Gun of Ashes

The long corridor was still quiet and eerie, yet different from before. No longer was it a seemingly endless labyrinth, nor were there any bizarre hunting dogs. Everything appeared normal, but the awakened ones had changed.

”Lorenzo! Lorenzo!”

Selyu kept calling out, but the Demon Hunter showed no response.

After carrying Selyu out of the room, the Demon Hunter, after only a few steps, fell into unconsciousness... It seemed his cigarette was not very invigorating.

Just unbelievable, at the most critical moment, this guy passed out.

Selyu struggled to crawl out from under Lorenzo; Florun’s potion was still taking effect. Now she felt as if all her senses had been magnified, able to see in the dark, hear even the faintest sounds, and even her thoughts remained unaffected by fear, becoming exceptionally rational.

But the amplification brought with it a heavy burden—she saw details everywhere, tiny sounds thundered in her ears, and thoughts surged uncontrollably, as if countless whispers echoed in her mind.

With enhanced senses, the barrage of information was explosive, a will not specifically trained couldn’t withstand such an impact, and she was struggling to hold on.

Her will was like a small boat in a pitch-black ocean, getting battered by wave after wave of enormous tides—it could hold out briefly, but perhaps the next second it would sink.

”Wake up!”

She dragged Lorenzo with difficulty; though unsure of the enemy’s location, Selyu knew the estate was extremely dangerous now.

Using all her strength to tug Lorenzo’s arm, Selyu then discovered this Demon Hunter’s abnormally heavy weight—his body mass did not match his size.

This was because of the Silver Binding Bolt inside him, something like an internal metallic skeleton protecting the Demon Hunter, serving as both shield and cage.

It truly was a kind of indescribable powerlessness; there was nothing Selyu could do.

She felt so helpless, just like years ago in Gaulunaro, except back then Lorenzo would come and rescue her. But now? Who would come and save her?

Sounds arose.

Someone seemed to be approaching, footsteps echoing from the stairs.

Selyu stayed alert, gingerly dragging Lorenzo into a corner, then picked up the Winchester.

She was familiar with this gun; during their escape, Lorenzo would tell her many strange stories to console her, including the poems on this gun.

Lorenzo said it was a poem of courage, a curse against death.

”Do not go gentle into that good night.”

Selyu muttered, as though reciting the poem could truly bring her courage.

With her finger on the trigger, she attempted to breathe quietly, fresh oxygen flooding into her lungs like the coolant of a steam engine, calming the now nearly collapsing machine.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm.

Back then, Lorenzo saved her. Now, it was her turn to rescue him.

”Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight.”

Like a devout worshipper, praying to God in the final moments.

But Selyu had no God to pray to; she could only pray to herself, hoping for the courage to tear through the darkness.

She whispered again.

”Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Selyu was no longer the trembling orphan in the cold wind; she was Duke Selyu Stuart.

It was time to prove herself.

Those footsteps, like the approaching Death God, drawing near. Right at the corner, Selyu gripped the Winchester, preparing to charge forward, when suddenly a huge hand grabbed her, took away her gun, and lifted her behind.

Lorenzo stood up, having returned from the chaotic Gap. The Demon Hunter took hold of the Knight’s Sword and Winchester, and positioned himself protectively in front of Selyu.

He continued reciting from Selyu’s poem.

”Rage, rage!”

With each recitation, Winchester erupted with louder sounds, bullets piercing through walls, hitting targets beyond the wooden partitions.

This brought Lorenzo’s memory back to his days in the Demon Hunting Order; then, too, he sang praises to God while sending one demon after another to Hell.

”Curse, curse the fading of the light.”

Winchester emptied its ammunition; Lorenzo pulled the guard ring, and as the quiet sound of reloading echoed, he said,

”Follow me.”

All of this felt very familiar, like when Lorenzo first met Selyu.

Follow me.

Selyu was initially stunned, then nodded forcefully.

...

The enemies were not demons, but humans wielding weapons as they traversed the darkness. However, they clearly hadn’t anticipated encountering a Demon Hunter like Lorenzo.

Lorenzo frowned; the situation was more complex than he imagined—not only were there demons, but humans had joined the fray too.

As he stepped over corpses, subsequent invaders appeared at the staircase, firing at Lorenzo, pouring firepower relentlessly upon the Demon Hunter.

Dense ammunition formed a deadly net within the corridor; any evasive maneuver could expose Selyu behind him.

The invaders flashed triumphant smiles, assuming Lorenzo had surely perished.

Within the darkness, blazing white flames erupted, and pouring bullets hit some sort of metal, causing endless sparks to fly.

It was a terror from deep within the dream; pitch-black armor covered Lorenzo, twisted scale armor twisted like brambles encasing him, shielding Lorenzo from all gunfire assaults.

Without giving the invaders time to react, Lorenzo swiftly advanced and swung the Knight’s Sword.

Not finely crafted, merely ornamental as a symbol of identity, yet in the Demon Hunter’s hands, it became a deadly scythe of the Death God. Secret Blood enhanced the Demon Hunter’s body, muscles tightened, imparting power upon the blade.

Strike, sever.

The invader screamed as the Knight’s Sword severed his entire arm. Ordinarily, the degree of sharpness of the Knight’s Sword wouldn’t cut through dense bones; it was perhaps more about brute force under the Demon Hunter’s might.

Maintain sanity, maintain anger.

With armor’s protection, the situation turned into a one-sided massacre.

In the confined space, neither Lorenzo nor the invaders had room to dodge.

The blade hacked upon an invader’s head, slicing without impediment, overwhelming that side and revealing the comrades behind.

”Damn it! Open fire! Open fire!”

Someone cursed, and under their command, dozens of kilograms of ammunition went airborne, leaving nothing but shallow marks on the armor. Bullets ricocheted off the slanted armor, some rebounding to hit themselves.

Simple swings tore through one body after another—not a highly efficient way to kill but leaving substantial trauma upon their bodies.

Spreading fear, that was what Lorenzo intended.

Fear is a universal language.

Like a walking meat grinder, the Knight’s Sword easily sliced off limbs, blood and flesh flying, while invaders screamed, having never faced such an enemy before.

Initially, some tried to shoot Lorenzo down, but soon morale collapsed in the extreme terror, leading to their retreat.

Ultimately, this seemed like the Demon hunter’s venting of anger, his sword struck ferociously, killing life after life without mercy.

Within the blood-drenched hall lay bodies and cut marks everywhere, the dark knight standing before the few surviving, reflecting their terror-distorted faces on his blood-stained blade.

”I think we can talk now, can’t we?”

The Demon Hunter’s voice was calm and emotionless, like a death-dealing Death God.