Gun of Ashes

A series of anti-memes detonated, unleashing a storm of oblivion in the underground of Old Dunling. They rushed and spread, seeping into every crevice, hunting down every inch of shadow.

The scattered demons had no ability to resist, losing cognition under bombardment, collapsing into flesh lumps like corpses. The impact surged upwards, blasting through restraints, placing the burning Mechanical Institute under judgment too.

”Left Garrison is dead, and the second trigger has been pulled.”

Atop Dunling Tower, Watson dominated the battle situation; everything advanced as planned.

The prolonged war made Roger lose his patience. The layers of anti-meme attacks gradually shattered his sanity until it was devoured by disorder.

This was one of the odds; The Inexpressible itself is disorder and chaos, contrary to intelligence. It would empower Roger, yet also trap him.

The death of Left Garrison served as a signal; the gatekeeper is now dead, which means Roger has completely fallen into the trap, stepping into Death Row.

”Now we can counterattack.”

Watson murmured to himself, beneath the gray iron mask, within the profound darkness, a blazing sun slowly rose.

The erosion expanded like a hurricane, centering on Dunling Tower, spreading outwards in all directions. In Watson’s vision, pillars of light rose one after another, scattered across Old Dunling, awakening from silence.

[Counterattack has begun.]

The sound echoed in the [gap], dispersed into the rising tide, swallowed by the crashing waves.

One second, two seconds...

Shortly thereafter, flames soared across the sky.

Bola held the front line against the demons ceaselessly. Although Lorenzo eased much of his pressure, the demons seemed endless, soon pressing down again, leaving one breathless.

Under high-intensity combat, the Armor of Original Sin also showed numerous issues, but there was no safe zone here for Bola to refit.

In this difficult moment, Bola seemed to hear something; soft whispers clearly and thoroughly entered his ears.

It felt like auditory hallucination, yet inexplicably, he instinctively sensed the difference in this voice. Looking at others, they stood dazed as though everyone heard the same sound.

In a moment of distraction, a demon charged forward, shocking Bola into a cold sweat. He tried to fight back but was obviously too late.

A streak of fiery blaze swept past, smashing the attacking demon into countless charred meat chunks, crashing into the pooling water.

Bola looked fearfully towards the direction the blaze came from. Amid the dim rain mist after the flames, a dark crowd emerged from the street’s end.

They paid no attention to the corpses and the Armor of Original Sin, silent and efficient. Some fired at the demons, others wielded flamethrowers to incinerate piles of corpses.

Heavy breaths echoed, one after another gray shadow appeared before them; they resembled silent Death Gods, gliding between battlefields without a sound.

Everyone watched them; they’d never seen soldiers like this. Yet soon, as they discerned the newcomers’ forms, the anti-meme shrouding them triggered, spewing out buried memories.

Before the plan started, masses of anti-meme material were invested in the Furnace Pillar, influencing everyone, stripping the existence of this army. Now Roger is fully trapped, the plan reached its endgame, eliminating leakage risks. Hence, they emerged en masse to engage in the final warfare.

”Clean... Cleaner.”

Bola muttered to himself. It was an unfamiliar term, yet with the surfacing memories, the strange term turned familiar, then terrifying.

The glow shone into the face armor, stinging Bola’s eyes. He evaded slightly, then looked in the direction the light emerged.

A familiar scene, vaguely the sound of wind and snow that Bola heard echoed, recalling witnessing such splendor long ago.

Above the dome, countless glows descended, as if the Celestial Kingdom above crumbled, falling toward the mortal realm like a cascade of stars, firework, and debris,

”Fire! Fire! Fire!”

Arthur grabbed the communicator, urging loudly.

On the outskirts of Old Dunling, after the second trigger was pulled, Roger had stepped into the trap. The Mechanical Deity operation commenced; the armed train’s Ascalon continuously fired, shadows revealed Mr. Cai. Vast forces appeared abruptly on the battlefield, supplementing through the vertical passage of the Land of Sorrow.

”Correct coordinates... Fire!”

Such voices echoed constantly in the channel.

Some sat dully beside; their gazes vacant. Yet after a few seconds, they awakened, bringing precise data to correct cannon strikes.

The vast erosion rapidly spread even here. Watson, as the nexus, connected everyone amidst the storm of erosion, commanding the battlefield.

The battle situation was promptly controlled, and at this moment, Roger had no escape means. Old Dunling turned into a cage, locking him tightly within, where high-concentration anti-meme enveloped, like a vast domain.

Countless fire streaks carrying stars arrived, tearing through heavy rain, accurately striking the gathering demon group. In an instant, the congregating demon tide shattered; thousands of corpses splashed high. Flesh and blood burned into ash, turning to gray snow, but soon erased by the rain.