Gun of Ashes

Countless believers poured into this Holy Spirit City, celebrating tonight's Divine Birthday. Although winter had already arrived, the countless heartbeats still made it feverishly warm.

This is a religious festival from the Evangelical Church. According to the Gospel, the so-called God was born on this day, and because of His birth, the pitch-black world received its first ray of sunlight, thus a rain of fire blazed the entire world for seven days and nights.

The demons wandering on the desolate land died under the fire rain, and the newborn life was reborn from their ashes, melting glaciers caused the surging tides to swallow most of the world.

A beautiful new world slowly rose after this destruction.

But likewise, in the Revelation, this day also holds another significance. According to the description in the book, when God comes, the darkest shadow appears uniquely under His feet, which is the Abyss. On this day, not only did God appear, but the demons that fought against Him also crawled out of the darkness.

"What are you still waiting for, child?"

Stepping down from the carriage onto the blood-like red carpet, Dean Lawrence questioned Lorenzo, who still hesitated in place.

"I am thinking."

After a long pause, Lorenzo slowly replied.

"Thinking about what?"

"Everything."

As if hearing a joke, Dean Lawrence smiled and approached.

"There is no need now; what you need to do is to go and accept that honor, enjoy this celebration of victory."

The centuries-long war between the Demon Hunting Order and the demons finally ended; all sacrifices became worth it, with torches burning brightly in the night, eventually burning the endless darkness to nothing.

Blood turned into mead, bodies transformed into soft bread, and even the air seemed sweet.

Lorenzo couldn't help but look around, people's faces filled with fervor and joy, the praying Holy Words paired with the organ in the church, the melody continuously boiling, as if the entire world was in praise.

Indeed, this is a day worth celebrating, long ago God was born on this day, and in this distant future, the last demon will also be nailed to the cross.

Thus the masses revel.

"Let's go, Lorenzo."

Once again, Dean Lawrence extended his hand, as if inviting.

Behind him, at the end of the red carpet, the doors of Saint Nalos Cathedral slowly opened, with endless light spilling through the cracks, followed by increasingly loud sacred songs.

"Lorenzo, what are you still waiting for?"

Dean Lawrence still extended his hand, but on the other side, Lorenzo seemed frozen in place.

He quietly gazed at Dean Lawrence, his gray-blue eyes filled with pity and nostalgia.

"No, that's ultimately not my place... nor is the entire Florence or the Evangelical Church."

As Lorenzo spoke, he casually played with his clothes. Inside that sacred robe, he skillfully took out a metal box and lit a cigarette.

"I remember you don't smoke."

As if noticing a flaw, Dean Lawrence slowly said.

"Yes, it's a bad habit I picked up in Old Dunling."

Lorenzo said, looking at the surroundings of celebration, as if watching a farcical comedy.

"Dean Lawrence, do you remember? You led our specialized training for demon hunters; back then, you told us demons were corrosive, and before that terrible erosion, our will could only resist in a meager way."

"So we need a Venus to guide us out of darkness."

Dean Lawrence understood the meaning in Lorenzo's words, becoming slightly serious.

"Are you saying this is all an illusion, whether it's the Seven Hills or me, are merely hallucinations from demonic erosion?"

Lorenzo nodded with a smile; he had seen through all this at some unknown time, yet seemed in no rush to leave, perhaps for nostalgia's sake.

"Then Lorenzo, since you understand this is an illusion, how did you judge it?"

He continued to speak.

The so-called Venus can be many things, an object, a phrase, even a natural phenomenon. Exactly what it is doesn't matter; what matters is that the moment you know of its existence, you can distinguish illusion from reality.

"I remember you haven't found your own Venus, after all, such a thing requires absolute trust and uniqueness, an attribute many cannot find."

Like a small boat in a storm, human will wavers in the demon's storm; to escape this predicament, they need a direction, a Venus that can guide them out, but how splendid is the night sky, with endless stars hung above, they need a unique Venus that won't mix with other stars.

"So isn't this why we undergo the Divine Favor Baptism?"

Lorenzo answered lightly, the cigarette half burnt, misty white smoke rising slowly.

"In that ceremony, our spirits are specialized, while another memory not belonging to us but only known by us will appear in our mind."

He seemed confident in victory.

Dean Lawrence rarely stopped smiling, with a gentle demeanor now exuding a dangerous aura.

"So is it 42?"

The only thing he could think of was the strange yet seemingly meaningless number Lorenzo had once mentioned, but using that as a Venus seemed too absurd instead.

