Gun of Ashes

Except for the dim light emanating from the sky, there was no other source of illumination.

Shrouded in an eerie gloom, the mysterious unknown lurked within the ancient town, peering at everyone from the shadows.

Unbeknownst to them, the atmosphere grew tense, tinted with shades of fear.

"Isn't this some horror story you've concocted?" Red Falcon questioned skeptically, considering the notorious penchant of this great detective, it wasn't impossible.

Lorenzo merely shook his head, his gaze scornful.

"Red Falcon, what do you think fear is? Or rather, what is the definition of fear?"

"Afraid… scared?"

Red Falcon was at a loss. He tried to define fear but found it incredibly difficult to rationally describe this common term.

"Yes, it's a sort of 'neglect' by humans, just like how people enjoy the convenience of steam engines without pondering how they function. People have grown accustomed to the existence of fear without considering its origins."

The gray-blue eyes flickered with an uncanny light. One had to admit, when this detective started telling stories… or rather, imposed his thoughts on others, they could clearly feel that bizarre power.

"Fear is accurately a state of psychological activity brought about by uncontrollable, uncertain, and unpredictable factors around us, a strong negative psychological state."

"And this doesn't only affect us psychologically; it also impacts us physically."

Lorenzo suddenly realized something, linking two things together, and spoke faster.

"From your consciousness affecting your body."

Lorenzo looked at them, wearing a slight smile, "I believe each of you has felt this deeply, haven't you?"

"When fear begins, the human body enters an emergency state, releasing large amounts of adrenaline, breathing becomes heavy and rapid, heart rate increases, blood circulation speeds up, muscles receive more blood, providing greater strength and speed.

Pupils dilate to receive more light; the brain releases dopamine-like substances, heightening mental concentration, to quicken response and judgment…"

He suddenly paused and spoke solemnly.

"But this… is so similar to how Demons erode us, spreading from consciousness to body."

In the serenity, there was a reverberation like a great bell, striking common thoughts. Perhaps they didn't even realize their breathing had quickened and deepened, pupils slightly dilating.

It took a long time before Joey slowly spoke.

"Lorenzo… honestly, rather than a detective or Demon Hunter, you might be more suited to be a Cult leader."

"Naturally, since one must become a Priest before becoming a Demon Hunter. Though it's just a formality, I feel my talents in being a Priest are exceptional."

He was animated, dismissing Joey's words.

"But no need to mind these things, just regard it as the wild imaginations of a person, for I am one who overthinks…"

Despite saying this, his gray-blue eyes held a complex and strange emotion.

"Now returning to the Valley of Horror task, when we stood on the deserted street, we all felt that peculiar sensation, that feeling of fear, like an erosion, it captured us."

"This prompted our vigilance, and according to plan, we returned to the church."

The memories gradually sharpened, in that gray world, the church stood like a black silhouette in the gray realm, its tall spire like a lance.

"We initially thought we might encounter something bizarre on the road, but there was nothing… In truth, this quietness was unsettling. If, on the way back, hundreds of Demons had appeared, it might have been more comforting than the silence."

"After all, with Demons appearing, fear takes form, and as long as something has form, it can be killed by the Nail Sword."

Lorenzo spoke fiercely.

"But evidently, the Demonic lurking under the gray mist was more complex than we thought, attacking us from all angles to instill fear."

At the end of the gray, the heavy church doors were pushed open, a surge of blood scent greeted them, as the devout Priest lay in a pool of blood with a face full of piety.

The trembling mist enveloped the young Demon Hunter, leaving them at a loss, tightly gripping the Nail Sword, wielding the power of Steel Breaker, but with the enemy becoming formless, it seemed futile.

"The Priest is dead, but it wasn't murder; it was suicide."

Lorenzo recalled that terrifying scene and said lightly.

"He sacrificed himself."

It was as if an elusive Spell, a sudden gust of wind surged outside the window.

"Sacrificed… himself?"

Bluebird's voice sounded somewhat heavy, and Lorenzo nodded, continuing.

"To the unknown, I offer all I have, please protect this island in the darkness."

That was inscribed on the church pew, stained with blood, seemingly the Priest's final words.

"We should have realized this sooner; the reason the church didn't report it was because they had already become part of that mysterious Cult."

The atmosphere cemented as it had never before.

"The devout Priest had long fallen."

His voice carried a hint of dread as well. Lorenzo had no idea how long he had been fallen, nor when the strangeness in Valley Town began.

"We've walked into a trap, everyone in Valley Town is an enemy."

The swirling mist consumed everything, blood slowly flowed across the floor, eventually spreading under Lorenzo's feet.

The not yet dried blood depicted a complex, grotesque pattern, with the Priest fallen within, a face full of piety, devotion not to the God, but to the darkness.

The entire old castle shattered, the four sat firmly amidst the chaotic winds, then the pristine bricks rose from the ground, layering one upon another, with warm candlelight flickering like waves in the wind.

Memory and reality overlapped.

Engulfed in the scene.

It seemed as if the four sat upon that pew, the holy statue rising from the hearth fire, blood streaming from its eyes, gazing at those who, in the future, would revisit all of this, waiting for their prayers.

The detective slowly stood, gently caressing the pale golden statue, but then, blood flowed down from it, staining his hand.

In the distant past, within that memory's deep church, the leading Demon Hunter slowly turned to look at the other two, young cheeks full of vigilance and unendurable fear.

"This place… is a trap."

042 spoke.

Suddenly, a cacophony erupted from beyond the church, a chilling sense of otherness arose from the gray mist, black silhouettes rising within, the sickly townsfolk holding torches and crosses haphazardly crafted from iron wire and wood.

That was the fear buried deep within the memory, pale faces smeared with strange symbols drawn in blood, severed limbs held aloft.

It was at that moment Lorenzo suddenly understood why the dead bore no signs of resistance… it was a sacrifice, ritual after ritual, offered to that unknown existence.

The entire Valley Town was a massive altar, and perhaps the fleeing postman had once been one of the sacrificial offerings.

Their faces were distorted, grotesque, cheering and shouting.

"No no no…"

042 looked at this scene incredulously, then roared.

"Come back! 016!"

Hearing 042's roar, 016, who was at the door, came to her senses and quickly approached. The three Demon Hunters drew their Nail Swords, warily watching the frenzied crowd outside the church, as burning projectiles were thrown into the church, one after another.

In the blink of an eye, everything was ablaze.

It was only when they drew near that the Demon Hunters saw their faces, masks carved from human skin and white bones, abhorrent masks as they dashed eagerly forward like surging waves.