Gun of Ashes

The warm gray snow drifted with the wind, and the Plague Doctor reached out to gently catch the fleeting ashes. It fell into his palm, rubbing slightly, and dispersed into dust, disappearing into the air.

This is the end of an era, the arrival of a new era.

The raging white flame was still clearly visible from this distance. The pitch-black bones seemed to struggle, swaying slightly in the white flames, with faint wailing sounds coming from the ears.

"It seems everything is over."

The Plague Doctor looked down at the small boat engulfed by the waves. The ocean was in fury. If it were not for this steamship saving him, he would now be sleeping under the sea with that Iron Coffin.

Beneath the dark blue sea surface, there still lay the faces of the demons. Essentially, they were still creatures, and these incompletely mutated demons were completely bound by the waves, sinking bit by bit, dying at the sea bottom.

"This does not count as an end, merely a new beginning."

A man in a dark yellow raincoat walked over. The ship shook violently in the turbulent waves, yet he maintained a perfect balance, as if walking on flat ground, pulling a rope in his hand, dragging the heavy Iron Coffin across the deck.

"You look at a loss, that should have been your last demon, right? Creating such a large batch is not an easy task."

The Plague Doctor turned his head towards the man and said, these demons were all released by him. Without the hindrance of the demons, the steamship could not have traveled this far to evade the search of Sailing Dawn, which was like a huge eye suspended in the sky, with no chance of escape on the vast sea surface.

"Compared to what was gained, the losses are just trivial."

The man chuckled softly. From beneath his body erupted unimaginable strength, effortlessly lifting the Iron Coffin that Ascetics had struggled to bear, and dragging it directly between himself and the Plague Doctor. As the fierce wind came, the tattered cloth covering it was blown away, revealing the mottled and ancient shell directly before their eyes.

"Hoo... this feeling is really unpleasant."

The Plague Doctor took a deep breath, his voice carrying weariness and pressure. He shifted his gaze to avoid staring directly at it.

"You still seem unaccustomed to it, actually, it's very obedient, it just needs a little honey to behave."

The man gently caressed the uneven surface, the coldness of the metal pouring into his body, and before his eyes began to appear hallucinatory visions.

Memories, hallucinations, and those eerie whispers, all swept through his brain. Yet, he seemed unaffected, calmly raising his hand to draw a blade, slicing a lethal wound at his wrist, from which blood gushed forth.

The blood traveled along the crevices of the Iron Coffin like a painting, filling every groove, eventually constructing a bizarre image on the ancient metal surface.

In the corner of his sight, the Plague Doctor observed all of this. The eccentric feeling corroding his sanity dissipated, but something even stranger occurred. A grating tapping sound arose, akin to snakes intertwining and rubbing their dense scales, as the blood seemed to be completely absorbed by the Iron Coffin, not a drop escaped.

It seemed like a living organism. The recent feeding had finally soothed it somewhat.

"So this is how it is contained? With blood."

The Plague Doctor found it somewhat fascinating, seemingly not expecting such a bizarre object to sustain itself solely on blood.

The man shook his head, covering the wound at his wrist, gazing at it with some fascination.

"Strictly speaking, it feeds on Secret Blood. Of course, this can only satisfy it momentarily. It will grow increasingly greedy until it demands a cruel sacrifice."

"But keeping it quiet for now is enough, especially since the Demon Hunter is there, I don't want any complications."

The Plague Doctor nodded slightly. As it consumed the blood, the corrosive properties of the Iron Coffin seemed to temporarily vanish, lying quietly like an ordinary coffin.

"So, can I know what this thing is?"

After a long silence, the Plague Doctor asked.

The man laughed.

"Knowing too much is not good."

"But it's part of my reward, isn't it? I'm a doctor, a scholar, and I have an insatiable passion for knowledge."

"Even if it costs your life?"

The Plague Doctor was silent for a moment, then nodded firmly.

"Of course."

The heavy voice came from beneath the beaked mask as the Plague Doctor spoke slowly.

"Very well..."

Staring into the darkness beneath that mask, the man said happily.

"I like people like you, individuals with ideals. Everyone is an idealist, fearless of death for their ideals, and that feeling is wonderful."

"So, what exactly is it?"

Once again, the Plague Doctor asked.

"My whole life has been in pursuit of the essence of life, I've dissected quite a few demons... In essence, demons are also a kind of creature, but they transcend the common understanding of what a creature is.

For so many years, I've tried to figure out the essence of demons, but to no avail. Yet, you said this thing would help me break through my research, I hope you won't go back on your word."

Flesh moved eerily beneath the trench coat, raising one bulge after another along the fabric's surface for a moment. The Plague Doctor seemed to lose his humanoid form, or perhaps he was some kind of monster hiding within the thick cloth, barely maintaining human shape,

The man nodded, responding.

"I never go back on my word, but before that, would you like to hear its story? There are few left in this world who know of its existence."