Gun of Ashes

"Your faith... has it collapsed?"

Anthony cautiously said, aware of the offense in his words, but hearing the new Pope speak of such things piqued his curiosity.

"No, it crumbled long ago on the Night of the Holy Arrival, you should be aware of that."

The new Pope hesitated for a moment, contemplating how to express himself.

"I just feel a bit of regret. My awareness is no longer sharp, and my memories have become blurred. Those familiar faces are gradually being forgotten... I didn’t care about this before; after all, we will eventually reunite in the retrospection of our lives, but now I cannot see them."

"So I’m trying to reflect on everything anew, since there’s no God to judge me, let me be the one to judge myself."

The new Pope let out a hoarse laugh and then raised his head, looking up at Anthony.

"I just recalled the moment we met."

Anthony appeared somewhat surprised, and memories began to surface in his mind, "I remember it was a stormy night."

"Indeed, a stormy night. I cornered you at the end of a dark alley. According to my plans, I would take revenge on everyone, and you were on that list."

"Because I killed Michael?"

"As if. How could you have killed him? Michael was so powerful, and at that time, you were just an ordinary mortal," the new Pope mocked, then sighed, "He was simply too exhausted. Before he completely fell, you only managed to wound him... But human wrath always needs a release point, doesn’t it?"

Anthony did not respond.

Yes, according to the track of destiny, he was supposed to die on that stormy night, but as if fate mocked him, everything developed in another direction.

"You were supposed to die there, yet you survived," the new Pope recalled something and asked, "I seem to have never asked you, why did you say those words at that time?"

It’s strange, one was a mysteriously rising Pope, and the other a Holy Hall Knight who suddenly betrayed all Cardinals. They were supposed to be the real group and should have understood each other thoroughly, yet sometimes it felt as if they never really knew each other, only carrying forward with an inexplicable tacit understanding, walking all the way to where they were now.

Anthony didn’t answer, but the sound of the rain echoed around him.

In a night woven of cold rain and thunder, Anthony looked at the man standing under the torrential rain, his pupils swirling with a light similar to the thunder.

In that instant, no words were needed, and Anthony understood who the other was and knew what he intended to do. But just before his life’s end, he questioned the surviving Raphael.

"What is faith, really?"

Anthony stood in the rain, like a lost lamb.

Raphael, ready to activate the Secret Blood, could have, if he wished, caused Anthony to die struggling in the most despairing hell, making him endure the kind of pain all demon hunters die from, yet a hundredfold worse.

But upon hearing Anthony’s words, for some reason, Raphael did not act.

Every demon hunter was once a priest; it is an inevitable path in their career, and Raphael was no different.

Looking at Anthony, suddenly Raphael did not see himself as a vengeful madman but rather a guide leading the lambs.

"It was then that we united, as for my reason, why I said those words, it’s just as I’ve told you before, I merely wanted to know what faith truly is. Until I figured that out, I did not want to die."

Anthony replied, continuing along the thread of his memory.

"Ever since the Night of the Holy Arrival, I’ve been pondering, who is truly devout, the surviving Cardinals or the demon hunters who died in battle?

Is it the group of mortals who pray daily, or the monstrous beings who, having survived deadly battles and trials, guard the gates of hell?"

He shook his head.

"I once stood on the side of the Cardinals, but they did not provide me with answers, so this time I chose to stand with the demon hunters, perhaps you can provide me with answers."

Anthony gazed down into the abyss. To clarify this answer, he himself implanted the Secret Blood, becoming one of the demon hunters. Logically, he should be closer to the answer, yet it seemed to remain hidden in the mist, elusive.

"I think you may never find it. God is false; faith never existed." The new Pope laughed, a sharp whistle emerging from his throat.

Anthony remained expressionless, shaking his head, rejecting the new Pope’s words.

"No, I believe it truly exists. It’s just that we have never found it from the beginning. I think... I’m on the verge of seeing it."

"Oh? That sounds rather wonderful."

The new Pope, wearing an iron mask, revealed no expression. After a while, he slowly said.

"Actually, I’ve always thought that you were never confused, you are very clear about what you want, and now the one who is confused should be me."

The new Pope spoke the truth. Having experienced so much, his mindset had become inscrutable, and everything he did was for the most extreme purpose, just like Michael’s lack of understanding before his death.

[Why?]

During this not-so-long reign, the new Pope did everything to pursue the truth of the past. For this, he used authority and poison, joined hands with Anthony to kill one enemy after another, coerced the Cardinals, and pursued the Exiles.

He donned the Pope’s crown, reorganized the new Order, and imprisoned the old Pope beneath the Well of Ascension until all truths were extracted from his mind.

This set off a chain reaction, after which countless monsters took the stage.

The descending Ed did not kill him, perhaps because he was both Pope and demon hunter or perhaps because he needed someone to look after the Well of Ascension, at the very least, not leaving it unprotected.

The new Pope fortunately survived, and through Ed’s words and the information sent by Lorenzo, he perfectly constructed the whole truth.

He learned the original appearance of the world and understood the reason behind the Night of the Holy Arrival.

One could say the obsession supporting the new Pope found relief; he knew the "why" behind everything, but after that, he fell into deep confusion.

The new Pope finally reached the end, yet after this, where should he proceed?

"Has he already left?"

Anthony looked around, and the gloomy, eerie sensation had lightened significantly. It seemed Ed had already left.

Towards this original Watcher, Anthony’s feelings were also peculiar. He was once Pope and Dean, leader of the First Crusade, a being of splendor and achievements, yet his final end had transformed into such an immortal monster, wandering this world lonely, as if all of this stemmed from the curse of the Secret Blood.

"Yes, it looks like Holmes has convinced him, at least intrigued him. I suspect he is now in Old Dunling, waiting for the target to appear," the new Pope said.

"You look much older." Anthony turned his gaze to the new Pope.

"I wear the Holy Silver, even Ed needs to shatter my armor to see me clearly..."

"No, it’s your aura or perhaps demeanor. Now you feel like a flame flickering in the wind, the force propelling you forward has vanished, and perhaps you will extinguish in the very next second.

Like a fate doomed to darkness."

Anthony said sadly, though he should be happy for the new Pope, for he had achieved all his obsessions, yet he felt sorrow, as if such an ending was too desolate.

The new Pope listened to his words. During the time here as a Watcher, he too had thought over these things, and it seemed ending here wasn’t so bad, but there was still a sliver of reluctance in his heart, as if this should not be the true ending.

"Fate... I despise the word fate, like someone blaming Secret Blood as a cursed destiny. Some people always attribute errors to these inexplicable terms, as if doing so can excuse the errors."

He murmured, repeatedly clenching his fists as if feeling the remaining power within his body.

"Lose one goal, then establish a new one," the new Pope said resolutely, "Isn’t it the sequence of goals that propels a person?"

The nearly extinguished flame flickered and soared.

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