Gun of Ashes

Anthony touched his cheek as he spoke, gently caressing the hideous scar.

"Then it was him.

He was a Demon Hunter named Michael, engulfed in a blazing fire. The light was so intense that we couldn’t see him clearly at all. We could only shoot in the direction of the light, shooting repeatedly, using Holy Silver and human lives to hinder his advance."

Listening to Anthony’s words, Samuel almost held his breath.

Probably Anthony hadn’t noticed either, but a look that Samuel had never seen before appeared on his face.

In most people’s impressions, Anthony was always that cold; just like the new Pope, his face was covered by a cold mask, as if nothing could penetrate his heart.

But now Anthony’s gaze was bewildered like never before, like a lost lamb waiting for a guiding light to come.

"We couldn’t stop him. He eventually broke through the defense line, melting a large hole in the iron-cast gates with ease. He escaped with a few injured Demon Hunters.

However, this guy didn’t run far. He knew very well that in their current state, they couldn’t get far. This guy turned back, instead driving us into the city, where the walls that were supposed to besiege them now imprisoned us."

Anthony’s words stopped. He didn’t continue, as if lost in thought and memories. After a long time, he finally continued.

"In any case, he died in the end.

The flames on him grew weaker and weaker, unable to continue melting the Holy Silver bullets shot at him. Then came the falling spears; some pierced him, others nailed to the ground. The Holy Hall Knights were scared witless. Many started screaming, but I’m different. I have devout faith, and I’m not afraid; I will dedicate everything to God."

Anthony raised his right hand, and several cracks gradually appeared on his skin, covered with grayish-black stains, as he gripped a spear tightly.

"It was like that back then..."

Anthony looked at the illusory figure in front of him. After all this time, the memory was still so clear.

"I grasped the spear with this hand and charged at him, delivering a fatal blow, piercing through his heart. But he retaliated, throwing that red-hot Broken Sword.

That Broken Sword should have cleaved my skull, but he missed, only slashing half of my face open.

Come to think of it, after so long a battle, killing so many people, he was very tired; making a mistake was understandable."

The cigarette burned down, scorching Anthony’s fingers, but he didn’t care, just watched as the dim ember burned his skin.

"The flames extinguished, and we finally saw his appearance. We realized that even without us, this guy probably wouldn’t have lived much longer. His stomach had a hole sliced open, with no internal organs inside, only a pitch-black void and silver blood continuously oozing out. He triggered his Authority, which instead accelerated the melting of the Silver Binding Bolt.

I also roughly understood why he missed; he only had a left arm. He probably lost his right arm in Saint Nalos Cathedral. If he had been left-handed, I probably wouldn’t be alive."

He dropped the ember in his hand, watching it burn to ash.

"Even in such a state, he killed so many people. It’s hard to imagine what he went through inside Saint Nalos Cathedral, and it’s hard to imagine what those formidable foes who battled with him looked like."

Anthony spoke indifferently.

"That was my night. Since then, I was promoted, probably because I delivered the final blow to Michael. But I know very well he wasn’t killed by me."

In the illusory memory, the burning figure gradually dimmed, falling into the silver blood and becoming eternally still.

"I’ve always wondered what exactly killed Michael? He probably couldn’t explain it himself."

Samuel didn’t respond. He just stood there dumbfounded, thinking of many words, but looking at Anthony’s perplexed expression, he found it difficult to speak.

Anthony smiled again, putting on a false mask, ending the conversation.

"Alright, I must go meet His Eminence."

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