Gun of Ashes

He was a doctor, the only thing he ever used that might count as a weapon was a scalpel, Buscalo had never used a gun. Although he knew pulling the trigger could shoot, even aiming was difficult for him.

His bloated body slowly came to a stop. Buscalo stood dumbly under the pouring rain, and then he began to cry loudly.

He didn’t have the strength to run, nor did he possess any strong will. He couldn’t even fire a gun. Everything was just a momentary burst of anger, but after the anger faded, Buscalo deeply realized his powerlessness and failure.

In this moment of crisis, he couldn’t save his wife... he couldn’t even save himself.

"I’m such a failure..."

A vast sense of helplessness swallowed Buscalo, the more he recalled, the more he suffered.

Through the rain and mist came a rapid sound, the Demon was accelerating closer, death was approaching. Buscalo, driven by instinct, grabbed the gun and fired randomly. But the gale and cold rain disrupted him, not a single bullet hit the target.

The Demon was already close enough that Buscalo could easily see its appearance.

The Demon was four-legged, crawling like a beast, hind legs arching, ready to pounce. The surface was crimson with no skin protection, flesh and blood exposed directly, its slender tail swayed gently, trailing a sharp blade at the end.

Then the Tail Blade swung up.

He was going to die, so absurd and meaningless.

Buscalo even started to blame himself, wondering why he rushed out; he should have been shivering in the tavern, waiting for those heroes to save him...

"Get away!"

Buscalo gripped the gun barrel, swung it forcefully, and smashed the incoming Tail Blade with the gunstock.

No, he had enough of being a failure.

The gunstock miraculously caught the Tail Blade, the gun was shaken out of his hand, and Buscalo fell backward into the water, struggling to get up to avoid drowning.

Indeed, still in vain, he failed again.

After all, he was just a mortal. It wasn’t as if shouting some fierce words could defeat a bloodthirsty monster.

Buscalo watched the Demon pouncing towards him, and his mind went blank for a moment.

A deafening gunshot rang out, hitting the Demon’s head, its mid-air form crashed into the water, it struggled to get up, but soon Shao Liangxi flew in with a Folding Blade, severing its wildly dancing Tail Blade.

Another roar sounded, a Demon rushed from the side, but the speeding longsword was quicker than it, Buscalo could only see a flash of white light, then long spikes penetrated the Demon’s neck, piercing through its spine.

Someone strode forward, splashing water half a man high.

To him, whether a weapon’s blade was sharp or not didn’t matter, as long as he had enough strength, even a blunt blade could smash through bones.

"Hah-rugh!"

Oscar let out a breath, roared, swung the Hand Axe, fiercely crashing it onto the Demon’s shoulder, jumped and turned, grabbed the longsword stuck in its neck and pulled it out forcefully, slicing open most of the Demon’s head along with it.

Blood stained his face red, without hesitation, the longsword stabbed down again, into the Demon’s chest, gradually, it stopped struggling and was swallowed by the rising water.

Oscar turned his head back, smiling at Buscalo, who asked somewhat blankly.

"Aren’t you a writer?"

Looking at the blood-soaked Oscar, Buscalo suddenly realized he seemed to have never truly understood this old friend.

"Writers need to go out and gather material," Oscar held a sword in one hand, a Hand Axe in the other, "Have you read my book ’The Life of Oscar Wilde’?"

"No... no," Buscalo shook his head stiffly, "Why?"

"What a pity, you should read it, it’s a good book. In the book, I mentioned that when I was young, I was a thief, a gunman, a swordsman, an assassin, a bandit, a pirate, an adventurer, a captain..."

"Oh, right, also a Nation-Builder, accurately, a former Nation-Builder."

Oscar mumbled, walking towards the next Demon.

"That’s why, people need to read more books!"

He swung the long sword and Hand Axe, under his aged frame, the power of a thousand pounds resonated, tearing through the hazy rain and mist, hearing the sound of bones cracking.