Gun of Ashes

”Hmm, the storm is approaching, I wonder if the Thames will flood the streets.”

Bluebird hoisted Arthur, reminiscing, ”I don’t recall this happening often, but each time it brings immense damage.”

”This storm is unlike any we’ve seen before.”

Joey said as he followed Bluebird outside, where Bluebird tossed Arthur into the carriage and locked it from outside in the slightly chilly breeze.

Bluebird wasn’t in a hurry to leave; he leaned against the car, lighting a cigarette. But the warm vapor couldn’t dispel the cold, and he shivered occasionally.

”Is something about to happen?”

Bluebird looked at the sky; it was almost noon, yet the sky was a pale blue apart from the leaden gray clouds, as if soon those clouds would solidify, consuming all the daylight.

”Such nasty weather.”

Bluebird whispered softly.

”’Nasty’ doesn’t quite cover it.” Joey said.

After a brief silence, both realized the underlying problem, the same word rising from the depths of their minds.

Erosion.

Erosion, only erosion. This eerie power drives humans mad, shaping evil, spreading invisibly, affecting surrounding things.

Both the Purification Mechanism and the Demon Hunting Order have records of such cases; excessively strong erosion can cause anomalous weather and phenomena, like disrupted communication, the thunderstorm swallowing everything over the Silent Sea, or the almost endless rain at Black Mountain Hospital.

Now they’ve faced such a battlefield once more, and this isn’t the end, just the beginning.

”You should go, Bluebird.”

Joey’s eyes were dark, his expression solemn.

”Aren’t you coming?”

Bluebird asked, expecting Joey would leave with him.

”No, I’m different from you; you’re retired, recalled, while I’m a Returnee, from the start, we were never the same.”

Bluebird momentarily lost himself; he understood the Returnee’s meaning.

People like Joey and Galahad, they’ve long been eroded by Demons, maintaining a delicate balance without going mad, yet they can’t escape the curse.

No one knows when they might completely collapse, but it’s clear that people like them fear nothing.

They are the ”Dead,” empty ”Dead,” with nothing to fear.

”Well... It was nice working with you, Joey.”

Bluebird mounted the carriage and grasped the reins with a hesitant voice, but he still spoke.

”Likewise, I’m glad to have remembered you again, Bluebird.”

Joey waved to him, said nothing further, watching as the carriage vanished into the rain, then turned to the scattered few emerging from the street.

Mr. Cai and others draped in black raincoats, their faces hidden under hoods, like ghosts wandering in the wilderness.

”It’s about to begin...”

Joey sighed softly.

...

”How tragic, to be reduced to this state. Is this a complete breakdown of all your Purification Mechanism’s efforts?”

Watson and Galahad strolled across the ruins of the Broken Dome, all that was once familiar now turned to ruin and ashes, rainwater enveloping them, forming dark streams that seep into the depths below.

”Luckily, the battle only destroyed the command system at the top; the mid-level communication system is still functioning.”

Galahad looked down, dense cables tangled around the Dunling Tower like webs, linking the people of Old Dunling without severing communication.

”How long do you think it will last? Once the battle erupts, under high-intensity erosion, communication will be disrupted and cut off.” Watson asked.

”Who knows?”

Galahad extended his hand, feeling the cool rain.

”We’ll see how long we can contain the battle; we’ve inundated the Furnace Pillar with Anti-Memes, transforming into ascending rainwater, permeating the city since the plan began.”

Contrary to Joey’s notions, the abnormal weather in Old Dunling this time isn’t just due to erosion but also the clandestine actions of the Cleaners.

The Furnace Pillar boils day and night, evenly dispersing endless Anti-Memes throughout the city, and as time progresses, the strength of the Anti-Memes gradually increases.

”We’ve shaped a battlefield filled with Anti-Memes; the expansion of erosion will be suppressed, potentially aiding us in resisting interference,” Galahad said, ”and suppressing any Demons appearing in Old Dunling.”

”Is that so... I actually have a thought, something that could unite us all.”

Watson gazed at the city below; from this highest point in Old Dunling, Watson felt like a God, overlooking humanity.

”Gap?”

Galahad approached her, feeling slightly uneasy.

After days spent together, Galahad clearly knew what kind of monster was accompanying him.

Watson, like Roger and Ed, is a formidable Evil Anomaly, yet she differs as Watson staunchly stands on the human side.

”Using erosion, spreading throughout the city to connect everyone, using Gap to communicate?”

Galahad voiced the possibility. From Lorenzo’s actions in the Silent Sea, the feasibility of this power was evident.

But the risk was enormous.

If Watson encounters trouble, these unified consciousnesses will become a conduit for catastrophe to spread, with no one spared.

Facing the cold mask, Watson offered no response, only silence. She seemed to merge with the raging storm, carrying a chilling aura.

Instead of answering Galahad’s question, Watson spoke of something else.

”Erosion... is rising.”

”What did you say?”

Watson observed the city shrouded in rain mist, calmly stating.

”Old Dunling is surrounding by erosion, a tremendously powerful force, slowly devouring this city...”

Watson closed her eyes, as erosion spread, her presence appeared in various corners of Old Dunling.

Glaring white eyes appeared on different people. A passerby halted, glancing at a dark alley by the street; the vagrant by the trash can opened his drowsy eyes, emitting a faint white, looking toward the open manhole, from which hot steam rose and the sound of a hammer echoed.

The repairman struggled to seal the pipeline damage, but before he could catch a breath or rest, he rose inexplicably, moving into the darkness as his coworkers watched in confusion.

He stood at the edge of a massive shaft, lowering his gaze into deeper darkness.

In the depths of the darkness, faint sounds could be heard, something seemed to be wriggling—a swarm of mice, perhaps venomous insects.

They slowly fermented, breeding the most evil power.

As if aware of someone watching, blurry eyes opened in the darkness, but before they noticed the intruder, the repairman’s glaring white eyes vanished. Confused, he stood there, looking around at the surroundings.

He didn’t understand why he was here; reflecting a moment, he prepared to leave, but as he turned to go, a pitch-black, twisted hand grabbed his ankle.

Laughter echoed hoarsely in the darkness.

At the top of the Dunling Tower, Watson reopened her eyes, her calm voice carried a slight tremor, unclear whether from fear or delight.

”It’s begun, Galahad.”

Watson gazed at the city calm in the rain, soon enough, fiery flames would surge down every street.

”Erosion will reach criticality, the rain unable to halt its impending loss of control.”

She whispered softly.

”The Demons are coming.”