III - Always Listen to the Elderly

James groaned as he stepped out of the Magus Brigade's HQ, rubbing his sore neck as he did so. He winced in pain as his fingers came into contact with the red marks on his neck, a parting gift from a less than amicable woman he was forced to spend much of the night with. All thanks to the long and arduous process of filling out paperwork and the like.

There were only a few minutes left before the sun would shine over the horizon, and he had promised to be out of the city before daybreak. James was a man of his word, so he begrudgingly started his slow trek to the city gates.

His feet stung slightly with each step he took, the fact that he was wearing shoes one size too small on him that came straight from the lost-and-found did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. Normally a healer would patch his feet right up and he would be good as new, but since James had been excommunicated and was no longer a citizen of Ashiel, he had to make do with a couple of bandages and cloth wraps.

As he walked along the city's empty streets, houses and buildings around him began to light up one by one, signaling the start of the day for its citizens. The unmistakable ring of a bell resounded from behind him and James turned around right in time for a rolled-up wad of paper to smack him across the face.

"Damned paperboys."

The aforementioned paperboy cruised past James, ringing his bell obliviously as he threw the day's paper left and right. Grumbling as he glared at the paperboy's receding figure, James shifted his gaze to the discarded newspaper that hit him. Bending down to pick it up, he frowned as he examined the headline.

'EXPLOSION AT ROWENA'S TAVERN, BILLY THE BOY AT IT AGAIN?'

James was frowning for two reasons.

One was that surprise, surprise, the media had once again altered the news to stop a public outrage. Ashiel City's reputation would be blown to bits if they published news that a ghoul had somehow managed to slip past the city's defenses while carrying a dangerous weapon too. It was much easier to pin the blame on a well-known arsonist by the name of Billy the Boy.

That brings us to the second reason. If Billy the Boy read today's headline, then he would only have two possible reactions. Be happy that his name is on the paper and light a building on fire in celebration, or be pissed that someone is trying to build on his fame and light a building on fire. Either way, both spelled bad news for the citizens of Ashiel.

Shaking his head at the Magus Brigade's incompetence, James threw the paper in a nearby trash bin and continued his walk, the city limits now only a few blocks away.

James was unaware of the pair of eyes watching him from afar as he left the city.

-[A Few Hours Before the Explosion at Rowena's Tavern...]-

James stepped out of his room's bath, his bare body glistening for all the world to see. He had a toned and muscled body, honed by years of exercise and workouts. Not to mention the rigorous training he had to undergo to get a weapon license.

Compared to the humungous muscles bigger than people's heads that most warriors and heavyweights had, James had a more lithe physique. One might call it a swimmer's body; lean yet packed with muscle underneath.

He stretched his limbs like an agile cat, relishing in the delightful pops he heard as his bones and muscles locked into place. Nothing was more satisfying than enjoying a soothing bath before facing an arduous task.

Finishing his routine James walked over to his bed, eyeing his clothes laid out on the mattress. His signature black hooded cloak over a dark grey shirt and jeans. And of course...

"My sweet new boots."

James bent down and tenderly picked up the pair of boots lying next to the bed, grinning from ear to ear as he appreciated the beauty of the designer boots that he had spent quite a fortune on.

He wasn't a particularly materialistic person, but he had been dying to buy the boots ever since he saw them in his 27th life, and now he finally had them. They weren't just for show either, the store James bought them at insisted that the boots were perfectly durable and would get through any altercation an adventurer could experience unscathed. If only he knew just how much he would regret his purchase soon enough.

James shifted his view to the window, taking note of the sun's setting position as he guessed the time. Realizing he would soon be running behind schedule, he hurriedly put on his boots and walked out of his room.

He exited out into the bright hallway, a delighted expression spreading on his face as he smelled the distinct scent of freshly grilled meats wafting from the other end of the hall. That grin quickly turned into a frown as he remembered that he didn't have any time to waste.

His mood now soured, James walked past the enticing dining area, not even stopping as the manager bid him goodbye, "We hope you enjoyed your stay here at the Galagos Inn, and we look forward to another visit from you soon."

James just replied with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, waving off the manager before exiting the inn and heading to his destination.

