Gun of Ashes

The sound of iron and air slicing through echoed in his ears, sharp and piercing like thousands of needles piercing Lorenzo’s eardrums, and the simple swings brought immense pressure, crushing his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

His vision was fully engulfed by the rising Purifying Flame, the fierce white fire roaring forth. At the moment, Lorenzo’s mind was blank, having just learned the peculiar nature of the [Gap], followed by the Pope’s fierce blow. But beyond all this was the Pope’s identity.

Lorenzo wouldn’t mistake it. He definitely wouldn’t mistake it. The burning eyes under the mask were close at hand. He was a Demon Hunter.

The new Pope is a Demon Hunter! Sainy Loter is a Demon Hunter!

How is this possible?

Of course, Lorenzo was aware of the Evangelical Church’s wariness toward Demon Hunters. The fact that Dean Lawrence reached that level was already a miracle, so what was going on with the new Pope before him? How did he do it, and what happened internally in the Evangelical Church after the Night of the Holy Arrival?

He had too many questions, yet no one gave him answers. Skilled, Lorenzo raised the Nail Sword, but under the holy flames, he somehow didn’t even have the thought of resistance and could only retreat forcefully, only to be wounded by the chasing sword light.

The rusted Nail Sword burned with boiling fire, leaving a hideous wound on Lorenzo... or rather the Gravekeeper’s body, a burn wound from the high temperature. Amidst the intense pain, not much blood flowed out.

Lorenzo stumbled, perhaps due to his own invasion of the body, and manipulated it with great effort. The synchronization rate between consciousness and body couldn’t keep up.

But before he could catch a breath, the sword blade stirred up a whirlwind, a roaring wave of fire carrying countless flying petals in the blinding light, and the Nail Sword slashed down forcefully.

This was an unknown sword fight, in the graveyard of the Demon Hunter.

Lorenzo dodged to one side, during this moment of crisis, his consciousness gradually managed to control the Gravekeeper’s body, and in the process, chaotic memories overwhelmed him, accompanied by voices of madness.

[Get out! Get out!]

Someone screamed in Lorenzo’s ears, insanely and with all their might.

The Gravekeeper wailed, screamed, Lorenzo was so unfamiliar with all this, the invaded consciousness started to resist in this desperate place.

Memories of the Gravekeeper, the voice of the Gravekeeper, the words and deeds of the Gravekeeper, all were impacting the intruder, attempting to drive him out of its own mind.

Lorenzo’s thoughts were in complete chaos; deathly sword strikes from the Pope were before his eyes, while curses and rebellions churned in his mind.

Is this... what Lawrence experienced so often? Such bizarre forbidden power.

Every power comes with its own price to bear, and Lorenzo couldn’t imagine how Lawrence managed to control all this.

Lorenzo simply gave up resisting and started staggering away, his vision confused and disarrayed due to the Gravekeeper’s interference, the flowers before him layered with shadows, feeling like a hallucinogen overdose.

But in the next moment, he forcefully swung the sword blade in his hand, the blade of the Nail Sword full of nicks, aged, seemingly never cared for since some battle.

But even such a weapon was the only one Lorenzo could use now, evidently, the Gravekeeper was not a Demon Hunter, he was controlling a mere mortal body, while fighting against this unknown Iron Pope.

Instinctively swinging the sword, blocking the strike from behind, but with just the instant of collision, Lorenzo felt the profound force from the sword hilt, followed by his arm becoming numb, yet he gritted his teeth and held tightly onto the blade. Then, the sound of metal fracturing came, and the old Nail Sword broke.

The momentum sent Lorenzo crashing backward, being pushed several meters in the flower sea before slowly stopping, turning the moist soil, he lay among it covered in wounds.

The new Pope did not continue the pursuit, he held the burning Nail Sword, his cold mask hiding his face, seeming somewhat perplexed, pausing in place, not advancing rashly.

Indeed, he was somewhat puzzled because this guy before him was somewhat different from ”that kind of thing” from earlier. It seemed too weak, even somewhat unfamiliar, though they exchanged for mere seconds, he could feel it, like a toddling child who didn’t seem to know how to use this power.

This was strange, the new Pope’s feeling grew stranger, but his inner vigilance would not relax, wouldn’t spare any.

Slowly approaching, and at this moment Lorenzo cursed.

”Quiet!”

He barely climbed up from the ground, supporting himself with the Broken Sword, rebuking the resisting consciousness.

The Gravekeeper’s consciousness clawed at Lorenzo, but was ruthlessly torn and shredded by him, destroyed bit by bit in anger, blood streaming from the corner of his eye until a dreadful erosion released from the depths, incessantly corroding tormenting, causing the voice seeking life to weaken ceaselessly, until vanishing.

Lorenzo slowly stood up; under the threat of death, he successfully suppressed the weak consciousness, brushed past the flower sea, and picked up a new Nail Sword from within, still rusted but at least whole.

He assumed the same stance as the new Pope, a stance all Demon Hunters knew, the starting form of the Bolognese Swordsmanship.