Billy tumbled through the air, end over end, before colliding with the ground like a sack of potatoes thrown off a moving wagon. He bounced several times, each impact sending fresh jolts of pain through his body, before skidding to a stop on his back in a cloud of dust.

  His consciousness flickered like a candle in a storm. His vision blurred, his ears rang like church bells, and he fought to stay tethered to reality long enough to make sense of what had happened. Pain flared through him like wildfire, burning bright and unbearable everywhere except for his legs. He couldn’t feel those at all. Each breath came shallow and sharp, like trying to drink air through a cracked straw. His magic reserves, already low, drained completely as [Regeneration] desperately attempted to patch him together. It wasn’t enough. Darkness swept over him again as the last of his magic was drained.

  A sudden, burning sensation in his lungs jolted him awake. He gasped, his chest heaving like a drowning man finally breaching the surface. He coughed, sputtered, and dragged in another breath as his mind scrambled to catch up. The Hog. He’d been hit by the Hog and launched out of town. By all rights, he should be dead.

  His surroundings swam into focus. He was encircled by tall stone pillars. Pillars. Eugene used stone pillars. "YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY ONE OF EUGENE'S ATTACKS," his mind bellowed at him like an alarm bell.

  Adrenaline surged through his veins, burning away the fog of pain and exhaustion. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs remained stubbornly unresponsive. Damnation, the Hog must've broken his back.

  Panic clawed at him, but Billy was nothing if not stubborn. Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his stomach and began dragging himself forward, clawing at the dirt with his fingers, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through his battered frame.

  “Easy there, William,” came a voice as smooth as butter and twice as smug. “I don’t mean you no harm. Well, any more harm. My obelisks there are mendin’ you up, see, fixin’ that sorry excuse for a spine and fillin’ up your magic tank while they’re at it. So in just a moment, you’ll be able to wiggle them toes again. But, now listen, boy, I do declare, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go and try attackin’ me again, considerin’ how poorly that worked out for ya.”

  Billy rolled onto his back, glare sharp enough to cut glass as he focused on the big man standing just beyond the stone ring. A thousand tiny needles stabbed at his legs as feeling began creeping back into them. He flexed his toes inside his boots and clenched his jaw as relief mixed with bitter frustration.

  “See? What’d I tell ya?” Eugene grinned, flashing a row of teeth that Billy immediately wanted to knock out.

  The fact that the bastard was right only made it worse.

  “Now, I say, I do hope you can see I ain't hostile, and we can talk like civilized folk.” Eugene strolled forward as his stone pillars crumbled back into dust. “Your [Regeneration] should do the rest of the work now.”

  Billy stayed put, feigning weakness. His body had healed enough that he knew he could move, but he played possum, waiting for his moment.

  As soon as the Hog got close enough Billy surged to his feet, hands rising to unleash a barrage—

  “Druhgóm Khekmós.”

  Eugene’s staff struck the ground, and in an instant, jagged stone spikes erupted from the earth, snapping into place around Billy, pointed ends stopping just short of his neck. One particularly sharp point stopped so close to his throat he could feel the cold bite of stone against his skin.

  Eugene let out a slow, heavy sigh. “Now, I say, that was just plain predictable, Billy. Somewhat…disappointin’, if I do say so myself.”

  Billy clenched his fists, careful not to so much as breathe wrong lest he skewer himself on the razor-sharp rocks. His temper boiled over. “I swear, I’ll see you in a pine box if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Eugene clicked his tongue. “Now, now, that there is mighty unpleasant talk. Can’t we be a touch more cordial?” He rapped his staff against the ground again. “Léghom ?ékmonóm.”

  A series of stone plinths rose up behind him, stacking neatly until they formed a solid wall. With the ease of a man who had all the time in the world, Eugene leaned back, and the stones shifted beneath him, creating a reclining seat. Within moments, he was lounging like a man with not a care in the world, his feet propped up as if he were sunbathing.

