big devil holmes

Chapter 540 The Last Commission
History is reluctant to depict war.

But no matter how brainwashed the people of the empire were, no matter how ignorant those ignorant lower-class people were about power and the world, they would never be able to understand why General Patton was executed?
As the flames of war burned to the other side of hell, the most famous front-line commander in the entire empire was ordered to be executed by the emperor?

This is no longer a question of wisdom or not.

This is absolutely crazy!
In fact, since this human king took office, his madness has been witnessed by all, but no one has ever thought that one day he would become so crazy that it is unreasonable.

What is even more unacceptable is that the day after General Patton was executed, Emperor Moriarty personally went to the Elbes Mountains to serve as the commander-in-chief of the Hell Counterattack.

At this point, the darkest moment in the empire's history finally arrived.

It may be out of hatred, out of the desire to rule another world, or simply because he is a warmongerer who has the right to wage war at any time.

In short, the first batch of imperial soldiers boarded the elevator left under the gate of hell. With fear of the unknown, they ascended into the darkness above their heads, passed through the inexplicable void, and finally arrived at the desperate world they called "Hell".

Step onto the barren land, witness the weathered ruins of the city, the scarlet light in the sky, and demons crawling all over the world.

They raised their guns and started shooting, following the wreckage of the mechanical creations to find the last surviving city of mankind. Here, the Imperials finally came into contact with the original inhabitants of Hell for the first time.

After 800 years, human language has not changed much, so gradually, those dusty historical truths are finally known to people.

Hatred still controls the minds of humans in both worlds.

Who is the intruder?
Who is the victim?
Everyone has a different stance, and as we guessed at the beginning, the truth cannot eliminate hatred.

But years of war have made everyone begin to hate war. Killing has long been meaningless. The imperialists seem to be just subconsciously obeying orders, and the survivors of hell are just stubbornly resisting in despair.

Exhausted.

Just like in the ancient legend, the man who was pushing the boulder up the slope of the mountain had been tortured to the point of collapse, but he could not stop, because as soon as he relaxed, he would be crushed by the rolling boulder, and he could only continue to suffer like this, with no end in sight.

【The war should not continue any longer.】

【Let all this stop. 】

In fact, everyone has such a cry in their heart. Even in hell, everyone who is fighting has such a cry in their heart. When they are tiredly raising their weapons and trying to kill each other, they are also shouting such words in their hearts.

In the wreckage of a building, a series of gunshots rang out, followed by the shouting of two people struggling with each other, and finally with a "thump", the two people fell to the ground, their bodies covered with bullet holes and blood.

This was just a small corner of the battlefield, where a soldier who had lost contact with his troops happened to meet a shameful deserter from the other side.

So the two men started fighting.

One was exhausted, and the other was just a conscripted volunteer, so both sides used up all their bullets but failed to kill each other. In the end, they had used up all their strength in the struggle and could only lie on the ground, motionless.
The two people who wanted to kill each other just now are now only half a meter apart, just like good friends lying on the lawn and looking at the sky in childhood. To be honest, it's quite embarrassing.

at last
"Actually, I didn't want to fight at all. I was just a transporter in a canning factory."

"Oh, if you hadn't invaded, who would like to fight?"

The two people communicated in a language that was not so similar but was understandable to each other.

"You were the first to invade our world."

"No, you were the ones who made our world like this first."

silence
In fact, up to now, both sides are not very clear why the hatred from hundreds of years ago can be used as a reason to start a war at this moment.

To put it bluntly, it's just that people in hell are trying to find a way to survive.

The Imperials
What is the Imperial people for?

"Your emperor seems to be very fond of killing." A soldier's words were full of disgust.

"Long live Emperor Moriarty! Only by completely destroying you can mankind achieve peace." Almost subconsciously, the imperial soldier explained.

"It's ridiculous. We are human too."

"Then why are we killing each other?"

"Who knows?" The imperial soldier had no way to answer this question. Due to blood loss, he didn't even have the strength to speak. He could only stare blankly at the blood-red sky, imagining that if he lived in this world, he would definitely try his best to escape.

'This war is truly meaningless.'

"Actually, it's not a big deal to let these people settle down in the Empire. They are all human beings."

"But Lord Moriarty will certainly not agree."

The soldier's head felt a little dizzy and he slowly closed his eyes. Excessive blood loss made his mind cloudy and he had already accepted his impending death.

When he was on the verge of death, he finally dared to face that outrageous idea at a certain moment.

"It seems that all of this was caused by Emperor Moriarty. If he dies, everything should be fine."

He thought so.

The Imperials thought so too.

People in hell think so too.

It would be good if this tyrant who controls everything were dead.

Empire, London, Baker Street.

No one knows that this was once the residence of the Holy Virgin of the Vatican, and no one knows that here lives a saint who once traveled the empire. No one knows that the wanted criminal of the empire who was killed by Lord Dante himself lives here.

For Watson, business has not been very good in recent years. The Great Depression in the empire has reached an outrageous level. Young people have been conscripted into the army, and most of those left in the city are elderly people with no source of income. Most people would rather endure the pain at home than spend money to relieve their pain.

Today, he closed the door early again and went to the second floor to prepare for dinner.

The person cooking was Miss Nightingale. Over the past few years, she had devoted herself to studying cooking, and after unremitting efforts, she was now able to make a vegetable soup that was tasty enough for people to swallow.

Together with the black bread distributed by the government every day, it can fill my stomach.

Sherlock
He was pretty much the same as always, just reading the newspaper, looking out the window, smoking, and sleeping.

"Is there any cigarette?"

Sherlock walked up to Watson and asked in a low voice.

Now due to the economic depression, citizens' tobacco and alcohol consumption are subject to a great degree of control, especially cigarettes like "Blues" which have a very small audience and are not easy to buy.

Watson looked around cautiously and found that Jasmine was not there. He then took out a cigarette from his sleeve and secretly put it into Sherlock's hand.

Recently, Jasmine said she wanted to have a child, so she has banned Watson from smoking.

Sherlock quietly tore the cigarette into two pieces, and then the two of them each took half a cigarette, hiding in the corner by the window and smoking it in small sips.

Perhaps it was this scene that reminded them of a certain period in the past and they smiled at each other.

"By the way, I've never asked you why you've been so quiet since you came back to life. Is it true that you treasure life so much after dying once?"

Sherlock exhaled a puff of smoke comfortably:

"Oh, I'm waiting for a commission."

“???” Watson was stunned. Sherlock hadn’t done his detective work for a long time. When did he get another commission?

"What commission?" he couldn't help asking.

"In the first year of the new calendar, I'm going to kill someone?"

"The first year of the new calendar?" Watson was even more confused. It was the third century of the Holy Calendar, so when was the [New Calendar]? And "Kill someone? Who?"

"The client himself." Sherlock said with a smile.

(End of this chapter)