Gun of Ashes

”Well done, Eve, you’ve done far better than I did back then,” Blue Jade said to her.

Eve couldn’t make a single sound, the recent battle seemed to have drained her of all her strength. Even now, thinking back on it amazed her—who would’ve thought she could be so capable with a blade, practically a Valkyrie like Ingwig.

Blue Jade wasn’t surprised at Eve’s condition; she helped Eve up while administering the Florun Potion to her.

As the machine started up, the entire large lift platform slowly ascended; water flowed off the platform’s edges, washing down shards of metal and corpses along with it.

People supported each other as they looked up at the dome overhead. Everyone felt a sense of survival after the calamity.

After the baptism of the fiery rain, it was expected there weren’t many demons left on the surface. Even if there were, they could be handled with the current manpower. Everything from this point onward was like a task repeated before: find a safe place, wait for reinforcements, hunt down those demons, and clear the battlefield.

Many hung their heads, or their gazes were fixed in one direction, like Red Falcon, whose eyes remained locked on that chaotic, swirling sky, daring not to look away.

There were few survivors, a glance could take a rough count, but in that moment of scanning, he didn’t see Joey. Red Falcon truly hoped he had merely missed him, or that guy had somehow fallen out of line and was trembling somewhere.

He thought this, but he also understood fully, having experienced the nightmare just moments ago, that such ideas were laughable in the face of brutal reality.

Everyone was silent as the large lift platform slowly rose.

Lancelot slowly lifted his head. Now, he was the only one capable of fighting in the Armor of Original Sin, though the armor was also battered. Even in such condition, it was better than nothing.

That feeling was genuinely good for Lancelot; he had killed many demons and saved many people—an achievement impossible from his wheelchair.

His thoughts suddenly felt heavy, but Lancelot still forced himself to perk up, inhaling deeply like a drowning man, drawing in the cold air, though even so, the awful feeling continually surged in…he knew well why.

Long before, during his first encounter with Lawrence, Lancelot had been eroded. That was his first defeat, and during that, the intense erosion made it impossible to continue safely piloting the Armor of Original Sin. Until today, he donned this forbidden armor again.

The erosion was corroding his consciousness, and due to the King’s Curse, blood continually gushed from his wounds.

Lancelot was like a leaky bucket; it wouldn’t even take the erosion to kill him—soon he would die from blood loss.

Death was imminent, yet he was not afraid.

Lancelot didn’t want to take off the armor; in such circumstances, there was practically no medical capability. Even if there were, Lancelot didn’t want it; accepting treatment would mean surviving, permanently parting from this honorable title, and spending the rest of his life in a delicate baby carriage…

His mind replayed the appearances of those people—they were like tumors growing on baby carriages, grotesque and swollen, mouths wide open like a group of bizarre fledglings… eking out such an existence.

No… no, no, no…

Lancelot couldn’t accept such an outcome; he even felt fear at such a conclusion. He didn’t want this. To him, dying within his beloved armor was the best ending.

”An interesting anomaly… but looks like you’re about to die, what a pity,”

A dull voice rang in his ears, an extreme chill swept through his body. Lancelot jerked his head around, seeing another scarlet eye through the cracks behind the mask, staring at him.

”Are you... Lancelot, or should I call you Owes? I remember you; it’s thanks to you that we slaughtered our way here today?”

The Plague Doctor put his half-removed mask back on, leaning against the edge of the armor, then tapped the Iron Armor forcefully.

”Can you hear me? Since you’re about to die anyway, how about making a deal?”

Lancelot did not respond; instead, he forcefully twisted his body, trying to shake the Plague Doctor off his armor.

When had he gotten so close? Lancelot hadn’t noticed his approach; the Plague Doctor was practically like a ghost.

But then came extreme fear; Lancelot had been neglectful. He thought they had dealt with all the threats thus far, but forgot the mastermind behind it all.

The Plague Doctor.

The Purification Mechanism still didn’t know his name, nor what kind of face lay beneath that bird beak mask. The only certainty was that he was a doctor, a demon’s doctor, seemingly researching something, conducting several illicit experiments on demons and humans. It was due to those evil anomaly experimentations that he was discovered and hunted by the Purification Mechanism.

Today’s events clearly stemmed from his hand. Although it was unclear how he managed to control the demons, what was known was that the Plague Doctor was far deadlier than those demons.

Yet he was overlooked, overlooked from beginning to end, never making a move himself. Not everyone had survived; on this battlefield, there remained another more terrifying enemy.