Gun of Ashes

Shattered wings and corpses, countless Bone Spears crumbling into ashen white snow.

Death Row tightly encases them, confining all this wickedness within.

Given its current strength, the monster should have fallen long ago, yet it remains standing. There is another forbidden force supporting it, undiminished by Death Row’s isolation and the infection of the Anti-Meme.

”The Inexpressible...”

Ed Delun whispered of the root source of all hatred, gazing into the darkness ahead.

As if noticing his gaze, the darkness responded, scarlet hundred eyes opening in every shadowy corner.

Their gaze was like a crimson vortex, merely meeting them exerted immense mental pressure, chaotic hallucinations constantly flashing and leaping in front of him.

Ed Delun saw himself within them; he saw countless deaths of his own, and rotting, bloated corpses of himself.

Mosquitoes and maggots perched on the corpses, exuding a nauseating stench.

Foul blood and decayed fluids gathered together, forming a viscous, murky swamp. In the darkness, faces emerged, their eyes and mouths tightly shut, then suddenly opened wide, thousands of wasps crawling out, flying, accompanied by sharp, hoarse howls.

Like a Hell orchestra conducted by a madman, cryptic murmurs mixed with women’s soft songs, accompanied by children’s shrill cries, then drowned by beasts’ loud roars.

This was the hellish tableau, the melody of death.

Ed Delun’s body stiffened, then blood began to seep from the corners of his eyes, followed by his nose and ears, his expression gradually becoming grim, in the shattered gaps of his skin, the same hundred eyes opened in the darkness.

His remaining will advanced arduously through the madness, gripping the handle of his sword.

Absolute blankness expelled the madness, driving it back once more, the burden weighing on his heart lightened significantly; Ed Delun felt as if he lost his restraints, body tilting forward, nearly falling, then dry heaving, almost expelling all his organs.

At the crucial moment, Wangchuan helped him resist the Inexpressible’s corrosion, but such aid did not come without a price, he looked at his sword-wielding arm, now shattered beyond repair.

Ed Delun was not worried, but instead delighted; this was proof of Wangchuan’s feasibility, even against the Inexpressible, it still had the capability to repel it.

He tried to move forward again, before dying completely, Ed Delun vowed to slash out all Nail Swords, utterly crushing Roger’s will, and destroying the only ”path” in this world.

Bone Spears and crimson tentacles attacked, they surged like galloping herds, uniting into a roaring torrent; Ed Delun lacked the strength to dodge, his current state was much like Roger’s, only Roger had the support of the Inexpressible, while there was no one behind him.

Raising the Nail Sword once more, Ed Delun was reluctant to use Wangchuan’s power in such a pointless place, but without wielding the sword, he had no way to approach the monster.

The crimson tide surged forward, and just before it devoured Ed Delun, his body suddenly felt light, lifted into the air.

Several pairs of hands grasped Ed Delun, Angels lifted him up, flapping their wings, soaring over numerous obstacles.

The tide churned, entangling together, turning to attack the Angels in the air, some Angels broke formation, descending in flames to meet the incoming tentacles, yet they appeared insignificant against those thousands of tentacles.

The Angels briefly blocked the oncoming assaults, but soon they too were torn into countless pieces by the scarlet tentacles in fierce combat.

Corpses and wings helplessly fell to the ground, piling into mountains.

Yet just like the Viking myths, it resembled the austere Heroic Spirit Hall here, Warriors may die, but can still return, new Thunder Groups emerged, Angels waving long nails, carving a path of blood for Ed Delun’s advance.

Glorious flames descended, black hatred ascended.

Amid the clash of blood and fire, ancient solemn songs arose, but upon discerning carefully, it revealed itself only as a vague illusion, roaming in this hell were merely wisps of a humming melody.

Monotonous, clumsy, yet utterly revealing of ancient times.

Ed Delun hummed the nameless hymn, retrieving one sharp Nail Sword after another, discarding them high, like scattered stars.

”We are the few! We are the fortunate!”

Lightning flashed between the scattered Nail Swords, accompanied by radiant brilliance, hands continually constructed to grasp the Nail Swords.

Ed Delun broke free from the Angels’ grasp, leaping with effort, raising the Nail Sword high.

”Advance!”

He could only shout out such words, followed by surging tentacles viciously crashing into Ed Delun’s body, blocking him, then fiercely pressing him against the wall.

The Angels’ actions never halted, they swiftly dove, evading strike after strike, and it was then the massive tentacles began to wither and break, amidst the shattered dust, a blurred figure fell, grasping a bright sword, roaring aloud.

”Advance!”

Nail Sword fell.

The Angels carried sharp swords, charging into the wounds Ed Delun previously opened, it resembled jumping into a beast’s massive mouth; foul blood spilling everywhere, layer upon layer of Anti-Meme was triggered.

Nail Sword shattered, corpses decayed, Angels also withered along.