Gun of Ashes

Winter is approaching, the yellowing autumn leaves fall helplessly, the dry branches twist and stretch like a forest of thorns, the warm sunlight scatters, sliced into shattered patterns by the sharp branches, falling onto the pristine white blanket.

Bola lies on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above, the lavish paintings filling his entire field of vision, looking at it for too long was somehow straining to the eyes.

"Ah... such a rare break."

A familiar sigh came from the adjacent bed. Bola slightly turned his head, Red Falcon turned over, found a comfortable position to continue resting, and mumbled casually as if talking in his sleep.

The sound of the blanket came from the other side again. Bola turned his head again, only to see Bluebird holding a theology book, reading it quietly.

His chest was wrapped in bandages, and from his relaxed expression, it could be seen that he was recovering quite well.

"Yes, it's really rare."

Bola looked at the ceiling above, sighing once more.

He could barely remember how he came back from that damned place, a massive body falling with surging white flames, the demon was indeed huge, when it finally fell it crashed into the lighthouse, although it didn't break, it did knock the Red Falcon off the top.

During the fall, this unfortunate fellow grabbed onto a protrusion on the wall and wasn't killed, but still broke a few ribs terribly.

Bola himself fainted due to the erosion of the Armor of Original Sin, and when he first woke up, he was lying in the laboratory of the Perpetual Motion Pump, the degree of neural erosion was still optimistic, Nikola didn't throw Bola into the furnace for incineration, and when he woke up again, he was here, being fellow patients with two acquaintances.

"How is Blue Jade?"

After some thought, Bola asked, and the Bluebird on the other side responded.

"She's fine, just has multiple burn injuries and is resting quietly."

Bluebird closed the book and said to him.

Being the one who arrived the earliest as a patient, his recovery was the best, which also allowed the doctor to permit him to get up and walk around. Blue Jade's ward was at the other end of the corridor, but Bola's erosion hadn't stabilized, so he was firmly locked to the bed, unable to move.

"Phew... that's good."

"Hmm? What, Bola, are you interested?"

The Red Falcon, who had been pretending to sleep, turned over with a mischievous grin and looked at him. Among these people, he was the least injured, but for some so-called peaceful vacation, he shamelessly stayed here.

"Nothing, I just owe her a life. Without her, I would have died there."

After coming back, Bola would always dream, but it was everything on that battlefield. Countless demons swarmed, tearing at his Iron Armor, no matter how powerful he was, he couldn't break free until heavenly fire descended, and a fair hand dragged him out from the darkness.

"Sounds pretty good."

Red Falcon nodded while saying, as if he understood something, and on the other side, Bluebird also chuckled, but after a couple of laughs, he coughed painfully, a single out-of-control sword swing from Galahad pierced his chest, leaving many sequelae.

"I'm really happy to see you all lively."

The joyous moment was interrupted as the ward door was pushed open, and two people walked in one after the other, creating a perfect contrast; one with a full smile, the other cold as ice.

Night Owl was holding a fruit basket, while Mystic Phoenix, under the gazes of the three, pulled out a large bottle of strong liquor from under his clothes, raised his eyebrows at them, and made a quiet gesture.

...

"So, will it be anonymous this time as well?"

In the tranquil church, a nun asked the man sitting on the bench, the deer-stalker hat lowered his face, revealing only his somewhat bloodless lips and that cold texture.

"Yes, just like always."

The man replied, gesturing for the nun to leave, looking at the statue at the front, sunlight penetrated the stained glass, saturating it with multicolored light, the blurred face profoundly sacred.

The nun nodded, taking this generous donation with respect, then left the church. Every time this man came, it was the same, offering donations, then sitting till sunset.

She once thought he was searching for some kind of spiritual Pure Land, or God's salvation, but he never prayed, nor did he need the monks' blessings, he simply sat here, enjoying the rare tranquility.

So, the nun shooed off the playing children nearby, giving this mysterious visitor a moment of peace, the only thing she could do.

"So, Mr. Mysterious Lorenzo Holmes is also a philanthropist?"

The man sat beside Lorenzo, maintaining a safe distance, then slowly spoke.

"Why, can't I be?"

Lorenzo opened his somewhat weary eyes, looked at the man on the other side, and barely revealed a friendly smile.

"Just a bit surprising, I checked your financial conditions, every so often you come here to donate. Those accumulated funds would allow you to live a decent life in Old Dunling, but you kept none... is this some kind of iron-hearted tenderness?"

The man looked at him with curiosity.

"It's merely sympathy for the past."

Lorenzo turned his gaze towards the statue, shaking his head.

"A Demon Hunter is a dangerous weapon, so the Evangelical Church needs to tightly control him, and cultivating from childhood is the best choice. Naive, ignorant children become the Church's most fervent believers, the Church is their everything."