I didn't have time to really process the sounds before an explosion tore through my building, blowing me straight through a wall. I tumbled through, curling into a protective ball as I sailed into the alleyway outside, coming to a stop against the dirt.

It's ironic that they built a house just for me, and it happens to be the only one not made of metal.

Pieces of wood splinters peppered me as I shielded my face, though luckily no heavy beams fell on me. The wounds were superficial. I didn't care about those, I cared about the sounds of dying all around me.

I climbed to my feet, catching myself as I pitched forward, losing my balance due to the impact. My ears were ringing, and my eyes were blurry. I shook it off as best I could and kept moving.

It wore off quicker than it should have as I ran back around the building, reaching the center of the town. What I saw would haunt me.

The walls were in flames, smoke filling the air and mixing with the screams as the one thing protecting the Chaira from the world turned to ash.

There were people. Humans. They were armed, and they were gunning down the Chaira. They came in on what seemed to be horseless carriages, and there were dozens of them. I saw one launch something from a cylinder on his shoulder, and it flew towards the center of town and impacted against the tailors building. It punched straight through the metal and exploded on the inside.

There was no chance anything inside survived. Those buildings were nothing but steel coffins.

Some of the Chaira were fighting back, those that survived the wall tried to find cover and shoot back. Some of the humans died, but the Chaira were far less courageous without a wall between them and their enemy. They didn't do well.

I saw Pastor. He was dragging back a body, shooting his rifle with one hand. His face was contorted in a mix of rage and sadness. The body was too far gone. He was wasting his effort.

One of them saw me, pointed, and looked confused. He said something to his companion, who yelled and pointed his gun at me. I drew both revolvers and killed them both, one dying with confusion on his face, the other with excitement.

Their deaths caused a domino effect as the surrounding humans noticed, and turned to look at the shooter. It took a few more deaths before they got wise and began to take cover.

I didn't notice the mounted weapons on the vehicles until it leveled at me. I dived behind a building, sending off a shot midair before I hit the ground. It wasn't lethal, as the machinegun tore into my position immediately after.

The firepower was incredible, I could practically feel the impacts against the metal building I was hiding behind. I'd have to circle around town, which would take a while.

Too long.

Edmundo stormed out of his house, hands raised in peace. "Stop!" he yelled. "We surre-"

They shot him six times, the bullets traveling up his body with the recoil, the final one bursting out the top of his skull as he fell backward. I heard Lillia scream in anguish, but I'm not sure from where, as I was already moving.

I knew his lesson would come, and I hoped it would be the kind you could learn twice. I suspected it wouldn't, and I was right. I circled around the alleyways, killing a few more folk that had separated too far from their groups.

It was moments like these that I felt most alive. Good people were dying for nothing, bad men were winning in every way that mattered, and the world kept turning. It felt right, in a way, as if all the good things were just a lie, a holdover to keep you complacent until fate decided it was time for life to begin again, at its truest, at its most primal.

That was just the way it was.

I could feel the fire, again. I had given up, back when I died, what felt like so long ago. But I could feel it again. Fate's got me spinnin' round again, pulling the same old tricks that work every damn time. It worked, again. I was enraged, again. I would make the same mistakes over and over again.

I was going to kill every last one of them.

I came around the final building, circling to the front gate. I could see the vehicles from the side, as well as the main force of the attackers, about 20 of them. Besides me was a chest half-full of explosives from the battle on the wall. I grabbed one, lit the fuse, and threw it towards the center of the group. It was set for five seconds.

One second. I took a moment to acquire my targets, drawing my left Revolver, and switching hands.

Two seconds. I fanned the hammer, killing three of them, starting with the gunners. The gunshots made the rest of them flinch.

Three seconds. I killed three more of the men in front, emptying my gun. I dropped it as the survivors began to turn around in surprise.

Four seconds. I drew my other revolver and fanned again, killing another two. The first three bodies I shot finally hit the ground, gaping holes in their chests.

Five seconds. The explosive went off at the back of the group. That accounted for all of them.

It was strong enough to plaster organs against the flaming walls, flipping over the vehicles, and causing some of them to detonate. That caused a chain reaction, as the explosives in the vehicles detonated in turn.

