Death Guns In Another World

Evening was descending slowly over the mountain range, casting long golden rays across the jagged peaks and painting the sky in hues of orange, violet, and deep crimson. The air grew cooler, crisper, and the chirping of distant insects echoed softly through the narrow passes. Alex stood still for a moment on the winding trail, eyes half-lidded, taking in the shifting landscape. He could have pressed forward and reached the city by nightfall, but he didn’t.

He chose peace.

The tension that had followed him from the trials, the adrenaline of battle, and the sharp mental awareness he had clung to all day began to fade. He turned to Nyx, who walked a few steps behind him, her presence silent and ethereal as ever.

“This is enough for today,” Alex said, glancing around the ridge where they stood. A soft plateau extended a little ahead, framed by a crescent of tall pines and scattered boulders. It overlooked a wide valley below, mist curling between the trees like slow-moving ghosts.

Nyx said nothing, as was typical of her. But she gave the smallest nod and moved alongside him as they walked toward the perfect campsite.

With practiced ease, Alex reached into his item box and withdrew a sleek, modern tent – a blend of high fantasy magic-tech and Earth-level comfort. It sprang to shape within moments, assembling itself with faint mechanical clicks and flashes of blue light. He followed up by pulling out a collapsible grill, firewood bundles, clean utensils, and a small crate of fresh ingredients sealed in magical stasis.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves,” he muttered, more to himself than to his companion.

Nyx simply rolled up her sleeves and began preparing the ingredients. She didn’t need to speak. Her silent cooperation was, in its own way, a warm gesture. She worked with calm, deliberate movements, slicing vegetables with inhuman precision, seasoning meat with the exact amounts required, and arranging skewers neatly.

Alex lit the grill with a flick of his fingers, conjuring a controlled flame from his fingertips and igniting the wood beneath the grates. Soon, the savory aroma of sizzling meat and spiced vegetables filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of pine and mountain flowers. The quiet crackle of fire blended seamlessly with the whispering winds and rustling foliage.

The world slowed.

They sat together near the grill, bathed in the flickering firelight. Alex offered Nyx a drink, a fine wine conjured from his item box, served in crystalline glasses he carried more out of habit than necessity. Nyx accepted but merely held the glass, her gaze cast toward the distance. Her silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was meditative. Her presence, always cool and mysterious, never felt lonely.

Alex took a sip from his glass, then another. The flavor was smooth, deep, rich with floral undertones. He turned his eyes skyward, watching as stars began to pierce the twilight. The first to emerge was bright and solitary, followed quickly by others until a cascade of constellations unfurled above them.

“This,” he whispered, “is what makes it all worth it.”

The food was excellent. The meat was tender, juices seared inside, and the spices burst with just the right kick. The vegetables roasted to perfection, and the wine paired elegantly with each bite. They dined quietly, without the need for conversation. The silence was not empty – it was full of meaning. A calm serenity neither had to explain.

Once the meal was over, Nyx stood and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes shimmered faintly, reflecting the starlight like mirrors. She gave a small, graceful nod, then her form began to dissolve into strands of black mist, vanishing back to her world until summoned again.

Alone now, Alex leaned back on the soft mat he had unfurled by the tent. He reached into his item box one last time, withdrawing a bottle of aged whisky from an elegant case and a short tumbler. He poured a glass, savoring the rich amber color and the sharp scent of peat and oak.

He took a sip and felt the warmth bloom in his chest.

Above, the heavens stretched infinitely, a canvas of stars and galaxies that flickered and shimmered. The Milky Way ran across the night sky like spilled silver paint. Shooting stars occasionally traced fleeting arcs across the blackness. The moon hung heavy and luminous, casting a gentle light that softened the sharpness of the mountains.

There were no monsters here.

No enemies lurking in the dark.

Just wind, stars, firelight, and the crackling embers of a well-cooked meal.

Alex exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the mountain air. He leaned back on his elbows, letting the warmth of the fire fight the cool breeze brushing past his skin. The slight rustling of the trees above and the occasional chirp of nocturnal creatures filled the otherwise perfect silence.

He thought back to everything he’d been through recently – the brutal trials, the blood-stained victories, the silent judgment of the hidden entity that had been watching him. It all felt like a different world now, far removed from the serenity of this quiet night. A part of him knew more challenges awaited, but for this moment, he allowed himself to let go.

He stared at the sky and lost himself in it. It was the kind of night that made a man reflect on who he was and who he wanted to become. He’d passed the test. He was to become a Black rank adventurer. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone anymore – the observer had surely seen enough.

Another sip of whisky warmed his core.

A meteor shower began to streak across the sky, a rare and majestic display that turned the heavens into a living painting. Trails of light danced and weaved across the stars like divine brushstrokes, and Alex watched it all in awe.

He took another drink, and another, until the stars began to blur slightly. He wasn’t drunk, just loose, relaxed in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks. Every muscle in his body finally unclenched, every taut nerve eased.

There was no war to fight tonight.

No mission.

Nothing to think deeply and worry about.

Just Alex, the stars, the mountains, and the soft lullaby of the wilderness.

Eventually, he rose and added another log to the fire. The flames roared softly, pushing back the chill. He pulled a thick blanket from his tent, wrapped himself in it, and sat by the fire once more, nursing his drink.

“I’ll move forward,” he said to the wind.

“Stronger. Wiser. Ready.”

And then, with the stars as his ceiling and the fire as his lullaby, he closed his eyes, allowing himself the rarest of gifts: rest.