A few hours ago...
Fire doesn't care if it burns wood, pig fat or the flesh from a human body, just like bullets that didn't care whether they were going to hit a concrete wall, a human or a monster. It had no preference at all, it was just a messenger of death for its target, a perfect instrument to kill someone whom it's owner didn't like and this time the owner of the bullet was Arnold, and his target was a regular lizardman.
His aim was as good as ever as the bullet hit the fleeing lizardman at the back of its head and the monster collapsed on the marshy floor. Thick black blood flowed out of the limp body of the monster and got splattered onto the ground. A bullet was all it took to slay the proud beast, but something was bothering Arnold a lot.
