Last Gun Alchemist-Chapter 83: Fifth Trial—Tower Defense Part Seven

Ezra quietly joined the rest of the group in cleaning the battlefield, while the people assigned to cooking had already begun preparing food for everyone near the large campfire that had been lit in the middle of the castle courtyard.

The night air carried a strange mixture of smells—burnt gunpowder, iron from dried blood, and smoke from the cooking fire that crackled slowly beneath the hanging pot.

The atmosphere should have been filled with celebration.

After all, they had survived the first wave, but instead of joy, the air was filled mostly with tired groans.

Everywhere people moved slowly, dragging their feet while forcing their aching bodies to keep working.

Some carried broken stones away from the wall.

Others scrubbed blood from the ground with buckets of water.

Several people leaned against the barricade for a few seconds before forcing themselves back to work again.

When Ezra joined them, the atmosphere around him became slightly awkward.

Not because he did anything wrong.

But because most of them had already noticed something about him during the battle.

He had kept a certain distance from the group.

As if he had drawn a quiet line between himself and everyone else.

Yet now he was helping with the cleaning without saying anything.

Ezra didn’t try to talk to anyone.

He simply worked.

His eyes moved slowly along the stone barricade, observing the cracks and damage left by the wolves’ attacks.

The iron gate had deep claw marks across its surface.

The stone walls had several chipped sections where the Alpha wolves had slammed their bodies into it.

Ezra crouched slightly and ran his fingers across a cracked stone.

"That’s bad," he muttered quietly.

"It was caused by the Alpha Chaser of the Silverback Dire Wolves."

The voice came from a girl cleaning nearby. She had overheard him.

Ezra turned his head toward her.

"Hmm."

"Were you assigned here?" he asked.

"No."

The girl stopped scrubbing the floor and straightened her back.

"I was assigned up there," she said while pointing toward the top of the wall.

"One of the AK squads."

Her expression looked slightly tense.

It seemed like she wanted to say something else but didn’t know how to start.

Ezra studied her briefly.

He could tell she had something on her mind, but he didn’t feel like getting involved.

So, he turned away and prepared to move toward another section of the wall.

"Hey..."

The girl suddenly reached out and called to Ezra just as he was about to move to another section of the wall to continue cleaning.

Ezra stopped and turned his head toward her.

"Yeah?"

The girl hesitated.

Her hands tightened around the cloth she had been using to scrub the bloodstained stones.

"Well... I..."

She stammered, her lips parting slightly as if the words were stuck somewhere in her throat.

Her eyes shifted nervously.

Then she clenched her fists tightly.

"I wanted to know if Miss Aliya was happy before she died."

The question came out quickly.

Almost forced.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she shut her eyes tightly as if she was afraid of the answer she might hear.

The words struck Ezra harder than the girl could imagine.

For a moment...The world inside his head shifted.

The memory surfaced instantly.

Aliya’s pale face.

Her trembling breath.

Her fingers gripping his hand.

"I don’t want to die..."

Her voice echoed again in his mind.

Soft, broken and afraid.

Ezra felt something inside his chest move slightly.

Like a thin crack forming somewhere deep inside, but on the outside...His face remained calm.

He simply stared at the girl.

Nearby, several others who had been cleaning slowed down.

Then stopped.

The scraping sounds of cloth against stone gradually faded, and more people quietly stepped closer.

No one spoke, but their eyes were fixed on Ezra.

He could feel it. All of them were waiting.

He glanced around briefly.

The small crowd that had gathered around them looked tense.

Their expressions were tight, their eyes carried the same question, but none of them had dared to ask it.

Until now.

The girl had done it for them.

Ezra studied their faces.

All of them were lowlines.

People Aliya must have spent time with, people she had laughed with, people she had helped.

People she had treated kindly even though their ranks were different.

And now...They all looked at Ezra like he was holding something precious.

A final piece of her.

Their eyes were desperate.

Hopeful, afraid.

Ezra looked back at the girl.

Her fists were still clenched. Her eyes still shut.

Waiting.

"Yes." Ezra spoke calmly.

"She was smiling."

