Chapter Text
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“World… forget me…”
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400 years later.
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A bounty paper swept through the dust storm. On the front page was a mechanical figure with an ominous star patterned eye.
In the distance, a small figure moved across the rocky region known as the Dunes of Steel. The figure was dressed in a black coat shredded at the edges, a black scarf, flared pants, and riding boots hooked at the tips to combat the sands. Underneath the wide brim of the figure’s hat gleamed sharp amber eyes, razored to the point of human evolution. His albino white hair was another peculiar feature that drew in the attention of many.
Most ruin machines were located in these parts, but only one was of interest to the hunter today. Ruin cruisers and destroyers slept deceivingly beneath the sands. Hand positioned right next to his holster, the hunter was prepared for the worst.
With a raise of his foot, his heel touched the ground.
Thump .
A whirring noise vibrated from underneath; the sand around him started shaking. Cyno leaped away from his position. A second later, a ruin machine burst from the ground.
There was a mechanical buzzing noise as the ruin hunter came to life; two more humanoid looking hands appeared from behind its back. Sand swirled around its body while it propelled itself into the air. A yellow glowing eye with a star pattern glowed in the harsh winds. The mechanical humanoid’s right hand transformed into a blade. Cyno pulled out the revolver from his holster.
With a pull of its shoulder, the ruin hunter slashed the air. Cyno ducked underneath the attack, and pulled the trigger.
Chlunk.
The bullet ricocheted off the ruin hunter’s eye. He fired another bullet, this time into the robot’s joints. The bottle tore right through, tearing off the right arm completely.
The robot did not seem to notice its missing twin arm when it unleashed its next attack— transforming its upper right arm and missing one into a lance, lunging forward. Cyno easily dodged this attack.
The ruin hunter’s eye glowed brighter. The short man was suddenly blown back from a gust of wind. The ruin hunter’s arms detached from its body. Shortly after, missiles started striking the ground, causing sand to fly in every direction. The ruin hunter’s warpath failed to dismay the man’s aim when he shot another bullet— right into the machine’s eye.
The ruin hunter stilled in the air before crashing to the ground. Before it could reactivate itself, Cyno thrust his hand into the machine’s joints and ripped out its power source. With a loud, mechanical grumble, the machine shut off.
He unloosened the gun’s hammer and unloaded his chamber. In his other hand was the chaos core, black oil dripping from its edges. With a yank of his wrist, Cyno threw off the remaining oil before stuffing it into his coat’s pocket.
With a whistle of his fingers, a tan horse came galloping towards him. Without stopping, he grabbed the straps, threw his left leg on the stirrups and pulled his body weight right onto the saddle. Cyno pulled the reins and the horse set off towards his newfound destination: the city.
…
He had found a new path to the city with less withering zones this time. It was best to avoid trouble as much as possible by ignoring a problem that didn’t benefit him. It was noon and the sky had its usual orange color. With no one on the road, Cyno could peacefully listen to sound of his horse’s hooves against the ground.
In the distance stood the wilting form of the Divine Tree. The tree had no leaves; its branches were all black and scratchy. The social hierarchy that translated to the tree’s height had decayed along with the tree.
After the cataclysm, Sumeru city had became a post-war settlement, built up from scrap through the remnants of the fallen Akademiya. Over time the junkyard evolved back into a form of civilization. The inner area was bustling with people; there were repair shops, saloons and vendor stalls that sold fresh scorpion meat, old clothes, and suspicious medicines. All the underground paths that led to the underground Bazaar were buried beneath rubble.
In the corner of the path, there was a stall, run-down like the rest. Behind the stall stood a little girl surrounded by two skinny cats. Her clothes were torn up and she was covered in dirt and sand.
Her time in the city spewing fortunes and revelations from a said god had many townspeople suspect that she was part of a cultist group. Public opinion was divided over the coming of a divine being’s intervention, yet no action had ever been taken against the girl because of the doubt of the human mind.
Deep down in the minds of the most strongest wastelanders, there was a desire to lay down their life for a higher being; a savior who would bring mercy to the wastelands.
