A flick of the reins from Leif, and the Cluck lurched forward with a disgruntled squawk. It pulled the wagon out of town and onto the path leading towards 3 River City. The journey promised to be long, and a pang of nostalgia struck Erik. He hadn't been to the city since he was a child, a carefree passenger on a family trip with his parents. They had taken a boat from there to Guild City for his father's work, turning the journey into an adventure. Memories flickered - a sprawling cityscape, bustling shops, stone roads crisscrossing the city, and grand bridges spanning the three rivers that gave the city its name.

  As the sun began its descent, the familiar landscape giving way to familiar territory. They were nearing his old home when the small smoke plume rose into the horizon. Before Leif could ask, Erik spoke, his voice hoarse. "Yes, that used to be my house."

  Leif pulled on the reins, the Cluck squawked to a halt. She dismounted, her red cloak billowing behind her. As it fell away, Erik gaped. Beneath the cloak was a warrior's form – tight leather pants hugged her thin athletic legs, a worn brown tunic hid the rest, and dark markings, eerily similar to those on the broken weapon, snaked across her pale skin.

  She pulled her long, crimson hair back, twisting it and securing it over her shoulder. A large, curved knife hung menacingly on her left hip. The unconcealed display, coupled with her imposing presence, momentarily stunned Erik into silence. His staring drew a sharp look from Leif. "Show me those tracks," she commanded, her voice brooking no argument.

  Shame flushed through Erik. He quickly led the way, his gaze downcast, to where the Chaos Bull had left its mark – deep, destructive imprints in the soft earth, a grim reminder of the devastation it had wrought.

  Leif crouched beside the Chaos Bull's tracks, her brow furrowed in concentration. She spent several moments tracing the outline, her sharp eyes scanning every detail etched into the soft earth. Finally, she straightened, her gaze falling on Erik.

  "That's a damn big bull," she said, her voice a low rumble. Erik, eager to contribute, started to open his mouth, but Leif held up a hand, silencing him.

  "Look, kid," she began, her voice blunt but not unkind, "I've been holding back for a few hours. You stink. Absolutely reek of death and smoke." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Get yourself down to the creek and clean up. Top to bottom. We've got a journey ahead of us, and I’m not letting the stench of death back on my wagon."

  Erik, taken aback by her candor, could only manage a sheepish sniff under his cloak. The stench certainly wasn't his most endearing quality at the moment. With a nod, he made his way towards the nearby creek. The cold water, despite his deep-seated aversion, made him clench his teeth in protest. He scrubbed his clothes with fervor, muttering curses under his breath as the icy water numbed his skin.

  Emerging from the water, shivering and slightly cleaner, Erik spotted Leif inspecting the area where he'd found the broken artifact. She picked up the wooden piece, turning it over in her hands with a discerning eye. After a brief examination, she tossed it back into the rubble pile with a dismissive grunt. Erik busied himself wringing out his damp clothes and spreading them on a nearby rock to dry in the sun.

  As Leif approached him, Erik instinctively pulled his damp cloak tighter, feeling oddly self-conscious under her gaze. The silence stretched, thick with awkwardness, before Leif finally spoke.

  "Look," she said, her voice clipped, "you're not exactly my type, and staring is rude. Consider it payback for earlier." She paused, then added with a hint of grudging respect, "Not bad for a scrawny kid, but you could use some muscle. Make sure you eat well on the road."

  Erik blushed a furious red, hastily pulling on his damp clothes. Relief, tinged with a touch of mortification, washed over him. This formidable Elf warrior clearly wasn't one for social niceties, but at least he wasn't banished to the back of the wagon, smelling like a burnt offering. He was on a journey, and perhaps, under this woman's gruff exterior, a chance to avenge his father and learn a thing or two about hunting Chaos Bulls.

  The trek back to the wagon was filled with a simmering tension. As Erik approached, Leif rummaged in a compartment under the wagon seat, pulling out a loaf of bread.

  "We'll camp here for the night," she announced. "Sun sets soon, and the sky promises a cold rain."

  Erik's stomach rumbled in agreement. It was a practical decision, though the lack of warmth in her voice stung. "Alright," he mumbled.

  Leif gestured towards the massive Cluck, its feathers ruffled slightly from the afternoon breeze. "Help with the coverings and feed Momo. I'll get the fire going and secure the wagon. We need an early start tomorrow if we want to make good time."