  “I say, we simply must get to the bottom of all this hostility, William. It has made you reckless, and that simply won’t do. So, as you might phrase it—who soured your sarsaparilla?”

  Billy’s eye twitched. “First off, I’d never say that. It’s idiotic.” He stored the phrase away for later. “Second, don’t play dumb. You ordered Oscar to kill me. And like the tax man in a boom town, I’ll be collectin’ my dues.”

  Eugene sat up slightly, raising a bushy eyebrow. “Now I say, I did no such thing!”

  Billy let out a harsh laugh. “You’re full of more bull than a cattle drive. Oscar admitted you told him to, and I quote, ‘take care of me.’”

  Billy tried to lift his hands to do air quotes, but the stone cage kept him locked in place.

  “I said no such thing. I told Oscar to make sure you were well taken care of and then I gave him a substantial amount of….money” His words slowed as realization dawned over him like a sunrise on a battlefield. “Oh. Oh, I see.” He blinked, then sighed. “Well, I do declare—this… this may, in fact, potentially be my fault.”

  “ARE YOU SHITTIN’ ME?!” Billy roared, the sheer force of his outburst making his throat scrape against the sharp stone. A fresh sting bloomed on his neck, but he barely noticed. “ALL THIS, BECAUSE YOU TALK LIKE A DAMN IDIOT?!”

  The fury roared back to life inside him, hotter than a desert noon. He didn’t care that he was trapped, didn’t care that he was outmatched. His hands curled into fists as he swung at the stone spikes, desperation fueling his every move. Even with the limited space, his enhanced strength made a difference. Tiny cracks splintered through the rock.

  “Oh, William, would you cease that foolishness?” Eugene chided, shaking his head like a disappointed schoolteacher. He tapped his staff against the ground. “Dhor lyehmos.”

  A thin, curved stone pillar burst from the dirt just outside the ring of spikes, growing taller and taller until its tip loomed directly over Billy. A moment later, shimmering blue sparks began cascading from the end of the pillar like a waterfall of fireflies, falling gently over the gunslinger’s head and seeping into his skin.

  Billy barely had time to react before something changed. A strange calm washed over him, like stepping into a cool river after a long, hot day. The anger that had been burning in his veins, the ever-present rage that had lived in him for years, simply… vanished.

  Not just his frustration with Eugene. All of it. The deep-seated guilt over Carter’s death, the shame that had gnawed at him for so long, the ever-churning storm of anxiety, regret, and self-loathing. Gone. It was as if his mind had been wiped clean of everything that had ever weighed him down.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Billy felt… peaceful.

  “W-what are you?” he muttered, blinking in slow confusion, his face slack with a dopey sort of serenity.

  “Ahh, you ain’t got a magic-readin’ ability yet, do ya?” Eugene mused, still lounging in his makeshift stone recliner. “Well, now, let me help you with that.” said the comically broad man as his stone seat pushed him back up onto his feet. He pressed his thumb against Billy’s forehead, and at once, glowing words flickered into existence before the gunslinger’s eyes.

  “Ding. You have gained the skill [Magic Reader].

  When active, [Magic Reader] allows you to see information about magic beings and items. More details will be available as the skill levels up.”

  Billy stared at the notification, his thoughts sluggish under the effects of the spell.

  “Go on, then, Billy-boy,” Eugene encouraged. “Activate that there new skill o’ yours and take a look-see at me.”

  Billy focused through the unnatural haze in his mind, activating [Magic Reader]. Slowly, glowing words began to form over Eugene’s head, each one striking harder than a bullet to the gut.

  “Eugene Porter. Class: Grand Obelisk Healer. Level: 296.”

  Billy’s stomach should have dropped at what he saw. Should have filled with dread, with horror, with the kind of despair that came from realizing he was standing before a man so powerful he might as well have been unkillable. But under the spell’s influence, all he could do was stare blankly and accept it as fact.

  Level 296.

  Billy couldn’t comprehend the kind of strength Eugene must have. He quickly realized that The Hog hadn’t even been trying against him. It had been a game to him.

