Hui Cao felt as if her brains had turned to dust.
When a blue light pulled her out of that place with a sensation of death, she could barely remain standing.
She sat down and let out a long breath, recalling the fox's attack.
—In the end I lost in the final minutes… how long did the Dragon's fire last?—
Hui Cao threw herself onto the ground, letting her body acclimate.
Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the final seconds before her brain had turned into scrambled eggs.
The fox, in its distant blue form, split into four different figures in an instant, attacking from multiple directions at once. With her divine vision, Hui Cao focused on dodging the real one as much as possible.
—How amusing… that mortal's toy—
In an instant, a memory from her childhood broke through her mind, causing her defense to falter and receive a small cut.
In anger, she launched an attack with her dragon breath, forcing the fox to retreat.
The flames lasted only a few seconds before fading.
Hui Cao continued her assault until she saw the fox simply pass through the wall of flames and strike directly at her skull.
Now, analyzing with greater concentration, she noticed the difference. It was as if it had never touched the flames at all—as if it had simply appeared before her.
—How long until my spiritual energy fully recovers?—Hui Cao asked the system while feeling her head spin.
"8 to 9 hours for full recovery. Host protocol 'Silly girl don't approach the fields' activated. The guest is prohibited from accessing any training grounds until recovery is complete."
Hui Cao was truly furious. She even tried to launch a burst of flame into the space, but after falling onto her back from the effort, she drifted into sleep for a few minutes.
After waking, she walked to the wooden table and took out three miniaturized logs from the chest beside it.
Each weighed the same as in reality—around one ton. Hui Cao felt how easily she could move the small logs between her fingers, almost like an illusion—until one slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, expanding back to its original size of ten meters in diameter.
Hui Cao handled the logs more carefully and placed them on the table. As she lifted one toward the surface, it shrank once again to its miniature state.
—Creation of oak planks—
The tools at the sides of the table began moving on their own. Even the small jar of lacquer at the top looked like a tiny dog, part of its liquid being flung in licking motions over the planks as they were processed.
Hui Cao continued placing oak logs one after another until the table could hold no more.
After that, she went to the cabin and sat down in the rocking chair, beginning to think.
—That strange man… what is he doing now? He has an instant teleportation array on a map. Why hasn't he gone out to conquer beyond the barriers of this space?—
With her thoughts finally calming, she looked more peacefully at the inner world within the barrier.
—Hey, your name is System, right?—she asked the voice in her head.
"My most accurate designation would be: Old West Survival System, original name Survival in the West™."
—So, System… what are you really? Some kind of conscious array ensuring this place?—she asked calmly, taking a breath in the comfortable rocking chair.
"My form is impossible to describe in your terms, but you may compared me as the metaphysical entity in your world known as the Heavenly Dao."
—Are all of you buffoons here?—
Hui Cao once again felt the unreality of the space and adjusted herself, ignoring the system's voice.
"No. I am simply a system."
In the Tungsten Mine…
The Man Without a name spun his revolver.
He twirled it between his fingers calmly while looking around for veins of tungsten ore.
His eyes carried a tired gleam, his expression relaxed—until he stopped.
—Sioux… if I'm correct, I'll be in contact with your hunters very soon—
He shook his head from side to side in disapproval.
Finding a stone covered in a thin whitish layer, he took out an iron pickaxe and began mining.
The blows sounded like striking emptiness, producing only faint sparks against the stone.
After ten strikes, as if a section of the mine wall had turned into nothing, a small piece of tungsten ore fell in miniature form—a stone weighing one ton.
—Good… about forty of these should be enough… maybe. System, how many resources would be sufficient for that girl's growth?—
The Man Without a name pulled out a handmade cigarette and lit it.
"Responding to the host: The growth of the guest is not within your responsibilities. However, when the time comes to further advance the training grounds, upgrading the entity known as Blackie to the peak of its potential is recommended."
—I can't tell whether you like that girl or dislike her—
He continued walking through the tungsten mine, cigarette between his lips.
Within one of the collapsed sections of the mine, a sleeping beast heard the repeated blows against stone with growing irritation as they drew closer.
The Man Without a name walked carelessly, mining the ore.
A small melody on his lips.
—Uranium fever has gone and got me down—
he murmured while focusing on another unusual stone to mine.
The beast, its shoulders bright white with embedded mineral, truly awoke in monstrous fury.
Breaking the small wooden planks and stone blocking the passage, it charged forward, making the earth tremble with each step of its massive body.
The Man Without a name gave a slight smile and stored the pickaxe in his inventory, drawing his mythical revolver instead.
Calmly reloading ammunition as the tremors approached faster.
Closing his eyes, sensing the vibrations of where the beast was coming from, he fired a shot.
A mouse-like shriek echoed, metallic particles spraying from a wound.
The beast's skin was pink and rough, its claws pure tungsten—but most striking was its sea-urchin-shaped nose in gray tones.
—Tungsten Spirit Mole—
he said calmly while looking at where the creature had come from.
Beasts in the Old West world always possessed high spirit. When one accumulated too much spirit, it could become an animal Wendigo. Those that did not instead became spirit versions of their counterparts.
—Perhaps fourth level of spirit refinement?—
he said while pulling a machete from his inventory and pointing it at the wounded beast whose rage was impossible to contain.
The beast charged upon smelling the new material.
"Host, the beast before you is one month away from achieving its fifth-level state."
The Man Without a name blocked the claw aimed at his neck with his machete and fired the revolver directly into the creature's nose.
In an instant, like meteor fragments, the nose's spikes flew in all directions.