  Erik retrieved a pouch of grain from his pack and cautiously approached the Cluck. He poured a portion onto the ground, but the giant bird lunged again, its beak snapping close to his hand. He flinched back, muttering a curse under his breath. This journey was shaping up to be an interesting, if slightly terrifying, experience.

  As Leif set about building a fire, Erik secured a hide from the large maple tree to the wagon. Exhaustion, a heavy weight from the past day's ordeal, finally settled in his bones. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and he pulled out the smoked rabbit, savoring its smoky flavor, wishing he had some salt and spices to bring out their flavors.

  The setting sun cast long shadows across the landscape as Erik settled down by the crackling fire. A cold breeze whispered through the trees, and the first drops of rain began to fall. Silence hung heavy between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic crackle of the flames and the soft pitter-patter of rain on leaves. Leif, focused on her meal, offered no conversation, and Erik, drained both physically and emotionally, felt little inclination to initiate any.

  Leif finally spoke, her voice low. "Get some rest, kid. Early start, and we've got a long haul ahead."

  Erik nodded, a single word escaping his lips. "Alright."

  He pulled the damp cloak tighter, its warmth a meager comfort against the encroaching chill. Exhaustion tugged at him, and sleep, a welcome reprieve, claimed him within seconds. Under the watchful eyes of the fire and the indifferent sky, he drifted off, the rain a lullaby masking the uncertainties that lay ahead.

  A predawn chill hung in the air as Leif nudged Erik awake. "Let's go," she muttered, her voice rough with sleep. "We leave soon."

  Erik blinked groggily, stretching as he rose to his feet. The cold air was a slap in the face, instantly dispelling the remnants of sleep. Together, they broke down the makeshift camp, rolling up the hide and stowing their supplies back in the wagon. As the first fingers of dawn painted the horizon with streaks of orange and pink, they resumed their journey towards 3 River City.

  Silence mirrored silence as the road unfolded, a vast emptiness echoing the emptiness that had grown within them. It reminded Erik of the travels he used to take with his father after his mother left. A heavy silence punctuated only by the rhythmic clopping of the Cluck's feet and the creak of the wagon wheels.

  The day drifted on, the monotony broken only by the changing landscape. Finally, Leif spoke, her voice a low rumble. "Hey kid, you got any more of that dried rabbit?"

  Erik, startled out of his daydream, mumbled a quick affirmative and rummaged in his pack. As he handed her a portion of the rabbit, a glint of metal caught his eye. Tucked behind Leif's seat on the wagon was a peculiar looking long staff with a similar design to the artifact he pulled from his house. Its core was a gleaming octagonal rod of steel, etched with the same sigils and runes. A complex mechanism separated this metal section from a curved wooden frame, with a knobbed piece protruding from the side. Beside the staff lay a brown leather belt with loops holding cylindrical metal objects. These cylinders, engraved with the same cryptic runes that adorned the weapon and the markings Erik had seen on the broken artifact, piqued his curiosity.

  He settled back against the wagon wall, chewing on the dried meat, his mind buzzing with questions. What were these markings? What purpose did these strange weapons serve? A burning desire to understand, coupled with a newfound curiosity for Leif's capabilities, simmered within him. He knew this journey would be an education, and perhaps, a chance to carve out a new path for himself in the shadow of his grief.

  Curiosity gnawed at Erik. He couldn't resist any longer. "What's that tucked behind your seat?" he blurted out, gesturing towards the strange weapon.

  Leif glanced back, then turned to answer. "That," she explained, "is an artifact from the Old World engineers. They called it a 'gun.'" Her voice held a hint of reverence. "It's used to take down Chaos creatures, like the bull that attacked you."

  Erik's eyes widened. "A gun? How does it work and what does it do?"

  "The user loads what is called a caster round or canister, then you aim it at what you want to hit and squeeze the trigger," Leif said. "Only the Red Wolves are permitted to wield these devices, as per the Chaos Alliance Agreement."

  The revelation sparked another question. "Did the engineers make other artifacts besides guns?"

  "Loads of them," Leif replied. "But some are more special than others. For instance, only six guns have been unearthed since the Cataclysm that ended the Old World. But hundreds of other artifacts have been discovered, and the Guilds use them to combat the Chaos. However, there is a lucrative market, human nobles and elven royalty collect and hoard them, they think it gives them special status. The ones that are left the Guild gets, but it’s all overseen by the damn Church, they have the biggest supply and most knowledge that they don’t share."

