Gun of Ashes

The battle was finally over—this long, near-endless, nightmarish...

Lorenzo’s gaze was slightly vacant. The consecutive Anti-Memes had exacted no small toll on him; the withered power crawled over his body, like a swarm of ants gnawing away at his flesh and will.

Yet this excruciating pain did not make Lorenzo scream—probably because he no longer had the strength left to scream.

He slowly shifted his body, then leaned against a corner of the ruins and sank down to sit.

The blood and flesh on his body writhed with difficulty. They tried to mend his wounds, but most wounds would barely knit together before splitting open once more.

After such intense combat, even with the protection of the Flame Holder, Lorenzo was covered in wounds. After a long while, he seemed to have finally caught his breath, gulping air in and out, feeling the rawness of life. The sharp pain kept assaulting him, telling him this was no dream, but reality.

He had won.

”It’s finally over, Edren... and Roger.”

Lorenzo muttered under his breath, looking toward the corpses that had turned plaster-grey, constantly crumbling away.

The scattered dust fell into the dark red pools of water, quickly dissolving and vanishing, as if they had never existed.

Lorenzo smiled, celebrating their deaths, and the release from this dark destiny.

These two Ghosts, who had chased and torn at each other through uncounted spans of time, had at long last found their long-lost rest today. Lorenzo guessed that whether it was Edren or Roger, in the end, each seemed to harbor a heart that longed for death, hoping someone would negate everything they were, so that their furious souls could finally fall quiet.

Thinking this, he let his body ease back against the bricks behind him, working to find a comfortable posture, and gazed up at the sky—the collapsed patch of radiant gold.

With Roger and Edren’s deaths, those two vast sources of erosion encircling Old Dunling had at last been eradicated. The abnormal weather was starting to wane, and before long would completely withdraw.

The iron curtain of gathered dark clouds kept caving in, and the golden sky slowly emerged behind it, like soil flaking away from a mural to reveal its original splendor.

It was good weather now—the setting sun ablaze, a beautiful afternoon. Warm sunlight poured down, driving the chill from Lorenzo’s soaked body.

It made him think of a summer long ago. Back then, Lorenzo had been the same, sprawled on the ragged sofa by his front door, sleeping as the daylight spilled down.

”You should rest.”

A soft voice sounded by his ear. Hearing it, Lorenzo let go of his last shred of vigilance, nodded, and closed his eyes heavily, savoring the peace that comes after battle.

Not far off, Watson waded through the water, handling the last of the battlefield.

This was the plan that would determine the trajectory of fate, and so it had to be perfect. If Edren failed to kill Roger, then Lorenzo would take over; if Lorenzo also could not, then Watson would step onto the stage.

But if she could help it, Watson did not want to reveal herself this early. Feeling the withered power boiling inside her body, she knew very clearly where her battlefield lay.

As for now...

Beneath the steel mask, a blazing white storm unfurled. With Watson as the origin, a new wave of erosion storm began to rise. It moved at a terrifying speed, sweeping across the entire city in the blink of an eye. Its intensity was immense, yet strangely, its duration was brief—like a single hurricane gust.

And as the storm surged, all the Demons within its reach froze in their tracks. The sealed Gaps within them were invaded in an instant, then shattered one by one under Watson’s tremendous power.

It was a ruthlessly efficient slaughter. As the Gaps collapsed, countless Demons fell across the battlefield, turning into lifeless corpses, awaiting the Soldiers’ blades.

Watson could feel life dying in her grasp, could feel herself constantly leaping into one invasion after another, with more and more sedimented fragments mixing into her consciousness. Yet, as if venting her fury, she did not hold back in the slightest.

Even before the war began, Watson had already been doing this. She possessed the power to end all suffering, but in order to evade Roger’s gaze, she could only keep hiding until now. Now that all threats had been removed, she finally stood beneath the daylight.

[I... see you.]

A low, Evil Anomaly voice echoed in her mind.

Watson looked toward a corner, and in the darkness where sunlight could not reach, she vaguely saw a hundred scarlet eyes open.

She did not answer; she only let out a soft laugh. Then the darkness shattered, fully replaced by the sunlight streaming down.

This was exactly as anticipated. Watson was not surprised.

With Edren and Roger and all the Watchers dead, she herself was now among those remaining in the current world who were closest to the end of Ascension, and the one most likely to become the ”Path.”

”And Lawrence.”

Watson said softly.

The plan was perfect. To end all of this, it had to be perfect.

Lawrence’s name had long since been inscribed on the list of the dead. Watson did not yet know his current state, but... whatever it was, it still lay within expectation.

As for herself, Watson did not worry. She now carried the sharpest Secret Sword in this world. It was so vicious that even formless anomalies could be easily cut down by it; the temptation of The Inexpressible could not touch her.

Kill this one person, then kill another... eradicate every last threat.

After that... as for what comes after...

Watson pondered, and her gaze turned toward a corner of the ruins, to that filthy, sleeping face.