“ What would happen if we went back to worshipping the gods?! ” The girl’s eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, crazed beyond reason. Her fingers twitched. “This morning, god spoke in my ear— that one day they will be amongst us once again! There-! Look in the sky! That floating island— up there!”
In the daytime, there was nothing to see. The sky was a crisp orange from the constant sand storms. During the night… it was different.
Shaking his head of his thoughts, he made his way towards a wooden building at the end of the path. A crooked sign, “Lord Sangemah Treasure Shop” hung at the front of the building.
On the middle pole of the entrance, there was a wanted poster, aged to a nasty yellow and picture scratched to the point where it was barely readable.
The dark edges of the paper blended into a young man with a triangular jaw, set of earrings, and a set of feminine eyes. Cyno pushed through the rickety saloon doors into a dimly lit room. Sand blew into the bank. The wood floors creaked.
Heads turned towards the direction of the newcomer. When he revealed incisor-like eyes, their glares morphed into looks of fear. The bank’s inhabitants emptied the room immediately. There was a banging noise as the last of the banks inhabitants left through the doors, and then a howling silence.
“Cyno..!“ The short, pink-haired woman crooned, “You are scaring away all my customers!”
Said person made a “hmph” sound and nothing more. Dori idly tapped her dirt-filled nails on the counter. “Well … you got what I asked?” Her lazy yellow eyes scanned his figure. Cyno pulled the chaos core of his coat pocket and slid it across the table.
Her wrinkled fingers snatched the chaos core and handled it with care; for three minutes straight, she analyzed the core, adjusting her square glasses as she looked at each individual spot. When she did a full 360 on the core, she breathed onto the ball of the chaos core and wiped the spot with her shoulder sleeves.
With an affirmative noise, she turned back to Cyno. “Good business! Good business!” Dori giggled, sliding a few terminals across the desk, “Good quality, amazing condition! Job well done! I can always rely on you!”
“And you as well,” he snatched up the terminals and made his leave. Before he could make it out the main door, two rugged looking men walked into the room. Cyno recognized the men immediately as the Matra. He grit his teeth.
No words were exchanged as both sides scrutinized one another. The two Matra looked into each other’s eyes in silent consideration before turning their attention back to the cowboy.
“The City Mayor requests your presence, Cyno.”
“ My presence?” His red eyes turned to slits.
A visible bead of sweat slid down the Matra’s chin. Their eyes shook. “Y-yes, it is urgent. So I suggest-“
“Don’t look at me like that— the Mayor’s an old friend of mine ,” he growled his last words. “ But I ain’t need no damn guide s.”
…
The city’s prison stood out the most compared to the other buildings in the area. It seemed as though it was untouched by the desert storms; its extravagant infrastructure held an unusual resemblance to the buildings of Old Sumeru.
The room had a modern design that not many wastelanders would be able to see in their short lifetime. Behind the counter framed with metal bars sat a muscular, young man with rigid eyes and that oh so familiar grey hair.
Cyno has arrived… and his own two Matra were awfully jittery.
Alhaitham did a signaling motion in the air and the two Matra left.
“Did you have to be so harsh to my men?” Alhaitham’s diamond teal eyes gazed lazily at the short man that stood in front of him.
“Tsk. The Matra were once the formidable moral officers of the Akademiya— to see them reduced to armed muscle, cowering in fear while they do another person’s bidding is pathetic.” He ended curtly.
“Times change, Cyno. Only those in power can control these wastelands—“ Alhaitham dangled a set of keys between his fingers, “And the ones with no power? They will do anything to survive if it gives them some form of mercy. As a cowboy, you should already know this. Someone must bring order to these lands…” He tucked the keys back into the pocket of his dark vest suit.
Cyno knew from the top of his head that Alhaitham was correct— that at the end of the day, it was all meant for survival. Yet whenever he sees the Matra, one thought always lingered. He for once shared the same sentiments with his child-self: it was a shame to see the Matra from the history books fall so far from their position.
Alhaitham did not know the history Cyno had with the Matra when the role of City mayor was passed down to him. What the mysterious cowboy revealed next gave Alhaitham an inkling that it had something to do with his old man. Alhaitham decided to save this discovery for later.
“ So — how is the cowboy life?”