  The complexity of it all overwhelmed Erik. He needed to understand more. But his father's lessons echoed in his mind – observe, then ask intelligent questions. So, he settled for another inquiry.

  "What about the sigils and markings?" he asked, pointing at the runes on the gun and then glancing at the markings on Leif's body.

  "Those are crucial," Leif explained. "To use a gun, the sigils and runes need to be inscribed onto the user. Without them, anyone attempting to use an artifact that uses caster rounds would be cursed with Chaos Sickness, a painful curse that leads to a slow and agonizing death. The Church killed many innocents trying to perfect the bonding process."

  Leif's answers opened a web of new questions, but Erik knew it was best to process this information first. He resolved to observe, learn, and ask more specific questions later.

  As the day wore on, an unexpected camaraderie blossomed between them. They began sharing snippets of their past, their likes and dislikes. An uneasy truce settled in the wagon, punctuated by snippets of conversation.

  "We'll be stopping at a friend of the Guilds tonight," Leif finally announced. "He captures and trains Clucks for the Guild. Be warned, though, he's not known for his hospitality. Don't expect a warm welcome."

  The journey held not just the destination of 3 River City, but the hope of unraveling the mysteries that lay hidden within the world of artifacts, Chaos creatures, and the Guilds.

  The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as they arrived at the Guild Cluck trainer's ranch. The residence itself was unremarkable, mirroring the style of Erik's own former home and countless others in the region. Its unassuming exterior, however, gave way to a sprawling complex of barns, stables, and pens. Within the fenced enclosure, a racket of clucks squawked and shuffled, their dull colored plumage a startling contcomplement to the rough attire of the ranch hands tending to their needs. These men were a weathered lot, their overalls caked with dirt, hay, and the inevitable byproducts of their work. A whiff of ammonia hung in the air, a testament to their daily chores.

  In the distance, a burly figure, his hair a shock of white and gray, held a rope taut, guiding a restless Cluck. As Erik and Leif pulled into the designated wagon area, the man, presumably the ranch leader, cracked his whip with a loud pop. The Cluck reared, squawking indignantly before being wrestled back to the ground.

  Leif dismounted, her gaze briefly meeting Erik's. "Remember," she said, her voice a low murmur, "don't expect pleasantries." She pulled her cloak tighter and strode towards the pen, leaving Erik to tend to Momo.

  He was just setting down a feed bag when a ranch hand approached him.

  A young dirty working boy approached Momo with an apple in his hand. Before Erik could tell him to stop she snatched the apple with a ferocious bit, taking a chunk out of the boy’s finger. He recoiled from the pain, as blood trickled down his hand. The boy, retreated towards the stables in a huff searing and kicking at the mud in frustration

  Erik, dodging Momo's snapping jaws, managed to feed her a safer meal. He then followed the boy, finding him tending to his bloody fingers. Erik attempted an apology, but the boy was beyond reason. The conversation shifted, Erik asking for food for himself and Leif. The boy's anger seemed to curdle further, his words laced with resentment, "Sure, anything for the damn Guild." He stormed off again, frustration clinging to him like a second skin.

  Returning to the wagon, Erik found Leif locked in a heated argument with the rancher. The air crackled with tension until Leif finally walked away, leaving the rancher to rant into the empty space. The boy, however, reappeared, this time with a loaf of bread and a jar of fruit spread. He shoved them at Erik with a curt "Here," before turning back towards the barn.

  Leif rejoined Erik, her face flushed to match her fiery hair. Her tone was sharp, "Did you do what I asked?" Erik held up the bread and spread, his gaze shifting to Momo, who was finishing her meal and taking a long drink from the trough. Leif, her annoyance evident, directed Erik, "Secure the gear in an open stall. We stay here tonight."

