Chapter 1369 - 73: Supporting Role_2

The technician forcefully pulled down the lever, and all preset processes began to operate. For a moment, he felt that everything had quieted down.

Then, nothing remained.

"Ah...not totally futile, was it?"

The technician muttered, and the door shattered in response.

...

"Damn it! Hurry up!"

On the verge of death, Red Falcon didn’t forget to curse.

Blood and mangled corpses filled the gaps in the door. Red Falcon was stained in crimson from the back and forth hacking battles.

The Folding Blade continued to cut repetitively, but the sharp blade started to dull, eventually merely becoming an ordinary bludgeon.

Red Falcon tried to reassure himself, telling himself it was just one-on-one fights, time after time. Red Falcon wasn’t confident against the tide of Demons, but in one-on-one combat, he was still pretty confident.

But this confidence was gradually collapsing under an almost endless war of attrition.

The hand holding the Folding Blade began to tremble, not from fear, but simply due to exhaustion. After all, he was merely a somewhat special ordinary person, with finite stamina.

"I’m speeding up!"

Merlin responded, wiping off the accumulated dust on the dashboard. He barely managed to see the rusty pointers inside, observing the Furnace Pillar’s reaction.

He twisted one rusty valve after another, pressed buttons.

These operations weren’t difficult, but after years of disrepair, these things became extremely tight. In the end, Merlin started pounding with his hands, raising clouds of dust.

"Damn it, move already!"

Merlin tugged down the lever, staring at the pointer, with no reaction, and he kept trying nonetheless, still the same.

His worst fear came true—pure mechanical structures could rust and oxidize, yet have a chance of moving, but old circuit lines might not.

This place was originally slated for abandonment. Merlin had rushed here gambling on a chance, and it seemed he lost the bet.

"No more!"

Red Falcon screamed miserably, leaning back, and falling to the ground; even so, he didn’t forget to kick fiercely, trying to shove the nearby Demons back out the door.

After an undefinable duration of hacking, the Folding Blade finally couldn’t hold on anymore. It broke, leaving only a twisted half.

Red Falcon propped himself up with it, struggling to rise, pounding on the gun fragments caught between the gears until the gears bit together again, rumbling as the open doors merged shut.

The Demons screamed as they were crushed into a pulp under the heavy pressure, yet more claws reached out, struggling to prevent the merge and pry open the door.

"Ah...we’re safe, but only temporarily."

Red Falcon stared at the crimson door, glanced at the broken blade in his hand. This thing now, not to say cutting Demons, even killing humans would be a struggle.

"This time we’re truly out of everything."

He sighed, walking towards Merlin, leaning on the side, watching his busy efforts.

"How’s the situation?"

"Very bad, I’m trying."

Merlin took a deep breath; he stopped all his work, paused for a few seconds, then went through the process again, according to his memory.

He twisted valves, turned knobs one after another, finally pulled the lever.

No reaction.

No response at all, as if everything refused to respond to Merlin, leaving him with absolute silence.

"Damn it!"

Merlin cursed loudly, pounding on the machine as if he wanted to smash it apart.

Gradually, his anger couldn’t be maintained; he leaned to another side, slowly sat down, facing Red Falcon.

"So, we failed?"

Red Falcon asked, staring at the crimson door, horrifying sounds echoing from behind, as if Hell was right there.

Merlin answered dejectedly.

"So, our deaths are meaningless, correct?" Red Falcon asked again.

This time Merlin didn’t respond; he just kept his head down, wrapped in gloom.

In the somberness, heartless laughter rang out.

"Not bad, really; not everyone dies with meaning."

"I thought it might end like this," Red Falcon seemed to be very understanding, "After all, this isn’t some novel plot, this kind of gambler’s action can’t always succeed."

"Thinking about it, we’ve succeeded so many times before; losing once like this doesn’t seem much.

The thing is, people like us, losing once mostly means it’s the last."

Red Falcon seemed to be talking to Merlin, or perhaps just to himself.

"By the way, Merlin, these are the final moments, anything to say? I noticed in novels, during these scenes, some characters tend to talk a lot before dying, as if recounting their whole lives."

Red Falcon said and tossed the broken blade over, hitting Merlin’s head. Merlin slowly raised his head, his hollow eyes full of bloodshot veins.

"I have thought about my death, Red Falcon."

Merlin spoke softly, "I always dream about dying in front of Truth’s gate...I’m just one step away, but never able to reach it."

"Sounds horrible. Then you shouldn’t have taken on these responsibilities; you should’ve fled from the start. I don’t believe there’s no space for you on the Death Row list," Red Falcon replied.

"But there are things that are beyond personal pursuits."

Merlin disregarded Red Falcon’s words and continued.

"So many Merlins have jumped off the cliff. I’m glad, until the end, that I held to my principles and didn’t let Truth’s zealotry consume me."

On the cliff of reason, the last Merlin remained, rational Merlin, alone gazing at the sea of corpses below.

The atmosphere was silent for a few seconds; only endless sounds of snarling came from behind the door. After a long while, Red Falcon asked, befuddled.

"What...are you talking about?"

Red Falcon looked at Merlin, a bit dumbfounded; those noble words, Red Falcon didn’t grasp even a bit, seeing this, Merlin’s mood became peculiar, ultimately sighing helplessly.

"Never thought I’d end up dying with you."

"Do you think I want this?"

Red Falcon angrily cursed, his temper flaring.

The commotion behind the door grew louder; the door was slowly being pried open, showing some gaps.

Their faces remained expressionless, and then, at a certain moment, rumbling booms sounded within the pipes, followed by the difficult rotation of the dashboard’s pointer, shaking off dust.

Red Falcon and Merlin stood up simultaneously, watching the pointer on the dashboard.

"This...is this a success?" Red Falcon exclaimed joyfully.

"No, that’s not right, we didn’t accomplish anything."

Merlin didn’t understand; he had clearly failed, but soon he realized something, lifted his head, gazing upward.

"It’s not just us striving, Red Falcon...Seems like we’re the supporting characters this time."

Despite his words, Merlin still tried to smile.

This was good news, great news.

Hearing this, Red Falcon helplessly shook his head, picked up the discarded broken blade, and headed towards the door.

"So, I thought I’d be the savior, but someone got ahead."

He expressed his pleasure.

"If there’s an afterlife, I surely would buy that sorry fool a drink."

Red Falcon chuckled, ready to face his fate.

Both acted as if lighthearted, even the terror of death was diluted by the rotation of the pointer, laughing as if they weren’t going to die but rather leaving work for a gathering.

"If possible, I hope I can die on a sunny afternoon."

Red Falcon wished.

"Sounds good."

Another hoarse voice replied, not Merlin.

The crimson door opened at that moment, countless corpses rolled in, accompanied by flowing blood.

A gray figure stood before the door, holding a weapon, coolly watching the two; behind him were more similar gray figures, wielding weapons, holding back the Demons’ advance, and continually pushing forward.

"Not dead yet, are you, Red Falcon."

Galahad tossed a weapon to Red Falcon, without any mercy.

"Time for overtime."

Red Falcon clasped the weapon, his gaze blank, face twisted from calm to contorted, finally cursing loudly, stomping his foot.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Triumphant joy of surviving from death, or complaints of plunging into peril again is unknown.