They all stop for his next words, remaining silent for the apotheosis granted by his form.

A world beyond Salvation, beyond the littered hulls of failure. In the burnt ashes of dead glass, the fragmentary beacons of civilization somehow finding a foothold against both lifeless ground and the wandering monsters of his own kind’s creation. Feudal empires born from necessity in small townships, the worship of gods found in quiet faiths and fortress abbeys against unspeakable horrors beyond the safety of walls and gunfire.

A land of mutation and anomalies, its people stemming from decayed artifacts left over from a final confrontation; the desperation of vengeance still threatening the long descended children from their lineages.

He isn’t even certain of its continued existence, the final tower initially spared in the opening nanoseconds of bombardment but perhaps damaged in the eons following. Two thousand, five hundred, fifty five point nine two four cycles of decay; no piece of technology invulnerable to the touch of time.

But it needs to exist: for his sake, for their sake.

He gives the faithful knowledge to them. “There is a fabrication facility located in the region you refer to as the Northlands. This is the only remaining facility that is capable of manufacturing the framework for the device.”

“How far in the Northlands?” Judge Murphy asks loosely.

Samuel asks a similar question at the same time. “What is the exact distance from this location?”

He gives the exact estimate to answer both, an euclidean measure ignoring practical accounts of travel. “A rounded distance of twenty seven thousand two hundred and seventy one miles from our current position.”

Absolute silence as the Five process the singular number of 27,271.

A calculation made in faith, logic, and law; a distance that almost bridges their broken world held within four great walls.

Madeline groans. “Gods above you’re kidding!”

“I am not.” The One replies. “That location is the only accessible facility in the world.”

“Northlander.” Judge Murphy suddenly asks the Gunslinger from a lack of his own experience. “Are you aware of this manufacturing facility?”

“There are no towers in the north beyond the Salvation line.” Alto quietly informs with common knowledge from the civilizations between the corpses of gods. “And beyond the last city…”

He doesn’t say the last part.

Only damnation awaits.

No sane man returns from the forests, mortals treading upon the territories of the ancients obliterated in body, mind, and soul. It's a warning repeated to children from cautionary parentage, the promises of godlike vengeance overweighting any sense of logic or adventure.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Madeline tries to bargain with the world, an attempt at circumvention. “Don’t suppose you can just carry our guns over right? Free us of this… whole thing right?”

A passive hostility to the fragments of the device, their very construction even now attempting to repel his very presence.

“I cannot remain in possession of the fragmentary devices.” Ar informs factually.

“Gods damn it…” The Bandit rubs her temples, a long sigh as minds dull against the buzz of poison. “Then how in gods name are we supposed to travel 27,000 miles?! That’s like…”

She does the calculation in her head, stopping at an overt generalization. “Four… five ish months of straight driving?”

Samuel coldly corrects her. “Your calculation is flawed. The previous attempt at crossing a similar distance by Federation expedition occurred in eight months, forty six days, eight hours. An eighty seven percent majority of the expedition expired before its completion.”

“Thank you, for such illuminating information.” Madeline mumbles. “So what are we doing now? Might as well just end it early right?”

She points at the One, at the Being. “Don’t look at me like that! You blew up our only chance, didn’t you?!”

Samantha speaks up coldly through the mucus and tears. “There is one facility that remains in the North.”

“Well that’s great, but we can’t even get to it now can we?! We’re in the Southlands, that thing, the tower that you say is up there? That’s a four month drive away MINIMUM. Assuming we just straightline it, no stopping for repairs, sleep, eating; no NOTHING. I’ve lived in this wretched world for… twenty four years and I’M STUPIDIFED AT THIS. I just learned ARSA is still out for blood, and that humanity’s final hope is left in HIS hands. I just wanted a nice FUN LIFE ok?!”

“You are intoxicated.” Samuel observes as augmentation passively scans through the chemical makeup of her breath, the detection of ethyl alcohol blaring a state of medical conditions.

“Of course I am, I gotta cope somehow.” The woman declares, then pauses. A face falling, a now mostly consumed bottle placed back onto the table; eyes turning towards them all as she says it in a sudden passing of drunken calm. “What are we gonna do?”

It's the question that sits upon them all, a final revelation to the Five.

The faith provides it, a destiny placed before him as the Gunslinger finally brings forth the unspoken solution. Calculations processed in prediction engines converted to religious prophecy, spoken again and again across the ages to the now.

A universal truth against the backdrop of sand and dust, of fire and rage.

Of hope and salvation.

“We go there.”

All eyes turn to Alto Carrin, the Gunslinger staring at them all with his pale green eyes as he lets the pause sit. A pastoral training allowing for the silence, his continuation of the statement echoing the slow, dramatic elegy for the Northlander Faiths. “We complete the prophecy, as it was written. Go north, beyond the last city, the deadlands, and the forest of the damned. We go together, to unite the five fragments of the GOD GUN…”

Every single one of them repeats the final words in their souls.

The Gunslinger, the twisari Bounty Hunters, the Lawless soul and the icon of the Law.

Even the One recalls it from his vast database, enough to tear a fragmented consciousness together for just the simplistic placement of his own kind within its implication.

And save us all.