Gun of Ashes

"Do you find me a bit different from what you imagined? As an old monster who keeps secrets, I should have a constipated face, speaking inscrutable strange words, steady and cautious?"

The faintly glowing electronic eye rested in front of Lorenzo, staring at the dim blue light, and Lorenzo nodded.

"That won’t do, you know, living so long, psychological problems are inevitable. One must be optimistic."

The old man laughed even louder, retreating back to lean against the side of the cultivation chamber.

"But I do kind of miss it, I can’t remember what constipation feels like."

This is way too optimistic.

Lorenzo had imagined the Secret Keeper with a face full of unwillingness and resentment, sharing past grudges and hopes with him, but this guy didn’t have the slightest mysterious air. Judging by the eager look on his face, if he hadn’t been dismantled, he would definitely have shown Lorenzo what a Water Blade really was.

A vision of brain tissue soaking in nutrient fluid suddenly flashed before his eyes, stripped of all its parts, leaving only a struggling head.

The smile that had just emerged on Lorenzo’s face froze, and as he watched the old man’s self-indulgence, he was filled with mixed emotions.

"Are those two guys still fighting? It’s really endless. I remember they’ve been at it for quite a long time, centuries at least."

The old man sighed nostalgically.

"Do you know them?" Lorenzo asked.

"More than just know them, I raised one of them myself."

The old man casually said something quite disturbing, which made Lorenzo feel a bit uneasy, like joining a world-saving final battle with a poet playing the accordion beside you, playing music while you slay enemies.

The feeling was utterly absurd.

"Roger Cruz, I was one of the children raised in the shelter before, after all, during those long times, we felt a bit bored, so some Secret Keepers suggested ’why not raise a few kids to play with?’ I figured I might as well agree, when these kids grew up, they could help maintain the shelter a bit."

The old man reminisced as he spoke, regardless of whether Lorenzo and the others had more questions.

"We just randomly selected a few stored embryos to hatch, and that’s how Roger Cruz was born, without parents, entirely artificially bred, just like livestock. We created a large batch at once, and he was just one of them.

He was quite a clever child, and for a long time, I regretted bringing him into existence. Oh, roughly that meaning, don’t misunderstand me.

Unlike the other children who saw us as gods, long-living metal monsters, Roger Cruz felt none of that. He was curious about everything, learning knowledge, honing skills.

Of course, the worst part was his curiosity about the world outside the shelter, he was a child who ’questioned’.

At this point, the old man’s expression grew somber, and just as Lorenzo was about to say something comforting, he heard the old man fiercely declare.

"Bastard, I should never have brought him into existence, best if I’d smashed his embryo as well."

Lorenzo frowned slightly, his expression twitching.

"Yes, Adren Levien, the other damn bastard was called that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t smash his embryo, he was born naturally, came from the outside... I honestly never thought there’d still be people coming here back then."

The old man spoke to himself, ignoring Lorenzo’s intentions, yet in truth, Lorenzo was quite eager to listen to the old man’s memoirs, as he was deeply curious about all the past, like a starving beggar.

"Wait, I still need to answer your questions."

He suddenly remembered his original function.

"Sorry, sorry, haven’t used my brain in so long, my thinking’s a bit odd."

The old man’s speech was rapid, but in delivering it, he used those flickering lights on him continuously, electronic sounds carrying a slight electrical hum.

"Let me think, about when to start speaking?

Ah, right, let’s lay down a few premises first, you’re all Ascenders, so you should have some understanding of the Inexpressible, right? That damned thing is chaotic and disorderly, faithfully executing the essence of ’life’, plundering and perpetuating.

It spreads in a corrosive manner, leading to meme contamination, thereby causing the disappearance of many things throughout human history... Not because it destroys them, but because those things become contaminated by the Inexpressible, so for safety’s sake, we humans performed self-castration.

Thus, even the history I know has gaps and voids, perhaps I remembered once, but for safety, I likely accepted the impact of the Anti-Meme, forgetting all the contaminated parts.

Nothing is absolutely real.

And nothing is absolutely right."

The old man paused as he spoke.

"There might also be other physiological reasons. I think you’ve seen, now I’m likely nothing more than a cluster of brain tissue, with human technology, trying to preserve me till now incurs some problems."

"And so, everything begins."

Lorenzo and Watson focused intently on the old man, concentrating all their attention on listening to his words.

"The war between humans and the Inexpressible has lasted for centuries. It was through this long war that we gradually understood the nature of the Inexpressible. To suppress its corrosive nature, we developed anti-meme weaponry to cognitively exile this chaotic creature.

During that time, the shelter also emerged. At the time, it was still a war fort numbered Six, which is right here.

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