  The boy from earlier still in a foul mood returned. He carried a lantern and a bottle of wine, offering them simply with a "Here." Leif acknowledged him with a curt "Thank you" as the boy ushered the clucks into their pens. As Leif and Erik made their beds, settling into the uneasy hospitality, they shared the bread and fruit spread. Leif, her voice softer now, offered some insight, "Don't worry about the old man. He's a grumpy old goat, treats everyone like dirt, but they say he's the best cluck trainer around."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Leif's voice cut through the quiet evening. "Momo took a swipe at you and the boy, did she? That didn't earn us any new friends." She sighed, weariness lacing her words. "Listen closely, Erik. These ranch hands aren't exactly our friends. They're bound by a contract – offer Guild members some form of hospitality as they pass through. We get the better end of the bargain though, see the wine? We wouldn't see the likes of that if we weren't hunters."

  Her eyes narrowed. "And let me tell you something else. If you weren't here, I'd be tucked in a bed in the house right now, while those ranch hands shivered in the stables. We take what we can get, but for now, rest is what we need. Two days travel at least to 3 River City, if the weather holds. Now," she gestured towards the bottle the young ranch hand had brought, "open that wine."

  The bottle popped open, and Leif dominated the drinking. She offered Erik a few sips, but his face contorted in distaste. It wasn't exactly high quality vintage. Erik nodded off to sleep from the exhaustion as Leif mumbled on.

  A jolt of terror ripped Erik from sleep just before sunrise. Sweat plastered his skin, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Beside him, Leif sat bolt upright, hand frozen on the hilt of her knife. Her gaze was a steely blue, fixated on him with an intensity that could cut.

  "What the fuck was that?!" she spat, the question laced with raw fear.

  Erik, disoriented and confused, blinked at her. "What are you talking about?" he stammered.

  Leif's hand slowly unclenched from the knife, the murderous edge fading from her eyes. "Look, kid," she began, her voice softening but still laced with concern, "I don't know what kind of nightmares haunt you, but for someone your age… that was something else."

  She sighed, exhaustion pulling at her features. "Grab the gear. Let's get moving."

  Erik moved in a daze, packing the wagon as the old rancher emerged, his face betraying no emotion as he watched them depart. The arcking sun crawled by in silence. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Erik spoke.

  "I'm sorry if I scared you," he mumbled, his voice thick with shame. "I don't normally dream. These past few days…" his voice trailed off, the horror of the chaos bull and the image of his father shattered in the rubble flashing through his mind. "It's been harder than I thought."

  Leif remained focused on the path ahead, her reply clipped. "I've seen nightmares. What you had was different. You moved, like you were attacking, reaching for a knife… but your eyes were open. And when you woke up…" she paused, clenching her jaw. "Your eyes. Nevermind'"

  Shame washed over Erik again. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his head bowed.

  A sudden downpour soaked the land. The storm was brief, chased away by the returning sun, but everything in the wagon was damp. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with unspoken questions and a shared sense of unease.

  The rain, a mere annoyance earlier, had morphed into a downpour that threatened to slow their progress considerably. Leif's mood darkened in step with the sky. "This damn rain," she muttered, "will wear Momo out if we try to push on too far today." She squinted ahead, ever vigilant, searching for a potential haven for the night.

  Later that day, a pack of clucks caught Leif's eye. They scurried across a distant hill in a panicked frenzy, running in the opposite direction of the wagon. Her brow furrowed. "What spooked them?" she murmured to herself, pointing towards the fleeing creatures.

  What felt like an eternity later, the persistent rain finally relented. Leif pulled on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop near a small, inviting forest edging the road. Erik, eager to contribute, spoke up. "I’ll scout around, see if we can rustle up some dinner."

  Leif nodded, stretching languidly, revealing a glimpse of her toned midriff. "Go for it," she said.

  Erik ventured into the woods, finding a clearing that seemed perfect for finding boar or perhaps a passing deer. He settled down, bow at the ready, but an unsettling silence greeted him. The usual symphony of chirping birds and rustling creatures was absent. An eerie quiet hung heavy in the air.

  As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows, Erik decided to head back. But as the last rays of sunlight slanted through the trees, a single, massive hoofprint caught his eye. It was large, far too large for any deer he knew, and an icy dread gripped him. It was eerily similar to the prints of the chaos bull that had ravaged his home. Panic surged through him, and he moved with uncharacteristic haste, his steps silent as he retraced his path back to the wagon.

  He burst into the camp, breathless and wide-eyed. Leif sat by a small fire, the last dregs of the previous night's wine held in her hand. "A bull is here!" he gasped, his voice ragged. "The forest… it was dead silent, like every creature was terrified!"

  Panic bled into a cautious urgency as Erik recounted his discovery. "Tracks," he stammered, "leading in, but no bull itself."

