*************
Earl Garner
I rapidly crank the wheel on the gatling gun before me. My frantic efforts make deafening booms ring out as streams of bullets leave the gun into the crowd of monsters that Wyatt is making his way through. The bullets tear their way through flesh, bone, and even whole monsters.
These weapons are costly to produce and care for, so just about every single one is imbued with a Sigil. They usually are just for more stopping power, and this is the same. It takes a crew of people to fire these, and the men and women around me are both aiding in my rapid fire and protecting me.
Elizabeth is ordering everyone to make a smoothly oiled machine as I keep my focus on my aiming and the gun's targets, namely everything around Wyatt. A few times, the weapon's inaccuracy has me hitting the man, making me feel terrible. But the man is tough, and whatever Johnny did to him has put him into a rage that gives him incredible power.
It looks to me like Johnny used a skill on Wyatt that is meant only for himself. Something that makes him and his weapons perfectly in sync. But to give something like that to somehow else without a price is impossible. Some things are not meant to be shared.
And so, my eyes keep shifting back to the kneeling form of Johnny as he recovers from taking his one and only Serum. I would never have expected him to do that, but I guess once he finally saw the size of the break in person, he made his choice. He needs an icebreaker. Someone to get him to the demon.
His icebreaker of choice is Wyatt. Johnny is risking both of their lives to the absolute maximum just to even reach the demon. I don't like these chances. I don't like this gamble we have going on here. But I guess that's why I'm here. To load the dice before they're ever even thrown.
But even loaded dice roll snake eyes sometimes.
I see Wyatt hop atop an Uktena; all the space behind him is littered with dozens of torn-apart monsters. I focus my bullets not on the man atop it, who I can only see with the scope tied to the gun, but on the Uktena. I have confidence Wyatt can take out the man; the serpent is the issue.
Johnny needs a clear path, or at least a mostly clear path, to catch up. That and I have no clue where Virgil is, but I guess that's the point.
A seemingly endless line of lead slams into the head of the Uktena. These pieces of steel set flying by exploding powder leave basin-sized holes in the head of the Uktena. And by the time Wyatt hops off of its back after dealing with the man atop it, I kill the serpent. It quickly slows to a stop as the beast's entire head is made of mashed-up flesh.
However, the following obstacles for Wyatt to pass are no longer monsters. Instead, they appear to be a pair of Outlaws. At this point, I crank the bullets out of the gun without a single pause; a man named Jasper keeps the cartridges reloaded constantly with his swift hands. My hands start to cramp as I use Marionette on the volley of lead, but I ignore the stiffness and continue.
Like a deft marionettist, I pull the strings of luck and shift the trajectories of the bullets ever so slightly. I redirect them to hit the Outlaws, that are looking at Wyatt like he's a monster. Which he is nothing can replace the image of his flesh and bone shifting, but he's our monster.
Before the bullets can preemptively end the threat of the two Outlaws, however, several massive snakes, Uktena, move in the way of my attack. Almost as if ordered to do so, they stop me from helping Wyatt by blocking the bullets with their hard scales. But it doesn't leave them uninjured.
The four Uktena that get in the way have their scales blasted off and torn to shreds as they seethe in pain. They block my view of Wyatt, so I am forced to just keep firing to make a path through them as they slither in the way. I can't even hear what is happening on the other side either, as the entire town is being deafened by the bullets that are firing, the Ether that is let loose, and the blood-curdling screams of pain that are released by the dying.
Down in front of me, a war wages. Dozens of Sigiled fight to protect each other, the building I'm on, and Johnny, who kneels behind them, trying to recover. The black liquid drips from the man's eyes, nose, and ears, replacing the blood that did prior.
I worry for him, but he is the one that made me go through the hell that is the Concoction. Well, not really. He just gave me the go-ahead and the Concoction. I wanted to do it anyway. And I don't regret it despite the adverse effects that I feel.
I didn't feel them at first, but now I do. A pain comes from my hand where the core of my Sigil lies. A dull throbbing pain like when you've used too much Ether to start with. I let Johnny know about this, and he said not to worry. He told me it's what most feel when they barely qualify for an advancement. As long as I take it easy and don't do that again, I should be fine.
It's a kind of warning. One from your Sigil and your soul. Saying that you've pushed yourself where you do not belong. The damage caused by it is not permanent, but it can be if you do it more than once. That's why so many people take their time before advancing.
