Gun of Ashes

But neither of them made any rash moves. They were both dangerous monsters, and without absolute assurance, neither would act recklessly. After a lengthy silence, Moriarty suddenly grew sorrowful, disappointedly releasing Lorenzo and retreating.

”It’s such a pity, Lorenzo Holmes, you are no longer a pure monster. You’ve grown sentimental, more empathetic, more like... a human. But that’s truly ridiculous, isn’t it? You should know, you cannot become human. You’re stubbornly pursuing things you’ll never attain.”

”So you want to turn me into a monster, Moriarty?”

Lorenzo suddenly found it all absurd, yet was aware of the profound madness. The world was so twisted, with everything distorted into grotesque forms.

”Only when you are in desperation do you recognize your essence, don’t you? I realized these things at the hospital in Florence. Those doctors tried numerous treatments on me: shock therapy, prayer, medication... It was a wonderful time. The more I suffered, the more clearly I understood my own nature.”

Moriarty answered, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

”I will kill you, Moriarty.”

Lorenzo’s face was swallowed by darkness, only his cold voice reverberating through the room.

”Here? You won’t do it, Mr. Holmes,” Moriarty said, smiling.

”Why?”

”Because we are alike, I understand you. Monsters possess their own pride, don’t they?” he answered.

After a pause, Lorenzo also laughed, with an icy chill in his laughter.

”Yes, here I can only kill you, but I cannot defeat you.”

Lorenzo wanted to completely destroy him, destroy James Moriarty, by ruining his favorite game.

”Games should be fair. If they are unequal, it’s just one side hunting the other, Mr. Holmes. The new Order is ready, everyone is watching you. This is a warning to you, hoping you can win a round against me this time.” Moriarty was extremely satisfied with Lorenzo’s reaction.

”It seems you don’t care about how the new Order is, do you?” Lorenzo asked. Moriarty was a pure lunatic, exposing the new Order’s actions entirely to make the game between them fairer.

”Yes, I am a misfit, and the same goes for them. Nothing can affect our game.”

Listening to Moriarty’s words, Lorenzo felt an even deeper pressure. From the beginning, he had been misled. He thought it was a game between the new Order and himself, but it wasn’t. It was merely a game between Moriarty and himself. Possibly the new Order hadn’t realized that their seemingly reliable Demon Hunter actually had this kind of thought.

”047 or 042, or Lorenzo de’ Medici?”

Moriarty suddenly mentioned something Lorenzo couldn’t understand, with a look of madness and longing.

”I am a monster without any secrets, but you are different. You are a more terrifying monster than me, yet you try to become human, Lorenzo Holmes. Who exactly are you?”

”What are you talking about?”

Lorenzo’s pupils contracted. He knew the mysteries surrounding his identity, but he didn’t understand why Moriarty suddenly mentioned that name, the name of that old man.

”It’s part of the game, part of the mystery. I also want to know what the answer is, but don’t be too hasty. We are about to find out.”

He said this, then pushed the door open and left. Lorenzo tried to chase him, but the view before his eyes became chaotic and blurred in an instant. After completely shattering, he suddenly awoke from the bed, sweat soaking his clothes. He looked up, but Moriarty’s figure was long gone, leaving only the partially open door as evidence of someone’s recent presence.

Everything was under Moriarty’s control. He wasn’t skilled in swordsmanship or combat; the only thing he could manipulate was that elusive Illusion Realm, deceitful and cunning. Lorenzo didn’t even know when he had made eye contact with him, or when he had fallen into that illusion.

Thunderstorms intertwined, vibrating winds carried fallen leaves crashing against the windows. Lorenzo slowly walked to the window, gazing into the pitch-black night.

The Sailing Dawn swept over Black Mountain Hospital carrying the last armament. A massive iron crate fell from within, blooming a giant black umbrella in mid-air to slow its descent.

The pre-positioned personnel began recovery after the iron crate landed. Unlike the previously dropped Armor of Original Sin, this armor did not have a knight piloting it.

Bluebird, drenched in rain, warm white vapor following each breath he took.

”Why are we transporting this thing over?”

Night Owl asked, standing next to Bluebird. As the driver most familiar with third-generation armor, he served as the backbone of this defense.

”I don’t know. I only know that thing is pretty demonic... Back then, Galahad nearly piloted it to kill me,” Bluebird said with unease, irresistibly touching the fierce scar on his chest.

”Then I apologize for my actions, Bluebird,”

A long-lost voice echoed from the other side of the rain curtain. A somewhat hunched figure walked over. Bluebird was hesitant to believe that that handsome man had turned into this form, but was mostly relieved.

”Ga... Galahad, you’re still alive.”

Since the Black Angel’s loss of control, Galahad had disappeared. Although the Purification Mechanism never announced his death, as per Bluebird’s knowledge of the Purification Mechanism, he supposed Galahad had been locked somewhere within the Black Mountain Hospital, gradually turning into a madman like those patients.

”Alive, though much worse than before.”

Galahad revealed an awkward smile, then hugged and parted with Bluebird.

”But why are you here?” Night Owl asked, considering Galahad’s condition, he ought to be receiving treatment.

”Because I am the Knight Commander, that’s all.”

Galahad spoke as he approached the massive black iron crate, cold rain pouring over it, flooding the surface with carved specters and gods.

”Is this your armor...”

”It used to be, but not anymore.” Galahad touched the cold surface, his voice filled with nostalgia.

”This is the cargo Merlin requested for transport. Now open the box for inspection and then transport it to the underground research area.”

Following his command, the surrounding knights opened the iron crate, and with the release of restraints, the black angel stood amidst the rain, chill rain sliding down its wings, flashing lightning illuminating its ominous silhouette.