“The usual… got targets to eliminate, deserts to explore, and here I got business sitting right in front of me, taking his sweet time…”
“Touché, Cyno. Alright then-“ The dusty-haired man wrung his fingers together; his eyes a calculating calm.” I called you in because I have a request for you.”
“Bounty or just an errand?” Cyno sat himself down, and took out his revolver. He took a cloth from the desk and started shining the barrel.
“Aren’t they all the same for you?” Alhamaitm kept his gaze on the other man. He then pulled out a slip of yellow paper and laid it flat on the desk. Cyno recognized the figure on the wanted poster from the one he saw back at the bank.
For a wanted man, the blonde’s face held an unnatural beauty that could even rival the most beautiful women in the entertainment saloons. He had red eyes framed by big lashes and a curvy face pale like the color of paper. The man had a blue feather in his hair; he too wore a Stetson hat like Cyno.
Cyno gave the poster a long look. His cheeks hollowed in thought.
“A cowboy ?” He rasped.
All of a sudden, a choked wheezing noise erupted from grey-haired man. Alhaitham coughed, clearing his throat.
“Hmph. He’s anything but...” He cut off curtly. His teal eyes narrowed.
Underneath the picture were two big letters written in red. “It says dead or alive… but I want you to bring him in solely alive. No other option,” The calm teal of the Mayor’s eyes contrasted the steel he bargained for.
Cyno clipped the gun’s hammer, opening up the chamber. “That will be a difficult task if everyone else is going after ‘im…”
Getting the attention of these particular cowboys were hard; barely any of them worked by a type of moral code that prevented them from pulling a trick or two. Alhaitham had prepared himself for this situation.
“You are one of the best cowboys in these wastelands. I won’t be doubting your skills for this one here,” Alhaitham tapped the mugshot right on the nose. He removed his long legs from the counter and pulled out a rusty chest from under his desk. He unclipped the chest and displayed his offering.
“15 Akasha terminals.”
The man’s ruby red eyes moved away from his musings. His eyes held a distant gaze.
“ Higher .”
Alhaitham smirked.
Thump.
“ 50 Akasha terminals,”
This chest was bigger than the former and well cared for. With a click, the chamber retracted back into its original spot. The gun’s cylinder did a clicking noise. The other party betrayed no emotion, but Alhamaitm could tell that his offering had worked.
“ Deal’s on .”
…
“He was once an artist here in this city, offering his services as an architect with the sole purpose of revolutionizing art and changing the state of this run-down settlement entirely. It failed… and ever since, he has been robbing banks.
For such a short time, he’s already made a name for himself— A few days ago, Faruzan of settlement B had alerted me that their bank had been compromised. His robberies work in chain reaction, yet this entire time he has decided to avoid this location. I assessed that Layla of settlement C is probably his next destination. That is where you will be heading.”
He tied his horse to stable. The white-haired man slowly made his way to the center of the town, blending in with the noisy crowd.
“A highly populated settlement with the highest amount of crime than the rest of the settlements. The Matra’s control over the town is barely acknowledgeable, just like its leader.”
A ringing noise blared through the street. People dropped their things and ran, women screamed, a few gunshots rang through the air; a long leg bursted through the bank’s swinging doors and a tall, slender figure came running out with a potato sack thrown over his back.
The man wore a white Stetson hat with a blue feather sticking out that sat on top blonde hair done into a ponytail. He wore a simple white shirt with a triangular chest window along with a red cake that wrapped around his neck. Around his waist was a thick belt and holster that held together black fur chaps over his pants. His pants were a dark tan that flared into an upside down ‘V’ at the edges, revealing elegant white boots.
An euthastic voice shouted within the chaos and the screams.
“Oh yes! I am gonna make a living!”
Cyno kept going; his warpath unbothered by the chaos. People ran, they stumbled into his path, and when they peered into his eyes, they sensed the inevitable battle. Wastelanders hid behind windows, doors, boxes— anything could find to witness the duel that would settle the two cowboys for good.
His spurs clicked against the air with each step, stopping a few feet from the blonde. Kaveh threw the sack filled with money onto his horse cart; unbeknownst to the content bird, the predator was right behind him.
