Gun of Ashes

The stench of blood lingered at the tip of his nose, followed by the chill seeping through his skin. He could feel the rain washing over him, repeatedly cleansing him, washing away the blood and stealing warmth.

Night Owl disliked such scenarios; to be precise, he disliked fighting in stormy weather because it always reminded him of that terrifying day.

It was on such a day, facing the same Demons, that Night Owl remembers nearly dying there, the endless despair leaving only mortals to struggle.

Since then, he lay in the hospital for quite a while, leaving him with some psychological shadows, and now, in this shitty moment, he encountered these shitty events.

"Ah... really wish I could just lie down forever..."

Night Owl’s consciousness was somewhat hazy, expressing a hopeful sentiment.

After the Anti-Meme weapon was detonated, it didn’t only affect Demons; it affected these mortals to some extent too. Night Owl felt his consciousness becoming extremely heavy, but soon, the cacophony of shouts pulled him back, and his vision began to slowly lift.

The Peacekeeper crossed the crimson puddles, lifting the fallen Sword Dancer with effort and raising him.

"Hold on!"

Night Owl heard the Peacekeeper’s call, but before he could respond, a stream of fire shot out and hit the Peacekeeper, charring its armor to ash and black, followed by sharp claws viciously hacking at it, leaving a huge dent.

Inside the dent, one could see the dense machinery structure, like dissecting flesh and pulling out entrails. Countless wires and metal components were extracted, as the Peacekeeper roared and fired, but the firelight was quickly subdued, the sharp claws piercing through the gaps, and the roaring ceased.

Night Owl’s gaze was somewhat vacant, through the cracks in the Face Armor, he could clearly see the blood seeping from within the armor, washed away quickly by the rain, mixing into the blood below his feet.

"Damn it!"

Night Owl roared, the wounded Sword Dancer struggled to rise, swinging heavy dual swords to smash the Demon, like cutting fish meat on a chopping board, the Sword Dancer swirling around and slashing.

The heavy blades easily sank into the Demon’s flesh, severing both muscle and bone, under the Sword Dancer’s fierce assault, it required no precise operation, just simple venting to dismember the Demon.

The body crumbled piece by piece, becoming countless fragments, falling into the blood water.

The Sword Dancer tried to continue moving, but a stream of fire emerged from the front, the Demon blazing, like a cannon, the membrane swelled, swallowing and spewing flames.

After drawing on Roger’s Secret Blood, the Demons were further "distorted," resembling the Evil Ghosts roaming Black Mountain Hospital, radiating fatal evil aura.

Night Owl tried his best to dodge the fire flow, but the passing heat still scorched unbearably, evaporating steam, making the armor inside sweltering.

"Be careful! Night Owl!"

A warning sounded, another stream of fire released from behind Sword Dancer.

The Spear of Melting spun forward, disintegrated in mid-air, turning into thousands of burning metal, like a barrage of pellets, dispersing the rain mist, incinerating the Demon behind the rain mist.

The Weapon Master came quickly, it picked up the armored fire gun, advancing while constantly firing, the burning firelight continuously forced back the Demons.

Bola gritted his teeth; since the Silent Sea expedition, he hadn’t experienced such intense combat for a long time. Everywhere he looked, there were Demons, including those Enhanced Demons with Authority traits, several times more difficult to confront than ordinary Demons.

"Next round of bombardment is coming! Retreat!"

Bola shouted, the Weapon Master repeatedly fired, covering the Sword Dancer’s retreat.

Through fierce battle, the ground water had completely turned blood-red, floating with Demonic remains and fallen Armors of Original Sin, like dead statues, piled with flesh and blood, becoming the battlefield.

The surrounding buildings were destroyed, the streets devastated, citizens evacuated to nearby outposts, and Bola was now guarding the advancing path—if these Demons breached, then a tragedy would unfold.

Taking a deep breath, Bola pressed the button, the Florun Potion injected along the embedded needle. He told himself it’s not a big deal, it’s just another battle.

Throughout Bola’s life, he experienced many near-desperate battles, probably as a taunt of fate. Whenever he thought he might not survive, he inexplicably did, then faced greater despair.

As if destined by the invisible.

Bola smiled wryly, and if such patterns truly exist, he didn’t know whether to be happy or sad, considering it a blessing or a curse.

In the rear position, the heavy Ghostly Floating Massacre stood there; these armors from Jiuxia were far heavier than the Armors of Original Sin, clumsy but heavily armed.

The roar of the cannons sounded, dozens of firelights soared into the sky, then fell with thousands of flames.

The continuous explosions roar, through Anti-Meme and Holy Silver’s blessings, every piece of metal fragments, carried a lethal threat, shattered into a metal storm, repeatedly slicing the Demon’s bodies, like mowing grass, instantly knocking down a large number of Demons.

Among the fallen flesh, some still survived, clad in Iron Armor, smooth on the surface, bright like a mirror, both protection and blade.

Bola’s expression was heavy; these Demons in Iron Armor were far more troublesome than any Enhanced Demons. Whether fire or high-speed Self-Healing, these Demons could be suppressed by firepower, but these Iron Armor Demons were different, most attacks failed to pierce their armor.

Suddenly, thinking of Lorenzo, Bola vaguely knew why Lorenzo hacked Demons so fiercely; with such armor protection, he was like an unresisting butcher, harvesting one life after another.

"Focus fire on them!"

Bola gave orders.

These Iron Armor Demons were extremely troublesome; once they advanced, Bola would struggle to reclaim the position from them.

The artillery roared, countless projectiles pounded the ground, the sturdy road pounded into pits of varying sizes, some damaging the pipelines, water gushing, and the entire ground began to collapse and crumble.

Anonymous individuals wielded weapons among the Armors of Original Sin, dealing with those Demons barely alive, giving them the final blow, the gunshots weren’t intense, but each shot shattered a head.

Heavy footsteps sounded, the Iron Armor Demons charged, projectiles hit them but couldn’t stop their advance, instead were deflected, splashing countless sparks.

With these Demons attracting firepower, the remaining Demons followed behind them, continuously spewing fire flows, launching another assault on the position.

"Night Owl! Wake up!"

Bola urged, but under continuous fighting, plus past psychological shadows, Night Owl’s actions had become distinctly sluggish.

The Sword Dancer’s pace began to slow, and its fuel tanks had already been destroyed in the first round of combat. The Weapon Master abruptly halted, taking the last armored fire gun from the weapon rack.

"Fire!"

Bola ordered, and at this moment, the buildings on either side of the street were blasted, revealing two huge oil tanks. With the walls collapsing, they rolled off the rooftop, crashing hard onto the bloodied road.

The Weapon Master raised his hand straight, watching the distance between himself and the Demons.

Closer and closer...

Pull the trigger.

The dazzling fire flow was launched, swiftly sweeping across the water’s surface, stirring a fleeting mist.

The red-hot metal fragments pinned into the surface of the oil tanks; shortly after, thunderous explosions rang, blinding flames robbing everyone of sight, leaving only a swirling blaze of burning white.