Gun of Ashes

In the hazy rain, a shadow as black as night pursued the speeding train relentlessly, with torrents of steam escaping through the mechanical seams, like a sharp blade effortlessly piercing the storm.

Lorenzo leaped high from his steed, grabbing the edge of the train. The sharp Nail Sword pierced into the steel seam, and with Lorenzo’s force, the carriage door was slowly pried open. It was a freight car, and Lorenzo managed to force it open just wide enough for one person to enter, after which he slipped inside.

Not every inch of the freight car was packed with goods, allowing him some space to rest. He leaned against the cargo, while rain and cold wind poured in through the pried-open gap.

Gasping for breath, Lorenzo gradually sat up after a brief rest. Although the movement was gentle, it tugged at his wound, making him wince in pain.

Fortunately, Lorenzo was only affected by Cantrella. This deadly toxin wasn’t enough to kill him, and with the healing of the Secret Blood, he was much better, but occasionally, a nosebleed would still trickle down.

After a simple wipe, he looked out of the carriage, where the rain curtain shrouded everything. Lorenzo felt as if this train was traveling in a world of nothingness, never reaching its destination.

He drifted into a daze for a moment, then took out the notebook from his bosom. This was what Shermans had given him at the end. The old man’s furious expression seemed to have persisted until that moment just to hand this notebook over.

”Cursed knowledge...”

Lorenzo recalled this phrase. It wasn’t the first time he had heard it. Although the expression might differ, such a concept frequently appeared in Alchemy.

As though he touched something, Lorenzo’s breathing grew more rapid.

The notebook was heavy and plain, with tiny traces of blood on it. Lorenzo couldn’t distinguish if it was his own or Sherman’s.

He was about to open the notebook but then spotted the bookmark between the final pages.

Lorenzo remembered the situation when he infiltrated. Shermans was writing something in the notebook when he was assassinated.

He had reason to believe in the value of this notebook. With everything just experienced, what Shermans did was to protect the knowledge or, perhaps, ensure that Lorenzo would take it away from that perilous place.

Opening along the bookmark, the ink on the page was not yet completely dry, appearing to be Shermans’ last written words. The handwriting was initially neat, but seemingly due to some issue with Shermans, it turned more scrawled towards the end, and even large patches of blood stained the pages.

Lorenzo felt a faint pressure. The Demon Hunters of the new Order had already been shaken off, and while he sat on a speeding train, feeling safe, the strange sense of crisis descended upon him as he read Shermans’ handwriting.

”What exactly are Demons?”

Demons are a very peculiar sort. Despite the knowledge accumulated over the years by the Demon Hunting Order, it’s difficult to encapsulate them well.

Simply put, a Demon is an extremely powerful creature, with remarkable strength and speed, terrifying vitality, and a bloodthirsty desire. But ultimately, it’s just a very strong creature. However, when it comes to the nature of erosion, the horror of Demons undergoes a qualitative change.

Each Demon carries the eroding source of contamination. That eerie pressure can drive a person mad until they too become an abominable creature like a Demon. If conditions permit, as long as there’s a wide enough range of high-intensity erosion, an entire city can be transformed into Demons.

This is why humanity, even with the mastering of technology, struggles to combat Demons. Swords and gunfire can destroy Demons easily, but cannot kill the invisible erosion, while that intangible erosion can pierce through solid armor, dragging reason into the abyss of madness.

Therefore, Demon Hunters of the Order, Upper-Rank Knights of the Purification Mechanism... these individuals emerged, having gone through experiments or been fortified with alchemical potions to possess resilience against erosion, becoming the main force against Demons.

Since the industrial revolution ushered in by the steam engine, humanity no longer lacks weapons to combat Demons, but lacks the sanity not to be devoured by erosion and to face despair directly.

Lorenzo gripped the notebook tightly, attempting to engrave every character into his memory. The more he read, the more he felt the dread of glimpsing the truth.

The wind and rain turned colder, thick rain fog engulfing the train, leaving nothing but the solitary railway beneath his feet and the boundless green fields around him.

Lorenzo extended his hand, gripping the Nail Sword tightly and holding it against his chest. There were no enemies around, but doing so seemed to provide him with a bit of safety.

Vaguely, he seemed to hear Sherman’s old voice again, muttering as he wrote this terrifying truth.

”How do we distinguish the strength of Demons?

Due to the nature of erosion, even after nearly a thousand years, we still haven’t established a sufficiently detailed classification for Demons... perhaps we tried in the past, but like this knowledge lost to erosion, it was not passed down.

However, despite this, there are general types recorded within the Demon Hunting Order. Based on the different kinds and specific effects of Demons, they are named Stomach Chewing Grass, Nightmare Illusion...