Gun of Ashes

Chapter 1003 - 45: The Thief (Part 2)

Eve analyzed the various pieces of information about the other party, but the more she analyzed, the less she understood. She even wondered if it could be a friend of Lorenzo. But does a guy like Lorenzo even have friends?

People she knew were either lying in Black Mountain Hospital or on duty, and no matter how much Eve thought, she couldn’t think of anyone else... friends from Old Dunling? Not likely either. Lorenzo never directly talked to Eve about them, but from Arthur and others’ words, she roughly understood that after the Night of the Holy Arrival, Lorenzo lost all his friends.

Then who could it be? Is it truly a desperate thief? If so, how unlucky he must be.

Eve cast her gaze toward the second floor, advancing slowly. Hig’s door was shut tight, no one had moved it, but Lorenzo’s door had a small gap, not closed tightly.

Gently pushing the door open, Eve saw the thief, curled up on Lorenzo’s bed, sleeping on his side.

Eve began to understand what was happening. She had heard from others that some people sneak into homes when the owner is away, usually homeless people.

She felt a little disappointed, thinking it would be someone more interesting.

The folding blade slowly pressed against the blanket, nearing the person’s throat, as Eve raised her foot and kicked.

"Get up, hands up."

There was no response from the person on the bed; was he sleeping so soundly?

Eve had a terrible thought. She lifted the blanket abruptly, discovering it was filled with pillows and clothes shaped like a person—she was tricked.

Almost simultaneously, a sound came from behind Eve, a woman swung Lorenzo’s trousers, gripping both ends and wrapped them tightly around Eve’s neck.

From the moment Eve entered the office, the woman noticed her arrival. It was all just her trap; she hid behind the door, waiting for the moment Eve let her guard down.

The sudden change made Eve disoriented, and by the time she reacted, her neck was already strangled. Grabbing the fabric forcefully, she swung the folding blade.

The slash missed, but it didn’t matter; Eve found that the woman behind her seemed to lack strength. She arched her body hard, grabbed the woman’s hands along the tightened trousers, and threw her over.

As a natural ranger, Eve might not be as powerful as a demon hunter, but compared to most ordinary people, she exerted an intimidating suppression.

Heavy slammed to the ground, the woman let out a whimper, trying to get up and resist, unafraid of Eve’s folding blade. She grabbed Eve’s feet, pressed against her thighs, and forced her down, using momentum to push her outside the room.

Eve momentarily lost her balance, the narrow space limiting her blade strikes, and she didn’t intend to hurt the woman. She crashed through the door, tumbling into the hallway.

Although Eve never hesitated to slash demons or enemies, she’s not a bloodthirsty lunatic who kills indiscriminately.

The two collided back and forth in the hallway, Eve’s elbow fiercely struck the woman’s chest, followed by a kick to her abdomen, flipping her into the stairwell, where she rolled until she slowly came to a halt on the living room floor.

Dizzy, the woman’s fatigue affected her judgment. Just as she tried to get up, swift Eve arrived above her, not giving the woman another chance. While she might not want to kill the woman, incapacitating her was quite easy.

The woman barely stood up and was thrown down by Eve again, lacking strength, her fragile form heavier than she imagined.

Pinned to the ground, Eve pressed down on her shoulder with a knee, the cold folding blade poised at the edge of her neck, reflecting her own face off the shiny metal.

An unfamiliar face.

"Be honest, don’t move."

Inhaling, Eve subdued the woman, roughly assessing her. The woman didn’t seem like an Ingwig native, wearing gray clothes with the scent of earth and sea breeze, appearing to be a traveler, having traveled for an unknown duration before reaching Old Dunling. Unable to see her face clearly, Eve couldn’t determine her exact age, but her hazy intuition told her the woman was much older.

Overall, the signs suggested she was just an ordinary person, which somewhat relaxed Eve’s vigilance.

"Who are you? Why did you come here?"

Faced with Eve’s questioning, the woman remained silent, her mood terribly vexed. She never expected herself to fall to such a state.

The woman had not felt this in a long time, and now tasting it again, she realized the heaviness and burden of the human body.

The flesh is so fragile, bleeding, injured, ravaged by diseases, feeling fatigue and pain—it is so humble.

Suddenly, the woman thought, perhaps the path of Ascension is truly a road to becoming a God. Humans advance toward higher, purer existences, where willpower is no longer shackled by worldly matters, enjoying absolute freedom and dominion.

"Where is Lorenzo?"

After a few coughs, the woman didn’t answer Eve’s questions, instead voicing her own doubts.

"He’s been gone for days, where did he go?" she asked again.

"Lorenzo? You know Lorenzo Holmes."

Eve felt something strange. She never expected the woman to know Lorenzo. It seemed she came here for Lorenzo.

Lorenzo’s enemy? No, Lorenzo should not have such weak enemies. If she came for revenge, it would be suicidal.

Lorenzo’s friend? Also unlikely. After knowing Lorenzo for so long, Eve never knew of a friend like this, so battered and weary. She seemed to have traveled from afar.

"What’s your relationship with him?"

Eve continued questioning, starting to think the woman under her might not be an enemy. But she also knew anyone connected to Lorenzo was always troublesome.

"You don’t need to know."

"Then I can’t tell you."

They reached a stalemate, and suddenly the woman burst into action, twisting over, misaligning Eve’s knee. Amid the crossing blades, she moved quickly, the action ludicrous, like crawling, then forcefully rolled, crashing into the wall.

Perhaps unused to long-term use of the flesh, the woman was unfamiliar with the various sensations of her body. Sometimes her movements seemed clumsy, coupled with her inner anxiety, her will felt shackled by flesh, with the feeling of being trapped growing more intense over time.

"Getting serious?" the woman muttered softly.

Eve’s folding blade left a scar on the ground; if the woman had been any slower, that scar would have been on her.

"Who told you not to behave?"

Frustration welled within Eve. It was supposed to be just catching a thief, but the situation clearly escalated into something more complex.

Raising her eyes, her gaze fell on the woman, an ordinary one, nothing memorable, tired eyes, panting against the wall, air tinged with the smell of blood. She’s been through a lot, lacking any battle spirit.

Yet... her headpiece had something distinctive about it.

Eve wasn’t sure if it was indeed a headpiece or a sort of crown, made of silver-white metal, crudely crafted, intertwined like rotting wood, seemingly growing along the woman’s skull.

"I... have seen this crown."

Eve was very familiar with the crown, remembering she had not only seen it but worn it briefly.

That crown belonged to Lorenzo.