Ammunition flew through the air, crackling like firecrackers as the bullets fired on their own from the heat. The night was lit up even further in flames, brighter than the ones on the wall. I kicked up my dropped revolver, catching it out of the air, and reloading both of them with speedloaders hidden in my sleeve.

I came around the corner from the gate, coming out behind the surviving group of enemies.

Some of them had turned around to figure out what the commotion was. Others still kept shooting, too busy with the few surviving fighters on the Chaira's side. I could see Lillia trying to run towards Edmundo's corpse, with Jorge trying to keep her from moving out of cover, and failing. He took a bullet to the back, and collapsed on top of her, protecting her even as the life left his body.

I could see Diego, looting Pastor's rifle off his burnt corpse. He took it and screamed a mixture of bloodthirst and fear as he managed to kill one. He had the presence of mind to dive back into cover in fear of the return fire.

Ammo continued to pop from the heat, smoke filled the air, and my clothes were covered in sweat from the heat of the fire. I started shooting, dual-wielding my revolvers as I walked forward. I might have been screaming, but I ain't too sure.

I started with the ones that were aiming at me, more muscle memory than tactics. I blew holes in vitals. They fell, and I started with the ones with their backs turned. They fell too. One of them had those cylinder launchers and went to fire at me. I sent a bullet down the hole right as he pulled the trigger, and it exploded in his hands, obliterating half of his skull.

I kept shooting, I kept walking, and I kept screaming, and soon there was nothing but corpses in my wake.

-Combat Over-

-Assessing Performance-

-Skill(s) gained -Rampage III, Infused Shot I-

-Core Progress 99%-

It was over. So was the Chaira. Lillia was crying over Edmundo's corpse, Jorges left to the side, seemingly forgotten. Diego was shooting a corpse and screaming. Pastor was dead, his precious gun looted by a child. The tailor was in flames, as was his life's work. Blas's building was fine, so perhaps he was alive. It didn't really matter anymore.

I heard whimpering, lacking the usual tinny inflection. I stomped over by the entrance and found a rat. A skinny little man, hiding behind a treasure chest, cradling a gun that didn't suit him at all. He nearly shit himself when he saw me and went to raise it, hands shaking.

I fell upon him, knocking it far out of his hands. I put a knee to his chest and a hand to his shirt.

"Who ordered this?!" I roared, voice bestial with smoke and gin.

"W-What?!" he squeaked.

I laid into him, twice, impact against the steel plates on my glove with a meaty thump.

"Answer me!"

He sobbed and spit out a tooth. "Mr. Woodswork!"

"Full name!"

"Charles Woodwork!"

I leaned my face close, spittle flying onto the kid's face. "Does he run a town?"

"Yes! Yes, he runs New California!"

Now for the important question. "Where is it?"

"I..." he hesitated, and I decked him again, and again, and again.

His face was like an old sausage. "Where. Is. It!?"

"W-west of here...past the mountain range..." he sobbed, choking on his own blood."

"Do you know the way?" I asked.

He nodded slowly.

I hogtied him, binding his wrists and ankles, and whistled for Jeff. If he was alive.

He came immediately. He was covered in ash, but otherwise unharmed.

"You alright?" I asked.

"...Yeah. Let's go," he said, without his usual exaggerated tone.

I patted his flank and told him to wait here, and went to fetch my guns from Blas.

I opened the door, only to find his workshop in disarray, and two dead bodies. Blas, and the bastard who intruded on him. Blas was holding my rifle in his dead, black hands, having used it to kill the intruder as the intruder killed him.

I pried it from his corpse. It was shiny and even better than before. Blas did excellent work.

I looked at myself in the wall mirror. I was stained with soot and had a few nicks from near misses. I was still wearing my best outfit, as I don't bother with pajamas. I had my guns and my ammo. I grabbed even more ammo from Blas's workshop, and threw them in a saddlebag, divided by smaller cloth bags.

I threw the saddlebag over my shoulder and grabbed my old pack, and walked towards the entrance. Lilia was still sobbing, the world crashing down around her. I heard Diego call out from behind me, voice strangely calm.

"Are you coming back?" he asked.

I didn't bother answering.

I reached Jeff, threw the hogtied kid on his flank, and mounted up.

"What do you plan to do?" asked Jeff.

I thought about it for a moment. It was a good question. I glared towards the west.

"What comes naturally."