Gun of Ashes

As the blood overflowed, the raging fire transformed into a blazing white ocean, surging wildly like rampant thorns, crawling over everyone’s bodies and imposing the harshest execution by fire. The flames scorched the flesh, with pain reaching the soul.

Sparks scattered and flew, landing on the skin, bringing a clear sting. Galron watched the figure holding the Gun Sword, and whether it was an illusion or for some reason, that figure began to distort in Galron’s eyes, growing sharp horns and spikes, with jagged bone wings slowly unfurling, like a demon from Hell.

”Stop them! Lorenzo!”

Bola, seeing Galron and the others survive, shouted at Lorenzo behind him, and in response came the fierce sounds of gunfire and sword clashes.

Winchester continuously fired, the stray bullets tearing the figures in the sea of flames apart, leaving flesh and blood shattered, collapsing into the blaze, reloading, pulling the trigger again, with the blazing white dragon’s breath sweeping through the battlefield.

Lorenzo analyzed the situation; from the state of Galron and his group, they couldn’t be relied upon now. Everything depended on Lorenzo himself.

Mortals can fight mortals, but they cannot battle monsters. Luckily, Lorenzo was there; not only is he an expert in fighting monsters, but he is a more terrifying monster himself.

Bullets accurately penetrated the enemy’s skulls; even if fearless individuals charged forward, they couldn’t advance a step. The impact of the bullets kept pushing them back.

The slender Staff Sword, like a twisted band of light, effortlessly cut through the enemy’s throats, ending their lives.

Lorenzo seemed surrounded on all sides, but his pressure wasn’t overwhelming. To Lorenzo, given enough time, he could kill all these people.

But...

Lorenzo’s gaze lingered on these people; their chests were marked with pitch-black crosses, signifying their identities.

But... something was a bit off.

Lorenzo’s intuition warned him something was amiss, but he couldn’t pinpoint the anomaly.

On the journey from the casino to here, Lorenzo had this constant feeling as if something unseen was watching him, revealing an evil and greedy grin, awaiting his arrival.

”Valhalla!”

The lunatics screamed, bodies piling up along the way. They finally neared Lorenzo, ready to swing a sharp blade, but the Staff Sword was quicker. After a flash of cold, chilling sword light, the throat was slit, along with the head being severed.

”How many are there?”

Lorenzo looked at the horrifying scene before him, corpses piled everywhere, flames burning above them, yet these people charged forward, like fanatics.

They emerged from the endless darkness behind, numerous as a swarm of ants.

Were it not for Lorenzo’s lack of sensing any erosion presence, he’d really suspect these people were corrupted by demons.

”Ignoring death, ignoring fear, truly a crazy faith.”

He murmured, as the Staff Sword slashed horizontally, sword light crashing into the enemies trying to approach him, rupturing flesh and bones, along with the enemy’s weapons, cutting them with irresistible force, spilling guts and blood everywhere, turning into a slaughterhouse-like Hell.

”Val...halla.”

A weak voice sounded, a hand grabbing Lorenzo’s ankle. Looking down, it was one of the enemies Lorenzo had just struck. Lorenzo had cut most of his body, but he didn’t die peacefully. Instead, he stubbornly dragged his body, crawling to Lorenzo, gripping his ankle tightly, embedding his nails into the flesh.

He laughed at Lorenzo, the bloody smile intimidating, but such emotions only lingered in Lorenzo’s heart for a brief moment before Winchester fired, shattering the person’s head into pieces.

”These guys sure are devoted believers!”

Lorenzo shouted to Bola behind him, Bola understood Lorenzo’s meaning; the Apocalypse Society pursued absolute death; the less they feared death, the more devoted they were. Compared to this, the escape from death by Froki was truly rebellious; with the Evangelical Church, he’d presumably be crucified for a fiery execution at least indeed.

The heavy gunshots rang out; Bola settled Galron, leading the others to support Lorenzo. He pulled out the silver Revolver, with each trigger pull echoing a Funeral Bell-like gunshot, followed by an enemy’s head bursting, or a chest erupting in a blood mist.

Death God remains too illusory, so why not let Bola ring the Funeral Bell for them?

Due to the pain and Odin’s figure, Galron’s consciousness was a bit muddled, but upon hearing these bell-like gunshots, his eyes narrowed slightly.

He had heard such gunshots before, so familiar. Slowly turning his head, he saw the silver Funeral Bell in Bola’s hand.

”It’s you...”

Seemingly recalling something, Galron looked at Bola, softly speaking.

...

The battle still raged on, and the more he fought, the heavier Lorenzo’s heart felt.

In these recent days’ reflections and the intelligence brought by Ragnar, he realized that the world was covered by an unseen grand net, and in some past time, something happened, with each area’s people having different names for it.

In the Evangelical Church, the Saints’ destination of revelation, the rise of Ingwig, the dwelling place of the Viking Gods...