  “I say, I reckon you’ve at least caught a glimpse o’ my level by now,” Eugene chuckled. “So I do hope you understand why fightin’ me ain’t exactly a bright idea.”

  Billy just nodded absently, his mind still fogged over.

  “Good, good.” Eugene tapped his staff twice against the ground. Instantly, the stone spikes around Billy crumbled into dust, along with the curved pillar above.

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  The moment the spell’s influence faded, everything came crashing back.

  Billy hit the dirt, gasping like a drowning man. His emotions slammed into him all at once. Anger, rage, panic, sorrow. A lifetime of repressed guilt and pain tore through his mind like a raging river, threatening to pull him under. His vision blurred, his breath came ragged, and he couldn’t stop it.

  Just as he felt himself sinking, something, someone, broke through.

  The memory of his daughters.

  It was like finding a rope in a raging flood, something solid to cling to. He latched onto it, let it anchor him, let it pull him back from the brink. His breathing slowed. His hands stopped shaking.

  With a deep, shaky breath, Billy spat on the ground and forced himself to his feet. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” His voice was low, deadly, every word laced with barely restrained fury.

  “Well, now, I apologize,” Eugene said, his tone warm, but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “I’m afraid it was the only way to calm ya down, you see. And I needed you calm if we were gonna have a productive conversation.”

  Billy rolled his shoulders, still simmering. “I wouldn’t say I’m calm,” he gritted out. “But it appears my options are limited.”

  Eugene let out a hearty chuckle. “Well, now, you’re calm enough to see that, at least.”

  Billy exhaled through his nose, his frustration like a slow-burning ember. “Seems I can’t kill ya for what you did. So the least you can do is answer my questions.”

  “That seems plenty fair to me.” Eugene stretched his arms before turning toward town. “I’ll answer what I can—on the way to the saloon. I suspect you’re just as parched as I am.”

  Billy stared at him for a long moment before sighing in resignation. “Well, like choosin’ between whiskey or water, let’s start with the obvious. How do you have magic? How in the hell are you so strong?”

  Eugene’s broad face split into a grin. “A fine place to start, fine place indeed.” He chuckled, hands resting on his belly as they walked. “I’m this strong, William, because I’ve been alive a mighty long time. Had my magic a long time, too. And when you live long enough, gain enough experience, that power starts stackin’ up real nice.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes. “And the magic?”

  “Well now ya see’a” Eugene’s voice took on a preacher’s cadence, his words rich with amusement. “I am a proud member of a most esteemed religious fraternity, the Latores Veritatis. One of our theological edicts is that we must seek out and gain mastery over magic. Through this I was able to gain my powers.”

  Billy gave him a flat look. “That’s the dumbest name I ever heard.”

  “Oh ho ho, I don’t disagree!” Eugene let out a hearty chuckle, his belly jiggling with the effort. “The name changes every couple o’ decades, ostensibly for secrecy, but if you ask me, it’s ‘cause even we realize how downright foolish they sound after a while.”

  Billy huffed, crossing his arms. “So apart from grantin’ you fancy magic powers, what exactly does your little gang do?”

  “Ah, now that’s where things get a touch… dicey.” Eugene rubbed two of his three chins in thought. “This here marking,” he said, tapping the swirling tattoo across his chest, visible through the hole burned in his suit, “is an oath mark, and I have made several oaths. One to keep the inner workings of the Latores Veritatis secret. Another to never directly act against the interests of its members. Every one of us takes oaths like these before we’re granted power.”

  Billy raised an eyebrow. “And what happens if you break ‘em?”

  Eugene’s expression turned grave. “Then the mark takes our magic. Ain’t no comin’ back from that.” He shook his head. “Too many wars, William. Too much bloodshed. The oaths keep us from turnin’ our gifts into another century of slaughter.”

  Billy sighed, rubbing his temple. “Alright, so what can you tell me?”