A clear gust of wind ruffled his feathers. There was a disturbance in the air— the chaotic atmosphere that he was so familiar with had come to an end rather too quickly. The screams had ceased and it felt has though all eyes were looking at him. There was a rattling click in the instilling silence, demanding Kaveh to turn around—
He slowly turned— a few feet away from him stood a short man with moonlight strands, wearing a wide brimmed hat that concealed his eyes and a tattered black cloak that swayed in the wind. Under the man’s hat, Kaveh saw a sight that rattled his bones to the very core. It was as though he were looking at the grim reaper.
Who was this guy?
The town’s people had dispersed, leaving the two ruby eyed men alone. They stood a few feet from each other with their guns co*cked and hands hovering over their holsters.
The wind howled and a tumble weed blew by. Kaveh felt as though the man’s blood red eyes were fixed onto every fiber of his being; his face betrayed no emotion, no slip-up that Kaveh could take advantage of. He hadn’t had any alcohol for a couple days yet he felt as though he were drunk. Why was he doubting himself now— of all those times?!
The quickest would draw and the other would be killed. His fingers twitched; his heart beat faster. Kaveh grabbed for his gun—
“If it all comes down to a stand-off,” Alhaitham’s eyes glimmered, “then we’ll know who makes it out.”
Cyno was faster.
Black powder combusts; a crack rings through the air, sending Kaveh onto his back. His head felt lighter.
When Kaveh opened his eyes, he found a horrifying sight: a charred black hole blown right through his hat.
“M-my h-hat! How could you!?” When he turned his head towards the culprit, he felt the wind get beaten out of him. Something hit him hard on the head, sending him to the floor.
Gunshots rang into the air. Dust flew everywhere as the townspeople finally made their move. There was no such thing as honor or code in a land of outlaws. Black spots entered his vision. Kaveh just hoped that this immovable object would not leave him to the vultures.
…
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There are many settlements in Sumeru; the three primary and most reknowned ones being Settlement A, B, and C. These settlements are controlled by leaders, or the “Sages,” and each settlement has different societies.
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Always expect a new environment when you come across new settlements— whether it be a society entirely devoted on worshipping a god, social experiments, or just normal life-! Never be too comfortable; so watch out, wastelanders… and take care!
…
His wrists hurt and he felt sick to the head. There was a comforting heat that radiated in front of him. Orange flickered in between his closed eyelids. All he could hear was the crackling of fire and chirping crickets.
Kaveh opened his eyes. His vision was all black and hazy. The blonde man tried rubbing his eyes; a sharp pain bit into his wrist. Kaveh noticed that his wrists were tied by a rope. He curled and twisted his fingers absentmindedly. He could feel his own eyes widen [comically, Cyno must add].
“I-I am alive?!” Kaveh exclaimed. This discovery prompted the blonde man to move as much as he could to confirm his existence. His movements paused when he noticed the red stains on his forearms.
“ Wait- w-why is there blood on me?!” Kaveh said frantically.
A deep voice spoke suddenly, causing Kaveh to jump a few inches off the ground.
“Had to stop a few people from getting to you first.”
Kaveh looked towards the direction of the voice to find a figure sitting across him. His moonlight hair and red eyes shimmered in the light cast by the flames. It was the scary cowboy from before!
“Oh- why thank you,” Kaveh swept his brow with his tied hands, recollecting his thoughts “Whew… and here I thought you already took a bite outta me!” Kaveh laughed awkwardly.
The man’s nose visibly wrinkled. “What? Why would I do that?”
“W-well— I dunno… back when I was an innocent artist trying to make a living, [His innocent impersonation made Cyno roll his eyes] “-I heard rumors about cannibals disguised as humans! Heh- the wastelands sure are scary!”
Cyno mumbled a noise of affirmation. Silence ensued.
“Y’know… you aren’t as bad as I thought you would be-! Considering that you didn’t eat me or kill me even though you almost blew my head off— who are you? An ex-artist turned outlaw? A 400 year old cowboy-“
“I literally kidnapped you against your will. Quit your incessant talking. You are just another bounty to me.”
Instead of shutting up, new life flashed in the man’s eyes. “I-I actually had a mora to my name?!”
