Gun of Ashes

Lorenzo felt several gazes fall upon him, and he turned to see the others.

Red Falcon, Eve, Erin, Hebdo...

Everyone was wounded, feeling uneasy and terrified in this moment of crisis, and in the not-too-distant future, they would all die, one after another, right before his eyes.

Lorenzo was scared, more scared than he’d ever been. It was another Night of the Holy Arrival, losing everything on that night.

Some things cannot be resolved by mere slashing. Lorenzo might survive in despair, but the others could not. Many could not. He could kill demons, but not death itself.

”No... Lawrence.”

Lorenzo’s gaze burned with anger as he gripped the Nail Sword and Winchester tightly.

He had failed once before, many years ago in Florence, in that dry well piled with corpses and blood.

Lorenzo could not fail again. He wouldn’t let this happen before his eyes once more.

Absolutely not.

”I will save this world... I will be the new savior.”

Lorenzo said fiercely.

”Then show me, Lorenzo Holmes.”

Lawrence responded.

More people appeared around them, advancing slowly like an iron curtain, squeezing Lorenzo and the others’ space for survival.

”Run quickly.”

Lawrence said.

Then a roaring erosion was released from Lorenzo as the origin point, and an overpowering oppression was felt deep in everyone’s heart. In that instant of sudden change, even the advancing iron curtain momentarily stalled.

[Run away.]

Lorenzo’s voice echoed in everyone’s mind.

The operation had failed, the enemy had already surrounded them... The most important thing was Lorenzo could no longer kill Lawrence. Lawrence was right; the will cannot be killed, no matter how fiercely Lorenzo fought and slew, it was all in vain.

Run away! Run away!

”Go!”

Lorenzo shouted to the others, a sharp sword light carved a path to survival among the warriors. Their desire to fight seemed weak, everyone’s gaze fixated on Lorenzo as if mocking him.

They once fought like heroes, but now they fled like dogs with tails between their legs. The lines between good and evil blurred, everything plunged into a painful, murky gray.

”Lawrence...”

A weak voice called out, someone moaning in pain in the corner of this battlefield.

”Miguel, you look awful.”

A warrior not far from Miguel suddenly turned around, smiling as he walked to Miguel’s side, his dark mask clinging to his face like the Abyss.

Darkness spread, obscuring everything.

”Save... save me, Lawrence.”

Miguel raised his hand with difficulty, grabbing hold of Lawrence’s collar.

”This won’t do, Miguel.”

Lawrence seemed troubled, shaking his head as he brushed Miguel’s hand away.

”What did you say?”

Miguel looked incredulous.

”I said it won’t do, Miguel, this is a ritual, and a ritual requires a sacrifice, doesn’t it?”

Lawrence gently stroked Miguel’s withered face.

”No one is to be trusted, just like Lorenzo de’ Medici promised you, and in the end, you betrayed him, didn’t you? You are a monster ruled by power. There’s no place for someone like you in the surviving Paradise when the end arrives.”

”Lawrence! Lawrence!”

Miguel’s voice grew terrified, sharp, and piercing, but soon he could make no sound. Lawrence removed his own mask and slowly placed it on Miguel’s face.

The sound weakened, but the body still struggled violently. Lawrence, with a gentle smile, spoke belatedly.

”Is this a form of revenge, Miguel?”

Lawrence murmured to himself, exerting force with his wrist, pressing the mask against Miguel’s face, the sound of bones cracking could be heard, cries of pleading could be heard, but soon they all vanished.

Miguel’s body moved no more, regardless of what power he wielded in life; once death arrived, these corpses all looked the same.

”Let me save this world, for the continuance of all humanity.”

Lawrence murmured to himself, once again putting on the mask, blood seeping through the cracks like weeping tears.