Gun of Ashes

Sometimes, Red Falcon would even see that the first thing he did after a battle was change into clean clothes.

”Just being a bit sentimental,” Joey replied.

”Don’t be modest, I’m not complimenting you.”

Red Falcon continued, looking Joey up and down.

”You give me the impression of a frustrated philosopher. People like you usually can’t help but jump off a building when trapped in a mental dead end, right?”

As Red Falcon said this, he made a gesture with his hand, standing it up like a bird taking off, soaring high, and then plummeting and dying on the ground, making a ridiculous sound effect for authenticity.

Joey wasn’t amused. Instead, what he heard made him seriously ponder.

”Suicide? That’s not very likely.”

Considering many factors, Joey pessimistically realized that even in seeking death, he had many ties and attachments holding him back.

”Why are you answering that seriously?”

Red Falcon felt a bit out of sync with this slightly melancholic guy.

”Wait, Joey, you wouldn’t…”

Red Falcon thought of something and asked worriedly.

”No, I haven’t touched hallucinogens for a long time, and if I had, I wouldn’t be speaking to you so lucidly.”

Joey answered decisively, almost as if he knew what Red Falcon was worried about.

”Then... did you use the hallucinogens because of this kind of distress in the past?”

Red Falcon only knew that Joey had used hallucinogens and stayed at the Black Mountain Hospital for a while, but he wasn’t clear on the more detailed backstory.

However, that was normal. After all, when your clients are demons, it’s inevitable that the knights of the Purification Mechanism have some strange ailments. Sometimes, not having any ailments is what’s peculiar.

”Well... you can’t say that. Back then, I had just joined the Purification Mechanism and dealt with those evil anomalies all day. After each mission, I needed some time for psychological counseling, and then... then I came across hallucinogens. Trying to escape those nightmares, I unknowingly fell into an even greater nightmare.”

Joey constructed his thoughts and expressed them bit by bit.

”People shouldn’t just live for food, clothing, shelter, and transportation. There should be more noble pursuits, although everyone’s definition of noble differs. For Lorenzo, slaying demons is noble, and for you, food, clothing, shelter, and transportation might be noble.”

As he spoke, he looked at Red Falcon. Red Falcon never seemed to feel melancholy, at least not like Joey. He appeared to be someone easily satisfied.

”Almost. Actually, it also depends on personal experiences. If our identities were swapped, maybe I’d be just as melancholic as you, but unfortunately, we’re not.”

Seemingly to comfort this night-time friend, Red Falcon said.

”You know I was just a rogue in the Lower City District before joining the Purification Mechanism, hanging out with a friend, robbing and fighting. If I hadn’t met Bola, I might’ve died in some dark alley corner long ago.

So I’m always grateful, feeling that every minute I live now is a gift. Although this job is somewhat strange, and the risks are even greater than in the Lower City District, at least it guarantees basic needs. Not only that, it also allows me to make a small contribution to all of humanity while ensuring those basic needs. It’s simply perfect.”

As Red Falcon spoke, he inexplicably became proud.

”The more you think, the more painful it is. I really envy simple organisms like you.” Joey, while envious, couldn’t help but mock his colleague a bit.

”?”

Red Falcon looked puzzled, evidently at a loss for words since this guy who had struggled in the Lower City District had no formal education.

”I just feel a bit lost, Red Falcon. We keep fighting demons, day in and day out. I know it’s for more people, but I also keep wondering what I want for myself.

Humans should have higher pursuits.

But then I think of the exiled, those who toil night and day in the factories, just for meager wages to maintain their precarious existence... In reality, they should have things they want, just like me, but are trapped by the prison of reality.”

Red Falcon said, ”Do you pity the common people?”

To him, Joey looked like a sorrowful statue of a saint who might forgive Red Falcon’s sins any second.

”No, I’m just aware of everyone’s pain, yet I feel helpless. Everyone is already trying their best to live, but the iron curtain keeps falling…”

He shook his head and expressed those strange feelings.

”I can’t help anyone. I can’t even help myself. I can only watch it fall until it crushes everyone to a bloody pulp.”

Joey paused, then continued.

”Let alone those who switch sides—for instance, previously, the exiled had a chance to get formal identities, or at least formal working positions, but it was destroyed by their fellow exiled. Even us Ingwig people are the same, as long as we’re living well enough ourselves.”

”Of course, this is just my fanciful imagination. People’s emotions inevitably get down at night, right?”

Red Falcon nodded.

”It’s impressive that you thought of all this. If it were me, I probably wouldn’t think so much.”

”What would you do?”

Red Falcon thought seriously for a moment and then pulled out his weapon.

”I’d shout, ’Traitor of the working class!’ and let some air through his skull, like this.”

Joey maintained a blank expression. It seemed the jokes from Red Falcon couldn’t save the sinking mood of this colleague. He put down his weapon and said helplessly.

”Yeah, actually, I feel down sometimes too, especially when Arthur assigns me some deadly mission. Each time, I write a will, only to realize I don’t have much property or many relatives. Wow, you’ve made me feel down too!”

”But what can I do, at most just poke fun at Arthur.”

Red Falcon recalled something and continued to comfort Joey.

”Remember Nikola? The one with the Perpetual Motion Pump, I actually find his viewpoint interesting.”

”What?”

”Meaninglessness.”

Red Falcon said.

”Everything is meaningless—ourselves, them, Ingwig, and this world. It’s all meaningless.

We will die, buildings will collapse, kingdoms will fall, and even knowledge will vanish in the river of time. Nothing holds meaning.

Our battles, our monuments, and even the enemies, demons, those shadows scattered around the world, evil anomalies, even the Duke Salicardo. No matter how much wealth there is, what use is it? It can’t buy immortality or eternity—it’s meaningless. Wealth is determined by people, and when we’re all gone, it’s just shiny metal.

Everything we do is futile, like a meteor in the night sky, a fleeting splendor, with nothing to remember it forever.

Our pain, sorrow, anger, and guilt — none of it matters.”

Red Falcon lowered his head, unsure why he rambled so much today. Perhaps it was Lorenzo rubbing off on him. That lousy guy always said some baffling things. He pulled Joey away from the window.

”Yes, it’s all meaningless.”

He shouted loudly.

”Everyone will die, and all these troubles will disappear when we do.”

All those perplexing and greedy things, all the wealth and glory, in death they all return to nothingness. Even if someone remembers, in the long river of time, it eventually wears away.

Red Falcon reached out and placed a hand on Joey’s shoulder.

”So don’t think about it anymore, Joey. I brought a late-night snack, want to join me?”