Gun of Ashes

Half a month after the great battle, the wounded were all moved to the hastily constructed hospital for treatment. Although their injuries appeared severe, everyone was saved, even if some were missing arms or legs.

Night Owl remains in a coma on the hospital bed due to excessive blood loss. Knight Commander Percival is in worse condition than him, similar to Galahad, suffering severe erosion and is under isolated treatment. As for Joey...

Thinking of his few friends, even the usually carefree Red Falcon couldn’t help but feel sorrowful.

The Cleaners found Joey lying atop a Demon’s corpse, although he still had faint breaths, his body had already undergone mutation. According to protocol, he should be executed on the spot.

Perhaps due to some humanitarian concern, the Purification Mechanism decided to treat him, attempting to bring sanity back into his body. Red Falcon knew the outcome, but he just didn’t want Joey to leave in such an unsightly manner; Joey might be undergoing treatment, or he might never wake up.

Somewhere, an ethereal bell tolled, deep and distant, adding a touch of sanctity to the golden warmth.

”Let’s go, Red Falcon. We should pay our respects.” Blue Jade patted Red Falcon.

Red Falcon nodded, took the white flower given by Blue Jade, and headed forward.

Within Black Mountain Hospital lies a unique graveyard, where many members of the Purification Mechanism are buried. After the storm, aside from those with specific requests in their wills regarding their final resting place, the deceased from that day are all here.

More people approached, each carrying a bouquet of white flowers. There were no eulogies, no complicated ceremonies, just white flowers accumulated before the tombstones, resembling a pure white ocean, swaying with names long deceased.

Bluebird sat in a wheelchair, holding a silver cross, seemingly whispering a prayer, while people lowered their heads in silence, as if time had frozen.

Gawain stood not far away, observing the solemnity of it all. He looked terrible too; although he successfully crushed the Demon’s main forces, he was deeply scarred, but fortunately not heavily eroded.

One foot was in a cast, leaning on a crutch, standing firmly, watching everything.

”Gawain Knight Commander.”

A voice rang out, and a man approached, his cheeks pallid, bearing a gentle smile that felt discomforting to Gawain.

”Anakin? What are you doing here?” Gawain asked, somewhat displeased.

”According to the Royal Family’s decree, I’m here to retrieve Owes Victoria,” he said.

”But he is already dead.”

”Even the dead must be retrieved; King’s Blood cannot drift outside the Royal Family.”

Gawain’s eyes sharpened like a sword, seeming to slice through Anakin.

Though he said nothing, even this slight change made Anakin feel an indescribable pressure, perhaps tension or something, causing his smile to awkwardly stiffen.

Indeed, the Purification Mechanism is purely a violent institution, a battalion of madmen. Even in front of Gawain, he felt a faint fear.

”We have no Owes Victoria here,” Gawain calmly replied.

”What... are you saying?”

Anakin was taken aback, somewhat unsure of Gawain’s meaning.

”We have only a Knight Commander who just died in battle; his title was Lancelot. He belongs to us and should be buried among these honorable figures, not returned to that repulsive cemetery to accompany those useless souls.”

Gawain’s expression was frozen, like enclosed in extreme cold, exuding an intimidating chill under the warm sun.

”But that’s the Royal Family’s decree...”

Anakin still wanted to say something, but then a shadow engulfed him, as Gawain approached and stood in front of him. Only then did he realize how imposing the Knight Commander was, his eyes icy like a mirror reflecting his slightly frightened self.

”Go back, Anakin, forget the Royal Family’s decree, don’t make me angry, I’m already trying hard to control myself.”

Anakin felt a chill in his heart, now understanding Gawain’s demeanor.

It wasn’t indifference; it was anger, a kind of anger Gawain had never felt before. An anger that even he could not perfectly control, only maintaining that icy demeanor.

”After this storm, we’ve already lost too many familiar faces. Before the storm, we were still drinking together, but now they’ve become cold corpses buried beneath the soil.”

”Go away, Anakin.”

Anakin could say nothing more; an instinctive urge had him retreat slightly, yet he still managed to regain composure, keeping a polite smile to say to Gawain.

”I understand.”

...

On the tombstone, line after line of words were inscribed, though the information was sparse, only the names of the deceased, along with their birth years and death times.

The moment of silence ended, people dispersed, softly discussing in corners, reminiscing about the fallen.

Red Falcon stood before the tombstone, gently caressing the cold stone. Despite being bathed in warm sunlight, he felt an inextinguishable cold on the tombstone.

”What are you looking at?”

Beside him, Swift crouched down carefully studying the tombstone, seemingly searching for something.

”Patients, though they were mad, they finally returned to help us. I think their names should also be here.”

The cheerful patients, heedless of fear or Demons, were completely taken in by Eve’s nonsensical chatter.

Yet this group, shouting strange slogans, carried salvaged Aluminothermic Rifles and tore those Demons apart.

Thinking of this, Red Falcon couldn’t help but laugh, quickly covering his mouth, hoping no one saw his disgraceful display.

”I found it!”

Swift said with some cheer, her bandaged fingers stroking the dark tombstone.

”Cole... Gavin... Delun...”

One familiar name after another, yet strangely, Swift showed no sadness. Seeing these names, her eyes held a bit of joy.

”Looks like you don’t need to care for them anymore.”

Red Falcon thought she might be happy not to have to care for these people, but what Swift said next surprised him.

”It’s wonderful... they died in a dignified manner.”

”Dignified?”

”They were once part of the Purification Mechanism but turned into patients due to erosion and lost their sanity.”

Swift mainly worked in Black Mountain Hospital, unknown to Red Falcon about the internal affairs.

”Most of these patients live muddle-headed until they die of old age in Black Mountain Hospital. They linger on the edge of Hell, their deaths are destined the moment they lost sanity, yet due to humanity or something else, they live as walking corpses until the moment of death.”

”It’s a terribly long death, isn’t it?” Swift softly said.

”They were once knights and soldiers like us, facing Demons without fear. I think if they had sanity, they would choose a straightforward death rather than clinging to life like this.

Fortunately, they died on the battlefield fighting Demons, which is much better than dying of old age on a sickbed, it’s practically a gift to them.

To die with honor.”

Red Falcon didn’t respond, just silently gazed at everything. His gaze extended beyond the tombstone before him, to countless tombstones standing alike, like a cold forest stretching to the horizon.