Gun of Ashes

I went to persuade other Cardinals, and I told them about the beauty of the Golden Era. Perhaps Lorenzo de’ Medici was too overpowering, but I was willing to compromise, as long as they were willing to believe in me, willing to support me.

I am willing to give up everything, as long as someone can help me. We are just a step away from all that beauty, just that one step, and with a little more effort, perhaps we could really succeed, right?

…I was too naive, Lorenzo Holmes.”

The chill of winter emanated from Lawrence’s words, and in an instant, it enveloped Lorenzo.

At this moment, Lorenzo could do nothing—swinging his sword, fighting, reprimanding—now all he could think of was standing here, listening to Lawrence’s past, as the dark and unknown cloud of doubt was about to be completely cleared, and Lorenzo would uncover the hidden secrets.

”Yes, it was right here, in the wilderness outside Florence many years ago, a remote wilderness.”

Lawrence leisurely stood up, speaking as he walked towards Lorenzo, his gaze wandering, lingering among the bodies of the demon hunters.

”I was deceived by them. How could they possibly trust me? I once stood with Lorenzo de’ Medici, I am a demon hunter, the Dean of the Demon Hunting Order, and also a Cardinal. To them, I was too much of a threat.

I came here full of hope, thinking that what awaited me was a renewed push towards the Golden Era, but what I faced was countless Holy Hall Knights. My apprentices, my subordinates, they all died here.”

The ground trembled, and Lorenzo slowly retreated as he saw the land beneath Lawrence’s feet crack open, countless dried and decayed arms reaching out from it, and one by one, hideous dead began to crawl out of the molten hell.

”They feared me and would never trust me. Hundreds and thousands of Holy Hall Knights, carrying Borgia’s poison, and Holy Silver weapons. Just as you said, I cannot see that distant future, nor can I escape the looming storm.”

One skeletal hand after another grabbed Lawrence, the dead clung to him, trying to drag him into hell, but they could not move Lawrence, not even impede his stride, as he dragged them, moving forward.

”It was then I understood a truth, Lorenzo Holmes.”

”There is nothing worth believing in. The only thing I can trust is myself and the sword in my hand.”

The faces of the dead hovered beside Lawrence, emitting terrifying roars. They scratched at Lawrence, but none of this could stop him.

”If not for these events, I might have truly united you, brought you into this grand process, but it is too regrettable, I can no longer trust others.”

In the end of that battle, Lawrence survived, and only he survived.

”How did you survive?”

Lorenzo looked at him solemnly, never having imagined Lawrence had such a past, and thereby again realizing that the Church’s cloud of doubt was not limited to what he had seen.

”A gift from Lorenzo de’ Medici, a vial of Holy Grail’s blood.”

Lawrence let out a series of hoarse laughs.

”I lived and returned to the Evangelical Church. Their expressions at the time were most amusing. If it were before, I would have killed them all, but this time was different. I learned to compromise, learned to endure, until I destroyed them all.”

A shriveled hand suddenly appeared before him, and Lorenzo, unable to dodge, was caught by it. More hands reached out from the cracked earth, wrapping around Lorenzo, binding him like iron chains.

It was so heavy, unlike Lawrence; Lorenzo found himself unable even to move, let alone advance as Lawrence did.

Soon, more chaotic hallucinations appeared before his eyes...these were not hallucinations but memories, countless fragments of memories, and the owner of these memories was not Lawrence but numerous strangers.

The broken memories mixed with chaotic emotions swept over Lorenzo, bringing with them a hazy pain, and Lorenzo understood what these truly were.

Remnants, remnants of the Gap, remnants of wills.

These were all remnants of the destroyed Gap by Lawrence, countless wills mixed together, almost corrupting Lorenzo’s own will.

”How many people...have you invaded?”

The immense pressure forced Lorenzo to kneel subconsciously. There was no need for him to defeat Lawrence within the Gap. Those countless remnants had long been corroding Lawrence bit by bit.

”Many people, so many that I can’t even remember.”

Lawrence’s expression was exceedingly relaxed, as if these remnants could not affect him, or he had long been deeply corrupted, merging with these remnants.

”Why...are you still alive?”

Lorenzo couldn’t understand. With so many memories and wills mixed together, under such pollution, Lawrence should have long been lost, yet here he remained ”clear-headed.”

”Names aren’t important; they are merely substitutes for masks.”

Lawrence’s figure gradually deteriorated, seemingly unable to withstand the oppression of the dead, his body finally collapsing before Lorenzo’s eyes, dragged into the burning chasm by countless hands, yet a withered hand lifted Lawrence’s mask, placing it on its face.