Prologue

  The sun dipped low over Liberty, Missouri, casting long shadows across the bustling town square. The air hummed with the remnants of a long day; laughter echoed from the taverns, the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the streets, and a faint murmur of anxious whispers wove through the alleys. Life thrived all around—yet for some, it was a fa?ade, masking the desperation beneath. And deep within that certainty lived John Hardy, the man they called Mad Shot John, a figure who skirted the edge of morality like it was his very own shadow.

  Mad Shot John was not merely a name; it was legend in these parts. A womanizer, a liar with a silver tongue, he danced through life with a dual loyalty—one to his own desires and the other to the plight of those too feeble to defend themselves. To some, he was a hero—a Robin Hood for the desperate, a champion for the forgotten. To others, he was an outlaw—a thief who hid his dark soul behind a charming grin and better-than-average marksmanship.

  His latest venture, the audacious heist of the Clay County Savings Association, had been the crowning jewel in his notorious career. Gritting his teeth against the thrill of danger and greed, he’d orchestrated the perfect crime, slipping into the bank under the guise of night and emerging with riches beyond their wildest dreams. Now, gathered in a dingy backroom, reeking of sweat and stale liquor, he and his crew counted their ill-gotten gains, reveling in the glow of their success.

  Amidst the clinking of coins and raucous laughter, John's gaze fell upon a gold pendant, it glinted under the dim light like a captured star. Intrigued, he reached for it. There was something magnetic about the piece, a whisper of ancient power that sent a shiver down his spine. As he held it, the room grew tense—a tangible shift in the air as old suspicions festered and ingested the camaraderie.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A shot rang through the air—a deafening crack that echoed off the walls like thunder. In the chaos that erupted, John felt the burn of a bullet tearing through flesh, saw the haze of blood clouding his vision. Amid the tumult, his world narrowed to a single, bitter moment, his life force ebbing away as he crumpled to the ground, surrounded by the very men he had trusted.

  In his final moments, blood pooling beneath him, it didn’t matter who had betrayed him. Trust was dead, fate had dealt its cruelest blow, and the realization of his mortality dulled the fire in his heart. Just as darkness began to pull him under, and the chaos within the hideout reached a catastrophic crescendo, something stirred within the pendant.

  The blood that stained it glowed faintly, and the air crackled with a strange energy. In that moment, the eyes of chaos—those who reveled in the discord of existence—took notice. They leaned down, whispering promises of another chance, a second life, laced with agony and wonder, among worlds unseen.

  As vision blurred and consciousness slipped, John Hardy was faced with an impossible choice: to embrace the chaos of the unknown or to wither away in the pit of betrayal and death.

  The moment hung suspended in time, a dance between curses and blessings—a prelude to a tumultuous journey that awaited him in realms beyond imagination, should he choose to rise from the ashes of his reckless existence.

  Thus begins the odyssey of Mad Shot John—a man reborn in chaos.