Django has used 3 bullets so far.
He hasn’t reloaded yet, so he still has 3 bullets left.
The difference in weapons between me and Django is a knife versus a gun.
If the distance widens, I have no chance.
So, if I want to slit his throat, I need to close the distance again.
And…
I need to wait for the moment when Django exhausts all 3 bullets in his chamber and starts reloading.
The good thing is, after experiencing it earlier, I’m getting more familiar with Django’s bullets.
With that in mind, I put strength into my soles to charge at him again.
*Whoosh.*
As I cut through the wind, another baseball-like bullet comes flying.
*Bang!*
From his posture earlier, I could tell.
Django isn’t used to guns.
He probably never properly learned how to use one and has barely held one before.
But thanks to his overwhelming talent, Django’s bullets are incredibly sharp.
He instinctively knew that if he shot at my torso, I’d react, so his bullet aimed for my left leg.
He probably wanted to hinder my mobility and finish me off with a follow-up shot.
*Swoosh.*
The bullet aimed at my leg narrowly misses and embeds itself in the ground.
This is my unconscious reacting.
Another trait I brought into this game—[Superhuman Senses].
The sharp senses I’ve honed over 17 years automatically lifted my left leg.
But even [Superhuman Senses] can’t handle the follow-up shot.
*Bang!*
Django’s fanning was so fast it was hard to track even in slowed-down time.
Another fastball comes flying.
This time, aimed at my torso.
But after barely dodging the first shot, I had no blind spots.
It’s coming.
That sharp bullet is coming to end me.
*Heh.*
I smirked and bent my arm.
And…
*Thud!*
“……!!”
I caught the bullet with my bent arm instead of my torso.
Django’s face visibly flusters, clearly not expecting this.
He must be shocked.
I would be too.
Sacrifice flesh to take the bone.
A tactic I learned from my duel with Redbeard.
*Swoosh.*
Now the distance is somewhat closed.
Django’s eyes are fixated on my right arm, which was hit by the bullet.
Of course.
The right side, where I’m holding my knife.
But…
*Whoosh.*
“……!”
Waiting for Django’s gaze to focus on the right, I quickly pulled out another knife from my left back pocket.
As fast as Django’s fanning was, my hand pulling out the knife was just as quick.
Before I knew it, my left hand holding the knife was at Django’s collarbone.
*Click.*
Django quickly fanned the hammer and aimed the barrel at me.
Is it because I haven’t been shot in a while?
My blood is pumping, and my brain is working faster.
Cornered, Django will likely try to shoot me in the head to finish me off before I stab him.
That’s what I expected.
Unlike the torso, legs, or arms, a headshot is something I can dodge no matter how close it is.
The head moves quickly and freely thanks to the neck, and with eyes attached, I can react instantly.
Unaware of this, Django will waste his last bullet as I planned.
Dodge it, and with Django out of bullets, I’ll finish him with my knife…
‘Checkmate.’
That’s how it ends.
But…
“…….”
“……!”
Contrary to my expectations, Django only aimed at me without firing.
Because of that…
*Thud.*
My knife dug into Django’s collarbone, but I couldn’t drag it all the way to his throat.
If I took the time to drag the knife to his throat, Django, who still has his last bullet, would get a clear shot at me.
So, the best I could do was pull out the knife and retreat to create distance again.
*Tap.*
‘He’s holding out.’
Django not firing his last bullet meant I couldn’t finish him.
Still, the fight is pretty much over.
“Cough….”
“Django!!”
I took a few more bullets, but Django got a knife in his right collarbone.
*Splat!*
Blood gushes like a fountain from Django’s collarbone, and he grimaces in pain.
Django has one bullet left.
Even with the distance widened, he couldn’t easily fire his last shot.
He probably isn’t confident he’ll hit me.
Still, I’ll admit it.
Django is the trickiest prey I’ve encountered recently.
But even that fierce black panther is now gasping for breath, stabbed by a knife.
Instead of closing in immediately, I tightened the noose around his neck.
“NPCs can’t beat players.”
“…….”
As the tension eased, the excitement in my body began to fade.
Regaining my cold rationality, I pondered how to finish the rest.
But then…
“…….”
Instead of planning my next move, Django stared at me, lowering his gun slightly, and spoke.
“…I’m ignorant, so I don’t know what you mean by NPCs and players, Noah.”
I must’ve been using the term “NPC” too much, and it bothered him.
I chuckled and replied.
“You probably won’t know until the day you die.”
And that goes for all the inhabitants of this game world.
But unlike my small smile, Django’s face showed no trace of amusement.
Just yesterday, he seemed like a cheerful fool, but now…
Grimacing in pain, he looked utterly enraged.
“…But one thing I do know. I misjudged you yesterday, Noah.”
“Misjudged? How?”
“I thought you were different from the other white folks. But you’re the same.”
What is he even talking about?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Django poured out the resentment rooted in his chest.
“I’m not like you.”
“…….”
“The white men who managed black slaves always looked at us with those eyes. Just like how you’re looking at me now, Noah.”
In Django’s eyes, I could see flashes of his past.
“I used to think that too. That black and white people are different. That masters and slaves are different. But I don’t think that way anymore.”
