Chapter 29 – Dawnfire in the Canyon
The desert wind was cold at dawn. It whispered across the canyon floor, tugging at cloaks and rattling spent shells buried in the dust.
Metatron stood near the dying campfire, visor faintly glowing beneath his hood. The smoke curled upward, lost against the first light creeping over the red cliffs. His pistol, Daylight: Twinfire, rested on his thigh—two barrels, one heartbeat, metal humming with trapped heat from the night before.
Cyberius was already awake, sitting on a half-buried rock, hat tilted low, chewing a strip of dried meat. His long coat swayed as he cleaned the twin revolvers on his knees. Even in the dim light, his movements were steady, practiced—too precise to belong to an ordinary player.
"You don't sleep much, do you?" Cyberius muttered, not looking up.
"Sleep gets you killed," Metatron replied quietly.
"Fair point." He snapped one revolver shut, the click echoing like a hammer. "But so does walking into the wild before breakfast."
Metatron didn't respond. His visor flickered, picking up something faint.
> [Motion Detected – 38 Meters]
[Signature Type: Hostile | Category: Creature]
He turned his head slightly. "We've got movement."
Cyberius pushed himself up, coat brushing against the sand. "Where?"
Before Metatron could answer, the canyon erupted with a low rumble. Rocks tumbled from the cliffs as Sandstalkers emerged from the shadows—lean, four-legged beasts with molten veins glowing beneath cracked scales. Their eyes shone like hot coals in the dim light.
"Three of 'em," Cyberius said, voice calm but eyes sharp. "Breakfast came to us."
The first lunged, jaws wide. Cyberius rolled aside, both revolvers flashing in sync—BANG, BANG! Sparks tore through the air, bullets bouncing from a rock and slicing through the creature's flank.
> [Skill: Ricochet Chain Lv. 2 Activated]
The beast collapsed in a spray of sand and molten blood.
Another Stalker darted low, claws screeching against the stone. Metatron raised Daylight, barrels glowing faintly.
> [Target Locked | Twinfire Alternation Enabled]
He fired in rhythm—left, right, left, right—shots slicing through the dawn like drumbeats. The creature's skull burst under the synchronized strike, body dropping with a hiss.
The third Sandstalker stopped short, trembling. The molten veins across its hide began to flare brighter.
Cyberius's tone changed instantly. "That one's cooking up to blow."
Metatron scanned the cliff behind it. His visor drew lines, calculating an angle. "Then let's give it direction."
One quick step back, one breath—and he fired. The bullet ricocheted twice off stone, striking the Stalker in its burning chest. It stumbled backward, slipping over the ridge. The explosion came a heartbeat later, painting the canyon in orange and ash.
Silence fell again. Only the crackle of dying fire remained.
Cyberius exhaled, twirling one revolver before holstering it. "You've got an eye for geometry, partner."
Metatron checked his pistol, reloading both chambers. "You shoot reckless but fast. Not bad."
Cyberius grinned faintly under his hat. "That's what they said before I got banned the first time."
Metatron glanced at him, unreadable. "You've been around since beta."
Cyberius's grin faded slightly. "Long enough to know the world's changing. Real currency update means every killer turns into a businessman."
Metatron holstered Daylight. "Then I'll keep being a killer."
They packed up the camp as the light spread fully across the canyon, turning the air gold and hot. Smoke from the creatures drifted skyward like a fading signal.
Cyberius kicked sand over the fire. "The Rusted Pass should be a few hours east. If Jack's really holed up there, we'll find him by noon."
Metatron paused as his visor blinked again.
> [Unknown Tracker Detected – 280m South]
He didn't say anything, but his hand brushed the grip of his pistol. Someone was watching.
Cyberius noticed the shift in his stance. "Problem?"
"Maybe," Metatron said softly, eyes narrowing toward the distant ridge. "Or maybe an opportunity."
The morning wind carried the smell of dust and gunpowder as the two gunslingers began their march east—shadows stretching long behind them, toward the blood-colored sunrise.