  Leif swore under her breath. "So, a chaos bull might be roaming the woods. Explains the spooked clucks earlier." Despair flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by steely resolve. "We can't face those things in the dark. Get some sleep, kid. You watch over us for the night. Grab some water and bread, and keep an eye on Momo. Any agitation from her, wake me up. And under no circumstances," her voice hardened, "do you stray from the wagon. Rest comes tomorrow."

  Erik settled beside the small fire, its meager warmth a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gnawed at him. Sleep eluded Erik but Leif and Momo slumbered soundly together. The night stretched on, an eternity of creaking branches and rustling leaves that sent shivers down Erik's spine. Exhaustion gnawed at him, his eyelids heavy and threatening to shut. The cool air deepened his fatigue, a constant battle against drowsiness.

  Suddenly, Momo stirred. Her head snapped up, eyes darted towards the forest. A series of low squawks escaped her throat. Erik's heart hammered in his chest. He gently nudged Leif. "Hey," he whispered urgently, "Momo's alerted."

  Leif rolled over, her movements fluid despite the darkness. With a quiet efficiency born of experience, she rose to her feet, slinging her gun over her shoulder. Erik reached for his bow, gripping it with all his strength as if it would be his only way to protect himself. But Leif held out a hand, palm facing him in a clear stop gesture.

  Leif's movements were a well-rehearsed dance in the pre-dawn light. She stalked towards a sturdy tree, placing her gun on a low branch before shouldering the wooden frame. Erik watched, captivated, as she grasped a metal knob and with a hard twist and pull of the knobbed levert, the gun's barrel separated from the stock. With a flick of the wrist, she inserted a fresh cylinder from her belt and replaced it with a spent one, the entire process a smooth, efficient exchange.

  A rustle in the bushes made her narrow her eyes. Her hand instinctively grasped the lower section of the gun, transforming it back to its firing form. In a flash, a boar burst out of the undergrowth, a blur of brown fur streaking past their camp. Both Leif and Erik were momentarily distracted, their gazes fixed on the fleeing beast.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake, dammit," Leif muttered, frustration lacing her voice. "Stupid pig!" She swung the gun off the branch, shaking her head in annoyance as the first rays of dawn painted the horizon.

  Erik finally exhaled, a deep breath that seemed to fill his lungs for the first time since Momo alerted to the brush. The tension had been building, a suffocating weight. But just as reLeif began to bloom, Momo's mighty form tensed, and a colossal squawk erupted from her throat.

  Across the clearing, the forest erupted. A monstrous bull, its hide marbled a menacing red and black, charged out of the thicket. Massive horns, tangled with brush and wet grass, jutted from its head. It locked its red eye on Erik and Leif, letting out a thunderous grunt.

  Erik looked closer, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. A splintered piece of wood protruded from the bull's right eye. "Oh shit," he choked out, the realization dawning on him, "that's him!"

  Leif mirrored his horror but wasted no time. She snatched the reassembled gun from the branch, aiming it squarely at the charging beast. The ground rumbled beneath their feet as the bull thundered towards them, its hooves churning the earth. With a determined glint in her eyes, Leif knelt down, seeking a more stable position to face the monstrous chaos bull.

  In a blur of adrenaline and terror. The monstrous bull, its speed defying logic, closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Leif's scream of "Move!" ripped through the air as she lunged to the side. Erik, in a desperate scramble, rolled himself behind the nearest tree trunk. With a sickening crunch, the chaos bull slammed into the wagon, splintering wood and sending Momo squawking in a panicked retreat. Leif cursed after the fleeing creature, spitting out a harsh "Pussy!"

  The bull, enraged by the sudden impact, stomped and bucked in the clearing, churning the earth. Leif, weapon in hand, scrambled for a stable position to fire. Erik, his heart pounding an erratic rhythm, instinctively knocked an arrow, drew, and fired. The arrow struck the marbled hide, but bounced off harmlessly, as if it had struck a steel shield.

  The infuriated beast reared its head, tossing a wagon wheel into the air like a child's toy. Steam billowed from its injured eye, its massive horns fixed on Erik. With a bellow that shook the very ground, it charged, aiming to cleave the wagon in two just like before.