Tears and a smile rose on his face.
It was hard to tell if he was crying or laughing.
One thing was clear to me…
‘As his emotions intensify, his openings keep appearing.’
His posture is crumbling as he speaks.
‘It’s about time.’
I realized it was time to finish this and quietly gripped my knife.
Just as I was about to leap and cut off his last breath, that’s when it happened.
“Noah, sir. We are all the same humans.”
“…What?”
I paused at Django’s words.
“……”
Same humans.
Those words struck a nerve.
“Black or white. And whether you call them NPCs or players.”
“……”
“We are all the same humans.”
I could feel the smile completely vanish from my face at Django’s words.
What is this?
If this is a strategy to rile me up, I gotta give it a round of applause.
Whoosh.
I couldn’t contain my excitement, and my body moved before my brain could even give the command.
It was a mistake I would never have made in my normal state.
Even if I seem clumsy, I don’t risk my life unless it’s a 100% chance.
Swoosh.
As soon as I leaped, Django’s stance changed.
“……!”
His face, which had been filled with pain just moments ago, began to cool down.
His trembling arm also straightened out.
‘Was the pain he showed just an act?’
I had misunderstood one thing.
I thought he was just a kind and naive guy.
But Django was a perfect gunslinger, equipped with the most important trait in the West: ruthlessness.
Bang!
Django didn’t miss the beat I was ahead and fired.
Whoosh.
In the slowed-down space-time due to the [Best Gunslinger in the West] trait, the bullet seemed even slower than usual.
But my body didn’t move either.
It was an experience I had before.
A flashback.
Whoosh.
The bullet was heading not for my head but for my heart.
‘I’m going to die.’
That was the moment I subconsciously sensed death.
Thud.
“……Ugh.”
The bullet that seemed like it would pierce my heart unexpectedly grazed my ribs and passed by.
Of course, even that was enough to deal significant damage, and I fell to one knee.
As I pressed my hand to my ribs to stop the bleeding, Django’s cold voice reached me.
“…Noah, you’re just a human who dies when shot.”
“……”
“So don’t follow us. Next time, I’ll really kill you.”
Tap, tap.
With those words, the sound of Django and Josephine’s fleeing footsteps echoed.
“Damn it…”
Just now, Django could have killed me but didn’t.
Humiliation.
It’s humiliation.
I immediately tried to get up and follow them, but…
Stagger.
A sudden dizziness forced me to pause for a moment.
Whoosh.
In that time, Django and Josephine had disappeared into the alley.
As we got closer to the port, there were more shantytowns where the workers lived, and they had slipped into one of those alleys.
Along with the temporary dizziness, Django’s words kept echoing in my head.
‘Black or white. And whether you call them NPCs or players, we are all the same humans.’
Bullshit.
Unlike other NPCs who think this world is real, I am the only one who knows this is inside a game.
All the others are just data, but I am a real human.
That’s why I want to return to the original world, and that’s why I’ve been struggling in this damn West for the past 17 years.
But some ignorant black NPC is denying my original world and life.
He’s denying the hell I’ve been through for the past 17 years.
How did I even get here?
“……F***.”
I gritted my teeth against the dizziness and finally stood up properly to catch Django again.
It wasn’t just about the money.
I needed to catch him…
‘I’m not like you.’
Because if I didn’t say that, I felt like I would lose the motivation to return to the original world.
“Gun… gun…”
But with my current weapons, it wasn’t enough.
I needed a gun.
But I didn’t have a gun now.
I couldn’t even see a gun.
Instead, I saw someone who had a gun.
So I immediately strode towards her.
**
Luke had assigned Billy to watch over Noah.
It wasn’t just about surveillance; it was also about preventing Noah from causing trouble in San Francisco.
In fact, Billy allowed Noah to engage in simple brawls, but…
If it came to knife fights or gunfights, she would intervene to stop it.
But…
‘…How dare this NPC bastard.’
Noah’s demeanor changed…
And Billy, recalling old memories, couldn’t move.
‘Miss, is that the South Brotherhood? Is there a bounty?’
The fear from three years ago took over her body.
Billy had sometimes seriously doubted whether Noah was really the Kid.
But the man before her was definitely that Kid.
Thud.
The Kid approached her.
Thud, thud.
He came closer, his eyes filled with anger, looking somewhere far away.
Whoosh.
He stood in front of Billy and reached out his hand.
“Billy, the gun.”
“……”
He had promised Luke not to own a gun in San Francisco.
But he demanded the gun as if he didn’t care about that.
As a member of the South Brotherhood, Billy should have refused and subdued him.
Luke had trusted her with this task, so she had to complete it even if it cost her life.
But…
“Here… it is…”
When she came to her senses, she was meekly handing over her revolver to him.
After neatly loading the bullets, the Kid checked the gun and…
Whoosh.
Turned towards where Django had fled.
Billy recalled the scene from earlier.
That black man, Django, was an incredibly skilled gunslinger, the kind you might see once in a lifetime.
But in the end, the man before her now held a gun.
The Kid of San Francisco holding a gun meant…
Anyone he wanted to kill would die.
