Gun of Ashes

Like a crown woven from twisted, decayed tree roots, its surface emits a silver metallic sheen, with some gaps filled with dust, making it look weathered.

Valuable, very valuable.

Ande wasn’t sure if the crown was made of silver or another metal, but from the first glance, he realized it was priceless.

Never underestimate the allure of wealth to a person.

Ande had said this to the captain when he was on his deathbed.

”If you’re not here to kill me, then you’re here to beg me. What do you need?”

Ande put away his gun with a smile, showing off his gold teeth.

”A ticket to the Viking lands.”

Watson replied coldly, the continuous exhaustion making it difficult for her to muster any emotion to say more, not to mention the burden brought by this body.

The human physique has its limitations, and after long travels, this body was about to give out. Even Watson’s extraordinary will couldn’t control a dead body.

”Is that all?” Ande doubted if he had heard correctly.

Just a journey to the Viking lands? Watson could easily find a regular ship, with comfortable rooms and drinks, but she forsook those and came here instead.

To a place that felt unsettling at first glance, she must have another purpose.

”Yes, but I need it to set sail immediately, right now, at once.”

Watson added.

She had also checked the tickets, and most ships required a wait of a day or two before departure, a time Watson couldn’t afford. She needed to see Lorenzo soon. From the old Pope’s memories, she learned too many terrible things, and had an inkling of what lay in the north.

”Right now? Just for you alone?” Ande smiled even more, ”That’s not enough, ma’am, a ticket won’t suffice.”

”How about these?”

Watson said, raising her hand, lifting a blood-stained burlap sack filled to the brim, blood dripping outside, unimaginable what Watson had done to acquire them.

She loosened her grip, and the bag fell to the ground, countless gold coins spilling out, scattering everywhere, light illuminating their metallic surface, casting golden reflections on Ande’s face.

Ande looked down; these gold coins indeed caught his eye, but then his gaze froze.

These coins were different, engraved not with a roaring lion, but with a bird, a Shrike carrying thorns.

These were gold coins from Old Dunling, Butcher Coins.

”Where did you get these?”

Ande’s expression grew solemn. With Butcher Coins exchanged at gold coin rates, this amount of Butcher Coins equaled several voyages’ worth of Ande’s harvest.

”Is that important?”

Watson was uninterested in answering those queries. She had no money and had no time to earn it, so she simply made a trip to the Lower City District.

This gray area was littered with gold, as long as your sword was sharp enough, you could obtain anything, and unsurprisingly, Watson effortlessly crushed a gang. To her, it was as easy as withdrawing money from a bank.

”Can we set sail now?”

Watson asked.

”Of course, of course.”

Ande excitedly picked up the coins, stuffing them into his bosom, while also calling out to the sailors.

”Raise the anchor chain, prepare to set sail!”

Seeing this, Watson said no more, turning to another side of the ship where a sailor was carrying a bucket and mop, the cloudy water emitting a blood scent.

Ande felt uneasy, but Watson seemed to ignore all this, completely unconcerned about the blood scent.

”You, find me a room, and make me some food and water.”

Watson’s voice was low, holding onto the wall.

...

”What a big pay, Captain, this job is much easier than before.”

The Chief Mate said excitedly to Ande.

No bothersome Vikings, and no need to worry about them rioting; this time they were just transporting a weary woman.

He was in a great mood, not just for the share from this trip, but also for his promotion.

The emergency departure hadn’t allowed time to recall the crew. The Chief Mate, Second Mate, and others were still out idling, so Ande casually promoted him.

”Speaking of which, will I be demoted after we return?”

The Chief Mate asked tentatively, knowing why he got the position, and knowing it could be an awkward situation when the real Chief Mate returns.

”No, we won’t be going back to pick them up.” Ande chuckled, ”Do you want more people to share with?”

The Chief Mate’s eyes lit up as he listened.

”Indeed, this way we all get more money.” The Chief Mate seemed extremely pleased.

”And we can soon squander this money.”

Ande said meaningfully.

As his words echoed, the Seahorse freight ship slowly left the harbor, its size not large, smaller than conventional cargo ships, typically incapable of long voyages. Yet with Ande’s greed driving him, anything seemed possible.

”First, leave the harbor, as far from here as possible.” Ande said.

”Aren’t we planning a route first?”

This was his first time as Chief Mate, some things he didn’t quite understand.

”Are you stupid?” Ande’s temper flared seeing the Chief Mate, using the gun’s handle he struck him hard on the head.

The Chief Mate had been with him for a long time, had even killed with him, but he always lacked some cunning, causing Ande headaches but also enabling him to entrust many matters to him, knowing at least this somewhat slow-witted guy wouldn’t stab him in the back unexpectedly.

”Sail to an uninhabited sea area, kill her, then all the money will be ours.”

Ande let out a horrifying laugh.

”No need to go to the Viking lands, or endure the long voyage. Just kill her, throw her into the sea, like we’ve done before, then we can take the money and indulge.”

...

The cabin swayed, Watson lay in the stinking cabin, eyes closed, brow furrowed.

She tried to sleep, letting this tired body recover a bit, but didn’t dare sleep deeply, fearing something terrible might happen during her slumber, even not daring to close her eyes.

As soon as she closed her eyes, endless darkness unfolded before her, darkness seemingly writhing, something ready to emerge.

That extreme disgust, such power possessed a strong contaminating ability; even Watson would waver at a moment... she almost killed Eve.

She was polluted by the thing from the old Pope’s memory.

Her mind recalled the past, countless scenes flashed, telling of a distant past.

Since the Night of the Holy Arrival, Watson almost never recalled everything from the past, viewing it as a completely different life, a completely different person; even in Lorenzo’s inquiries, she didn’t admit she was 016.

Watson felt she was no longer that.

But now she desperately recollected, allowing these cumbersome, dull memories to bind her, making her heavy, no longer rising, preserving the faintest humanity, to avoid the darkness’s contamination.

She couldn’t lose, at least not so quickly.

Dense sweat beads covered Watson’s forehead, just as the cabin door was silently pushed open.

The sailor gripped a dagger, suppressing his breath, stealthily slipping inside, slowly approaching Watson’s side, seeing Watson’s face turned away from him.

Sharp steel was raised, aimed at Watson’s throat.

”Really...”

Watson complained.

Her alertness startled the sailor, who then reacted, quickly stabbing the dagger down.

Watson was faster, amidst a crisp ringing sound, the Folding Blade swiftly extended, its cold blade tip piercing along the sailor’s jaw, through the skull.

Warm blood dripped, Watson’s face filled with helplessness and resentment.

”Really... I just wanted to have a little rest...” Watson said viciously, ”One after another, endlessly.”

Holding the blood-stained Folding Blade, she walked out of the cabin.