That, and probably whatever that thing was in The Cabin with me. I never got a clear look at it through the walls, but I doubt it would've gone well if I had. It just felt so... wrong. But it seems I got out without it getting me.
For now, the only awful part is that I have less Ether at my disposal as my body can't handle the passive output from my Sigil as most others would.
My mind expands and looks at the town around me as I feel stuck on this obstacle. There isn't anything I can do except waste a considerable portion of the ammunition allotted to me to break through these Uktena.
They are now lying still in the way, simply acting as flesh bags to catch the bullets for the Outlaws behind them. I realize that it now has to be a strategy from the Demon of Storms. Without a direct order from him, these serpents would never give their lives in this way.
I begin to consider moving locations, but that might take too much time. We have so much ammo, and the gun itself is heavy. It will take us at least a minute to move all the way to another roof. Will it take me longer to shoot through the snakes?
Quickly my mind moves into overdrive, returning to the realm of numbers and math I used to live in. Momentarily, I mentally leave reality and dissociate to improve my thinking.
This gatling gun fires 900 rounds per minute. More like 600 because of the total of twenty seconds per minute of reloading. Six-hundred bullets. Each one creates a hole the size of a sink in the body of these snakes.
I can estimate the snakes to be about eighty feet long and probably a seven-foot diameter through this scope based on Wyatt's height. The impact looks to remove about a tenth of a foot per bullet hitting the snake. Ten shots for a foot of flesh. Seventy for a full snake. Four snakes, two-hundred-eighty. That's about thirty more seconds.
It's better to just shoot. These are all estimations, but that's what I'm best at. I'm off by at most five seconds, and even then, it's still okay. The snakes might move a bit and ruin the calculations, but I'm reasonably sure they will die from the bullets quite quickly.
I focus the gunfire as ideally as possible on one spot of the moving snakes in the front. All I need is to see through them. Once I do, I can pull the strings of luck and hit no matter what. Too bad, at this point, I can only use one string per object.
While I'm focused on this, faint footsteps ring out behind me. They are almost impossible to hear because of all the roaring thunder of gunfire, and I only notice them because Elizabeth taps on my shoulder.
I turn around while keeping my hands going on the crank. The person I meet is Vernon, Virgil's younger brother. The man is forced to yell over the sound of gunfire to even hear his own voice, let alone mine. Only Elizabeth's commanding tone can breach the cacophony easily.
"Where is my brother!"
I can't afford to lose much focus, so I turn back as I yell out my answer.
'With Wyatt! He, Johnny, and Wyatt are going to kill the demon!"
Vernon yells back at me as he catches a stray shard of fragmented stone with a hand covered in light that flies up from an explosion below.
"Is he insane!? Ahhh, fuck, they're going to need me! How did your early advancing thing work!"
My focus is still on tearing through the snakes and reaching Wyatt, but I still manage to yell back at him.
"You need to have already answered your Metaphor! Then you take a Concoction! Then you take the Sigil as it flows through you!"
Vernon goes quiet after my reply, so I assume he doesn't meet one of the two requirements. I yell back at him, trying to assuage his worries as I try to breach my way to my friend.
"It's fine if you can't help them! Just do what you can to kill the monsters! That's the best way we can help!"
Vernon walks to the edge of the building and pulls out a Concoction for me to see.
"I got one! I'll get a new Sigil, then make my way to them!"
Something about how he said he'll get a new Sigil stays with me as he jumps off the roof. A burst of air goes out just before he hits the ground, which slows his fall enough for him to land on his feet. But his exit isn't what's important.
Something isn't right. I just don't have time to dwell on it, though. Because just as Vernon hits the ground, I tear my way through the last snake. A hole about the size of a coffee table in diameter is visible through them.
What I see on the other side through my scope mounted on the gatling gun worries me. Wyatt is unmoving on the ground, surrounded by two also unmoving Outlaws. The only thing is that he's covered in bright fire, similar to the man beside him.
The flames lick at the sky and replicate the color of the sun when it falls over the horizon. Through the miniature scope and through the more extensive hole that appears to be even smaller, I see a pack of Panti, giant toothless wolves adorned with fur as red as the flames burning Wyatt.
Frantically, I crank the gatling gun as fast as I can. As I do so, I twist and turn vast amounts of Ether from the core in my hand out into the bullets. I rotate the trajectories of the lead projectiles as they move, and each of the Panti takes several of the shells to the sides, and one even gets hit in the head.
