Gun of Ashes

In the scarlet flesh wrappings, the pupils condensed into a point, with fine blood threads overflowing from the edges of the pupils, covering the whites of the eyes.

The Plague Doctor found the [Truth], at this moment, in this scene.

He understood all of the [Truth].

So plain and uneventful, he got the answers.

He once thought about his emotions at this moment, the Plague Doctor guessed he would revel, he would roar; he even thought dying at this moment wouldn’t be bad, but when he truly knew these, his reaction was indifferent.

It was a terrible yet real answer.

”Ascension is beautiful, but this beauty is only beautiful to God; for humans, it is just a pitch-black nightmare.”

The Plague Doctor wrote in his notebook.

The more he wrote, the heavier he felt his wrist, barely able to hold the pen, his heart pounding fiercely, the sound clearly distinguishable; his flesh and blood roiled in anxious emotions, as if they all had their own wills, frantically writhing, trying to break free from the Plague Doctor’s body.

The Plague Doctor, Lawrence, Watson, Lorenzo... they all embarked on ascension in different ways; some just started, some were halfway, some were nearing the end.

But...

What if it wasn’t like this?

The Plague Doctor hoped, for the first time, he wished he was wrong.

His gaze fell outside the porthole again, a new thought came to his mind.

Only practice can explain everything; what the Plague Doctor thinks now is just his speculation. He has to go to the end of this route and see the answer to the puzzle, to see if it’s really what he thought.

A knock on the door sounded, pulling the Plague Doctor out of his mad thoughts.

He slammed the notebook shut, warily looking around, as if a great enemy was approaching.

Nothing was there, just a soldier came rushing.

”We...we encountered a battlefield of a sea battle.”

”Sea battle battlefield?”

...

When the Plague Doctor walked onto the deck, the soldiers had already begun salvaging. The entire sea area was covered with countless fragments and bodies, dragged here by the storm; such wreckage extended into the gray wind and rain.

”Looks like there was a sea battle here not long ago, very intense, many Iron Armor ships sank here.” said the soldier.

”Can you tell who was fighting?” the Plague Doctor asked.

”One side should be pirates, the other we’re not too sure.”

”Is that so...”

The Plague Doctor felt uninteresting, breathing the refreshing air, the vast world eased his oppressed heart.

”He...he’s actually still alive?”

A surprised voice sounded, a soldier dragging a pirate exclaimed incredulously.

The pirate should have been dead, judging by his injuries, half his body burnt, some parts even charred, excessive blood loss, freezing seawater sapping his body heat.

This person should be dead; even if barely alive now, very soon the Death God will thoroughly take his life.

”Leave him be, he’s beyond saving.”

One soldier said, such injuries, prolonging life would only add to the pain, they lifted the pirate, intending to throw him overboard.

”Wait a minute.”

The Plague Doctor raised his hand, stopped them, and only then noticed the pirate was holding something in his hand, an axe, held tightly; neither the consecutive storms nor the calls of the Death God could make him loosen his grip.

A faint sound arose, pale lips trembled, uttering indistinct mutterings.

Zeus lost consciousness, but his tenacious instincts drove him to seek help; he didn’t want to die, at least not like this. He was the bravest Viking, pirate of the Seven Seas; he couldn’t die in such a ridiculous way.

The Plague Doctor looked at Zeus, thinking.

This was merely the Plague Doctor’s speculation; what ascension truly holds, no one truly knows; only practice can give answers, thus the Plague Doctor held onto absurd fantasies.

”You still don’t want to die, do you? I give you a second chance, hope you can hold on.”

The Plague Doctor said to Zeus, the words like a wicked curse.