Gun of Ashes

The ones bestowed with names of knights from legends are among the most patient individuals, similar to the naming tradition of the Demon Hunting Order.

Thinking of this, Lorenzo suddenly had a strange prediction.

”If something really happens, there won’t be scenes of several Armors of Original Sin fighting in the streets, right?”

Another identity of the Knight Commander is as a driver of the Armor of Original Sin, which is the main force of the Purification Mechanism against demons.

”The Purification Mechanism will ensure that these won’t occur, since the Armor of Original Sin is a publicly undisclosed military weapon,” Joey replied.

To the outside world, the Purification Mechanism doesn’t exist, nor does the Armor of Original Sin.

Lorenzo recalled something deeper, after all, like the Demon Hunter, they are weapons; and weapons can kill not only demons but humans as well. But he decided not to voice this thought and instead looked at the iron box in Joey’s hand.

”So what have you brought this time?”

”What you need.”

Joey said as he opened the iron box. Lorenzo eagerly looked at the contents, but the sight he most desired did not appear, replaced by something that saddened him.

”Unfortunately, your beloved Winchester was indeed blown up; we only managed to salvage a wooden fragment... do you want me to find a craftsman to carve it into a keepsake for you?”

As Joey spoke, he picked up the half fragment. It was part of the gun handle, its surface scorched and grey, with blurry engravings of a poem that Lorenzo cherished.

”Sigh...”

Words unspoken, gathering into a sigh. It was the thing that accompanied Lorenzo the longest, spanning his time in the Demon Hunting Order and Old Dunling, becoming more a recollection of the past than merely a weapon.

”Well, at last, you also accompanied your master to death,” Lorenzo said with some sorrow.

”Its master?” Joey appeared somewhat surprised, implying the weapon’s master wasn’t Lorenzo.

”This was a friend’s weapon, but he died. I found it handy and kept using it,” Lorenzo said casually, as if the past sorrow could no longer disturb him.

”The little poem inscribed on it was carved by the original master.”

”Do not go gentle into that good night.”

Joey softly recited, having heard Lorenzo recite the poem before.

”Yes,” Lorenzo confirmed.

”Did he create it himself? I’ve never heard of such a poem,” Joey questioned again, feeling a strange impact from the poem, yet never having read it elsewhere.

”Impossible, he wasn’t that talented; it was a gift from the Divine Favor Baptism.”

Lorenzo explained, ”Like your specialization, the ceremony increases our resistance to erosion, but also brings strange dreams, such as an image, a phrase, or a poem like this one.”

Lorenzo wasn’t sure if he could uncover the truth of that mysterious ceremony, but he knew to find out everything he must return to the Static Holy Temple, where it all began.

”This is what he said: the poem was written by a son to his father,” Lorenzo fondly stroked the fragment, his fingers running across its surface to feel the tiny rhymes.

”His father had fallen gravely ill, nearing death. The old man had been through so much, he was exhausted and just succumbed to death. But his son didn’t wish for him to give in like that and wrote this poem to stir his fighting spirit.”

This was Medanzo’s explanation to him at the time. After such a long time, Lorenzo narrated it again.

”Do not go gentle into that good night; do not succumb to death so easily...”

Having seemed to grasp the poem’s meaning, Joey whispered.

”It’s a poem that curses death,” Lorenzo stated.

Joey shivered slightly before offering a bitter laugh after a long silence.

”How terrifying... mortals, cursing death?”

Whether born of ignorance or courage, whenever things escalate to matters of life and death, or between man and God, they always bear a particularly heroic sense.

”These are the weapons equipped for you; the shotgun suits you well, with different bullet heads serving different purposes in varying situations.”

Joey spoke as he opened the second layer of the iron box, revealing a shotgun resembling the Winchester. It seemed they had put in considerable effort to replicate it.

Joey picked it up, ”Just like new.”

”But it’s certainly no longer the same weapon.”

Lorenzo accepted it, noting some differences like the change from lever-action to pump-action.

”A special product from the Perpetual Motion Pump, compared to your outdated weapon, this is the latest model. Receive it gratefully.”

Joey said as he opened the third layer, showcasing Lorenzo’s familiar folding blade along with several spare blades.

”But the most important is this.”

He took out a crudely crafted handgun, slightly larger in size, with coils of rope wrapped around it, seemingly pneumatic, with a small gas canister inserted like a magazine, filled with compressed gas.

”This is the main item; I’ve heard you often fail to catch suspects. The Perpetual Motion Pump has an experimental weapon, one of its prototype weapons, and since demon hunters rarely fall to death, why don’t you use it?”

Lorenzo cautiously took the oddly-styled weapon. The Perpetual Motion Pump’s products were typically superb, but those still in experimental stages weren’t, as he vividly recalled the armor blunderbusses.

”Hook Gun, twenty-meter range. Due to technical limitations, it requires time to retrieve the hook after firing, and once it hits, you need some effort to climb up.”

Lorenzo remembered this weapon, having seen it on Lancelot’s armor, offering unparalleled mobility dependent on installed motors to retract. Obviously, this handheld version didn’t have those enhancements.

”So, is it a one-time weapon?”

”Isn’t one chance enough for you?” Joey asked.

Lorenzo laughed, with a hint of cruelty in his voice, ”Of course it’s enough, more than enough.”

Having delivered everything, Joey then departed, leaving Lorenzo alone in the room fiddling with the new weapons. Having a government backing was great, as gun purchases weren’t necessary, saving him quite a bit of money.

Sometimes it actually wasn’t so bad; Lorenzo received a bounty for every person he eliminated, and the money would become an orphan’s dinner, helping them grow happily and healthily. It made him feel his actions were all in the name of justice!

A strange rationalization, but Lorenzo found himself laughing as he thought about it, until his gaze fell upon that half fragment, his smile stiffened with sadness as he picked it up.

”Though aged, burn and rage as daylight fades.

Fury, fury,

Rage against the dying of the light.”

Lorenzo recited softly, yet lacking the former fury. In a daze, he seemed to hear Medanzo’s roar in his ear once more.

”Just like the poem said, don’t succumb to death, survive!”

He spoke, and as he wished, Lorenzo survived, but Medanzo died, and now the weapon passed on to him also perished in the fire...

Lorenzo had nearly died under the storm of fire, yet he survived, even he sometimes couldn’t believe it, causing him to wonder if it was all too similar to before, as if the weapon had died for him once again.

He stored the half fragment away, composed himself before heading out again, for there were still many children awaiting the charitable knight’s just actions.