  In that split second, distracted by the charging monstrosity, Leif seized her opportunity. Her eyes narrowed in focus, she aimed the long gun at the bull's shoulder, lining up the sights atop the gun to its side. The runes etched on the metal barrel pulsed with a faint blue light just before she pulled the trigger. A swirling orb of energy, shrouded in the same blue hue, erupted from the gun's octagonal opening. It slammed into the bull's shoulder with a deafening crack, stopping its charge dead in its tracks.

  The beast stumbled back, the impact shaking it to its core. Erik, frozen in awe, watched as the light and sound of the weapon overwhelmed him. Leif, wasting no time, worked the bolt of the gun in a corkscrew motion. Frustration laced her voice as she muttered, "Come on, you ancient piece of shit," struggling to pry the empty canister out of the weapon.

  The injured bull, its focus shifting, now glared with renewed fury at Leif. It attempted another charge, limping and stumbling, its previous ferocity diminished but far from subdued.

  The open field offered Leif no sanctuary. Exposed and vulnerable, she wrestled the spent shell from the caster with shaking hands. A bellow tore through the air, and the monstrous bull, its injured shoulder barely a hindrance, thundered towards her. Just as its hoof slammed down with the force to crush stone, Leif flung herself to the side, a desperate roll that spared her life by a hair's breadth.

  The bull's massive form crashed down onto her, its weight pinning her gun and arm beneath its fallen body. A primal scream of rage and agony ripped from Leif's throat as the beast thrashed its head, grinding its bulk into her trapped limb. Panic surged through her as she writhed, twisting away from the razor-sharp horns that threatened to skewer her.

  Erik, witnessing the horrifying scene unfold, sprinted towards the thrashing monster, his knife held high. With a surge of adrenaline, he plunged the blade into the bull's flank. The impact was met with a sickening thud – the knife had barely penetrated, leaving a superficial wound. The enraged bull reacted instinctively, its powerful leg lashing out. Erik barely dodged the blow, sent sprawling to the ground as the broken gun clattered beside him.

  Another scream, raw and filled with pain, erupted from Leif. The bull's full weight pressed down on her trapped arm, grinding bone against unforgiving earth. Through a haze of pain, she saw Erik scramble to his feet, the useless gun clutched in his hand.

  "Let me help!" he roared, his voice thick with desperation. Leif, her face contorted in agony, hesitated. "No!" she gasped, the words choked out by the vice gripping her limb. "You'll get killed!"

  Ignoring her plea, Erik charged towards the beast. "Come on!" he bellowed, his voice a desperate challenge. The bull, sensing an opportunity to free itself, surged forward, its massive head swinging wildly as it attempted to rise. With each movement, the pressure on Leif's arm intensified.

  Terror coiled in Leif's gut. The beast was close to regaining its footing, and when it did, she'd be trampled beneath its fury. With a surge of adrenaline, she yanked a caster shell from her belt, the movement excruciating with her pinned arm. Ignoring the searing pain, she flipped it with her good hand, sending it arcing through the air towards Erik.

  Erik scrambled on the slick grass, his hands brushing frantically. The cool metal of the shell was a beacon in the darkness, and he snatched it up, fumbling with the unfamiliar weapon. He slammed the lever down, sending the action to the rear. Panic clawed at him as he squinted in the gloom, desperately searching for the loading slot. His fingers grazed the release latch, and with a frantic shove, he jammed the shell into place. The lever clicked shut with a satisfying clink, and Erik raised the gun, aiming at the monstrous form looming above him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the deafening roar and blinding flash he expected. But silence greeted him. A sliver of his eye peeked open, then the entire lid flew up as he stared at the inert weapon in disbeLeif. "How do I use this thing?!" he roared, his voice laced with terror.

  Leif's vision swam with pain. She was certain her arm was broken, the bull's weight grinding it into the dirt. The beast lurched, its injured leg struggling to support its bulk. This was it. She wouldn't escape this time. “Flip the switch!”

  As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, casting an ethereal glow on them, Leif saw Erik shift. He pushed the safety on the back of the action up with a mechanical click, and the runes etched on its side flared a menacing blood red. A change washed over him. The fear that had gripped him moments ago vanished, replaced by a chilling calm and unwavering focus.

  In a blur of motion that defied beLeif, Erik darted past the thrashing bull, his speed defying anything Leif had ever witnessed. The lumbering beast, disoriented and sluggish from its injury, barely registered his approach before Erik was upon it. With a single motion, he jammed the caster gun into the wound Leif had previously inflicted.

