Gun of Ashes

Ingwig calendar, year 922.

Florence.

The heavy sound of the bell rang out, melodious and profound, as if it was an echo from ancient history. Just listening, one could feel the solemn heaviness.

As the remnants of the sun set, it peeked through the clouds intermittently, dyeing most of the sky into a deep red curtain. The boys sat on the banks of the Tiber River, the calm water reflecting everything, as if they were in a realm of the sky.

This might be the city's most devout moment. The whole world seemed covered by a red curtain, everything appeared so solemn, the low murmurs of prayer echoed through this majestic city, accompanied by the continuous ringing of the bell, as if in silent mourning for the end of the day.

Two somewhat lonely figures sat quietly by the riverside, this was one of the few times they could go out during the day, but even though they were outside, they were still within the range of surveillance.

The white-robed priests stood far away, but they judged the distance well, forming a circle, tightly enclosing the boys inside, keeping an appropriate distance to ensure they were always in view.

The blond boy lifted his head, looking somewhat annoyed at the priests.

"They're always watching me."

"To be accurate, they're watching us."

The boy next to him responded, looking around. In fact, there were many other boys like them here, everyone dressed in identical church robes, scattered everywhere, the clean white clothes glistening in the sunlight.

Holy, yet like a group of prisoners under surveillance, though what binds them is not the law, but divine authority.

"So annoying, they..."

The blond boy shook his head and then asked.

"What's your number again?"

"042."

The boy beside him responded.

"You really seem to have accepted the rules they set?" Seeing 042 so calmly accepting his identity, he appeared somewhat taken aback.

"What else? They give us food, provide a place to live... I don't mind." 042 answered, "Besides, aren't you just trying to show off? You know my number."

Indeed, each boy's number was printed on their robes. From the moment they came here, accepted by the Evangelical Church, they lost their names, replaced only by cold numbers.

"You're just a restless lamb. If the priests know you secretly use a 'name' again, you'll be confined." 042 warned.

The priests often described them that way; they were God's lambs, and the priests were the Shepherds. Lambs don't need names, they just need piety and obedience. But among the lambs, there are always restless ones, eager to leap out of the enclosing fences.

The boy before him was just such a restless lamb; ever since the "baptism," he had become increasingly unruly. During that mysterious baptism, every child saw bizarre things, some so complex that even the boys themselves didn't know how to describe them.

However, they did indeed gain something from that mysterious baptism: some gained knowledge, some hallucinatory dreams, and others, like him, gained a name.

"047, you need to be more compliant, I don't want you to get into trouble."

042 frowned and advised.

He and 047 were very good friends. Before being accepted by the Evangelical Church, they had roamed the streets of Florence together. Although they frequently got beaten and lived hand to mouth, for these few beggars, it somehow felt free and joyful.

After being accepted by the Evangelical Church, everything was reversed. They were trained, taught, with food and lodging managed, but they lost some freedom, even to glimpse the sun had to be under the watchful eyes of the priests.

"No, no, no, people always need something." 047 said.

"Like what?"

"Like a name, 042, you've always been like this, somewhat too timid." 047 wrapped his arm around 042's shoulder, speaking mysteriously.

"Sometimes, people need to make mistakes, do some forbidden things, after all, it's just small wrongs, God won't mind."

"Is this why you're so persistent?"

042 didn't quite understand, as long as one obediently follows, why do those extra things?

"Without a name, one is ultimately a beast, 042."

He continued.

"But I'm different; I have a name. I'm no longer a beast, and I hope you can be the same."

042 still appeared indifferent and responded faintly.

"We'll see, maybe someday, under your influence, I might change..."

The two exchanged glances briefly, then smiled, appearing somewhat reluctant and a bit sad.

"This might be our last meeting. The priests have said the ritual is about to take place, and only a few of us will survive."

042 mimicked 047's gesture, intertwining their arms, resting on each other's shoulders, their shadows cast long and slender in the sunlight.

"Yes, I hope we both survive; Lawrence, the Dean said he sees a lot of potential in me, he said I have hopes of becoming an outstanding one."

047 said, he deeply respected the old man. He was the mentor of all the children and the future tutor for becoming the so-called Demon Hunter, wearing a sacred red robe, his status was extraordinary.

"That's great."

042 congratulated 047.

"042!"

A priest called out.

At some point, another group had appeared under the shadow of the building, surrounding an elderly man. He also wore a red robe similar to Lawrence's, as vivid as if dyed with fresh blood, his expression naturally imposing, carrying stern severity.

047 merely looked at that old man from afar, feeling an inexplicable pressure. He quietly asked.