Gun of Ashes

Chapter 393: Chapter 47 Sunny_2

Serving the meal takes some time, during which Samuel decides to browse the newspaper. As soon as he opens it, bold letters appear, accompanied by black-and-white illustrations, depicting texts filled with fear and suspense. Samuel is somewhat curious to read about how exciting the daily life in Old Dunling is.

”Yesterday, a heinous robbery occurred in the Inner City District...”

As he reads softly, the black-and-white pages begin to overlap with reality, time moves forward, pedestrians on the streets resemble reversed footage, and everything starts to rewind.

Until the sun sets in the west, everything freezes at the time of the incident, and time flows again.

In this traced-back scene, a man slowly steps onto the stage.

Nible is wearing a thick coat, covered in stains and dust, hurriedly walking on the street, with sunken eyes that shine brightly in the darkness.

Some pedestrians notice him, but as if avoiding something, after briefly locking eyes with him, they promptly clear the path. Nible looks terrible, as if he hasn’t slept well for dozens of days, his cheeks are hollow, devoid of blood.

People like him are quite common, generally speaking, those who inject hallucinogens for long periods end up like this. And hallucinogens are obviously not good stuff, not to mention within the Inner City District, although some nobles use them, they still feign rage at this impurity to protect their surface-level honor.

Outsiders think Nible looks bad, but only he knows that he feels great now, better than ever before, as if his previous life was just a fleeting illusion, and now he truly feels alive.

He can do what he wants and get whatever he desires. At this moment, hidden under his clothing is a handgun, filled with bullets. By gripping it tightly, even Nible can temporarily become the ruler of the world.

Nible walks straight towards the bank, naturally attracting the security guards’ attention. Besides the dusty attire, his face alone reveals his problem, like a drunk lunatic, making them wary of his intentions.

”Sir...”

Another guard, maintaining proper courtesy and composure, hopes to dissuade this strange man without causing any disputes.

”What’s the matter!”

Nible responds somewhat agitatedly, seeming extremely happy, with an eerie smile on his sickly face sending shivers of cold dread.

”Today’s such a sunny day! Isn’t it!”

Nible is overjoyed, which confuses the guard. There are no sunny days in this dreary place of Old Dunling, but before he could react further, a ripping pain arises from his abdomen.

Looking down, Nible somehow already acted, stabbing a dagger into the guard’s abdomen. With a twist of his wrist, more intense agony ensues.

”Ah...”

The guard gasps sharply, fear of death stifling his cries of pain, and these disturbances have already attracted others’ attention. The remaining guards draw their guns, aiming warningly at Nible.

Nible presses close to the guard in front, their bodies overlapping, which makes the others hesitate to shoot. This gives Nible an opportunity; he seems like a madman, staggering while walking, yet his aim amidst such mental chaos is absurdly accurate.

A few gunshots later, Nible directly takes down the remaining guards. The security force here isn’t strong, after all, this is the Inner City District, with constant patrols by mounted police; no one would dare risk their life to commit a crime here.

But it seems Nible had planned well; the mounted police have already left the area and will return in a few minutes. The gunshots have captured some attention, and he can hear the incessant sound of iron whistles; the mounted police are sprinting towards here.

The time is sufficient, although brief, for Nible.

He drags the injured guard into the bank, which is now empty; the clerks have pulled down the iron bars, forming a fortress that blocks Nible’s path.

Nible appears a bit disappointed; indeed, robbing a bank requires prior preparation, and this impulsive action of his results in numerous complications.

”You stand no chance, leave quickly!”

Someone shouts at him from behind the iron bars.

Robbing a bank is a highly technical task, not something a person like a drunk lunatic can accomplish with just courage.

Nible is the same, holding the guard hostage in the empty hall, appearing somewhat dejected, his facial muscles stiffened together, but suddenly he laughs wildly.

”Actually, sometimes people care not about the result, but the process, the joy in the process, as if sometimes you enjoy the act of eating more than the feeling of fullness, the delight in taste.”

”Right, isn’t it!”

He yells at the guard, who has no strength to reply due to blood loss; his face pale, he might have collapsed already if not for Nible holding him.

”Everyone is a combustible flame, everyone has a chance to burn brightly, but because of one damned event after another, we can only barely survive, isn’t it?”

He stares intently into the guard’s eyes, gripping his collar tightly, shouting loudly.

”You also imagined a day like this, right? Tired of a mundane life, a sudden bout of madness, taking up a gun to kill your colleague, then robbing a bank, killing... Whatever you do!”

It’s like a lunatic talking to a lifeless object, as the guard has already fainted, his body softened, slumping down weakly.

Nible hesitates, then furiously starts beating the fallen body. As if this venting isn’t enough, he fires towards the area behind the iron bars, emptying his bullets.

He then runs over vigorously, grabbing the iron bars tightly, trying to squeeze himself through the narrow gaps.

”I see you! I see you!”

He sees a female clerk hiding under a desk, shouting excitedly, squeezing his face with pressure. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging, terrify the woman as she glances back some men attempt to stop him; they are behind the iron bars, and Nible, having discarded the empty gun, has no reason to fear.

A man tries to punch Nible’s face, but Nible is quicker; withdrawing his body while another hand reaches out, grabbing the man. There’s terrifying power within this sickly body, as he grabs the man’s arm and then bites down mercilessly.

Screams of agony and the sound of flesh tearing alongside clothes; Nible bites off a large chunk of flesh, blood staining the corner of his mouth, before forcefully spitting it out.

Bright red blood adds color to his pallid face; he is in a state of frenzied madness.

”Just like this, I’m merely enjoying the process, the process of change. Change is difficult, but worth trying, liberating your soul from the decaying cage!”

He shouts with excitement, again reaching his head forward.

”Come on, try it! Friend, quickly bid farewell to your mundane and uninteresting life!”

The man clutching his injured hand in pain ignores Nible as the iron whistles draw near; the mounted police have arrived. They break in, well-equipped, with the sounds of locking and warnings. Nible slowly turns his head; the frenzied expression suddenly weakens, and for a moment he seems normal, then begins crying.

Nible raises his hands and kneels down, sobbing painfully.

”Please! Save me!”

No one knows why this sudden repentance occurs; the mounted police warn him, but Nible’s hand trembles as he pulls open his clothes, revealing the explosives underneath, strapping them around his abdomen, a comical clock with red hands about to reach its end.

The madman disappears, and he cries like an ordinary person, pleading for salvation.

”He forced me! He did!”

Nible shouts repeatedly, tears washing away the blood at the corner of his mouth, like a sinner seeking forgiveness.