The girl’s shoulders dropped instantly.

The tension left her body all at once.

"She smiled..."

She whispered the words quietly.

Her lips trembled as she repeated them again.

"She smiled... yes... she smi..."

A small smile appeared on her face.

"So, she was happy..."

But the smile didn’t last long.

Her voice began to shake.

"Sh..."

Her words broke apart.

Tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.

Her shoulders trembled as she tried to hold the emotion inside.

A few of the others quickly stepped forward.

One girl placed a hand on her back, another gently pulled her away from the crowd.

"It’s okay..."

"She was happy..."

"Come on..."

They slowly led her away.

A boy who had been standing nearby bowed his head slightly toward Ezra.

"Thank you."

Then he returned quietly to cleaning the stones.

The small crowd slowly dispersed.

Soon the sounds of cleaning resumed.

Cloth against stone, buckets of water being poured.

Low voices speaking quietly.

Ezra remained standing there for a moment.

His eyes stayed on the ground.

Inside his mind...The memory replayed again.

Aliya’s breathing, breaking apart. Her fingers tightening around his hand, her star shattering slowly, her eyes filled with fear.

"I don’t want to die..."

The words echoed again.

Liar.

The thought appeared quietly in Ezra’s mind.

He turned away and resumed cleaning the wall as if nothing had happened.

Several hours later, the inside of the castle was finally cleaned.

It wasn’t perfect, but the worst of the blood had been washed away.

The heavy metallic smell that had filled the air earlier was now faint enough that people could breathe normally again.

Soon everyone gathered near the large campfire burning in the center of the courtyard.

Torches had been lit along the walls of the castle.

The orange flames flickered in the night wind, casting moving shadows across the stone ground and the tired faces of the survivors.

Food was passed around.

People began eating and now they could celebrate their first victory.

Some laughed loudly while telling exaggerated stories about the battle.

Others joked about who had almost fallen off the wall during the fight.

A few simply sat quietly while watching the others.

For them, the laughter itself was enough.

Near one side of the fire, Linda and the other girls sat together talking about personal matters.

Their voices were softer.

Occasionally someone would laugh.

On another side, several of the fighters discussed the battle seriously, analyzing what had gone right and what had nearly gone wrong.

Ezra finished eating quietly.

Then he stood up.

No one noticed him leave.

His tent was placed slightly farther away from the main camp.

The distance made the place quieter.

The sounds of laughter and conversation faded into the background.

Ezra stepped inside his tent.

Then dropped onto his camp bed.

The thin mattress creaked softly beneath his weight.

His body felt heavier than expected.

"I didn’t even do much..." He muttered quietly. "But I’m exhausted already."

He frowned slightly.

Then...

The image of the crying girl returned to his mind.

The moment she heard his answer. The way her shoulders dropped in relief.

Her trembling smile, her tears.

"Ah..."

Ezra sighed softly.

"She was really loved by others, huh."

He turned his head slightly.

The lantern inside the tent burned quietly.

Its dim light reflected on the canvas walls.

Ezra rested his right cheek against the pillow and stared at the lamp.

"Love..."

He whispered the word slowly, then frowned.

"What a trash word."

Ezra slowly pushed himself up from the bed.

For a moment he simply sat there, staring at the faint lantern light that flickered against the canvas walls of his tent.

Then he reached for the space bag hanging around his neck and removed it, placing it on his bed, then he took out a piece of cloth wrapped carefully around something inside and placed the wrapped cloth on the bed and unfolded it slowly.

Inside were the parts of a Glock 19.

The moment the cloth opened; the faint metallic scent of cleaned steel mixed with the light trace of alchemical residue drifted into the air.

Ezra stared at the pieces quietly for a moment.

Then he began assembling them.

He arranged the parts carefully on the bed, placing each component beside the other with neat precision, almost like someone laying out the pieces of a puzzle before solving it.

Slide, Barrel, Recoil spring, Frame, Trigger assembly and Magazine.

Each part rested silently under the lantern’s soft glow.

Ezra leaned forward and picked up the frame first.

The lantern light reflected faintly across the matte surface as he turned it slowly in his hand.