Unable to penetrate the mythical-grade equipment worn by the nameless man, they fell uselessly to the ground—unlike those that struck unprotected areas, embedding deeply into flesh and the stone walls of the mine.
With greater force, the nameless man slashed downward with his machete, severing one of the beast's fingers.
Rage spread across the beast's skin with every drop of its blood as it retreated.
Noticing this, the Man Without a name pulled a sawed-off shotgun from his inventory.
—Damn… too much expense for this week—
He loaded the shotgun shells, each marked with the silver gleam of a harpy eagle engraved upon their red casing.
The beast's body began turning darker, its rage intensifying until it lunged again, firing its spikes everywhere.
The Man Without a name covered himself with his poncho, then aimed at the closest pink-skinned legs.
—What a waste—
In an instant, a blast thundered through the entire mine, followed by a gurgling sound.
Where the sea-urchin nose and the beast's head had been, nothing remained but a fountain of blood filled with tungsten particles.
The silver from the shells embedded into the stone before turning into ordinary rock, falling as small nuggets.
The Man Without a name looked on wearily.
Taking his machete and storing the shotgun, he began dismembering the beast, tearing away massive chunks of tungsten.
After storing them in his inventory, he walked toward where the creature had emerged.
There he found several mineral veins with bite marks the size of cubes, some reserves excavated along the right wall.
Carrying as much as he could, he paid no attention to the small mole chewing half-bitten mineral nearby.
Taking one final look at the mine, he found a skeleton with a backpack attached to its body—clothing resembling that of a researcher—and two large bite marks in its skull.
Searching through the belongings, he found a small book containing the man's notes and his name.
—Max Dinamo, Animal Research Enthusiast—
he read calmly before storing it.
Thinking as he exited the mine, having completed his farming of resources, he turned the thought over in his mind.
—What are spiritual beasts like in that girl's world?—
he said calmly while heading toward his horse.
Mounting Blackie, he took out the map once more and selected New Amster.
The journey occurred instantly, as if he vanished into nothing.
Leaving Blackie at the city's edge, he walked toward a small shop near the entrance.
The city's lanterns glowed with orange light, and although the copper wires were covered with a thin rubber coating to prevent heat concentration, the current could still be felt beneath the cables.
At the top of the shop, a large sign read:
Antiquities Arch and June.
The Man Without a name entered calmly, examining the relics of the past displayed inside as a bell rang above the door.
Old furniture worthless to someone like him, muskets from ancient wars, and the occasional gold object inside the counter protected by bars.
—Good evening. What does a man of your status desire in a place like this?—
A repeating rifle hung from the woman's shoulder, ready to be aimed.
The Man Without a name chuckled softly and tipped his hat.
—Hmm! Arch, that idiot Mr. Nobody wants to see you!—
she shouted toward the back of the shop while resting her rifle against her back.
—It's good to see you too, June—
he said calmly.
—Hmm, I still haven't charged you for all the times you left Arch bruised in that filthy bar—
she said coolly, looking at him.
—We're just men, June. Well… Arch is a bad drinker and a worse fighter—
he said with a smile, looking at the brown-eyed woman with dark hair whose beauty left nothing to envy.
—Sure, sure. You're not here out of kindness. What do you want?—
—What else would he want if not to drink with his good friend?—
a voice came from the back. A man wearing overalls stepped forward, blue eyes and sun-blond hair, his muscular build like an oak tree.
—Don't you have a son to take care of, my friend?—
the Man Without a name said calmly, placing the oak-grove family-sealed watch and Max Dinamo's book on the counter.
—He doesn't need much care. He's barely six—
Arch said lightly, avoiding June's annoyed gaze.
—Of course, Charles is just a very sweet little boy. Alright June, to business—
he laughed softly, tapping the objects.
—I found this book on a corpse inside a mine. It's at least forty or fifty years old. Max Dinamo—
he said, pointing at the name.
—Max Dinamo? I think there's an old book about crocodiles by him here. But the man died of old age about ten years ago—
Arch said calmly while glancing at a nearby shelf.
—This is payment for what I want you to investigate—
The Man Without a name slid the watch forward, revealing the family crest with his finger.
—This thing is from the colonies. Where did you get it?—
June gave it a brief look, watching him cautiously.
—A group of idiots from a new gang. It's related to a target—
he replied calmly.
—I think they belonged to an old aristocratic house opposed to the Alliance—
The nameless man let the information hang in the air.
—Tell me the truth. Did you go look for a dead man's book just to avoid paying me?—
June asked calmly while watching him scratch his beard.
—No need for such foolishness. But since I found it along the way, why not use it?—
he said, raising his hands.
—I'll check the local house records in the morning. But if I have to go to the library and pay that fee, I swear you'll have to pay me in money—
June said calmly as she took the watch and the book.
Arch finally pulled a book from the shelf and read a passage at the end.
—To my student who sought to end my research by stealing my data: may history erase your name, and may the heavens forget you for never surpassing Max Dinamo—
he said, closing the book
.
June felt the urge to strike her husband with all her strength.
—Looks like you two have much to discuss. I expect the house name and address tomorrow. Good luck, Arch—
the nameless man said calmly as he walked away, June's voice shouting behind him.
—How the hell are we supposed to keep this business running if you don't stop telling fools what they're carrying!?—
she shouted, raising the rifle above her head.
—Forgive me, wife—
Arch pleaded, crouching down.
The Man Without a Name did not look back. He mounted Blackie, selected his home, and disappeared into the air among blue particles.