What 42?

42 birds, 42 sharp swords, or is it that the bronze plates are inscribed with the number 42?

It's too vague to determine.

So Lorenzo shook his head and rejected that answer.

"It's not. It's me."

"What?"

Lawrence the Dean didn't quite understand Lorenzo's words at first, but soon Lorenzo gave an explanation.

"Lorenzo Holmes. Is this name not a Venus in itself?"

"But there are many people in this world. What if someone has the same name as you?"

Once you've followed the wrong guiding star, the small boat can no longer sail out of the storm.

"No, because this name is very special. It hardly counts as a name; it's merely a symbol in place of a name."

Lorenzo quite liked this name, it was the embodiment of a wish.

"Moreover..."

His hand reached the familiar spot, and then he drew out a sharp blade from beneath the robe.

Nobody was disturbed by Lorenzo's drawing of the sword, for he was a priest, a Holy Hall Knight, a demon hunter.

This was a place where faith could solidify into reality. Everyone who could step inside was a believer in God; they held absolute trust among them, laughable yet as solid as steel.

Nobody would think Lorenzo capable of desecrating acts, after all, they believed he was like them, the most devout believer.

"What do you want to say?"

Lawrence the Dean also placed his hand under the robe, the blade that had accompanied him in battles for years quietly rested within the red garment, waiting for his command.

"I wanted to say, more importantly, this is not my dream... it's his."

"Just like the name Lorenzo Holmes, at this moment, this name has not yet been born.

Lorenzo quietly looked at the reflection of his face on the blade, it wasn't Lorenzo's face. Except for the same gray-blue eyes, the two faces were completely different.

It's been a long time.

Looking at the familiar figure in the blade, Lorenzo was filled with emotion, even after so many years, his influence on himself still existed, even when he was about to forget him, he was dragged back into his dream, into the dream of a dead man.

So from the very beginning, Lorenzo realized the vanity of this place, these were someone else's memories, someone else's dream, on Divine Birthday he wasn't at Seven Hills, nor did he have the right to directly converse with Lawrence the Dean, only he did, the person living in the depths of his soul.

"If I didn't have something else to do, I'd really like to stay here a little longer."

Lorenzo whispered, looking at the beauty that no longer existed, the next moment the sword swiftly rose up.

Lawrence the Dean, worthy of being the leader of the Demon Hunting Order, even though he was no longer in his prime, his reflexes remained outstanding, one could even say he was faster than Lorenzo, his blade swift as lightning, like electric light slicing through the night, tearing the air and producing a thunderous noise.

The clash of metals melded with the spark and the piercing sound, akin to the chime of a struck bronze bell.

All eyes turned towards this spot, in the sky a metal piece fell, a broken blade fragment, and pierced the red carpet as it descended.

"Truly worthy of you..."

Lorenzo held the broken sword, couldn't help but admire, even in the Illusion Realm, Lawrence the Dean was still so strong, strong enough to have an outcome in just the first round of engagement.

"Your will has been eroded, this is not a dream but rather the real reality."

The sharp blade lightly rested on Lorenzo's neck, Lawrence the Dean's gaze was grave.

This situation was also common within the Order, demon hunters get increasingly eroded in years of slaughter until they can't tell dream from reality; during the previous conversation, he had been trying to guide Lorenzo to find his Venus and walk out of the darkness, but he had clearly confused everything, trapped in the storm.

"I certainly don't have... Lawrence the Dean."

Lorenzo was indifferent to the blade threatening his life, still wearing that reckless smile.

"Your behavior is like a lunatic trying to prove he's not insane."

"So this is an unsolvable loop, right?"

"We can cure you."

"Are you referring to reinforcing the Silver Binding Bolt?"

Lorenzo laughed, seemingly mocking him, seeing Lawrence the Dean fall silent, he continued.

"In fact, there is another way to prove whether this is a dream."

His words carried an ominous tone, Lawrence the Dean sensed something different going on, almost instinctively swinging his sword, but this time he was a step too slow, the broken sword went straight through Lorenzo's chest, and with a wild laugh and reminiscing gaze, he looked at everything in this city.

If trapped in a dream, just wake up, as long as you can wake up.

"Nice to meet you again, Lawrence the Dean."

Blood uncontrollably gushed out, leaving the warm body, as if it was a farewell, he said.

"The things of the old era should end here."

With a smile, he swiftly pulled out the broken sword, and with Lawrence the Dean's astonishment, Lorenzo pierced him once again.