The desert wind grew colder as midnight crept in. Dunes rolled endlessly beneath a black sky pierced with distant stars. Every few seconds, a low mechanical hum echoed through the sand — remnants of old constructs buried beneath the frontier.
Metatron and Cyberius moved in silence, their footsteps swallowed by the night. The glow from their visors and revolver barrels painted faint halos across their faces.
"You always this quiet, partner?" Cyberius finally asked, kicking a pebble aside.
"Only when it's not safe to talk," Metatron replied, scanning the horizon through his visor.
Cyberius smirked. "Fair. Out here, even the sand listens."
A chime pinged softly in their ears.
> [Environmental Warning: Frontier Hazard Zone Detected]
[Status Effect: Sand Corrosion – Continuous 2 HP/s without Cover]
"Lovely," Cyberius muttered. "We're walking through poison dust."
Metatron adjusted his mask's vent seal. "Keep the filters tight. We'll make it to shelter before dawn."
They continued forward, the wind howling harder now, carrying with it faint metallic echoes — clinks, rattles, and the groan of moving parts.
Cyberius stopped. "You hear that?"
"Yeah."
The sand ahead shifted — then rose. Shapes emerged from the ground: humanoid figures wrapped in rusted plating, faces hidden behind cracked goggles. Old world scavengers, half-NPC, half-construct.
> [Hostile Entities Detected: Sand Marauders – Lv.11~13]
[Behavior: Pack Aggression]
"Looks like the desert's got its own welcoming committee," Cyberius said, spinning his revolvers.
Metatron unholstered Twinfire, twin barrels gleaming faint red under the moonlight. "Let's clean up quick."
The first Marauder lunged, claws screeching across metal. Metatron sidestepped, firing a burst that melted through its chest. Cyberius followed with a clean double-tap that ricocheted between two skulls.
> Critical Hits x2 – Enemies Downed
The remaining Marauders surrounded them, eyes burning orange. Their leader stepped forward — a bulkier model with a cracked iron crown welded to its head.
> [Sand Marauder Leader – Lv.14]
It slammed a spear into the sand. Lightning arced across the ground, forcing both players to scatter.
"Guess this one's got tricks!" Cyberius shouted.
Metatron reloaded mid-roll, flipped Twinfire into burst mode, and charged forward through the dust. "Then let's finish it before it shows more!"
Their movements synchronized naturally — Cyberius providing cover fire while Metatron closed in, shots ringing like thunderclaps in rhythm. The leader swung again, but Metatron ducked under, sliding close enough to plant both barrels against its core.
> Twinfire Burst Activated!
Two rounds erupted, molten light tearing the Marauder apart from within. The explosion sent sparks raining across the dunes.
When silence finally returned, the air shimmered faintly.
> [Combat Clear]
[EXP Gained: 1,870]
[Loot: Sand Alloy x3 | Mirage Powder | Unknown Map Fragment]
Cyberius holstered his guns, breathing heavily. "You fight like a ghost, partner. That's not gunslinger work."
Metatron's tone stayed calm. "I'm not one."
Cyberius glanced over. "Then what are you?"
"Hitman class. Low-tier. Not many use it."
Cyberius gave a low whistle. "Figures. Precision like that doesn't come from standard builds. You pick your fights before they even start."
"Exactly." Metatron crouched to inspect the dropped item. It was an old, half-burnt parchment, still flickering with faint digital glow.
> [Map Fragment: Rusted Canyon Perimeter – Partial Coordinates Unlocked]
He pocketed it. "We're close."
"Close to what? The bounty?"
"Maybe more."
The wind howled again, this time colder — the kind of chill that made the skin prickle under digital armor.
Far off, a faint light blinked once, then vanished behind the dunes.
Cyberius noticed it too. "That wasn't a star."
"No," Metatron said. "That was a signal flare."
"Then someone's already hunting ahead of us."
Metatron's hand hovered over his pistol. "Or waiting."
Cyberius cracked a half-grin. "Heh. Either way, I like it. The night's just getting fun."
They started moving again, side by side through the whispering dark, guided by the faint pulse of danger ahead.
Somewhere beyond the dunes, the frontier was stirring—
and the name Night-Cap Jack was waiting to be written in gunfire.