Gun of Ashes

This was Heracles’ miscalculation. He had no real understanding of what lurks in the darkness. No matter how adept he was at calculation, he was still limited by human flaws, unable to foresee the unknown.

Shackles may restrain mortals, but they cannot bind monsters.

Lorenzo forcefully threw the shotgun, knocking down a man who was trying to draw his weapon. Then he grabbed the spoon on the table, broke it, and clenched it tightly, the tip protruding from his fingertip like an improvised knuckle duster.

The strength of the sedative could put down a normal adult, but although Lorenzo was an adult, he wasn’t quite normal. The numbness didn’t limit him much.

Though his reactions slowed, Lorenzo remained lethal to ordinary people. He punched violently, hitting a thug in the throat. Under this force, the spoon between his fingers pierced through the skin and into the flesh.

He grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it against people. With great strength, the chair shattered, and those hit by Lorenzo were severely beaten. But at that moment, another chair struck Lorenzo’s head, yet he didn’t fall.

Turning around, the man still held the chair, looking at Lorenzo with a bewildered expression. Lorenzo kicked him down with such force that it crushed the table behind him.

Some attempted to use knives and firearms, but in such a dense crowd, they posed no threat to Lorenzo. He deliberately hid behind others; they couldn’t shoot because they were concerned about their comrades’ lives.

Finally, someone couldn’t hold back and pulled the trigger. Lorenzo grabbed an unlucky person nearby, using them as a meat shield. While absorbing the attack, he pushed the shield closer to the gunman and resolved it with the spoon-clenched fist.

This weapon felt natural in hand, like a delicate short knife, easily piercing the enemy’s body.

It was like a blood-soaked carnival, bottles crashing around, the air filled with the aroma of alcohol, as if a flame could ignite it.

Mechanically swinging his fists, his strength gradually returned.

The drug’s effect had worn off, and for a Demon Hunter’s physique, such a dosage would quickly be metabolized. Lorenzo became faster and stronger, turning the fight into a one-sided slaughter.

At this point, both parties realized Lorenzo’s strength. They initially thought Lorenzo was the hired hand of one side. But from Lorenzo’s impartial combat style, it was clear he wasn’t on anyone’s side, just like a drunkard venting on passersby.

In the end, fewer people could stand. Just then, the tavern door was fiercely slammed open, and Kamu charged in, brandishing a handgun as if accepting his fate.

Since the brawl’s onset, he sensed danger inside but didn’t know what exactly was happening. Instantly, Kamu debated whether to run away from this chaotic place or rush in to save his new boss.

He struggled intensely within, until he rushed in now. Yet contrary to his expectations, only Lorenzo and Heracles were left standing inside; the thugs were sprawled across the floor, conscious ones emitting painful groans, while Lorenzo stood among them with a nearly satisfied expression.

At this moment, Heracles walked out from behind the bar. His expression was somewhat vacant, then suddenly excited, stepping over one fallen figure after another, moving toward Kamu, and grabbing his collar.

”Did... did you see that?” His voice trembled uncontrollably.

”What?” Kamu was clueless about his excitement.

Heracles pointed at Lorenzo, then at the downed thugs on the floor, shouting hoarsely.

”He took down all these people by himself!”

Heracles approached Lorenzo, holding up his blood-stained hand, unfolding his clenched fist to reveal a twisted and deformed piece of metal.

”With just a damn spoon!”

Heracles exclaimed.

...

Heracles took about five minutes to calm his excitement. He and Lorenzo sat in the kitchen, while Kamu tended to the thugs who were left uncertain between life and death at the bar.

Lorenzo felt somewhat awkward, puzzled by Heracles’ sudden change of attitude after witnessing everything. Sitting across from Lorenzo like a fan meeting their idol, he… he even seemed bashful like a young girl.

”Re... really...” Perhaps overly excited, Heracles struggled with his words.

”I’ve... I’ve been looking for you for so long, Mr. Holmes.”

Lorenzo was taken aback, unsure, ”Looking for me?”

Heracles nodded, ”Yes, I’ve been searching for you!”

He stood up excitedly, pacing in place as if unable to express himself.

”Actually, I noticed you long ago because you orchestrated the Red River Tragedy. But I couldn’t be sure; I hadn’t witnessed it firsthand... I maintain skepticism about things I haven’t witnessed myself.”

”Afraid of being deceived?” Lorenzo understood this mindset; being a master of deception himself, he knew how easy it was to mislead someone.

”Exactly! Rumors and sensationalist newspapers can mislead my judgment, so initially, I considered you an unusual person, maybe relying on special weapons or hidden allies assisting you.”

He spoke quickly, making Lorenzo’s head buzz.

Lorenzo waved his hand, indicating these matters could be discussed later; he had more pressing concerns now.

”I’ve done as you asked, so what about the Rat King?”

Heracles was momentarily distracted by Lorenzo’s question, but then he sat down again, taking a deep breath and regaining his composure.

”Sorry, I lost my cool; I’ve been investigating ’you people’ for so long.”

You people?

Lorenzo watched Heracles unsure of his intentions, yet he then made a strange sound, a low murmur like an animal’s call.

”What are you doing?” Lorenzo asked.

”Calling the Rat King.”

Heracles smiled mysteriously, a look Lorenzo had seen before when asking Kamu about the Rat King, same expression.

Shortly after, a rustling sound emerged from all directions, something seemed to traverse the kitchen, knocking into pots and pans, producing a clinking sound. Then, amid Lorenzo’s confusion and shock, the Rat King appeared, swaggering out.

”Wait a minute... Is he the Rat King?” Lorenzo felt deceived.

Heracles responded.

”Literally, he is the Rat King.”

Lorenzo looked between Heracles and the Rat King, suddenly understanding everything. He bent down, picked up the Rat King, who didn’t resist.

”So this is ’prejudice’?”

”I think we’re in the same intellectual league,” Heracles pointed at his head, ”You should know how easy it is for someone to be misled.”

”Indeed... Prejudice works like that, doesn’t it? The Rat King literally means the king of rats, yet people constantly imagine and attribute mysterious legends to it.”

Just as Kamu mentioned, the Rat King was incredibly cute, furry with a great tactile feel. Lorenzo had seen it in books, its scientific name is Chinchilla, not native to Ingwig, and he wondered how Heracles managed to bring it over seas.

As for the name Rat King, it’s quite apt; it’s significantly larger than ordinary rats.

”What’s its name?”

Lorenzo found this affair more amusing than anticipated; the master of deception had rarely been deceived. Holding the Rat King, he regarded Heracles with newfound respect.

”Polo… Every chinchilla I’ve raised is named Polo; this one’s the second generation.”

Heracles came over, also petting Polo’s head. No one could have anticipated the mysterious Rat King would appear this way, or rather the Rat King was just a smoke screen, a puppet. The true controller of everything was this inconspicuous intelligence broker, who was the real Rat King.