Gun of Ashes

Chapter 935 14: Over the Fence_2

"This reminds me of my apprentice days when my teacher and I went to pick a fight, but we were beaten. That bastard used a nail hammer, alchemically modified his arm, and took alchemical elixirs before the fight. With one swing, he broke my sword, and the broken sword sliced my chest open."

Merlin's voice was weak. Due to a previous failed experiment, this guy barely had any facial expressions, and for this reason, Lorenzo found it hard to tell if he was genuinely nostalgic or actually dying and uttering nonsense before death.

"Doctor!"

Lorenzo shouted at the few surviving medical staff, who were petrified, huddled in a corner shaking. After Lorenzo's scold, they responded after a few seconds, picking up medical supplies from the pool of blood and rushing to Merlin's side.

"So how did you escape?"

Lorenzo made way for the medical personnel and continued to question Merlin, keeping him conscious.

"I didn't escape. That guy died. Everything has a price, Lorenzo. That lunatic used too many elixirs, and after swinging that hammer, his elderly heart couldn't handle the pressure and stopped abruptly."

Merlin coughed a few times as he spoke. Lorenzo guessed that this guy wanted to laugh just now, but unfortunately, he had long lost the ability to express.

"No... this doesn't seem right, Lorenzo. If William is their primary target for elimination, then based on the information we obtained from William... even though we might not know as much as William, logically, we should be the next target after dealing with William, right?"

After telling that strange story, Merlin became serious again, asking Lorenzo.

"Just now, it completely had the ability to kill us... at least kill me. It only needed a bit more effort, but they just left like that?"

Merlin had narrowly escaped death, and he couldn't believe it, couldn't understand this point.

In Lorenzo's previous words, Merlin vaguely guessed the logical actions of the Angels, but now these guys just left before thoroughly killing everyone.

"So they don't possess high-level autonomous consciousness; they are just machines executing orders, and machines can malfunction."

Lorenzo organized his thoughts.

"So, did the machine malfunction? Let us go? At such a crucial moment, so conveniently?"

Merlin found it somewhat impossible.

"Of course not. Machines can malfunction, but they can also be corrected... Remember what William said? Relying on human strength, we are far from being able to confront the Demon. It's said that the main battlefield against the Demon is never within the realm of human comprehension."

Lorenzo recalled Shermans' notes.

"Isn't there a possibility that something with a higher priority than us appeared, forcing all the Shepherds to retreat, which also reveals these machines' limitations? They could have killed us and left, but were entirely dominated by orders..."

Merlin's voice gradually faded; he was losing blood.

Listening to his speculation, Lorenzo gradually fell silent too. He looked up at the dome, where bright lights flashed.

With the Angels' departure, the locked Workshop reopened. The Cleaner Squad, already prepared, rushed into the Workshop, securing the site, then coordinated with Black Mountain Hospital's medical staff to transport the wounded. The platform beneath Lorenzo's feet descended slowly, and medical personnel had already prepared stretchers to receive Merlin.

"This is an information hazard. Any information exchange with related personnel is prohibited. Anyone found violative will be contained on-site."

The leading Cleaner warned using a loudspeaker, then blended into the crowd; they wore identical clothing and were hard to distinguish.

Everyone remained silent, even avoiding eye contact with survivors inside the Workshop.

The Cleaners wore heavy gas masks, only emitting low breathing sounds, ears covered with earplugs, and eyes shielded by tinted goggles, acting entirely by training guidelines to minimize any information exchange with the outside world.

"Another priority level..."

Lorenzo still stood in place; the hustle and bustle around didn't affect his thinking.

"What could be more important than us? So important that they all left at once..."

Lorenzo suddenly felt awful.

"Like... starving wolves crossing the fence."

...

Viking Nations, Caucasus Mountains.

A bitter cold wind swept down from the gray mountains, carving scars on the elder's face. The elder seemed numb to the cold's pain, long staring into the mountain's horizon, sighing helplessly.

The Vikings had many legends about these mountains called Caucasus Mountains. It's said that at the mountain's end lies sacred, warm land, that beyond this cold lies the Heroic Spirit Hall where Odin holds banquets. But decades ago, upon the Jiuxia Fleet's arrival, Westerners learned that beyond these almost endless mountains is a land called Jiuxia.

However, this didn't stop Vikings from fantasizing about the mountains. Sometimes they even called this range Kinlunga; in Viking mythology, it was a rift valley separating ice and fire. They were on the cold end, beyond the mountains was the warm end.

"Are you going to attend the banquet?"

A young voice sounded; a servant approached, inquiring of the elder.

The two were stationed on a lookout platform. Below the mountains was a not-so-prosperous village. Behind countless small houses was a massive longhouse, brightly lit as if a banquet were ongoing. Even from this distance, the elder could hear laughter.

"No, the End of All Things lunatics no longer offer me benefits; I'll just leave."

The elder shook his head; thinking of those madmen made him feel uneasy.

"Is that so? I think they're not bad," the servant tentatively said.

"What's good about it? Death? Killing oneself to absolve of sins, then going to the sacred Heroic Spirit Hall?" The elder looked at the young man as if seeing a fool, "When you think those lunatics are good, you've already been brainwashed by them."

"But... but the Heroic Spirit Hall is indeed good! Don't you yearn for it? Endless banquets and beautiful Valkyries..."

The servant's voice grew excited.

"And the price? Child, Odin gives you these, what do you need to pay?"

The young man was stumped.

"It's endless slaughter, setting off at dawn, dying, then waking up the next day to repeat. And still, this is meaningless; the Ragnarok of the gods is destined to come, and each of us will completely die, really die. There won't be a Heroic Spirit Hall or banquets, only absolute death, colder a thousand times than the Silent Sea."

The elder didn't want to argue further with this deluded servant. Seeing the hint of fanaticism in his eyes, the elder considered whether to finish him off and toss him into the sea. He'd done such things plentifully in youth, still skilled despite age.

"And most importantly, none of us knows if any of it's true, right? The Dead don't speak."

Having said that, the elder walked toward the longboat docked at the shore. The Viking Nations were split into innumerable islands by the sea; on the unfrozen tundra where technology hadn't spread, longboats remained crucial transport.

Boarding the longboat, sailors rowed vigorously, taking the elder away from that damned place. Perhaps nostalgic or curious about how marvelously those lunatics would die, the elder turned his head, looking toward the longhouse's direction.

His pupils froze, reflecting resplendent firelight and blurry shadows. The next moment, invisible shockwaves stirred snow dust, capsizing the longboat.

Immersed in the icy sea, the elder felt nothing, yet felt everything.

Mixed eerie emotions echoed in his heart like the Devil's whisper.