His old speech term made Cyno to raise an eyebrow.
“Yes. Settlement A wants your bounty.”
Kaveh’s expression twisted into a look of terror.
“Wait- that man put a mora to my name?!” Cyno could see a visible vein pop on the man’s forehead.
“…”
“Well then. Before my fate is eventually sealed, tell me this: what’s your name, cowboy?”
“I should’ve taped your mouth…”
…
Cyno was glad that the horse ride to the city was over. No matter how many times Cyno threatened the blonde to shut up, he wouldn’t stop talking. This activity increased when they finally reached the city.
Kaveh paused in front of the prison’s entrance. He couldn’t believe that he would ever be seeing one of his own creations again.
“I think you should reconsider this, nameless cowboy. Condemning me to this kind of fate-“
Cyno’s patience was running thin. With a strong push, Kaveh was thrown through the door. Kaveh was now alone with the worst of his fears sitting right in front of him.
Said person had a smile that secretly planned machinations for the blonde man. Alhamtiam gestured to the chair in front of the desk.
“Take a seat, Kaveh. I bet that trip took a lot out of you. Did he drag you here?”
“No- that is where you are wrong! He has been very hospitable to me ever since!” Kaveh lied. (He was forced to eat overgrown lizards!)
“Hm.” A smirk traced his lips, a smirk Kaveh wanted to wipe right off his face. But he also couldn’t help looking around the prison; his attention was more focused on the jail cells that sat right next to Alhamtiam’s desk.
Alhamtiam eyed Kaveh’s clothes carefully. “I see that your sense of art hasn’t left you just yet.”
“Art failed me so I turned to a life of crime!”
“Typical.”
“Huh?!”
“My job is to bring order to these wastelands and here you are undoing what I have established.” His hand suddenly reached over, grabbing Kaveh’s ponytail and tugging him forward, drawing a yelp from Kaveh.
“You will be paying for your crimes, right here. In this prison you built,” Alhamtiam leaned right beside his ear, breathing into the canal. “But I think I will have some other uses for you in the near future…”
Kaveh’s pale complexion flushed a healthy red. Alhamtiam retreated back to his seat, loosening his grip on the blonde’s ponytail.
“Y-you! What do you mean by that?!”
“Nothing.” Alhamtiam said nonchalantly, looking elsewhere other than him.
“Cyno, come get your part of the deal.”
The man named Cyno walked in and Alhamtiam gave him the big chest that was sitting on his desk. He opened the chest and Kaveh could not believe his eyes the amount of Akasha terminals that were inside the box.
Before Cyno could walk through the doors, Alhamtiam spoke.
“A job well done, Cyno.”
The two tall men were left alone shortly after. Kaveh’s thoughts interrupted the silence.
“Cyno? So thats his name?”
“Shut up. You are going right in that jail cell next to my desk.”
…
The cave was located in a canyon that split the Prime desert and the territory of the Terrorshroom, a beast feared by many wastelanders for centuries. It was the perfect spot for a base. Cyno tied his horse to a makeshift pole and carefully made his way to the cave. He was careful enough to not step over the trip wires before he comfortably settled himself into the cool air of cavern.
With seven knocks on a makeshift coffee table, he announced his arrival.
“I’m home.”
Cyno settled himself down on a chair, and took off his hat, placing it on the table.
“Careful not to knock over any of those flasks,” a young man with fox ears walked into the room.
Tighnari scrutinized his figure and adjusted his glasses. The fox looked ready to scold him. “Cyno… did you get hurt?”
Cyno smiled. “No, but I did get us something that could cover us for a few years.”
Cyno pulled out the large chest from his coat and settled it on the table. The contents opened. Tighnari’s eyes widened.
“Tomorrow, I will get us some things from the market.”
“Cyno… I want to go out someday and-“
“ No , Tighnari. It’s still not safe out there.” He put his hand on the fox’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Did you see my traps? I know you are doing this for my protection but I think I can manage.” His tail smacked against his foot.
“Yes, I did see them. I was afraid to lose my leg…” Cyno crossed his arms in thought. “Maybe. I will reconsider.”
The fox’s ears perked up. His answer was just enough for Tighnari.