His fingers slid along the grip, feeling the rough texture pressed into the polymer surface.

Even in this world...The shape still felt familiar.

For a brief moment, faint fragments of the other life flickered through the back of his mind.

Work tables covered in tools.

The smell of machine oil.

Blueprints spread across metal desks.

The steady rhythm of assembly lines moving in quiet order.

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment.

Then opened them again, forcing his thoughts to settle.

He placed the frame back down and picked up the trigger assembly.

The small mechanical structure rested lightly in his palm.

Ezra tilted his head slightly, examining the compact pieces the way someone might study the inner workings of a machine rather than a weapon meant to kill.

Then he lowered it carefully into the frame.

Click.

The sound was soft but clear inside the quiet tent.

Ezra pressed his fingers gently along the housing, ensuring that the trigger mechanism had settled properly into place.

His movements were slow and precise.

Not because he was uncertain, but because this moment carried a certain meaning for him.

Assembling a weapon manually...without relying on alchemy...felt different.

More grounded, more real.

And strangely enough, during moments when his mind felt tired or restless, this was the one activity that seemed to bring a quiet balance back into his thoughts.

Perhaps because somewhere deep inside his memories...

This was something he had done many times before.

Ezra reached forward again and picked up the slide stop lever, fitting it into place with practiced ease.

Then he grabbed the barrel.

The metal cylinder felt slightly heavier than it appeared.

He rotated it slowly in his hand, briefly examining the interior of the chamber before sliding it carefully into the slide.

The piece locked smoothly into position.

Next came the recoil spring.

Ezra compressed the spring slightly between his fingers before guiding the spring rod into its narrow groove beneath the barrel.

For a moment the tension resisted.

Then the spring settled firmly into place.

Ezra nodded faintly.

Then he lifted both the slide and the frame.

His thumbs pressed forward as he guided the rails together.

The metal parts aligned perfectly.

They slid together with a soft mechanical glide.

Click.

The pistol was complete.

Ezra lifted it slowly.

The Glock 19 rested comfortably in his hands.

Compared to the large rifles most of the others favored, the weapon looked simple, almost plain and almost unimpressive, but Ezra understood something most people here did not.

Simplicity was power.

He slowly pulled the slide back.

Chk.

The sharp mechanical sound echoed softly inside the tent.

The recoil spring pushed the slide forward again.

Ezra repeated the motion twice.

He paid attention to the resistance.

The sound, the feel.

Everything moved smoothly.

No grinding, no hesitation and no mechanical delay.

Exactly how it should be.

Satisfied, Ezra reached for the magazine resting on the cloth.

It was empty.

He turned it once between his fingers before sliding it into the grip.

Click.

The magazine locked firmly into place.

Ezra lowered the pistol slightly and studied it for a moment.

The tension that had been lingering quietly inside his chest since earlier had finally faded.

His breathing slowed.

A small smile appeared on his face.

Then he removed the magazine, cleared the chamber, and placed the Glock 19 carefully back into his space bag.

For now...His mind was calm again.

Ezra reached into his space bag again and brought out a small wooden table, placing it carefully beside his camp bed.

Next came a bundle of daggers—twenty in total.

The blades were laid out neatly across the wooden surface, their edges catching the lantern light in thin silver reflections.

He placed two sharpening stones beside them and set down a small bottle of oil.

Then he began his work.

Ezra picked up the first dagger and placed the blade against the stone.

His hands moved slowly.

Forward and back.

Forward and back.

The quiet scraping sound of steel against stone filled the tent.

His eyes remained focused on the blade.

Every movement was careful.

Measured.

He poured a small amount of oil across the stone, letting it spread across the surface before continuing the sharpening motion.

The oil reduced the friction, allowing the blade to glide smoothly across the stone while the edge gradually became sharper.

One dagger.

Then the next, then another.

Ezra continued like that, repeating the same motion again and again.

Each blade received the same level of attention.

His breathing remained calm.

His mind, quiet.

By the time he finished the twentieth dagger, the pile of sharpened blades gleamed faintly under the lantern light.

Only then did Ezra pause.

