Gun of Ashes-Chapter 528 - 113 Saint

Borgia.

Lorenzo remembered this surname, originating from the notorious Poison Duke. They were active before the Golden Era, using poison and murder to control the Evangelical Church, but they were born from poison and perished by poison.

Never would have expected that Shermans was a descendant of Borgia, and unlike his cruel ancestors, he was a truly devout believer.

An explosion in the sealed wine cellar rolled up a scorching wind, Samuel’s twisted flesh near the entrance was directly blown out by the lacquered antimony explosion. After tens of seconds of calm, Lorenzo slowly stood up, surveying the chaos before him.

His whole body was filled with intense pain, specks of fresh blood slipped from his nose; due to the explosion, Cantrella’s toxins somewhat interfered with Lorenzo. This feeling was dreadful, as if countless maggots flowed along his veins, gnawing at his flesh.

This poison was a secret tradition of the Borgia family, capable of killing "humans" with its powerful venom. Due to this potent toxicity, it was later used to handle demon hunters, since they weren’t purely demons. They had human parts within them, and this poison targeted mortal frailties.

"Shermans!"

Lorenzo shouted, finding Shermans who was still barely breathing amidst the charred wreckage. He struggled to lift him up, the old guy barely opened his eyes, glanced at Lorenzo, and then coughed up blood.

"You’ve got a tough constitution. I thought you would be blown to bits directly."

Lorenzo said, but Shermans had no strength to banter with him, only weakly asked.

"Did he die?"

"Most likely not, after all, that’s the Authority of Yanar. But now, he probably doesn’t have the strength to pursue us further. He needs time to heal himself."

Lorenzo replied, not believing that the recent strike could kill Samuel. Not only because of the Authority but also because Samuel was already demonized, the Secret Blood Awakening surpassing the critical point, his body’s attributes leaped across the board, and not to mention that the shot didn’t pierce the heart.

But Samuel needed time to rest, and so did Lorenzo.

"We need to leave, the explosion must attract the other demon hunters. If we don’t withdraw quickly, we might all die here."

Lorenzo lifted Shermans’ arm, walking with some difficulty.

The fearsome aspect of demon hunters is that they always move in packs, a lone wolf like Lorenzo is a rarity. After all, it seems the old Order has only him left, he is the last lone wolf in the pack.

"You could leave by yourself." Shermans somewhat puzzled by Lorenzo’s insistence, knowing that abandoning him, he had a great chance to escape.

"No, I need your knowledge, your secrets, the past of the Evangelical Church and Demon Hunting Order, all these are in your brain."

Listening to his words, Shermans looked at Lorenzo with some amazement, his dirty face with grey-blue eyes shining brightly.

He too is somewhat of an obsessive guy, just like himself.

Shermans grinned silently, then weakly asked.

"Yage, you are not dead yet, right!"

After a long time, Yage pushed away the fragmented wood of a wine barrel pressing on him, waved at Shermans, but couldn’t utter a single word, as a shard from the explosion stabbed into his throat. He pressed tightly on it with one hand, or he would’ve bled to death by now.

Shermans’ eyes had no fluctuation, only struggled free from Lorenzo’s grasp, stumbling over, gently cupping his face.

"Child, you are going to die."

Yage showed him a wretched smile, then lightly nodded.

"It’s time for you to sacrifice yourself to God."

Yage’s expression froze but then melted away, he became relieved, seemingly having fulfilled a certain mission, his whole body relaxed, leaning against the wall.

In the Rat Nest, facing Lorenzo’s pursuit, he had said the same to the priests, and under his words, they gladly accepted death. Now it’s his turn, unexpectedly Yage felt no fear, even though he’s about to die, he felt at ease, as if after falling asleep, he would awaken in a glorious Divine Kingdom.

Shermans just kept staring at his face, with a faint sadness on his frail, decayed face.

...

Crystal-clear rain continually fell upon the earth, looking towards the heavens, the grey-silver clouds swirled with bright light, as if daylight was right there, ready to break free at any moment.

Lorenzo stepped on soft grass, braving the rain, helping Shermans over the fence.

Sporadic gunfire echoed from the direction of the wine cellar, it was Yage still resisting, Lorenzo had left all his ammunition to him, including the last lacquered antimony flying knife.

This was Shermans’ plan, what they needed most now was time. Yage would draw fire within the wine cellar, pretending they were still there, while Lorenzo and Shermans exited through another hidden door, aiming for the horses in the paddock.

No one knew when a train would pass by, better to ride a horse and gallop away.

"Does faith have such magic power?" Lorenzo asked.

He found it difficult to forget Yage’s last expression, not the look a dead should have.

"Perhaps." Shermans didn’t want to say much, sitting against the fence, he had little strength left.