No sooner than the words left Higler's mouth, his hands were already holding his pistols. Drake, who was watching from a certain distance away, hidden in the trees, didn't even see him move. It was as if they had appeared in his hands like magic.

Two shots hang out, and two of the outlaws, Malt and another one, screamed in pain. Malt had a hole in his left shoulder, while the other was unharmed, having had his weapon ripped off his hands by a bullet.

The seven bandits were all shocked beyond measure, while Drake wasn't much different. What the ranger had done seemed... unnatural.

"What are you doing?! F*cking kill him!"

The one who broke the silence was Malt, still grunting in pain. However, he had reached for the pistol he had dropped, and was aiming at Higler again.

"Bad move."

The other criminals cursed, and started firing at the ranger. However, Higler wasn't playing anymore. He killed Bart, the one keeping watch, with two shots straight to the chest, and hid behind the rock where he was sitting.

Drake watched as the battle unfolded. He saw Higler kill a person casually, but didn't have much of a reaction. He had already seen the soldiers brutally murdered, so he felt like the outlaws deserved it. Unconsciously, he scratched Frainer, making the green ball of mist purr in satisfaction.

While he was thinking all that, Higler managed to kill two more of the criminals, and injure another one. That scared the others, who stopped firing.

"Hey, you!"

"Say it."

"Why are you after us? What are you? A bounty hunter?"

"Why? Do you have a bounty?"

Of the group of seven, three were dead and two wounded. Clearly, they thought it was better to try and talk their way out of it. Drake even noticed that some of them were giving sneaky glances at their Yscalents, but the ranger was between them and their mounts. If they wanted to run, they would have to kill him first.

"Yeah, I got a bounty. But you don't look like a bounty hunter. So, what are you? Army? Or just a justice warrior?"

While Malt was talking to Higler, he gestured to the two uninjured members of his gang to go around the camp, and try to flank the ranger.

Drake suddenly got very alarmed, remembering he wasn't watching a show, but a real life-and-death gunfight. He wanted to yell and warn Higler, but the words got stuck in his throat. He was afraid that if he screamed, the bandits would follow him.

He and Frainer watched silently, the Ifere not really understanding what was going on, and Drake too scared to do anything. But then, they heard Higler laugh.

"Hey! Malt, was that your name? You don't have a companion, do you? Did you really think I would walk into your campsite alone?"

"What..."

Shocked by Higler's words, all the criminals turned around, expecting to see something behind them. Even the two who were going to the sides stopped. And, when the four surviving people looked, they saw a... Lizard. A small, six-legged, dark red, lizard.

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Warkin wasn't much bigger than their fists, but, when they looked at his dark eyes, they felt dread like never before. Malt and two others turned their weapons to shoot at it, but the Ifere opened his mouth, letting out a three meters long, one meter wide, cone of fire.

The flames were bright orange, and Drake immediately recognized them as the skill Flamethrower, and a very powerful one on top of that.

Malt screamed in utmost pain and panic as half of his body caught on fire. Surprisingly, the flames didn't seem to burn him very strongly, but there was no doubt they paused a lot of pain.

As all the attention was focused on the Ifere, Higler came out of his hiding spot, and pressed the trigger a few times. One of the criminals received a wound to the leg, while another had his wrist perforated. The only one who was still unharmed tried to fight back, and the ranger sighed disappointedly. A lot quicker than the other man, he killed him with a bullet to the head. The body fell lifeless to the ground.

"Warkin, that's enough."

Grunting disgruntled, the fire-type Ifere shone in a faint red light, and the fire that was burning Malt alive flew towards him, and was absorbed into his body.

"You can come out now, Drake."

Slowly, the new adventurer walked into the campsite. Higler didn't look at him, and, instead, stared at the surviving criminals while keeping his pistols aimed at them.

Drake decided to ignore all the blood and bodies on the ground, and looked at Malt. He, as well as Frisco and one other person were the only ones still alive. Malt was in a especially bad shape, with a bullet on his shoulder, and half of his body charred black. Still, he should have died from the Flamethrower, which incited Drake's curiosity. He looked at Warkin, who purred proudly.

"What was that?"

"Warkin's Flamethrower was colder than it should normally be. I prefer to see outlaws hang, not burn alive. And that last skill was an inverted Heatwave."

All the bandits shuddered when they heard Higler's nonchalant tone. After all, he was talking about their lives. However, the ranger was more interested in his conversation with Drake.

"Inverted Heatwave?"

"Yeah. Usually, Heatwave would set everything around Warkin on fire, but I trained him to absorb the heat, instead of releasing it."

"I didn't know that was possible!"

"Hahaha... You learn a lot when you need to, kid. But that's a story for later. Now, let's see what our friends here have to say."

He looked at the there people on the ground, who shrunk in fear. After that, he let out a sigh, and holstered his pistols.

"I'm gonna bandage your wounds, so you don't bleed out before we get you in the jail. However, you better not try anything, got it? My partner here is a lot more ruthless than I am, so don't give him an excuse to blow your brains out."

He gestured to Drake with his thumb, and he made an effort to maintain a straight face. He had never even killed anyone, and now Higler was painting him as a devil. Still, it seemed to work. The criminals let him treat them quietly, completely dispirited.

After ten minutes, Malt, Frisco, and the other one, who turned out to be called Mark, had all their wounds wrapped up by white bandages. At first, Drake didn't understand why Higler would help them, but he somewhat understood now. The ranger wasn't a cruel person or a murderer. Even if the other person was trash and scum, he would still help them, even if it was just to put them into a prison cell. Maybe that was the way Higler found to uphold law and justice without becoming a monster like the ones he fought.

"Now, let's see what you have to say for yourselves."

Without a care in the world, the ranger smiled at the criminals. However, now that they weren't in so much pain or danger, they were bolder.

"We ain't gonna say sh*t to you, bastar..."

Before Mark could finish, a powerful fist hit his chin, lifting him from the ground by a few centimeters. Drake was astonished when he saw how much strength one of Higler's punches carried.

And it didn't end there. Another jab hit his stomach, making him bend forward in pain, and directly into Higler's knee. Like a cloth doll, the criminal fell to the ground and didn't get up.

"That will teach him to be more polite. So, who is next?"