Gun of Ashes

Is this the feeling of death?

Although engulfed in a sea of flames, Lorenzo could not feel the scorching pain. Instead, it was as if he were submerged in invisible seawater, only able to sense an indescribable cold, like icy vines coiling around his body.

This feeling was indeed somewhat unexpected. This wasn’t Lorenzo’s first encounter with death; he always hovered along the boundary of life and death, brushing past the death-dealing God, withdrawing from the guillotine at the gambling table with everything he had.

But it seemed this time, Lorenzo could not withdraw completely.

Moriarty is not dead yet. He let out a painful groan amidst the sea of fire, covering the gruesome wound on his head with one hand and picking up the Nail Sword with the other, pointing it haphazardly. This guy knew nothing about swordsmanship. Without his Authority, he was just an ordinary madman. Even blinded by Lorenzo, Moriarty refused to concede.

Just like Lorenzo, no one would stop until they’re truly completely dead.

Lorenzo reached out, slowly pulling the Nail Sword from his chest. Blood gushed out from between steel and flesh, but gradually, there was no more blood, as if this body had been entirely drained by the continuous injuries.

Death is a peculiar thing. Everyone has different interpretations of it. According to the teachings of the Evangelical Church, death is a blessing; believers ascend to Heaven while sinners descend to Hell. Some believe death leads to another world, a solitary, gray-black world stretching endlessly regardless of direction, filled with near-eternal despair.

Yet, in Lorenzo’s eyes, death didn’t carry such mythological colors. Death was just death, leaving nothing behind, akin to a dream from which one would never awaken.

However, slightly differently, Lorenzo always felt death was a prolonged process, not the biological definition of death. To him, the death of the body was merely the beginning. When the last person who remembers the deceased also forgets, that is true death, the ultimate end of it.

No one remembers him, no one knows his past; his entire life becomes drifting, nihilistic dust, as if he never truly existed in this world.

Oblivion is true death.

Something stirred within him. Lorenzo began to remember. He could feel the violent throbbing beneath his chest, uncertain if it was from joy or fear.

This name is a wish...

Twisting the blade with force, he slowly extracted it from the flesh.

Lorenzo couldn’t die yet; only he remembered those people. If he died, those poor souls truly died. Even for these hapless souls, Lorenzo had to live on.

He was no longer the lonely Demon Hunter; he gradually recalled everything, all that had been deliberately concealed.

The Nail Sword was removed from his chest, and Lorenzo leaned on it, preventing himself from collapsing from blood loss.

Strangely, the Nail Sword bore a twisted fragment. Lorenzo’s vision blurred, yet he barely discerned its shape.

Lorenzo recognized it; it was the seal Arthur had once given him, said to be a small gift from Selyu, a token from the Stuart family. This tiny thing had saved him. Moriarty’s Nail Sword hadn’t pierced his heart; it was blocked by this little thing.

”A second chance...”

Lorenzo murmured, forcing himself to stand; Moriarty was not dead yet; this battle was not over. He staggered toward Moriarty.

The entire engine room continued burning, collapsing, though the core furnace relentlessly released power, entwined in twisted flesh, slowly ensnaring everyone, not even sparing Lorenzo and Moriarty.

”You’re still alive, aren’t you, Lorenzo Holmes!”

Moriarty could no longer see, but he could sense Lorenzo’s presence, shouting loudly.

Twisted flesh invaded his body; with Lorenzo’s heavy blow, Moriarty lost the ability to control the Yanar Demon Hunters, now the violent flesh went out of control, the thick tendrils enveloping the Reichenbach, overlaying the iron creation with a layer of blood.

They were like prey trapped in a spider’s web, being devoured by the rampaging demon.

Lorenzo remained silent, weakly wielding his sword, cutting away the approaching flesh. The furnace before him was like a blazing sun, covered in grotesque flesh, gradually assimilating Moriarty.

It seemed this guy truly had no combat power, his strongest point merely being his use of Authority. Without it, Moriarty reverted back to a laughable madman, futilely struggling, swallowed by the demon.

This couldn’t do; Lorenzo had to kill him with his own hands, couldn’t let the damn demon take the lead.

Slowly dragging himself forward, Moriarty halted within the flesh, hearing the faint footsteps and started laughing loudly.

”You really aren’t dead yet!”

He was overjoyed. Moriarty could no longer see, but it didn’t hinder his movement. He tried to walk toward the footsteps, yet most of his body was already restrained, assimilated by the demon’s flesh.