Gun of Ashes

He looked up at Lancelot, whose towering figure resembled a mountain, his rugged body clad in plate armor, which appeared infinitely sharp like a sword hidden in its sheath.

Lorenzo could feel the gaze from beneath the face armor, the mysterious Lancelot was watching him.

Lorenzo had heard Red Falcon and Bola talk a lot about this Knight Commander, besides praising his formidable willpower, there was also the mystery of this Knight Commander.

Within the Purification Mechanism, everyone had a code name, and the names of the Round Table Knight Order from Ingwig's mythology were the most honorable. Only those holding the highest positions in the Purification Mechanism had them, such as Duke Phoenix, who managed the entire Purification Mechanism, with his code name being Arthur.

The next in rank were the upper-rank knights below these Knight Commanders, and their code names were usually derived from birds. Even so, everyone still had their original names, and those with a good personal relationship would even know each other's real names. But Lancelot was an exception.

Every time they saw Lancelot, he was clad in the Armor of Original Sin. In another sense, basically, no one had ever seen Lancelot without his armor. Whether he was tall or thin, what he looked like was entirely unknown. The only confirmation of his gender was through his voice.

There were even speculations internally that Lancelot wasn't human, but some kind of monster developed by the Perpetual Motion Pump, after all, only a monster could perfectly control armor, and only a monster wouldn't want to remove the armor to reveal themselves.

Lorenzo curiously observed that face armor for a long time, but he did not respond for most of the time. Soon after, as if he had received some command, Lancelot turned and proceeded to the Iron Serpent that brought him.

It was a steel seat, and as Lancelot sat down, the machinery clamped it in place. Soon, a group of people in white coats crawled out from the corner, with a white coat imprinted with a snake swallowing its tail. They were the maintenance personnel from the Perpetual Motion Pump, connecting pipes and circuits to the armor. Subsequently, the armor was filled with low-temperature gas, calming the active demon matter.

It was as if the restless life had once again fallen asleep. Lorenzo could clearly sense the armor's power waning, but the face armor inside did not spring open, as if Lancelot had drifted into slumber with the armor.

Finally, the armor on the Iron Serpent closed once more, obscuring Lorenzo's view, enveloping and sealing him like an iron coffin.

Not long after, Joey arrived late, panting heavily. But soon, his breath calmed down and became orderly.

Wearing a gentle smile, just like when Lorenzo first saw him before.

Glancing at him, Lorenzo then shifted his gaze to the direction of the Iron Serpent. As clouds of steam overflowed, the Iron Serpent began to move slowly along the track, then accelerated and disappeared from Lorenzo's sight.

"Have you ever seen Lancelot's true appearance?"

Lorenzo asked somewhat inadvertently, rarely showing sudden interest in someone.

Joey shook his head, seemingly understanding why Lorenzo was so curious, and said to him.

"The identities of the Knight Commanders are confidential. Within the Purification Mechanism, only Arthur knows their full details."

"Is that so?"

Lorenzo found it somewhat interesting. He had initially thought the Purification Mechanism was merely a continuation of the Demon Hunting Order's approach towards the Demon Organization, but after these days of contact, he realized that the Purification Mechanism was far more complex than he had initially thought.

More Iron Serpents arrived from the other side of the tracks, and the Cleaners responsible for cleaning the battlefield finally arrived.

...

"I confess to you, my mentor."

Inside the church confession room, the man leaned against the wall, his eyes vacant as he looked at the dark ceiling.

His entire body emitted a foul stench, dried blood smeared across his cheeks, countless wounds littered on his tattered clothes. Yet, with the wriggling of flesh, they were healing. In a terrifying scene, one bullet head after another was pushed out from the wounds by the flesh and blood, but he seemed to feel no pain at all, blankly staring at the ceiling.

"I, in God's name, forgive your sins."

The voice came from behind the curtain, where someone could barely be seen, listening to his confession.

A glimmer appeared in the vacant pupils of the man, but quickly dimmed again, tears welled up from his eyes. He slowly raised his hand as if seeing an illusion, countless people were shouting at him in rage.

"But… I killed people, many people, in cruel manners."

"But weren't they sinners? You were merely executing your justice; God will forgive these things."

That voice was like warm sunlight.

"Really?"

The man's voice trembled a bit, as if he hadn't expected such a response.

"Yes, everyone has their justice, their beliefs. Perhaps, in your belief, this is innocent, but in others' eyes, it is guilt. You cannot judge others' good or bad, but you know your own nature. The only one who can judge you is yourself."

His breathing turned rapid, as if he had gained some affirmation. A person who had never been affirmed received affirmation. He tried to get up, but it moved his wounds, making him cry out in pain.

"I feel like I'm not myself anymore."

He said, somewhat confused. The man was once so weak, but now he could coldly kill one person after another.

"Or could it be that you have found your true nature?"

The mentor's voice echoed within the small space, like a spell, repeating over and over.

"Don't stop, child. What you need to do is not completed yet. Those justices that need to be enacted are not yet fulfilled, are they?"

Like a lost lamb suddenly received guidance, the man murmured repeatedly over the mentor's words, seeming to regain his will to move again, but then he began to cry once more.

"I don't think I can do it anymore, I can't do it. I encountered some people who were very powerful; I almost died."

The curtain was pulled open, and the man immediately tensed up, but then an old hand reached in, leaving behind several syringes, followed by a solemn voice.

"You are a child of God, and we will not abandon you. If there are formidable enemies, then we shall bestow upon you the sword to carry out your justice, child."

The man stared blankly at the syringes before him, then seemed to see hope within them. He struggled to stretch out his hand to grab it, his muscles moving the wound, causing a low groan of pain, yet he did not give up. Finally, he grasped hope, but the old hand reached out again from behind the curtain, holding onto him tightly.

He was somewhat terrified, the powerful force pulling at him, yet he couldn't break free. Filled with fear until the mentor's voice spoke again.

"But all of this comes at a price, child, but do not be afraid. This power requires only your small sacrifice. Are you willing?"

"I am willing!"

Not waiting for the mentor to continue, the man immediately replied, as if fearing he would regret it.

"I have nothing left. If just this much can satisfy my desires, what else could I wish for?"

He continued, eyes burning with fire, like a phoenix from the ashes.

The mentor was slightly taken aback, but then laughed, as his voice echoed in the man's ear.

"Yes, just like that, child, this is the right thing, this is a just thing. Those people cannot give your girl a just response, so you must personally execute it, and God will forgive everything, for you have already given your all."

As those words were spoken, something inside the man's heart became increasingly resolute. He stood up from his own pool of blood, his blood-stained hand tightly gripping the mentor's hand, and through the dim curtain, he could somewhat make out the person behind it, gratefully saying.

"Thank you, Mentor Lawrence."

Blood seeped through the gap in the door, quietly flowing over the floor, the crimson reflecting the man's grim figure.