Gun of Ashes

The lead-gray clouds, like an iron curtain, disappeared and were replaced by a blue sky. The sea was no longer calm; it was stirred by the gusting breeze, creating waves that resonated with the music of nature.

This world of calm, ordinary, and normalcy—many are tired of the dull life, but now it seems that such boredom is indeed precious.

On the snow-covered island at the edge of the Silent Sea, Bola should be enjoying the euphoria of narrowly escaping death, yet now he’s faced with an even more agonizing decision.

”What... did you say?”

Bola held the empty silver revolver, gazing up at the standing Froki.

”A choice, a cruel and difficult choice.”

Froki looked towards the direction of the Silent Sea.

The sea outside the island was strewn with countless wooden wreckage and some floating bodies—those who had escaped alongside them—unfortunately, only this group survived.

”A choice that goes against benevolence and morality, a choice that turns good people into bad ones.”

Froki continued speaking as he walked to the battered longboat, rummaging for something. Only the three of them survived from the Horned Whale, but the danger wasn’t over; they were on the desolate edge of the Silent Sea, and if no one found them, death remained inevitable.

”On the other side of this island, there’s a small village. It’s a spot I often linger at after returning from the Silent Sea, and it’s only by reaching there that we’re truly safe.”

Numerous explorations of the Silent Sea had allowed Froki to familiarize himself with most islands near the Silent Sea’s vicinity, establishing contacts with the villages on them as his return base.

Froki retrieved two large packs from the longboat, bearing the Perpetual Motion Pump’s emblem—supply packs prepared by the Purification Mechanism for this operation. Bola looked at these items, feeling a vague sense of unease.

”But the problem is, the distance from here to that village is quite far. With our physical strength and this snowy environment, even if we’re uninjured, it would take several days to trek there, let alone in our current state.”

Froki placed the two supply packs before Bola. Long before boarding the Horned Whale, Froki had made all necessary preparations. He requested these supply packs from Lancelot and placed them on his longboat, ready as a lifeboat for emergencies.

It could serve as a lifeboat for Lancelot and the others, or transform into Froki’s own. He had long considered the plan in case of failure to seize the Horned Whale, but the storms raised by the Sea Serpent were simply too massive, leaving only these two as salvaged.

”How to assess a person’s true value.”

Froki suddenly shouted, his expression solemn.

”That’s to face him with death and see the choices he makes.”

He seemed like he was praying, soon bowing his head to look at Bola, placing one of the two supply packs before him.

”The time to make a choice has arrived, Bola.”

Froki said, picking up the other supply pack, walking into the dense forest where branches were covered in frost, resembling a frozen cage.

Bola struggled fiercely. He wanted to stand up, chase Froki, and strangle him with his own hands, but he couldn’t do it. He flipped over laboriously, seeing his bleeding thigh and the third survivor who lay beside him.

”Lan... Lancelot!”

Bola momentarily gave up on chasing Froki, rushing fearfully towards Lancelot. Lancelot’s condition was far worse than Bola’s, having been shot by Froki, then experiencing the prolonged jolts and soaking in the seawater.

Touching Lancelot’s body, the temperature was cold, the muscles beginning to stiffen. Bola slapped Lancelot’s face forcefully; his pale face and closed eyes resembled the dead.

”No... no no! It can’t be like this! Wake up! Lancelot! Don’t fall asleep!”

Bola repeatedly shouted Lancelot’s name, yet Lancelot remained unresponsive. Lying on his chest, a faint heartbeat was still audible—this tenacious soul hadn’t died yet.

”No... no...”

Bola felt the world spinning, grabbed a handful of snow, slapped his face to regain clarity through the cold.

[A terrible choice.]

Froki’s voice continuously echoed beside his ear. Bola made a resolution, suddenly lifting his head to look towards the icy forest.

”Froki!”

Bola shouted with all his might.

It was as if Froki anticipated Bola’s reaction. He hadn’t gone far but sat on a large rock beside the forest, wiping away snow and recovering his strength.

Bola looked at this damned Viking, his soul in turmoil, finally speaking with immense pain.

”Help me! Froki! Help me! He’s going to die.”

Froki watched Bola silently, saying nothing, doing nothing, seemingly appreciating his despair and struggle.

Bola clenched his fists, knuckles pale, nails buried into flesh. His plea for help yielded no response, serving only to increase his humiliation.

What to do? What else can be done? Right, the supply pack. It contains emergency medical supplies and food; these might help Lancelot survive, as long as they can hold out until the village.

Bola thought, reached out for the supply pack left by Froki, and at this moment, Froki’s voice was heard.