  Eugene scratched at his jaw, thinking. “Oh, we’re involved in a great many things. Behind the scenes, of course. We grant power in exchange for influence. All of it in service of our higher goals.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes. “And those are?”

  “That, my dear boy, I cannot tell you.”

  Billy let out an exasperated sigh. “Figures. Not that it matters much to me anyway.” He flexed his fingers, summoning a flicker of fire across his palm. “What does matter is how I ended up like this. ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t part of your snooty little gang.”

  Eugene chuckled. “That, you are not. Which, I must say, presents a rather interestin’ opportunity.”

  Billy’s scowl deepened.

  “As for your powers,” Eugene continued, “I can’t say for certain, since I wasn’t there. But generally speakin’, we take our magic from sentient magical beasts. The powers then adapt to how we wield ‘em. What we don’t quite understand yet is how these beasts have such power to begin with.”

  Eugene paused, glancing over, expecting a response, but Billy was no longer beside him despite them being about to reach the back of the outer buildings of Blackwater.

  Instead, the gunslinger had taken off running.

  For a man his size, Eugene moved surprisingly fast, following Billy as he sprinted down the outside of the town toward something several buildings away.

  When Eugene caught up, he found Billy standing dead still, staring at what looked to be an incredibly detailed ice sculpture of a man.

  At its feet lay a massive phoenix fox, its once-proud form curled up in quiet despair. Blue and green flames licked solemnly along its fur, their usual vibrancy dulled to an eerie glow.

  Billy’s voice was like steel. “Heal him.”

  Eugene stepped beside him, frowning slightly. “William—”

  “You’re some kinda Grand Healer,” Billy snapped. “So heal Harlan. He risked everything for this town. Heal him.”

  Eugene exhaled, the weight of the moment dimming his usual jovial nature. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

  Billy turned, fury flashing in his eyes.

  “He’s dead, William.” Eugene’s voice was quiet. “I can mend wounds, stop bleedin’, even bring a man back from the brink of death. But dead is dead. If I could bring folk back, I wouldn’t need these.” He patted the heavy satchel slung over his shoulder.

  Billy’s gaze snapped to the bag. “You have something that can bring him back.”

  “I have something that can be used to bring folk back,” Eugene corrected. “It’s what I had you, Tommy, and Mr. Liu workin’ to create.”

  Billy’s fists clenched. “Then use it on Harlan.”

  Eugene sighed, a rare flicker of sadness crossing his face before he buried it beneath his usual cheer. “I can’t do that.”

  Billy’s temper flared, hot and wild. “Why the hell not? Lemme guess, you had us jump through all these hoops just so you could bring someone back that you care about, but no one else? Hog by name, Hog by nature.”

  His hand twitched, reflexively forming the shape of a gun.

  “Oh ho ho! William, William!” Eugene chuckled, holding up a meaty palm. “You are thinkin’ far too small. The stakes at hand are not interpersonal, they are intercontinental. Global. The lives of everyone in this great amalgamation of leagues, unions, and alliances we call America depend on what I do next.”

  Billy scoffed. “That’s the kinda hogwash rich, greedy men tell themselves to assuage their guilt and sleep better at night.”

  “I’ll forgive the pun,” Eugene drawled. “But you know damn well I ain’t never lost sleep over my greed, Billy-boy.” He chuckled, then his tone grew serious again. “This, however, this is somethin’ greater. With these phoenix shots, I have the bargaining power to unite America into a single nation. Maybe not those lunatics up in the Wilderlands, but the rest of these fractured states? I can bring ‘em together. And they will need to be.”

  Billy folded his arms. “I’ve heard this speech before. Every man with power says he’s actin’ for the greater good.”

  Eugene let out a deep belly laugh. “Oh ho! You do have a point there, I’ll grant you that.” He sobered slightly. “But I swear to you, Billy, there is a real danger. The Han and Prussian Empires have set their sights on this land, they already have their agents here, and if we don’t unite, they will overrun us.”

  Billy didn’t answer.

  “I could use your help,” Eugene said, watching him carefully. “Help preparin’ for these coming wars.”

