Gun of Ashes

”If you missed the train I took, by then I had already left alone.

Listen to the long and distant whistle, carrying me away, far from home.”

On the platform, people come and go, trains stop and depart, groups of people arrive and leave.

Young people with heavy backpacks, they come from towns barely marked on maps, now looking at this magnificent and splendid city, singing songs joyfully yet sadly.

The songs echo, and Lorenzo couldn’t help but hum along with the shallow melody, sitting alone on a long bench, like a bystander, quietly witnessing all this.

”What are they singing?”

A woman came over and sat in the spot just vacated by Mrs. Van Rudd.

”Just an ordinary song, probably about people leaving their homes.”

Lorenzo said as he picked up a cigarette, puffing smoke and steam mixing together, enveloping him in a white haze.

”Leaving home? Sounds quite sad.”

”I find it alright.”

”Alright?”

The woman was somewhat surprised, but knowing Lorenzo was a bit of an odd fellow, she was not too taken aback.

”Yes, I think it’s alright. At least they have a warm and hopeful place in their hearts. When feeling sad, thinking about the distant hometown can strengthen their spirits, and eventually, they will return home one day.”

Lorenzo’s gaze remained fixed on the void ahead, as if in a daze.

”This past month, I’ve been pondering things, lost memories rushing back like tides, I feel my personality might be torn apart.

At that time, I wondered, where could I return? Florence? There, everyone I knew is dead, the new Pope seems eager to kill me, so how about Old Dunling? Still doesn’t work, I’m the only one left on Cork Street 121A...

I was just thinking...

I can’t reach that ideal destination, nor return to the land of memory.

Where exactly am I? Watson.”

Watson shook her head, unable to answer Lorenzo’s question. Humans are strange creatures who tend to feel sad over odd things, which become lifelong knots that are hard to untie.

The silence lasted a while, and Lorenzo seemed like his thoughts finally came through, his eyes looking towards the end of the tracks.

”I met a doctor a few days ago, her name is Abigail, she said human willpower is quite fragile, so when faced with terrible situations, people actively forget certain awful things to protect themselves.”

”This month has really been terrible. I feel my thoughts are like rusty gears, stuck together. If possible, I really want to forget all of this.”

Like living as a stray dog, no need to care so much, not even thinking, just following instinct.

”Is that so? But for you, your will isn’t so fragile as to be easily beaten. Regarding your amnesia, it’s due to the side effect of Authority · Gabriel.” Watson explained.

”Side effect?”

”Yes, ultimately the [Gap] invasion aims to destroy others’ will, so your will can dominate this new body, but clearly, things were too complex during the Night of the Holy Arrival.

You weren’t familiar with Authority · Gabriel, experienced so much then, not to mention you couldn’t bring yourself to kill 047. You didn’t completely destroy his will, he survived like a ghost, merging the two conflicting wills together. That’s why you mistook his memory for your own, getting lost within.”

”Is that so?”

Lorenzo’s expression remained calm, this way, the mystery of his perception had an explanation; his memories mixed with those of 047, causing those incidents.

”I remember we went on missions together, lived together, is that also false?”

”You mean the actions after becoming a Demon Hunter? Yes, you mistaken yourself as 047, in fact, you weren’t there at all.”

”Such a shame, I always longed for those experiences.”

Lorenzo rubbed his head, by now he didn’t have much reaction to these truths.

”After the Night of the Holy Arrival, why didn’t you tell me these things? About Authority · Gabriel, about the Night of the Holy Arrival, about who I am, why deceive me?”

”Because I didn’t think you could accept all this, after experiencing so much, the hellish battlefield, countless separations of life and death, you... you even killed your own friend, living on his body...”

Watson said, speaking cruel words.

”I must find a way for you to survive, for someone who holds a death wish, something that forces them to persevere will be their best support.”

”Revenge?”

”Revenge, wrath, wielding the sword against those Demons who took it all away, continually wielding it, until death.”

That was the best solution Watson could think of at the time, cruel but indeed effective.

”So you played the role of the monster yourself, a monster I must continually imprison, a monster that made me survive.”

Lorenzo thought maybe his mind needed a break, he always believed Watson as the Pseudo Holy Grail was the root source of the Night of the Holy Arrival, but now it seems she was just a piece in the conspiracy; Lorenzo started to find his long time as a Prison Guard rather laughable.