Gunsoul: A Xianxia Apocalypse

The spectacle started at dawn with blazing fireworks. The History Road landmarks all glowed at once brighter than stars and formed a circle of light that engulfed Battletown’s ruins. More qi than Yuan had ever sensed in his life rippled through the circuit and shattered the road on which it was built. The very land sank under a tide of sand and mud that buried all the monuments under the earth. A good chunk of the region then collapsed into the nearby Oil Sea, bringing out a black flood that washed away everything.

The cataclysm lasted mere minutes, yet easily buried years of work and construction. It only heightened the magnitude of the gulf that separated Arc and Manhattan from Yuan. Neither of these two required such an extensive setup to lay waste to the world.

If Yuan hoped to defeat the Gun, he would have to double down on his training. Time was already running out.

“I know that I should not rejoice at a settlement’s destruction,” Orient noted as they watched the devastation from her locomotive’s seats with Holster and Gotama. “However, I believe I will make an exception in this case.”

“Good riddance,” Yuan agreed. He was glad that all the corpses piled up under that cursed fiefdom’s foundations would finally find rest; every survivor worth rescuing had already been evacuated outside the devastation’s range after they scavenged everything they could recover from Battletown. Holster appeared to agree too, her eyes wide open with fascination as she watched the destruction.

Nonetheless, Yuan’s eyes couldn’t help but wonder at the horizon. Although Mount Rushfort and its nearby village had sunk below the waves, he knew better than to expect Revolver to have followed suit.

He couldn’t tell how long his old ally could hold back the Gun within him to resume its pursuit. It took a city-sized firefight and the presence of three Gunsouls in Fleshmarket’s premises to push the demigod of ultraviolence to action, and it hadn’t made a move even after Manhattan had wiped out most of Battletown’s population. Maybe its aggression varied depending on how many deaths by firearms fueled its bloodthirst.

Whatever the case, Yuan knew better than to expect a long respite.

Yuan glanced at Holster and Orient. “There’s, ugh…” Yuan’s heart sank as the two looked at him. “There’s something I have to tell the two of you. Something important.”

A strange look passed over Orient’s face, which she quickly hid with a smile. “Before you do, Honored Conductor Yuan, I would like to show you something, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Yuan replied. “What is it?”

To his surprise, Orient summoned a table between their seats and placed a board of wood on it, alongside dozens of strange pieces representing Longs, martial artists, spirits, and other fantastical creatures.

“Bucket found this among the ruins of Battletown,” Orient explained while Holster studied the pieces with fascination. “According to him, this is a game called ‘Board & Conquest.’”

“I’ve heard of it,” Yuan replied. It was popular among sect disciples, though Elders looked down on it and preferred the game of go instead. “You play as sects fighting wars with figurines.”

Holster’s eyes immediately brightened and she began to look at Yuan insistently, much to Orient’s amusement.

“I knew it would please Miss Holster,” she said with a small chuckle. “It has been a long time since we had the opportunity to unwind, especially after all these fights. I thought we would all appreciate a moment of levity.”

“Yes, I… I suppose it would be fun,” Yuan conceded. He knew he had lost that battle the moment Holster grabbed a Long figurine and gripped it tightly. “Yes, you can play the dragons.”

Holster’s smile dispelled all his doubts.

“So,” Orient said, clapping her hands in happiness as the three of them took position around the board, with Gotama jumping up into and meowing on Holster’s lap. “If Conductor Bucket is right, the rules are very simple to grasp…”

They dropped Mel, Hardy, and Duckman off near a hill to the west by midday.

Yuan had spent the trip playing Board & Conquest with his friends and grew to like it a lot. He had never understood the appeal of board games before, since he, Jaw-Long and Mingxia usually played with dice, but the mix of strategy and unit abilities resonated with his cultivator instincts. A part of him craved the feeling of finding the right move combination that would secure victory, though he and Orient let Holster win more often than not.

He knew he was wasting precious time he could have spent training, but playing with Holster and Orient put him in such a good mood. He hadn’t felt that way since he crossed his last Coil.

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It was… it was nice. The last time he had played with a group game was with his old crew; he had missed those moments.

“It’s been a pleasure riding with you, Yuan,” Mel told him as he and his brother took the wheels on their cars and started their engines. “We’ll find our way home from here.”

“Thanks for dragging our cars out so far and repairing them, M’lady Orient,” Hardy added. “I know you were short on space.”

“Think nothing of it,” Orient replied kindly.

“Will you two be okay?” Yuan asked. They had recovered enough to walk on their own, though they still wore bandages. “Things are going to get pretty hot around these parts with the Yinyang Khan dead.”

“Don’t worry, we’re used to racing to the top.” Mel gave him a thumbs up. “I’d wager we can do some good out there, keep the peace. Can’t let you do all the work.”

“Just keep that cube thing out of the wrong hands, would you?” Hardy asked. “I would strap it to an anchor and throw it into the Oil Sea if I were you.”

“That won’t solve everything in the long term, but you have my word we’ll keep it safe,” Yuan promised with a salute. “Take care. I hope we’ll meet again one day.”

“Same,” Mel replied before giving Duckman a look. “Need a lift?”

