Gun of Ashes

From the banks of Florence, to the serene Saint Nalos Cathedral, and the blazing Night of the Holy Arrival, the drizzle of Old Dunling...

Lorenzo advanced in the narrow darkness, moving toward the ethereal blue light, stepping into the world beyond the door.

The darkness granted him a brief tranquility. Among the slight peace, he suddenly recalled the journey thus far, his mood serene, without a trace of disturbance. All words had been spoken, all blood that needed shedding had pooled on the ground. Now, Lorenzo only needed to accept it all.

Standing amidst the dust-covered ruins, Lorenzo gazed at the ethereal blue light.

Beyond the door lay an immensely large columnar space, reminiscent of an enormous deep well. It inevitably reminded Lorenzo of the Well of Ascension and the Workshop. Perhaps coincidentally, these structures all tended toward the form of a well.

Lorenzo remembered Merlin vaguely spoke of these, related to the so-called ”Ascension,” rising from the humble to the exalted. It amounted to a form of ”height” change, coupled with the restriction of the well’s mouth; they all quite liked to use the structure of a ”well” for construction.

”Ascending from the humble to the exalted, stepping out of the well’s mouth, witnessing a broader world...”

Lorenzo whispered softly.

Yet in this tranquil space, his voice was so clear and resonant that Lorenzo felt a sudden unease upon finishing his words, fearing his voice might disturb the ghosts that had long fallen into slumber.

Nothing happened; everything maintained absolute silence, like the endless years past.

A platform stretched from beneath his feet to the center of the columnar space. Above it, countless cables and machinery descended from the darkness of the dome, holding up a massive disk placed at the core.

Lorenzo stepped forward and saw something seemingly on the surrounding well wall. The well wall was not smooth; upon close inspection, one could see one raised area after another, resembling some kind of translucent glass. They appeared elliptical, densely arranged on the well wall, stretching to the top and bottom ends.

Unclear what these things were, as everything here lay beyond Lorenzo’s knowledge. He could only rely on basic common sense to infer the functions of some items.

Most of the translucent ellipses were shattered, and below lay numerous water stains, suggesting that there was once standing water here, and as the glass broke, the liquid spilled out.

These things appeared to be some kind of container, coupled with the liquid, somewhat reminiscent of the containment chambers seen at Black Mountain Hospital. Perhaps something had been nurtured here, only now to be absent or perhaps dead.

Lorenzo looked elsewhere, scrutinizing his surroundings. He found indicators beneath these containers, most of which had completely extinguished, with only a few still operating but emitting a faint red glow.

Like pairs of weary scarlet eyes, quietly watching this place.

”Lorenzo...”

The Plague Doctor looked around, speaking uncertainly.

”These things must all be damaged.”

Lorenzo observed the faint red light, speaking based on his common knowledge and understanding.

”The damage is more severe than we thought; some indicators aren’t even lit.”

”Damaged...?” The Plague Doctor took a deep breath. This place gave him a poor, oppressive feeling, yet he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason.

Froki followed behind the Plague Doctor; this guy was like an ignorant child. Possibly due to the Plague Doctor aiding his Self-Healing, he instinctively felt the Plague Doctor was safe... although this guy was covered in writhing, waving scarlet tentacles, devoid of any human appearance.

”This should be something similar to containment chambers, only completely beyond repair.” Lorenzo surveyed the surroundings, encompassed by dim red light.

”Destroyed?” asked the Plague Doctor.

”It doesn’t appear that way,” Lorenzo glanced at the door behind him; aside from being jammed, the surface of the door was smooth, without any scratches. ”There’s no trace of battle here; it might be due to the passage of time.”

”The sanctuary has existed for too long, yet nothing is everlasting. Flesh will age, metal will rust, and precise machines will gather dust, not to mention this place is entirely cut off from the outside world—the resources will eventually deplete.”

”The sanctuary has already died,” the Plague Doctor listened to Lorenzo’s words and slowly spoke, ”I suppose they designed an internal ecological cycle, but energy is conserved, they can only minimize energy loss. Under the erosion of time, sooner or later, this false eternity will collapse.”

The Plague Doctor couldn’t help but feel a heavy sense of despair; those living here guard the flame of civilization, maintaining the barriers, fending off any possible attack from the Inexpressible. They are also aware of their inevitable demise, living with unease, awaiting the day all resources are exhausted.

”This place looks like a forgotten graveyard, Holmes.”

[No, Secret Keeper still lives; he guided us here.]

Watson’s voice echoed in the Plague Doctor’s mind. Along the way, Watson rarely conversed with the Plague Doctor, almost as if the Plague Doctor didn’t exist; the Plague Doctor had grown accustomed to this. This sudden statement startled the Plague Doctor.

”Then where is he?” The Plague Doctor searched around but couldn’t find anything akin to a ”Secret Keeper.” ”We followed the lights here, yet this is the end.”