Gun of Ashes

Chapter 482: Chapter 89 Door_2

All active Demon Hunters are selected from within the Holy Hall Knights, with only a few exceptional individuals promoted due to outstanding abilities, such as James Moriarty.

A rogue piece on the chessboard, he sometimes brings unexpected joy but more often leads things to a worse state. Yet, his excellent abilities remain undeniable. It is for this reason that he was chosen as a covert agent, initially infiltrating Old Dunling. He did not disappoint, using his eerie Authority, he even penetrated Black Mountain Hospital.

”Even if he wants to influence someone, it takes time. But that Hig... he’s strange, as if he’d been eroded before, making him easily influenced.”

He was easily enchanted, leaving others suspicious of him.

Samuel expressed his concern succinctly, stating that Hig’s Spirit Resistance was low, not typical of an ordinary person.

”Maybe, as you said, he was eroded before? After all, he was Lorenzo’s roommate and would inevitably encounter things related to Demons,” Anthony said.

With Lorenzo’s situation, he himself is a major source of contamination, never revealing it, but the gravitational pull of darkness unwittingly draws those around him into trouble... Anthony and the others are no exception. Those with Secret Blood within them all share this curse-like trait.

”Perhaps...” Samuel hesitated, losing his sharp edge.

”I’m just very uneasy.”

Samuel spoke, looking out the window as the hazy rain curtain brought a chilling cold.

He had lived in Florence from childhood, and this might be considered his first time in another country, which was completely different from Florence. Advanced yet cold, the oppressive atmosphere weighed everyone down.

As a traveler, Samuel might have found it easier, but he could never be just a traveler. He is a Demon Hunter; they came to Old Dunling to kill. No matter who it was, it was brutal and bloody.

Initially, he maintained the pride of a Demon Hunter, for after obtaining such extraordinary power, few could restrain its allure, and Samuel was no exception.

But they had been in Old Dunling for many days, with no battles of blade or sword, only unending negotiations and scheming. It was then that Samuel realized battles could also be this complex; though the enemy hadn’t drawn weapons, he still felt fear.

”Unfamiliar unease? You must learn to endure it, Samuel,” Anthony said.

This is Old Dunling, the main setting of the Purification Mechanism. From the moment Anthony set foot in Old Dunling, they were walking a tightrope. If the Purification Mechanism chose to go to war, these Demon Hunters held no hope of leaving Old Dunling alive.

”Courage, strength, technique, and cunning.”

Anthony said softly. It is the principle of Bolognese Swordsmanship, which pertains not only to swordsmanship but to the Swordsman himself.

”Are you enduring too, Priest?”

Samuel asked, unsure if someone like the Priest would also feel unease.

Anthony remained silent; the cold from the Night of the Holy Arrival still lingered in his mind.

An unknown conspiracy shrouded everyone, every city, every nation.

After a long pause, he sighed and prayed.

”I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.”

He recited a prayer from the Gospel, at this moment resembling a Priest.

”We are all enduring; this is God’s trial for us.”

Anthony said, stating words he himself barely believed.

”Wait for His Holiness’ command; he will dispel confusion and unease, immersing us in warmth.”

He spoke lies, for it was the mysterious Sword Scabbard Treaty that troubled him more than anything at present.

The Night of the Holy Arrival was like a woven web, unveiling layer after layer until its loathsome nature was seen.

”Wait, all we can do now is wait.”

Pressing his temples forcefully, Anthony spoke wearily.

He was waiting, awaiting instructions from Florence; they could only stand by until the new Pope issued orders.

”So what exactly happened on the Night of the Holy Arrival?” he said in a voice Samuel couldn’t hear.

Whether it was Lawrence or Lorenzo, everyone who experienced that night played different roles, leading to various interpretations of the night’s events.

Only by gathering those scattered fragments of stories together does it seem possible to piece together the truth of the Night of the Holy Arrival.

What truly happened on that night?

...

The body felt like a sharp blade, slicing through the dense air, stirring a howling wind, roaring and chasing like a thousand beasts.

This was a long free fall, with Lorenzo spreading his arms like wilting leaves, descending into this dark Abyss.

As he fell, the surrounding spiral staircases seemed like pairs of eyes, coldly watching his demise.

It was all so prolonged, to the point Lorenzo could no longer feel himself falling, as if lost in endless darkness, with no sign of light.

Until a pained low moan interrupted this expanse of darkness.

”As expected...”

Lorenzo crashed onto the hard ground, a wave of torturous pain consuming him. Yet, he did not die, nor was he smashed into a bloody mess. He only felt unbearable pain, until eventually laughing.

Clumsily rising from the ground, he glanced around at the fog-like darkness obscuring his vision.

It seemed he was at the bottom of the Abyss, the deepest part of his memory, raising his head to see nothing of the floating spiral staircases or any light.

If there were hidden memories, they were certainly here, on this land untouched by light.

Looking ahead, he saw it.

It was a colossal wall erected like a gravestone, one after another, akin to mournful statues, silently standing in the darkness.

Lorenzo sensed something strange, but as he approached, he gradually discerned their nature.

They weren’t gravestones or statues but three stone gates, with the first adorned in intricate patterns and reliefs.

They depicted angels from the Celestial Kingdom battling and slaughtering the burning Demons, each face bearing the same sadness, as if mourning for the battlefield’s dead.

The sculptures were so lifelike, the angels and Demons seemed alive, sealed within the stone gates by an unknown force.

Lorenzo recalled seeing this door somewhere before. He remembered it, within the sacred Saint Nalos Cathedral, it was the door leading to the Static Holy Temple.

Gate of the Celestial Kingdom.

The next moment, the stone gate trembled violently, stones and dust rising, with a fine fissure splitting the unmovable surface, seemingly waiting for someone to push it with force. Light seeped from the crevice.

Lorenzo gazed at the only beam of light within the darkness, without hesitation, he strode forward, pressing his hands against the stone gate with all his might, attempting to open it.

A ludicrous scene, as a mere mortal attempting to move such a massive entity was impossible. Yet, the sound of cracking erupted, and the rigid memories began loosening and fragmenting, while the hardened dust on its surface fell away one by one.

Lorenzo heard the hymns echoing in his ears, growing resounding with the encompassing light.

In the melodious hymns, the radiant glow burned brighter and fiercer.

Lorenzo reached out his hand, just a step away from the forgotten past.