Gun of Ashes

"I am already too old. Every time I trigger the Secret Blood, it comes with great risks. Sometimes, even I am unsure what would happen if I were to be completely consumed by it... After all, no Demon Hunter should live as long as I have."

Lawrence, the Dean, smiled as he looked at Lorenzo. He bore the wounds left by Lorenzo and Lancelot. Blood had almost completely stained him red. He was elderly, and his Authority had been seen through by Lorenzo. Clearly, victory was at hand, yet it was overturned at the last moment... Or perhaps, victory was never on Lorenzo's side.

This was the reason for his confidence, right? From start to finish, everything was under his control. What was being done now was merely a last resort.

Lorenzo stood frozen in place. In his eyes, Lawrence, the Dean, was no longer human. Although he maintained his humanoid shape, the overwhelming erosion was more intense and frightening than any Demon Lorenzo had ever encountered.

At this moment, Lawrence, the Dean, was like a walking source of pollution, but this didn't seem to be his limit.

The Armor of Original Sin was silent, and Lancelot made no move. It seemed he had been knocked unconscious by the impact of the eruption of erosion. After all, these people relied on the Florun Potion for Mental Specialization. Compared to Lorenzo, who bore Secret Blood, they had far less resistance to erosion.

Most people within the range of erosion fell into unconsciousness immediately, with only a few still struggling to hold on, trying to observe that eerie, mysterious entity.

"Stop, child. Let tonight end here."

Lawrence, the Dean, had lost the desire to continue fighting. His target had been protected, and he was unwilling to stimulate the Secret Blood for too long. After all, the Secret Blood was a Devil hidden within him, always trying to destroy his will.

It might have been more manageable when he was younger, but Lawrence, the Dean, was now too old—so old that even he, supremely confident in himself, had little assurance.

Now was not the time for him to burn completely.

"No... you cannot leave. I must... I must!"

A venomous whisper came from beneath the pitch-black Armor, as Lorenzo advanced slowly against the overwhelming erosion.

He could not let Lawrence, the Dean, escape, no matter what the reason. This feeling of erosion was too familiar to him—one of the erosions that engulfed the Night of the Holy Arrival, a night Lorenzo would never forget.

Indeed, Lawrence was involved in the Night of the Holy Arrival. He must die; he had to pay for all of this.

"Lawrence... Lawrence!"

Lorenzo shouted weakly until his steps became wobbly. The Armor disintegrated and wilted piece by piece, leaving him powerless, kneeling on the ground, using the Great Sword to keep from falling completely over.

What was happening to him?

Lorenzo couldn't think clearly. He struggled to lift his head, but his vision had completely blurred. The whole world began to twist, deform, and fall apart.

In his eyes, Lawrence, the Dean, began to change. The human appearance was ultimately hard to maintain. Indescribable strangeness appeared on that body, as if something had replaced Lawrence, the Dean, using this aged body as a medium to manifest... descending upon it.

On this Night of the Holy Arrival.

The large Geiger Counters hidden nearby all overloaded and were destroyed. On the map of the Peeping Tom System, the entire area was blood-red, with erosion exceeding observable values slowly rising.

"Lawrence..."

In a dreamlike state, Lorenzo fell, the black shadow covering the earth.