I panic even further as they move closer and start making the flames on the man bulge and grow in size. My eyes scan for Virgil, praying that the man will appear from the darkness and help Wyatt. But he doesn't. Wyatt's safety is down to me. The man needs time to recover, and I will give it to him.
So, I pull as much Ether as possible without knocking myself out from the spontaneous effort. This Ether goes straight into each and every bullet as Marionette. Like the world's best playwright, I control each actor as if they are an extension of me. Every shot goes precisely where I twist it after passing through the hole of the Uktena.
A piece of lead goes into each of the Panti's heads, exploding them all into bursts of blood and gore. Blood that looks more like oil than it does blood. I curse as the fire rages even further into the size of a bonfire.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Panic and indecision course through me as I realize I fucked up. I should have scared the wolves off instead of killing them, but no use in crying over it now. Someone needs to douse that flame. Now.
My mind cycles through everyone I know with the ability to do so, and I can only land upon one name. Bonfire. The man is known for his unique mix of Priest and Scholar that gives him the Ether capable of summoning, manipulating, and enhancing flames. He can even ignite the gunpowder within a bullet if it's close enough.
My eyes rapidly scan the surroundings for the man, and after a few seconds of frantic searching, I find him. His person is not within my vision, but his Ether is. Only Bonfire can summon gouts of flame like they are nothing, the Sigil combination to do so scarce. Most only control heat, not fire, like the Scalding Iron. And north from here rages a flame that only grows outward. A telltale sign of the living pyre.
I turn rapidly and ask Elizabeth to get the man. She can't see what's happening to Wyatt from here, but I don't waste time telling her. The fire is only continuing to grow, using Wyatt's body as fuel.
I trust the man's toughness, and I believe he can survive burning for a little bit, primarily because of what Johnny did to him, but not for too long. So, I make sure to be as urgent as possible in my demands.
"Elizabeth! Go north and get Bonfire! He wears red and controls fire! Say it's an order from Johnny! He needs to go west and help Wyatt!"
She looks at me confused, and waves her hands at the people around.
"What about them?! I should stay with you!"
I shake my head vehemently and yell at the top of my lungs.
"GO RIGHT NOW! WYATT'S BURNING ALIVE!"
That gets her moving immediately. The born leader barks out a series of orders and has two of our guards follow her, one of which throws a hook that latches on a building northward.
Elizabeth must have seen the man's tools and found the fastest way north. The three jump off of the roof and swing as far as they can northward, leaving my sight.
My attention immediately turns back to Wyatt. More Pantis are coming around. They must be getting ordered to burn him alive. Damn, demon! It's like he's just out for Wyatt!
I do the only two things I can. I take advantage of my newly acquired gift of Many Threaded Ether to the fullest. I funnel all the Ether I have into Marionette for each bullet to slow down the Panti. I also Reshuffle so that the blood and gore fall away from him. At the same time, I use Reshuffle on Wyatt within the flames.
Every single thing I can do, I do. But rapidly, I approach the limit of my Ether, and we haven't even fought Hura yet.
Not just that, but the entire line in front of us is falling. Now that Wyatt is no longer slaying monsters like they wheat to be harvested and Johnny is incapacitated, the monsters are overrunning and killing the townsmen with Sigils. The people fight tooth and nail with guns, swords, axes, and every manner of weapon, but it is not enough. They are outnumbered, outgunned, and without backup.
They need support. Wyatt needs support. And damn, so do I. My headache is about to split my head open.
I look over to Johnny, who is still recovering, and I yell so loudly that I feel blood come from my throat.
"GET UP, JOHNNY!"
The Gunfighter's head moves slightly as it seems he hears my words. He then lifts his head up and turns to look at me. What I see in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
Johnny's entire eyes are black. Pitch black. As black as an endless night and have the same feel as the Serum he injected. His body shakes with strain as he follows my demand. The middle-aged man with taut muscles and scars stands up with shaky feet. His hands that come out of his long leather sleeves are covered in black veins.
But despite the Serum that is still coursing through his veins, the Gunfighter stands. And not only does he stand, but he also fights.
Johnny draws his pistol, Downpour, the gun without a bottom, and rests his left hand on the hammer. The Gunfighter prepares to fan his Colt, Downpour.
It's said that nothing moves faster than the Gunfigher's hands when he fires his gun.