Gunsoul: A Xianxia Apocalypse

“Who the fuck are you?” Slash asked.

Yuan’s bullet-core burned in his skull. The power of the Gun which sustained his life magnified his righteous fury, fanning the flames of his anger until they transformed into a blaze of rage. It took Yuan all of his willpower to not wave a Recoil Blast Barrier around his hand and shoot Slash down in front of the entire racer assembly.

Weeks after weeks of meditation gave him enough self-control to resist that overwhelming temptation. Yuan knew that even if he managed to slay Slash in one blow, doing so inside the Khan’s stronghold would result in his and his team’s own destruction. Yuan cared little for his own personal safety, but the thought of Holster being sent back into slavery and Orient being destroyed by an artillery bombardment stayed his hand.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember,” Yuan said, his voice little more than a low, threatening growl. “The likes of you, they never remember the lives they take.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. I can feel your hatred towards me from here, but I would remember a borg as ugly as you are.” Slash chuckled disdainfully. “Unless you went to the Metallists for power? What, couldn’t take me on your own?”

Yuan’s jaw clenched. How dare that soulless bastard mock all the struggles he had to overcome to refine his body into this? So many eyes had turned to stare at him, but he ignored them all. He pointed a finger at Slash’s handgun.

“That gun is mine,” Yuan threatened. Alongside three lives, Yuan’s own included. “I’m going to take it back!”

“This piece of junk?” Slash lazily grabbed the handgun and pretended to study it. “Oooh, right… I remember.”

He pointed the gun at Yuan’s forehead, at the exact spot where he once shot him dead.

Memories of that ‘duel’ surged back to the forefront of Yuan’s mind, blinding him with that dreadful memory of being humiliated and then murdered in the desert. The sensation of that fatal shot worming its way into his skull scorched his iron brain, forcing him to recall the pain, the shame.

Yuan tried to take a step forward, only for iron bindings to subtly rise from the spirit-train’s roof and restrain his feet. Orient’s influence. Yuan also sensed a presence below him touching his qi with feng shui, calming his wounded soul and helping clear his mind of the Gun’s vengeful madness.

Holster.

His closest allies had wisely stopped him from making a big mistake.

Realizing Yuan wouldn’t take the bait, Slash decided to pour more salt on the wound. “I’ve only used it to kill Scraps since. My sword is too good for them, you see? Too good for the likes of you.”

“Come down from your perch if you dare, asshole,” Yuan replied coldly, his mind his own again, but his disdain unabated. “You’ll be the one dead in a ditch then!”

“Violence is forbidden for now,” Slash said with a sorrowful sigh as he holstered his stolen gun. “Outside the race itself, of course.”

Yuan spat liquid gunsmoke onto the ground below the locomotive. “Coward!”

The fangs of Slash’s mask morphed into a vicious scowl. Yuan started to wonder if it was part of his actual face. “Hardly,” Slash replied. “Can’t kill you even if I wanted to. The Big Bad Khan won’t let his men participate, myself included. It’s gotta be fair, you understand. No favoritism.”

“He’s afraid we’ll kill you all?!” one of the racers jeered, the taunt echoed by laughs and shouts of anger. The assembly brimmed with bloodlust, excitement, and vengeful hatred for the Khan.

“I like your spirit!” Slash replied with a maniacal grin. He dramatically pointed at Yuan with his fist. “Say, Scrap, how about we raise the stakes! You and me, one-on-one!”

“Pick the time and place,” Yuan replied with a snort of disdain. “That’s where and when you’ll die!”

“In four days’ time, in the Pagoda of Conquest!” Slash waved his hand at the immense palace overseeing Battletown. “If you win the race, or at least get into the top three, then you’ll be invited to the big boom party! There we’ll be free to fight at our leisure! I’ll get to behead you right in front of the big man himself!”

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Yuan smiled, his teeth morphing into a furious and predatory snarl. “Dig your tomb.”

“I look forward to putting you back into your own!” Slash laughed maniacally, then lost interest in Yuan. “Anyway! Thank you all for coming to unmake this world further! You’ve got three days to write your will and make peace with death, ‘cause afterward, many of you won’t outrun it!”

Slash snapped his fingers. The giant screens adorning his perch tower lit up and projected pictures of a large racing circuit with six major checkpoints.

“For newcomers, the rules of the competition are simple!” Slash announced. “Once the race begins, your registered vehicle has to pass by all six landmarks and then cross the finish line first! A special Barrier fueled by the Big Bad Khan himself will prevent you from veering off track! Otherwise, anything goes! Murder, techniques, whatever it takes to win! It’s first past the post at any cost!”

