Gun of Ashes

Chapter 912 5: Safe House

Like a roaring thunder crashing into a tranquil city, the serene sacredness was shattered in an instant. Everyone's expressions twisted with fear, and in this fleeting erosion, their flesh and blood began to deform, as if unable to maintain their human form, starting to collapse.

This was Watson's counterattack. Perhaps Ed never expected that after witnessing the difference in strength, Watson would still have the courage to resist. This time, Watson seized the initiative with the attack.

The collision of wills thus initiated, Watson attacked along her path of erosion, striking fiercely at Ed's [Gap].

She exerted all her strength, but after a brief pause, she felt all her power pouring onto an iron wall, all in vain, merely able to slightly shake Ed's [Gap].

Blood seeped from the corner of Ed's eye. This blow did not harm him but did have some minor impact.

Watson was gasping heavily, frightened by her actions just now.

The moment Watson attacked Ed, she came extremely close to Ed's [Gap]. Under that iron-like defense, Watson sensed the ferocity and violence from behind the iron wall, an ominous aura, as if the iron wall was not a defense, but a cage, tightly imprisoning the dark will behind it.

"You... what exactly are you?"

Watson gritted her teeth, her expression solemn.

This counterattack was not just to repel Ed but more to probe him, searching for any opportunity to find his weakness. Clearly, Watson didn't find it. Not only that, it seemed she had also angered him.

Ed was unlike any enemy Watson had encountered before. A physical body was merely a vessel to bear his will. The real battlefield was the void of the [Gap]. His presence directly shattered Watson's conventional understanding of combat. Even with a sharp sword in hand, it was of no use.

Ed's expression gradually became ferocious. He appeared calm and composed, but Watson vaguely sensed that, like the violent aura behind the iron wall, it was all just Ed's facade. His slender rationality barely restrained his true nature to prevent him from making more insane moves.

So... all means had been exhausted.

Under Ed's gaze, Watson gave a calm smile. The next moment, her flesh collapsed, blood unceasingly poured from her sunken, scarlet eyes, meaningless whimpers escaping her throat. Her bones became fragile, easily twisted by the muscles attached to them, finally collapsing into a mass of indistinct flesh and blood.

Watson died... no, not yet.

Ed realized that consciousness no longer resided in this flesh. In the end, Watson had chosen to flee. But it was useless as Watson had already exhausted her springboard. Now, if she wanted to leave, she would need to erode a new target. She and Ed were back on the same starting line, but evidently, she couldn't outrun Ed.

Ed closed his eyes. The erosion swept across the land like waves on an ocean, searching for Watson's location. But this time, the tide brought back no response, only unperturbed silence.

Watson disappeared.

…

The outskirts of Seven Hills.

On the chaotic and barren outskirts, a wooden cabin was built against a towering tree, looking like it had been there for some time. The walls were covered with vines, and the steps were laden with damp moss.

A man lay sleepless on the bed inside the cabin. He hadn't slept for several days, probably because he wasn't used to the bed.

He was a Holy Hall Knight, directly under the new Pope, and now he was on a top-secret mission... Well, he didn't really know what this mission was about. His records had been erased from the official archives; only the new Pope knew of his existence. All he had to do was live well in this little wooden cabin.

The man couldn't quite understand the mission's meaning. The only clue he could guess was the cellar beneath the cabin, stocked with emergency food and medical supplies, along with some weapons. It looked like a safe house, but he couldn't figure out what kind of safe house was worth protecting so diligently.

Or maybe… it just looked like a safe house? Was it actually a secret room for the new Pope to entertain mistresses?

Thinking so, he chuckled. Though he held reverence for the new Pope, everyone speculated more than once in private about the face behind that mask.

The man felt a tinge of sleepiness. He was about to sleep when his eyelids slowly closed, and then his body became rigid.

He vaguely sensed something, as if a pair of cold hands were brushing against his body, or as though an invisible tide had engulfed him. It was so cold, freezing him in an instant, making his soft flesh as solid as iron, locking his bones firmly, unable to make any reaction.

The man suddenly opened his eyes, dim specks of light rising in the dark.

Watson rolled off the bed swiftly. She was too nervous to breathe heavily. Based on what she remembered, she forcefully lifted the cellar's hatch and leaped in, landing hard on the ground, causing a painful crack under her knee.

No time to feel pain or scream. Watson crawled laboriously into the corner of the cellar, holding her breath, suppressing her power entirely. The starfire in her eyes was so dim, almost extinguished.