Gun of Ashes

Percival found it somewhat indescribable to express his current feelings. He had thought Roger had cornered them, but the pre-designs of the Anons took effect at this moment, and a living Anon joined the battle, yet he was alone, his silhouette so fragile.

The explosion of the Anti-Meme had ended, a force powerful enough to destroy swathes of Demons. Its effect on Roger was merely to slow his steps slightly, as the Anon retreated toward the command room while continuously firing.

A string of gunshots echoed, finally causing Roger to feel a pang of pain. Looking down, he saw cracks on his Armor that had appeared unknown to him, probably due to the previous Anti-Meme combined with gunfire. Concentrating on this point, they finally left marks on the sturdy armor, and with the fall of a few more bullets, the Armor completely shattered, injuring his flesh.

Just scratches, no... not even scratches.

Bullets were squeezed out by strong muscles, and the dense hard proliferation covered the damaged area once more.

Roger looked forward. At the end of the path, the Anon gazed at him emotionlessly, as if devoid of any feelings.

”People of Jiuxia.”

Roger said softly, raising his long spike and leaping forward.

The Anon seemed unaffected by any emotions, and the imminent death did not deter him in the least. Seeing that gunfire no longer worked, he immediately drew his Folding Blade plated with Holy Silver.

The speed of the human body reaches its limit. The Anon narrowly dodged the slash from the monster. The spike struck out a huge scar beside him. If it landed on him, he would be chopped in half like the other Soldiers.

Raising the Folding Blade, in this narrow close-range situation, it was the only chance for the Anon to hit Roger.

The Folding Blade struck ruthlessly on the throat. Despite the obstruction of the Armor, the full-force strike still managed to cut a bit in, and a large gush of blood surged out.

The Anon tried with all his might to sever Roger’s head completely, but he couldn’t. The rapid growth of flesh made body damage barely affect Roger much.

Roger grabbed the Anon’s hand wielding the blade. With a gentle press, one could hear the sound of bones shattering.

Without any suspense, the Anon’s figure was knocked back, tumbling to the front of Percival. The Soldiers extended their hands to drag him into the command room.

His arm crooked, and at the moment of contact with Roger, an immense force shattered his bones completely.

”You shouldn’t have come out.”

Percival said to the Anon. He could have hidden and escaped from there, but now revealing himself only increased the death toll.

The Anon didn’t respond, his face full of blood, making it difficult to see his appearance, but within the blood-red view, one could spot calm eyes.

He painstakingly stretched out another hand, drawing circles by his ear and waving it randomly in front of him. Percival couldn’t understand his meaning, but then the Anon handed her something.

A silver crown.

The Anon waved his hand again. Only then did Percival realize it was sign language, but she couldn’t understand it at all and could only take the crown. Yet before she had time to put it on, Roger’s threat approached again.

She didn’t think much, turned around, and pulled the trigger, starting the final retaliation with the remaining Soldiers.

Percival knew very well that the defensive strength of the Broken Dome could not stop Roger. What she could do was not fight to the death but find a way for more people to survive.

What keeps the Purification Mechanism running efficiently is not the Knight Commander or the Upper-Rank Knights, but the vast personnel composing this organization. They are the backbone of the Purification Mechanism, and Percival needed to ensure they survived. As long as they lived, the Purification Mechanism could promptly set up another Broken Dome elsewhere.

She needed to hold Roger here, at least to minimize casualties. As for how to handle these matters later, leave it to Arthur and the others. She had done her duty.

All weapons that could be summoned fired toward Roger, and amid the chaotic blaze, Roger advanced.

The metallic flood had no power to stop him. In the dazzling light of fire, he raised the spike, and Soldiers fell like straw, blood evenly coated the walls, rivers of blood.

Some Soldiers were not yet dead, but more metal pierced through their bodies, vainly attempting to pierce Roger behind them as well.

The ferocious visage was right before her eyes. Percival smashed the switch; the heavy gate fell, and this would be the last line of defense.

With a heavy noise, the iron-gray door blocked Roger outside, yet didn’t allow time to breathe. A sharp screech of friction arose, the metal moaning, being torn and sliced, revealing fiery edges and breakage.

Surging flames seeped through the gap, flesh and bone exploded before her eyes, staining Percival’s clothes. She drew her Folding Blade, attempting to strike back.

The metal collapsed under high temperatures as the monster charged with burning molten iron.

The Folding Blade clashed with the long spike. The steel was easily broken; immense force transmitted to Percival’s hand. The heavy power left her unable to grip the handle tightly, and like the Anon, pain surged from her wrist, shattered iron splinters flew, cutting her face.

Percival was knocked backward, the broken blade slamming onto the glass, creating densely packed cracks.

The whistling of the wind resounded. She gathered what strength she had to leap forward, dodging the swiftly approaching long spike that shattered the glass behind her, allowing a cold wind to flood inside, dispelling some heat, the chill soaking her remaining will.