“Duckman has no need for vehicles, Duckman can fly,” Duckman replied proudly, his eyes meeting Yuan’s. “Gunsoul.”

Yuan’s head perked up. The boastful cultivator sounded strangely grim and serious.

“You are a fighter worthy of respect,” the birdman said with sincerity. “If you seek glorious death in battle, Duckman will help anytime.”

While Orient glared at him, Yuan simply scoffed at his bravado. The birdman flew away soon after while the Dyad brothers drove across the wasteland and towards the horizon.

The spirit-train left not a minute after. LaChair alone elected to stay onboard the spirit-train, mostly because Orient agreed to repurpose one of the wagons into a clinic. Yuan suspected the Flesh Mansion cultivator simply found it much easier to travel with an armed group while keeping his own space, and having a doctor onboard would be a boon for the passengers.

“I still think we should have left that awful Duckman to fend off for himself,” Orient said as she and Yuan walked alone together back to the front of the train. “I cannot stand rude passengers.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever see him again,” Yuan replied, a knot forming in his stomach. “Orient.”

Orient frowned at him. “Honored Conductor Yuan?”

“You didn’t stop for long,” Yuan noted. “You were in a hurry to leave.”

“I thought it best not to linger too long, knowing Miss Holster’s condition,” Orient replied calmly. “If Mister LaChair is to be believed, the sooner we reach this Dragon Sage, the better her chances of recovery.”

“That’s true enough,” Yuan conceded. “But that’s not all either.”

Orient had become much more human since she first formed a humanoid avatar, enough that Yuan often forgot that she wasn’t born as one. Nonetheless, she wore her emotions on her sleeve. He saw her unease written all over her face.

Spirits couldn’t lie by nature. To lie to another required the ability to lie to oneself first, and unlike mortals who wavered and doubted, a spirit knew their purpose from the moment of their birth with the utmost certainty. The best a caretaker could do to confuse an audience was to either withhold information or use half-truths.

He could only see one reason why Orient would try to keep information from him.

“You know the Gun is after me,” Yuan guessed. “You can sense it stalking us.”

“I do,” Orient confessed with an all too human sigh. “But there is no need to inform Miss Holster. It will crush her.”

As he suspected, the timing of the board game had been anything other than a mere coincidence.

“She has to know,” Yuan said softly. He didn’t want to tell her, but the sooner she learned the truth, the more time she would have to accept it should the worst come to pass. “We can’t keep it from her forever.”

“Why?” Orient joined her hands together, her head held high. “I can stay in motion forever, Honored Conductor Yuan. I can satisfy our passengers’ need for food and water, and without Lady Arc’s presence onboard, I have no need to stop or slow down. Should we constantly stay on the move, the Gun will never catch up to you.”

“The Gun is faster

than you, Orient,” Yuan pointed out. He had seen the monster cross wide distances in the blink of an eye, and Arc’s words rang true: the Gun always came to pick up its bullets. “We’d only be delaying the inevitable.”

“But if we can delay it forever, then it will never happen.” Orient’s expression turned into a scowl of deep distress. She couldn’t lie to herself. “I mourn the loss of any passenger, but you and Miss Holster are… you are very special to me.”

A small drop of liquid formed at the edge of her eyes. Something oily and black, like engine fuel, but it carried too much salt for any engine.

Tears.

Orient had become human enough to cry.

“The thought of losing the two of you fills me with a deep sense of unease,” Orient muttered, her fingers covering her mouth. “Knowing that this vile creature is hunting you, and what fate will befall you should it catch you… The thought is unbearable.”

Yuan froze for a moment, unsure how to react. Fighting was easy and killing even more so, but distress and emotions did not come easily to him. He tried to think of the best way to comfort Orient before realizing he shouldn’t think at all.

Hesitantly, Yuan opened his arms and welcomed Orient into a tight hug. It was clumsy, but the spirit returned the gesture all the same. Her head rested on his shoulder. He gripped her tightly, waiting for her to calm down.

She smells good. Orient’s sanitized perfume-like smell soothed Yuan’s heart somehow. She felt so fragile in his arms. And she’s so warm…

“Orient,” Yuan whispered in her ear once she had stopped sobbing. “I’m determined to win, but should the worst come to pass… should the worst come to pass, you’ll need to promise me that you will watch over Holster. Bring her to that dragon sage and ensure she’s cured so she can grow up in peace. Promise me that.”

“Then promise me that you will win in return, Yuan,” Orient begged him. Yuan immediately noticed that she had called him by his name, without a title. “Promise me that you will win and return to us alive. For our sake.”

Yuan knew such words would be empty. He had no guarantee he could defeat the Gun, let alone survive to tell the tale.

But knowing that Orient cared so much for his well-being only made him more determined to win. She and Holster cared for him deeply, and the feeling was mutual. He refused to fail, to abandon them to fend off for themselves alone in the Unmade World’s wasteland.

For their sake, he had to prevail. He would prevail. He would nail that Perfect Shot, free Revolver, and then return to his crew victorious.

“I promise,” Yuan swore. “I’ll win. For Holster, and… for you too.”

Orient gripped him tightly, and both fell into a comfortable silence.

There was nothing more to be said.