  His eyes, moments ago brimming with panic, were now jet black, devoid of any emotion. His face, a mask of chilling serenity, seemed to drain all humanity. A cold wind whipped around him as the sunrise bathed the scene in an eerie light.

  A slow, sinister smile played on Erik's lips as he squeezed the trigger. A blinding crimson flash erupted from the gun, a deafening crack splitting the air a moment later. The force of the concussive blast sent the beast into the air in a grotesque ballet, its body twisting before it slammed back down, rolling once in the dew-kissed grass. The air, thick with the acrid tang of ash, now reeked of burnt flesh and ash. Where the bull once stood was a horrifying tableau – chunks of charred meat, bone, and gore splattered across the once pristine field.

  Leif, propelled by adrenaline, rolled away just in time, the putrid spray missing her by a hair's breadth. The fallen behemoth twitched once, then lay still. Erik, his moment of power spent, slammed the lever open, ejecting the spent shell. He crumbled to the damp grass, his body wracked with exhaustion.

  Leif let out a shaky breath, surveying the wreckage of her wagon, the remnants of the chaos bull's rampage. Rising slowly, she limped towards the still form. A morbid curiosity pricked at her. With the end of her own gun, she nudged the colossal carcass, confirming its lifeless state.

  Concern etched lines on Leif's face as she approached the crumpled Erik. As consciousness slowly flickered back to life, he saw her blurry form hovering above. A groggy "What happened?" escaped his lips.

  "It's dead," Leif confirmed, her voice a gruff whisper. "Take it easy, kid." She gently checked him over, her touch surprisingly light given the situation. "Eyes look good," she muttered, her brow furrowed as she examined him. "We've got work to do."

  With surprising strength given her own injuries, Leif hauled Erik to his feet. He swayed precariously, his head swimming. Together, they stumbled towards the fallen bull. Erik stared at the gaping, charred hole in its side, a stark contrast to the creature's once imposing form. He turned to Leif, his voice barely a rasp. "Your gun did this?"

  Leif nodded grimly. "Yes and no. This one was a monster. Usually, one shot does the trick, but not this one. You did real good, kid. I wouldn't be here without you. My canister jammed, you see." Seeing the confusion cloud his eyes, she elaborated. "Do you remember firing the gun?"

  Erik shook his head, his gaze fixed on the weapon in his hands. He turned it over, tracing the intricate runes with his fingers. "No," he mumbled at last. "The last thing I remember... was pushing the lock up, like you said."

  Grief flickered in Leif's eyes, masked by a steely resolve. She nudged the carcass with a booted foot. "Right. So, this was the beast that wrecked your home?"

  Erik didn't answer at first. He approached the bull's head, his fingers brushing against a jagged protrusion. With a grimace, he pulled out a broken arrowhead, the metal dull with dried blood. He held it out to Leif, a silent confirmation.

  Leif understood. "Right, well," she said, her voice rough, "let's get the core and see what we can salvage. First, we need to find Momo, oh, I’ll fuckin skin her and make her the best damn stew.

  Erik complied, drawing the knife and cautiously approaching the monstrous carcass. "Earlier," he started, his voice barely a whisper, "my knife barely scratched it. Why can I cut it now?"

  Leif winced as she attempted to sling her arm, the movement sending a jolt of pain through her. "Beats me, kid. Their hide hardens up when they're alive, then goes soft again after they die."

  Erik reached into the cavity where the bull's heart would have been, his hand brushing against something hard.. He pulled out a fist-sized, porous stone, cracked down the center and warm. A groan escaped Leif's lips as she surveyed the meager supplies Erik managed to salvage from the beast – a crust of bread and a few dried rabbit strips.

  "This is bullshit! Almost as bad as messing with a one-cup wonder!" she spat, fury twisting her features. "Looks like we're on starvation rations now. Fine. I'll drag my ass out and find that useless Momo myself. Doubt the bimbo wandered far. You? Get some damn sleep. This whole damn trip's a mess without the wagon!"

  With that, Leif hobbled off in the direction Momo had vanished, her voice calling out the creature's name. Erik sank down at the base of a nearby tree, the adrenaline slowly draining from his body. His eyelids drooped, and sleep, heavy and welcome, claimed him.