Gun of Ashes

Eve and Red Falcon were awakened from their sleep, groggily seeing Hebdo holding a weapon.

No one was foolish in this situation; there was no so-called morning grumpiness, as everyone instantly became clear-headed, grabbing their weapons in their pajamas.

Red Falcon and Hebdo guarded inside the room as per Lorenzo’s instructions, while Eve stayed beside Heracles. Lorenzo had previously warned that Heracles lacked combat ability and required priority protection.

The night was silent, the door had already been opened. Lorenzo had just left through it, with Hebdo and Red Falcon hiding behind the sofa, using it as cover, pointing their guns into the darkness beyond the door.

The joyful times had ended; they had already left Ingwig’s territory, facing the darkness across the strait.

The corridor lights went out because of Lorenzo. He wrapped his sharp Nail Sword with his coat; the weapon was too polished, even a sliver of light in the darkness would reflect upon it, exposing Lorenzo’s position.

He lowered his breath, barefoot silently advancing on the corridor carpet.

During casual chats with Hebdo, Lorenzo had become aware of a subtle sound, an approaching crisis, and that instinct from the Demon Hunter.

Upon realizing that in this job, his enemies were not just mortals, Lorenzo felt an inexplicable emotion.

It wasn’t fear, nor was it anger.

It was joy.

For some reason, Lorenzo felt particularly happy upon learning of Lawrence’s remnants. Even he couldn’t understand why, as if deep in his soul, buried was a similarly insane devil.

For convenient actions arranged by Nordro, beyond Lorenzo’s lot, there were no other passengers or attendants here; temporarily, this had become Lorenzo’s territory, and anyone approaching rashly was potentially an enemy.

Who could the enemy be?

The Iron Law Bureau, or that so-called Choir? How did they know of his existence?

Or was there someone who exposed his whereabouts, and who might that be?

Lorenzo pondered and subsequently sniffed an uneasy scent.

It was the smell of blood, the familiar bloody odor wafted through the dark corridor, along with the clear suppressed groaning.

Was someone injured?

Lorenzo moved toward the sound, inserting Winchester into his waistband, his upper body naked as the threads on the Nail Sword jacket were tearing. Sinister tattoos seemed to come alive on his back, twisting and growing.

This was actually the Alchemy Matrix guiding Authority, ascending the Demon Hunter’s body to guide the Forbidden Power hidden in the blood.

The familiar scent in the air grew stronger; Lorenzo could smell fear, panic, despair...

Lorenzo’s movements suddenly halted, as if frozen; he seemed to be determining something, and then the white flame rose in his eyes.

The corridor lit up with burning white flame; he abandoned hiding, sprinting rapidly, the fire stretching into a searing white trajectory, the Nail Sword vibrating, tearing through the pajamas.

Lorenzo sensed that oppressive erosion.

At this moment aboard the White Tide, there was Demon activity... or rather something more complex than Demon.

”Choir.”

Lorenzo uttered the word softly, and the next moment he charged out of the shadows.

No need to care who was friend or foe; the old Order was destroyed, and now in this world, by Lorenzo’s standards, anyone possessing Secret Blood was an enemy.

This damned power ought to be buried along with the Night of the Holy Arrival, not driven by greed and resurfacing in the world.

The slender silver-white blade of the Nail Sword reflected the intense dazzling light, a high-pitched whistle slicing through the murky air.

…

”Finally found her? Is she dead?”

The man stood before the corpse, blood sprawled across the floor; she should be dead, motionless, like a bloodstained doll.

”She should be dead; cut off her head.”

Another person said from the shadows.

”Such a bother, having to intervene ourselves... But why did she flee here?”

Said yet another person stepping from the shadow to the window.

His face illuminated by moonlight, expression extremely sinister, veins prominent like twisted vines.

”Damn bastard.”

He cursed, kicked the corpse, causing her to fall further down.

”How do you feel?”

Asked someone, with others sharing the same concerned but more so wary gaze.

”Still alright, not losing control. Honestly, this feeling is quite good.”

The man answered as his heart thumped violently, releasing the Forbidden Power continuously. The sensation was magnificent, feeling temporarily liberated from the weak mortal shell, becoming something higher.

”This power is quite good; even she couldn’t resist against this extraordinary power.”

The man spoke, stomping on the corpse’s fingers, fiercely venting his anger; killing this woman had taken considerable effort. Eventually, the man couldn’t help but activate the Secret Blood, finally catching up and killing her.

”Alright, let’s not waste time; cut off the head, so we can report back.”

Spoke the silent man, with more people waiting in the shadows behind him. Someone stepped forward, drew a dagger, readying for this gruesome task, suddenly disrupted by hurried footsteps.