He looked up slightly.

The castle had become strangely quiet.

Earlier the courtyard had been filled with voices and laughter, but now...Nothing.

Just the distant crackle of dying firewood somewhere outside.

"Seems everyone has gone to sleep," he murmured quietly.

Ezra wiped his hands with a black handkerchief, cleaning away the thin layer of oil from his fingers.

After that, he poured water into a wooden bowl and washed his hands with soap, rubbing away the scent of metal and oil.

He stepped outside the tent briefly and poured the used water away onto the ground.

Then he returned and lit a small campfire beside the tent.

Soon a small pot of water began to boil.

Ezra used the warm water to clean his body, wiping away the sweat and dust gathered during the day.

After changing into lighter clothes, he finally lay down on his bed.

His body relaxed almost immediately.

And not long after...Sleep took him.

***

In his sleep...A memory surfaced.

It was a moment, during the fourth trial.

Back when they had just finished the fourth stage. Aliya was dragging Lime’s unconscious body along the path behind them.

The rope tied around the blanket that rapped Lime’s body scraped across the ground with every step.

Aliya walked quietly behind Ezra.

But Ezra could tell something was bothering her.

Her expression looked strange.

"What’s got you looking like that?" Ezra asked without turning around, his eyes still focused on the road ahead.

"Nothing," Aliya replied quickly.

"You don’t like dragging Lime?" Ezra asked again.

"No."

Her answer came out flat.

"Okay."

Ezra simply nodded and continued walking.

The road became quiet again.

Aliya stared at Ezra’s back while continuing to drag Lime’s body behind her.

The rope tightened in her hands as she walked.

Her thoughts, however, were somewhere else entirely. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

The person she thought she knew...Didn’t quite match the person she was seeing now.

A person’s name was their identity, it defined who they were.

Only people born without names had the excuse of not having one, but Ezra wasn’t like that.

He had a name.

Yet the name the board called him was different.

The board had registered everything about everyone. She had noticed that since the beginning of the trial.

No one else could have had a false name.

So why did Ezra? Why did he insist on being called Ezra when the board clearly called him Zara?

Aliya frowned slightly.

Why doesn’t he even try to explain it?

She kept staring at his back.

Her expression slowly became more troubled.

We’re a team now... right? We fought together. We survived together.

Life and death situations.

So why doesn’t he clear the confusion? Why doesn’t he explain anything?

Aliya let out a small frustrated groan.

Well... it’s not really my right to ask...

She lowered her head slightly.

But still...I want to know.

I want to know more about him.

"I want to know about you."

The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

Ezra immediately stopped walking.

Aliya froze.

The rope slipped from her hands and Lime’s body dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

Ahhhhhhh!! Why did I say that?!

Aliya panicked inside her head.

Her face turned red with embarrassment.

Aliya you idiot! Why would you say that out loud?!

"What’s there to know about me?" Ezra said calmly while looking at her.

"You should focus on surviving first."

"Ehhh?!" Aliya looked at him quickly.

Her fingers grabbed the edge of her skirt nervously.

"But... I want to know why the mechanical voice calls you Zara," she said quickly, almost stumbling over the words.

Ezra stared at her silently for a moment.

Then he sighed.

"I knew that was why you’ve been staring at me all this while," he said while shaking his head slightly.

"I wasn’t staring at you for that long!" Aliya quickly defended herself.

She forced a laugh and looked away from Ezra’s deadpan expression.

"Aliya," Ezra said calmly.

"You shouldn’t worry about what the board calls my name."

He turned and resumed walking.

"Just know my name will always be Ezra."

Aliya watched him walk ahead again.

His real name is Ezra...But...

She placed a hand over her chest.

He didn’t explain anything.

Not really.

She kept staring at his back as she walked.

Then suddenly...

Something clicked in her mind.

"Ah..."

She spoke quietly to herself. "He’s one of them."

A soft smile appeared on her face.

Aliya picked up the rope again and resumed dragging Lime’s body.

Then she hurried forward. "Wait for me!"

"Don’t leave a lady like me behind!"

She quickened her steps to catch up to Ezra.