Gun of Ashes

The man was wrapped in tight armor, cold metal reflecting layers of candlelight, illuminating the sacred angels and the flaming sword blade etched upon it.

The Holy Hall Knight ascended the steps of the Celestial Kingdom, trying to lower his steps as much as possible, but the clatter of the armor was so clear, remarkably loud in this silent place.

Yet his arrival seemed to disturb no one as he continued forward, entering the sacred Saint Nalos Cathedral, where faith was omnipresent, though the man felt only anxiety and unease.

This cathedral was so vast, akin to stepping into another dead world; apart from the burning candles, there was nothing warm to be found.

The knight appeared puzzled, pausing in the hall for a long time, but he saw no one else, nothing living.

He no longer wished to wait, following the route etched in his memory, and before the Gate of the Celestial Kingdom, he saw the first person other than himself.

Anthony gently caressed the relief on the Gate of the Celestial Kingdom, seemingly anticipating the man’s arrival, withdrawing his hand, turning around slowly, and grasping his sword hilt.

”Knight, you should know that without a summons from His Holiness, no one may enter Saint Nalos Cathedral.”

”Step aside, priest.”

A deep male voice emanated from beneath the face armor.

”Interesting, is this considered an intrusion? After years the sacred place faces another evil anomaly attack?”

Anthony smiled; he was not angry at the man’s actions but rather more excited.

That scar stretching through his neck and cheek throbbed faintly, coiling around Anthony like a serpent, longing for blood and suffering, urging him onward.

”Since managing the new Order, I seldom act; honestly, I miss the combat.”

Cold gleaming light emerged from the scabbard, not a Nail Sword, but a marred knight’s longsword, its blade scarred and cracked from countless battles; it seemed improbable it hadn’t yet shattered, yet some eerie power kept it unyielding.

In an instant, Anthony’s demeanor changed.

The marred blade hung low before him as he moved forward like a fierce tiger.

The man wasn’t intimidated by Anthony’s presence; he seemed devoid of emotions or mind, maintaining calm regardless of facing fire or frost.

Without uttering a word, the man slowly unsheathed the knight’s sword, seemingly heavy, each motion filled with power, the blade resting on his armored arm while he crouched.

Thus, a battle swiftly unfolded, and the atmosphere grew tense.

A breeze blew inside, gently shaking the omnipresent candles, under the flickering light the shadows of the two twisted, intersecting the walls as if in combat.

The shadow’s movements gradually slowed down, but in the next moment, amidst the chaotic flickering of the firelight, the shadows rapidly twisted, and the blade swinging with the wind struck out amid the twisting flames.

The two blades crashed together, scattering sparks.

Moments ago, they maintained a safe distance, but now engaged in combat, judging from their positions, the man hadn’t moved; Anthony had swiftly closed the distance and launched a forceful attack.

Anthony’s rapid footwork made him like a streak of light during the sprint and slash. Yet his offense did not harm the man, who moved awkwardly yet steadily, like an impregnable fortress.

The clashing blades produced a shrill sound, the man knowing clearly he must find a way to surpass Anthony if he wished to continue forward, though he understood well that despite appearing evenly matched, he had no hope of defeating Anthony...

Or rather, with merely this mortal body, Watson had no confidence he could kill Anthony.

However, having reached this point, there was no hesitation left.

The unyielding will needed a form to impact reality, Watson drove the man’s body; without Secret Blood within, she must compensate with skill.

She swung the sword fiercely, aiming at Anthony with a downward slash, the marred knight’s sword retaliated at that moment; upon the blade’s collision, Anthony suddenly felt minimal pressure on his sword.

This was a feigned attack; the seemingly fierce blow lacked power, Watson quickly shifted the blade, swiftly attacking Anthony from another angle.

But she failed.

Anthony was once the most exceptional existence within the Holy Hall Knight Order, also the new Pope’s confidant, the Dean of the new Order; regarding swordsmanship techniques, his mastery greatly surpassed Watson’s.

Advancing swiftly, the marred blade pressed tightly against his body, treating himself as a sword to pressure Watson, rapidly closing the distance; Watson’s sword swing lacked room, forcing her to step back.

Their figures pressed tightly, Anthony gripped the blade with a reverse hand, employing the weight of his entire body, crashing directly into Watson to initiate the attack.

The grating sound was bone-chilling, the scarred blade moved quickly across the armor like a serrated edge, metal grinding against metal leaving a stunning mark, and from the gap, hot blood gushed forth.