Bullets fired from an assault rifle pierced a half-cyborg’s brow, and the Peacemaker’s barrel, loaded with anti-armor rounds, spun. Splattered blood stained the concrete wall crimson, brain matter bursting from the shattered head like seeds of flesh. A bare bulb illuminating the dark alley shattered under stray bullets, scattering fine glass shards. The man gripping the gun pushed up his hat’s brim with his fingertips, a smirk playing on his lips.

  “You… you know who we are, and you still aim at us?!” a full-cyborg shouted.

  A grenade rolled at the cyborg’s feet, exploding and blasting away his rust-covered legs. His vision dropped, hands propping up his body, but a precise anti-armor round to his brow destroyed his life-support system, mixing blood and artificial fluid into a dark red pool.

  “Knowing or not, sometimes a man’s gotta fight. And I know this is that moment better than anyone. After all, I’m—”

  An outdated cowboy. His mechanical arm roared, punching through the heart of a half-cyborg cloaked in assassin-grade prosthetics, who’d crept up silently. Bathing in spurting blood, the man spat out his dead cigarette, operating the HHPC embedded in his arm to activate its transformation mechanism.

  “In the undercity, the strong are justice, and the weak are worthless dust, right? No rules, just killing. Oh, I get it. I understand. But… that shitty law of the jungle? It’s better off gone. Obviously.”

  His mechanical arm, stained scarlet, cycled through rapid cooling. Crimson lines shifted to clear blue cooling reactions, then vibrant green.

  A standard mechanical arm mimicked a human one, slightly altered by added combat functions. But this man’s arm screeched, morphing into a shape evoking a wolf’s claws, far removed from anything human. Highly efficient energy leaked from it, forming light waves akin to laser weapons on the green talons.

  A single swing erased concrete without a trace, absorbing the artificial blood of cyborgs caught in the attack as new energy, amplifying the light waves. Mystical yet apocalyptic, the man wielded this incarnation of destruction freely, glaring at the full-cyborg.

  “You can’t kill me. Want to try? Bring a hundred times the firepower.”

  He aimed the Peacemaker at the cyborg’s brow.

  “…”

  “What? Still got fight in you? Give it up, it’s pointless.”

  “…Why not join us?”

  “…”

  “That power’s unreal. I can still get stronger. With you, we could make this organization massive! Join me… fight for my cause! I want you, come to the Outlaws. You won’t regret it.”

  “No thanks.”

  Seething with rage and feral killing intent, the full-cyborg shot a fleeing comrade dead, his prosthetic limbs creaking as he approached.

  “Wanna die?”

  “Not planning on it.”

  “Don’t mock me… I’ll kill you!”

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  “I’d kill you first.”

  A powder keg ready to explode—that was the tension between them. The slightest spark would ignite a merciless fight, unending until blood quenched the flames or death parted them.

  “What’s your name?” the cyborg demanded.

  “An outdated cowboy.”

  “Your real name.”

  “Don’t have one to give a beast like you.”

  “…Fine.”

  Turning on his heel, the full-cyborg shouted, “We’re pulling out!” and strode off, smashing a comrade who asked about “that woman” along the way.

  “…”

  Glaring at the remaining Crucible members, the self-proclaimed outdated cowboy raised his mechanical arm. “Still want to go?” he growled, scattering Tenebrae’s pursuers.

  “…”

  Overwhelming power—routing full and half-cyborgs single-handedly—the cowboy removed his soot-stained hat, ruffling his gray-streaked hair, lighting a fresh cigarette with a battered Zippo.

  “Miss,” he called.

  “…What? I’ve got nothing—no money, no home, nothing,” Tenebrae replied.

  “Your baby okay?”

  “…”

  “Sorry, even in the undercity, I shouldn’t have let a pregnant woman see such a shocking scene. Meant to handle it smoother, but… outnumbered, I was too busy dodging bullets. Can you stand? Need a hand if your legs are weak?”

  Exhaling purple smoke, scratching his head, the man extended a hand to Tenebrae with a warm smile. His ruggedly handsome face, stubble and all, suited the mechanical eye. Showing kindness—seen as weakness in the undercity—he holstered his gun. Tenebrae eyed his hand with suspicion.

  She couldn’t let her guard down. This man was probably out to deceive her, to use her for his gain. Wearing a mask of kindness to steal her and her child’s freedom. She wouldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t let him take anything, wouldn’t lose…!

  Seizing the moment, she snatched his Peacemaker, cocking the hammer, gripping it tightly with both hands, biting her lip against the pain. Blood trickled down her pale skin.

  “Miss,” he said.

  “Shut up! You’re just gonna take something from me, aren’t you?! Stay back!” Tenebrae shouted.

  A gunshot echoed through the alley, a fresh bullet mark scarring the ground at his feet.

  “Cowboy, showing your soft side again? Never learn, do you?” Chikuan said, emerging from the room, swigging from a flask.

  “Even with a woman, you can’t let your guard down here. This is the undercity, not your world. Get it? What’s in that head of yours? Spill it, cowboy.”

  “Brains and a skull, Chikuan, what else? What if the lady gets the wrong idea?”

  “She’s no naive virgin to take a joke seriously. No misunderstandings here.”

  “That so?”

  Two men bantering casually despite being shot at, while Tenebrae clutched the gun with trembling hands. The man, acting as if death didn’t faze him, as if bullets couldn’t touch him, put on his hat and crossed his arms.

  “I’ve got a question for you, miss. Okay?”

  “…A question?” Tenebrae asked.

  “Yeah, simple one. Two choices. Do you want to live, or die? Choose.”

  Another gunshot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off his mechanical arm. Glaring at Chikuan, who laughed raucously, the man quietly repeated, “Choose, miss.”

  “…” Live or die? The answer was obvious. “…” But would saying she wanted to live guarantee her safety? It could be a meaningless question.

  “…Want,” she whispered.

  “…”

  “To live… obviously! No one… wants to die! I want to live! Got a problem with that?!”

  Of course—nobody living with the resolve to die would choose death. Holding her swollen belly protectively, tears in her eyes, Tenebrae fired again, carving a new mark into the concrete.

  “I want to live! Even if I lose everything, even if it’s taken, I can start over if I’m alive! So, I—”

  “Got it. I’ll lend you a hand,” the man said.

  “…Huh?”

  “I help those who want to live. If you’d said die… well, I’d figure something out. So, miss, I’ll protect you and your kid. Me? I’m soft on women and kids.”

  Tenebrae stared, dumbfounded, while the man nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “What’s there to question? You want to live, a pregnant woman needs help—there’s no reason not to. What’s your name, miss?”

  “…Tenebrae.”

  “Got it. Nice to meet you, Tenebrae. Chikuan’s safe too, thanks.”

  “…Softie like you’ll get killed someday,” she muttered.

  “When that day comes, it comes. I’m ready.”

  Taking the Peacemaker from Tenebrae, gently holding her hand, the man hoisted her onto his back and walked slowly. His broad back carried a faint cologne scent.

  “…Hey,” Tenebrae said.

  “Hm?”

  “Your name? Cowboy’s not your real name, right?”

  “Oh, I’m—”

  Danan. With that, the man carried Tenebrae into the shadowed alley, leaving it behind.