couldn’t stop him, like a falling meteor, the next moment Dean Lawrence descended before her with chilling gale.