Yuan glanced at the other racers. To his frustration, he realized quite a few among them were eyeing him in particular, from that Duckman to monstrous hulks of flesh and savage borgs. Publicly singling out one of the Khan’s henchmen for a duel had brought too much attention to his team.

“Our first three victors will get a seat at the Khan’s table and a front-row view of the celebrations, but only the winning team will earn the ultimate prize!” Slash chuckled darkly. “A fortune in slaves, pills, and gold, plus the Right of First Annihilation!”

The History Road map shifted into one of the Fanged Coast. Multiple points appeared all across it alongside names. ‘Fleshmarket,’ ‘Gatesville,’ ‘Furyland’ and so many others...

“These are the fifty-three settlements within the Yinyang Khan’s reach, many of them your own or your enemies!” Slash boasted. “Win the race, and you’ll get to pick which one is wiped off the map forever! Only one of you can win the right to fire the first shot!”

“First shot of what?!” The racer in the red race car next to the spirit-train asked. “How can we be sure this isn’t an empty threat?!”

“Oh, believe me.” The lips of Slash’s mask stretched the ghastliest, most ominous of grins. “You'll know.”

A chill traveled down Yuan’s spine. He could wager how the Khan intended to prove his threat was no bluff at all: with an early demonstration.

“We’ll now distribute a bracer to all participants and their crews!” Slash announced, patrolmen moving among the racers. “You’ll enjoy the Khan’s protection inside Battletown until the race’s start, and not one more day! The Big Bad Khan will see you all at the battle’s dawn for the final salute!”

Burying his overwhelming urge to slaughter Slash now that he had finally shut up, Yuan forced himself to prioritize his allies’ safety and return to the locomotive. The cloud of fury veiling his mind quickly dispersed the moment he lost sight of his murderer. His bullet-core continued to pound in his skull, but nowhere near as painfully.

Having a clear mind let Yuan realize that he hadn't thought things through. Even if he won the duel with Slash, fighting him in front of the Yinyang Khan's court meant that the warlord might take an interest in him and his allies; either to execute him for killing one of his men, or worse, force Yuan into his service. Then again, this could provide a good distraction to take the cube…

If only Arc hadn't been so cryptic! She had warned him that the Gun fed on the cycle of revenge between Gunsouls and their murderers, but failed to mention its pull. It seemed their patron was very willing to remove their safeties and hasten the gunfight whenever the opportunity presented itself. Yuan would have appreciated a warning on that front.

He and his mentor would have to talk. Again.

Yuan found Holster and Orient waiting for him in the engine room, both of them giving him looks of concern.

“Are you feeling better, Honored Conductor Yuan?” Orient inquired.

“Yeah… yeah, I think so,” Yuan replied with sincerity. Holster’s small smile of relief warmed his heart. “Thank you, both of you. I… I wasn’t myself back there. Wasn’t thinking clearly. Brought too much attention to us.”

“I am not so sure, Honored Conductor Yuan,” Orient reassured him. “Challenging one of the Yinyang Khan’s men in public indeed puts the spotlight on you, but it will also encourage our host’s enemies to approach you. I suspect we will find an opportunity to form valuable alliances.”

“Maybe,” Yuan conceded. He doubted every racer was happy to participate in this race. Many threw their hats into the ring for fear of their own destruction. He would trust none of them with the cube’s secrets, but a few might be interested in sabotaging the race.

Afterward, Yuan had Holster briefly hide under a seat while the Khan’s men distributed bracers to the contestants. They looked plain enough, a mere ring of ceramic bearing the Khan’s skull insignia and woven sutras.

“It’s a simple enough object,” Orient said after checking it out. “It registers the wearer’s qi signature and allows the creator to track down the wearers anywhere.”

“Does it have any other effect?” Yuan asked. He didn’t detect anything special about it. “Like draining our qi?”

“Not that I can tell yet. Miss Holster and I will do our best to analyze it.” Orient shook her head. “I am more worried about that masked man. His qi felt wrong to me.”

Yuan cursed himself for his lack of foresight. He had been too busy keeping his composure and dwelling on his anger to analyze Slash’s qi while he had the chance. “Wrong how?”

“I am not sure how to explain it,” Orient said, her fingers stroking her chin. “He is… divided, for lack of a better term. I had the feeling half of him was somewhere else.”

Yuan heard a knock on his side. He looked down to see Holster peeking from beneath a seat, her hands joined to form a hand-sign.

“Mask?” Yuan translated. “Something with his mask?”

Holster shook her head, then elaborated with more hand-signs whose meaning bothered Yuan. “Slash is a mask?”

Did she mean Slash was hiding his skills? It made sense considering his seeming importance in the Yinyang Khan’s hierarchy, but Holster’s unnerved expression told him he should take the warning literally.

What was Slash hiding?

Whom was he hiding?

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