Gun of Ashes

The air was damp, and in the blurry vision no light could be seen; the stench of fish filled the nose, causing nausea while the sound of rushing water could be heard not far away.

The assassin gasped in pain; despite being trained, he was still essentially mortal. The relentless blows nearly tore apart his will.

He was thrown heavily to the ground, his vision slightly cleared, surrounded by sticky darkness, only a faint flame flickered in the nearby corner.

The assassin tried to move himself, but the fall broke his bones, not to mention he was shot, the blood loss left him utterly powerless.

”Wake up, you still have a chance to live.”

A hand reached out from the darkness and lifted him up. Erin squatted down, holding a sharp short dagger.

”Where is Ivar?”

Erin got straight to the point, directly asking.

The assassin looked at her, his mouth gaped wide; inside, the oral cavity was a mess of blood; Erin had removed his teeth to prevent suicide.

The smell of blood overwhelmed; the assassin grinned foolishly but soon grimaced from the excruciating pain.

The short dagger pierced his arm. The wound wasn’t deep, but Erin gently twisted her wrist to inflict more intense pain.

The woman remained expressionless, seemingly accustomed to such cruelty.

Blood gushed from the assassin’s wound; his complexion turned pale, as if all his blood would drain.

”Erin, you can’t escape; you know the fate of people like us.”

The assassin’s voice was muddled but barely discernable.

He regarded Erin as if she were a dead person—a corpse that could still move.

”Gaspard won’t spare you.”

The assassin closed his mouth, maintaining that bizarre smile, his eyes bulging like some evil anomaly, fixating intensely on Erin.

For a moment, Erin felt a chill, shivering uncontrollably, followed by anger. She repeatedly inflicted pain with the dagger, yet he uttered no sound, not even a painful groan.

He was like a broken doll, bloodshot eyes staring deathly at Erin.

The torture didn’t last long; Erin knew it was futile, merely a release of her anger.

She stood up, silent for a long time, bit a cigarette, and the faint firelight in the dark briefly illuminated her face; she looked weary, eyes vacant.

”Forget it, I don’t want to become like you.”

Erin wiped the dagger and sheathed it; she wasn’t some pervert, such brutal killings brought her no joy.

She dragged the assassin’s body towards the light, taking one last look at the blood-covered face, snapped his neck, and kicked the corpse into the sewer.

The current carried the assassin’s body into the depths of darkness, while Erin shed her clothes as she walked out of the murky sewer.

Beneath the cleaner’s outfit was the formal attire she had worn early on. Plucking the lint stuck to her clothes, she’s completed her transformation, strolling carefree through the streets of Reindona.

After wandering for an indeterminate time, Erin stopped and gazed at the sea afar.

The night was deep, yet this port city seemed never to sleep; colossal cruise ships and fishing vessels spanned the waters, lit brightly like fallen stars, reflecting vibrant colors on the sea.

Prosperity and beauty, or cruelty and darkness, none of this concerned her; she wandered alone across this unfamiliar land like an outsider.

”Ivar...”

The cigarette extinguished, she lit another, her gaze filled with worry, puffing away.

...

In the living room, those who had just completed a mission were seated. Lorenzo was still sprawled on the sofa, next to him sat the dazed Red Falcon, hammering the triangle, producing rhythmic noises.

Eve sat on the other side of the chair, appearing far more reliable than those two clowns, while Hebdo stood nearby like a butler, eyes lowered, as if preparing a speech.

”What should we do next?”

Unlike those two slackers, Eve was very concerned about her internship results.

”Act according to the plan. Rest here for a day, and board the ship to Gaulunaro the day after... Erin’s action was but a spur-of-the-moment decision anyway.”

Hebdo said. He wasn’t surprised by this operation’s failure; if Erin were easy to catch, she wouldn’t have successfully fled from the Viking nations.

Lorenzo said nothing, staring at the ceiling, pondering the connection between the assassin and Erin.

”Hebdo, do you have any thoughts about those assassins? I suspect Erin deliberately leaked her whereabouts; she had set a trap in the Blue Whale hotel, aiming not to hunt us, but those assassins. We were merely complicating matters.”

Lorenzo analyzed.

”Does Erin have ties with any organizations?”

Faced with this question, Hebdo fell silent. After some thought, he replied.

”Iron Law Bureau.”

This was an unfamiliar term. Lorenzo had never heard of it, nor had Eve, who showed a puzzled expression. But at this point, Red Falcon, with a despairing face, instead sat up, looking incredulous.