  Billy’s jaw tightened. “Even if I believed you, I ain’t no savior. I’m just a gunslinger.”

  Eugene glanced toward the horizon, where the mountain-sized corpse of the Volcano Titan still loomed in the distance. He chuckled.

  “I say, I must disagree.”

  Billy drew his lips into a line. “I ain’t savin’ the world, Eugene.”

  “Fair, fair,” Eugene said, holding up his hands. “I don’t need you to save the world. That, I have in hand. But you, my boy, you have two very useful qualities. One, your abilities.” He pointed to Billy’s hand, where faint embers still danced. “And two, you ain’t bound by the same oaths that shackle me.”

  Billy frowned. “And why’s that important?”

  Eugene grinned. “Because, William, I need someone outside of the Latores Veritatis to… eliminate certain obstacles standin’ in my way.”

  Billy snorted. “You want me to go ‘round killin’ members of Latores Veritatis? Hate to break it to ya, but considerin’ I put up about as much of a fight as a sack o’ flour against you, I doubt I’d do much better against others in your organisation like you.”

  “Oh my no,” Eugene cackled, his belly shaking with laughter. “You absolutely wouldn’t stand a chance against the higher members of Latores Veritatis.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “No, no, my boy, I wouldn’t send you after the big fish.”

  His grin turned knowing.

  “I’d have you take care of the small ones. The lackeys, the sycophants. The ones who really make the machine run.”

  “They’re the ones who make things work,” Eugene continued smoothly. “Getting rid of just a few key members would throw enough sand in their gears to gum up the whole operation. It’d slow ‘em down just enough to make my plans far more likely to succeed.”

  Billy crossed his arms, his expression hard. “Last time I did a job for you, I damn near got killed. Hell, I still ain’t sure I wasn’t. So pardon me if it sounds like you’re sellin’ me a busted horse. Why the hell would I buy?”

  Eugene’s smile widened like a man who’d just been handed a fresh pork chop. “Another excellent point, Billy-boy! And my counter, if I may—”

  The large man reached into what remained of his tattered suit jacket and pulled out an absurdly fat sack of money. It hit his palm with a weighty thud, the leather bulging from the sheer amount of coin stuffed inside.

  “This,” Eugene said, holding it up with a satisfied grin, “is what I owe you for the previous job. And should you choose to accept these next jobs, well…” His grin turned almost predatory. “Let’s just say I will pay you so much that your great-great-great-grandchildren won’t have to work a day in their lives.”

  Billy stayed silent, but his eyes flicked from the sack to Eugene’s face, waiting.

  “And,” Eugene continued, voice dropping to a honeyed murmur, “just to sweeten the deal… I will give you one of the phoenix shots.”

  Billy stiffened.

  “That way,” Eugene said, tucking the money away, “you can bring Harlan back yourself.”

  Billy’s hands clenched at his sides. His chest felt tight, like a rope was winding around his ribs, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

  “You’d hold that over me,” he said, his voice quiet, dangerous, “just to get me to do what you want?”

  Eugene didn’t even blink.

  “Do not mistake my generosity and high calling for me bein’ above doin’ whatever it takes.” His smile sharpened, an edge of malice glinting behind his eyes.

  Billy felt the weight of the decision settle over him like a lead blanket. It pressed down, made his head spin. The rage still burned inside him, the grief, the overwhelming storm of everything that had happened in the past few hours, and now, this.

  His jaw tightened. “I’m gonna need time to think this over.” His voice was rough, raw. “It’s too much right now. Not with everything that just happened.”

  “Oh, of course.” Eugene waved a meaty hand, all smiles again. “Take your time, William. No rush, no pressure. I’m gonna be in town for a good long while.” He turned slightly, then added, with an air of casual authority:

  “After all—I do own Blackwater now.”

  Billy’s stomach twisted.

  Eugene clapped his hands together. “In the meantime, we could use a sheriff.” He winked. “If you’re interested.”