The dying embers of the fire pit cast a faint orange glow over the clearing, bathing the villagers in flickering light as they dispersed for the night. Jax leaned against a rough-hewn bench, staring at Whisper and Bang resting on his thighs. His fingers traced the familiar grooves of the pistols, their weight a constant reminder of what he'd left behind—and what he was up against now.
Across from him, Kyra sat with her legs crossed, her spear resting at her side. She watched him carefully, her sharp blue eyes flicking between the guns and his face.
"You didn't secure them," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Jax glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think I needed to lock them away. Figured folks here would know not to touch what isn't theirs."
Kyra huffed, leaning back on her hands. "This isn't your world. Here, anything that stands out becomes a target—whether it's your weapons, your skills, or you. That kid could've killed himself, you know."
Jax's smirk faltered, but he didn't reply immediately. Instead, he holstered Whisper and Bang with a smooth, practiced motion. "I won't let it happen again," he said quietly.
Kyra tilted her head, surprised by the lack of sarcasm in his tone. For a moment, she considered pressing him further, but the tired lines around his eyes stopped her. Instead, she reached for her spear, standing and gesturing toward the path leading back to the huts.
"Come on. Let's get some rest."
The small hut Elder Yun had offered him was quiet, save for the distant hum of the forest. Jax sat on the edge of the cot, Whisper and Bang resting on the table beside him. He stared at them for a long time, his mind racing.
"You're slipping," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "First the fight, now this."
His fingers hovered over Whisper's grip, the cool metal grounding him. The pistols had been his lifeline on countless battlefields, but here, they felt different. The way the villagers looked at them—as if they were relics or cursed objects—unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite name.
"What happens when I run out of bullets?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought gnawed at him, a quiet but insistent reminder that his edge in this world was far from guaranteed.
Pushing the thought aside, he stood and crossed to the small window, staring out at the village. The night was calm, the huts bathed in moonlight. But something felt… off. His soldier's instincts prickled, and his hand drifted toward his holster.
Jax stepped outside, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. The cool night air wrapped around him as he scanned the clearing. Everything looked normal—the quiet hum of crickets, the faint rustle of trees—but the unease didn't fade.
A flicker of movement caught his eye near the treeline. His body tensed, his hand hovering over Whisper as his eyes narrowed. The shadows shifted, almost imperceptibly, but there was no mistaking it—someone was there.
"Come on out," Jax called, his voice low but firm. "I don't like games."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a figure stepped into the moonlight.
It was Kyra.
She held her spear at the ready, her gaze scanning the treeline as she moved toward him. "You saw it too," she said, her voice hushed.
Jax frowned. "You following me?"
Kyra shot him a sharp look. "You're not the only one with instincts, outsider. Something's out there."
Before Jax could reply, another movement caught their attention. This time, it was unmistakable—a shadow darting between the trees, faster than anything human. Jax drew Whisper in a single motion, his stance shifting into one of readiness.
"Stay here," Kyra said, gripping her spear tightly. "I'll—"
"Not a chance," Jax interrupted. "You think I'm letting you walk into whatever that is alone?"
Kyra hesitated, then nodded grudgingly. Together, they moved toward the treeline, their steps cautious and deliberate.
As they entered the forest, the air grew colder, the faint rustle of leaves replaced by an eerie silence. Jax's grip on Whisper tightened, his senses sharp. Kyra moved beside him, her spear held at the ready.
They didn't have to wait long.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, cloaked in black with a hood pulled low over their face. Their movements were smooth, almost inhuman, and the faint glow of Qi flickered around their hands.
"Well, well," the figure said, their voice low and mocking. "The outsider and the protector. How touching."
Kyra's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted their head. "Just a curious observer. I wanted to see the man who killed disciples of the Thousand Blades Sect."
Jax's smirk returned, though his eyes stayed sharp. "You don't seem too upset about it."
The figure chuckled. "Upset? No. Intrigued? Absolutely. You've stirred up quite the hornet's nest, outsider. The sects will come for you, you know. They don't take kindly to… disruptions."
Jax raised Whisper, the barrel steady. "And what about you? You planning to take your shot, or are you just here to talk?"
The figure didn't move, but the glow around their hands grew brighter. "Consider this a warning. The sects won't just send more disciples next time. They'll send someone stronger—someone you can't kill with your little toys."
Kyra stepped forward, her voice cold. "If you're so concerned, why not take him out yourself?"
The figure's chuckle turned into a low, menacing laugh. "Because I'd rather see what he's capable of. Chaos has a way of… revealing the truth."
Before Jax or Kyra could react, the figure dissolved into shadows, their laughter lingering in the air like a ghost.
Kyra gripped her spear tightly, her knuckles white. "What the hell was that?"
Jax holstered Whisper, his jaw tight. "Someone who knows more than they're saying."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the encounter settling over them. Then, from deeper in the forest, a sound broke the stillness—a distant roar, low and guttural.
Jax exchanged a glance with Kyra, his smirk returning despite the tension. "Looks like we're not done yet."
End of Chapter 6