Gun of Ashes

Unlike the flickering candlelit city, inside Saint Nalos Cathedral, the deeper one goes, the less light remains; the displayed candles have long since been extinguished, leaving only solidified wax coating the floor.

Anthony walked slowly towards the depths of the darkness, the walls adorned with angels and demons gently opened, and behind the Gate of the Celestial Kingdom, an elevator carried Anthony into the deepest darkness.

It was the boundary between Heaven and Hell, where decaying dust swirled in the deep darkness.

There was no defense within the Static Holy Temple, not even a Demon Hunter, only the new Pope, staying here alone. Since that day, he has been kneeling beside the Well of Ascension, beneath the cold iron mask, no one knows what he is thinking.

Everything descends slowly, perhaps due to a conversation with Samuel, the distant past continuously repeats in front of his eyes.

Anthony reminisced.

He always considered himself enveloped in the glow of faith, believing that if he wholly devoted everything he had, God would clear away his formidable foes.

And it was indeed so; on that nightmarish night, he was the only one who wasn’t afraid, raising his spear, piercing and nailing the burning Demon Hunter.

Anthony achieved it, and God did too, yet somehow, after that, Anthony’s faith was no longer steadfast.

He began to doubt.

"What is faith really..."

He spoke softly.

Even after all this time, the face of the Demon Hunter before death still repeatedly appeared before him; he had no last words, perhaps he didn’t care to say anything further, yet in his dim eyes, Anthony read a final questioning.

[Why?]

After that, Anthony often suffered from insomnia; in the deepest part of the night, he seemed to return to that dreadful evening.

For instance, measuring faith, Anthony couldn’t feel he surpassed the Demon Hunters; they were God’s most faithful blades, the frontline against darkness, and only the most devout faith could allow them to endure the harsh trials, yet such a person ended up dying by his own hand.

Or... by the hand of God.

So, what is faith, really?

Is it a truly existing unknown? Or is it merely a tool to manipulate human hearts?

It wasn’t until that moment that Anthony realized he might never have understood just what faith is.

Everyone is a lost lamb, waiting for the day the farmer harvests them, amidst blood and corpses, piling up a new Celestial Kingdom.

Anthony couldn’t figure it out, even after all these years, he still couldn’t figure it out.

He had asked the venerable Cardinals, sought out the most devout Priests, even visited the teachers at the seminary, but Anthony still couldn’t find an answer until one day, he encountered someone at the alley’s end...

The sound of metal friction awakened Anthony, bringing him back from his absent-mindedness, the elevator had already arrived at the Static Holy Temple, he hesitated not, cast aside those chaotic thoughts, and walked forward.

The sound of footsteps was particularly clear in this empty hall, clearly it was deep underground, yet there was a faint breeze, as if countless lost souls were wandering within, whispering breaths to the living.

Anthony could see the end of his vision, the figure kneeling next to the Abyss; he didn’t know how long he had maintained this posture, his white robe covered in dust, like a statue that had been long placed.

If it weren’t for the faint breath that could be heard, Anthony might have mistaken the new Pope for dead.

After all, he indeed was not far from death.

"Your Eminence, are you okay?"

Anthony looked at him like this, worriedly asking.

He wasn’t sure when all these changes started, but when he found the new Pope, he was already fallen with blood all over, most of the blood had dried up.

Beside the Well of Ascension remained traces of rampant erosion, as if some evil anomaly demon had crawled out from the well, dealing him a heavy blow.

Luckily, the new Pope didn’t die, but this rampant erosion undoubtedly exacerbated the corruption of his will, this time, the new Pope himself was unsure how much longer he could hold on.

"I’m still fine...at least for now, I won’t die."

The new Pope’s voice was hoarse, his gaze beneath the iron mask fixed on the pitch-black deep well, never shifting.

Anthony stood beside him, from the high position, he could clearly see the armor worn by the new Pope, it was very thin, easily hidden by the robe, the craftsmanship was also not meticulous, on the contrary quite rough, as if it was barely shaped, then put into use.

This was armor made of Holy Silver, able to help the new Pope isolate the erosion, likewise, it also isolated him from the outside world, both a shield and a corresponding cage.

"I was just recalling the past, once I start reminiscing, I get deeply involved in it..."

The new Pope perhaps sensed the end of his fate, rarely expressed a bit of emotion, but even this weak emotion remained cold, seemingly he had lost warmth long ago.

"They always say that when a person dies, they will review their entire life, walk through all the memories again, just like reliving in a brief moment.

This is the time God gives you, God will audit your good deeds in the review, count your crimes, and make the final judgment upon you."

The new Pope paused, recalling the guy named Lorenzo Holmes, the blurry face of 047 in his memory, he continued.

"Unfortunately, from his intelligence, it seems there is no God in this world, what we’ve been guarding for thousands of years is just a benevolent lie."

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