His first stop was at Ashiel City's most famous and only smithy. It was the one area in the whole city that was always busy, a place where you could hear the non-stop sound of metal hammering away at metal 24/7. That was also why there weren't any residential areas anywhere nearby.

James walked into the smithy, the incessant clanging and suffocating heat making him instantly regret his decision to come here. However, he had insisted on coming personally to pick up his new weapon.

He walked deeper into the depths of the smithy, passing by dozens of blacksmiths stoking the fires of their forges or striking their hammers against various different metals and minerals. He even passed by a cart full of swords that any other person might think was identical, but any blacksmith or weapon lover worth their salt would know that they were all slightly different.

After all, blacksmiths were taught to be unique, and always craft something new. They could try to craft a duplicate of something, but there would always be a new or changed detail; be it a shorter blade, a thicker hilt, or a better grip.

James finally reached the end of the smithy, his face dripping with sweat as he gazed at the back of a hunched man. The man was focused on a shining item that he held in his hand, turning it over to make sure there weren't any nicks or flaws. James tapped the man on the back to get his attention, not wanting to stay any longer in the stuffy building than he had to.

"Ah, James. Right on time. I just finished your gun."

The man smiled as he held up the platinum revolver sitting in his palm. It was beautifully crafted, with an assortment of runes and other magus symbols etched into the smooth surface. The hunched man chuckled as he held out the gun, his belly laughing along with him as he did so.

"Be careful, it's still a bit hot," he warned. James paid no heed to the warning as he reached for the gun, after all the old man was holding it in his own hands without any protection to speak of.

'How hot could it possibly be?'

The girly shriek James let out after his fingers wrapped around the piping hot metal made him inwardly swear to always listen to the elderly.

Thankfully, he was in a smithy, so no one stopped to gawk or laugh at him. The blacksmiths were much too preoccupied with their work to put it on hold just to make fun of someone. The only response to his scream was the continuous sounds of the smithy and an exasperated sigh from the old man as he snatched the gun out of James' grasp.

"Gods how thick is your skin that you can't even feel that?" James asked as he gingerly blew on the tender skin of his reddening hand.

The old blacksmith just shook his head as he wiped the revolver with a wet cloth. "I'm a blacksmith, son. I've held metals much hotter than that."

He finished wiping off the gun which was now much cooler, handing both the gun and a box of ammo to James. This time James was able to properly hold the gun, the heat having dissipated and being no more than just a tingling warm sensation.

A relaxing sensation passed over him as he held it in his grip, the gun feeling more like an extension of his body than a metal killing tool. The gun felt lightweight in his hand, a wild contrast to the other firearms he had wielded before that always felt so heavy and wrong. This one felt just right, almost comfortable even.

"Those runes aren't just for show, just so you know," the blacksmith said as he pointed a callused finger at the gun in James' hand.

"What do you mean?" he inquired as he took a closer look at the runes, examining them as if though he could figure out their purpose.

The old man walked forward, tapping his index finger against a small hole on the underside of the grip. "You can pour magus into this gun through this hole. And by clicking this," he clicked a small button James had mistaken for a screw on the left side of the grip, "this beauty's power will be increased tenfold."

James' jaw hung open at the blacksmith's words, amazed at the amount of firepower that could be fitted into such a small weapon.

"You really are the best blacksmith on the continent," James praised, his eyes sparkling as he tucked the gun behind his back.

The blacksmith just nodded with a smug look on his face as he escorted James out of the smithy.

James eyed the darkening sky as soon as he got outside, noticing that the sun was barely visible anymore. He had spent more time than he would have liked picking up his gun, and now he had to hurry.

He rushed through the crowded streets of the city, scowling as his movement was hindered by the throngs of people milling about. Making a split-second decision, he ducked into an alleyway to try and take a shortcut to his next stop.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was to get lost 10 seconds after entering the depths of the city. What he thought would get him out of his dilemma had landed him in an even stickier situation.

'I could really use a miracle right about now.'

As if the gods had heard his plea and taken pity on him, a flash of light erupted from behind him as the chilly air turned warm. James simply groaned as he turned around with his eyes closed, he could recognize that familiar summery presence and floral scent anywhere. Still keeping his eyes closed, he slapped a lopsided grin onto his face as he performed an exaggerated curtsy.

"Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, goddess."