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There the two stood, upon yet another edge of yet another entry-point leading down to yet another open space of crystalline luminance all around; this one…however…was filled with those ravenous crystalline arachnids, making all kinds of abhorrent noises as they…partook in their…grand ballet of cannibalistic chimeric-mating.

“…Gods’ sacred…wow you weren’t kidding! ‘Messy’…talk about the third greatest understatement of this whole century” the wagoneer remarked…staring down into this crucible abyss somewhat below.

The foreigner titled her head, turning to glance at the man standing behind; “…third?” she inquired, somewhat curious even though she ought not to be.

The wagoneer stared blankly; “…oh right, foreigner—ahem: third understatement of the century…because the first one being the Demon-King’s early ‘defeat’ by the Far Western intervention and the second one being…the ‘rise’ of the Empire…it’s just…uhm…Imperial…banter, I guess to say” he replied…somewhat awkward, for…explaining away the humor of a remark to those who did not understand…was never an easy affair.

The foreigner nodded away, having…not at all understood…any of what he was really talking about…but given that she was the one who had asked…she had no right to protest in mind; “I see…interesting” she replied frankly, before promptly redirecting her attention to the crystalline space in front.

She kneeled down, the wagoneer doing the same, as they both carefully and cautiously peered from the edges of this entry-point.

“…not a deep fall down, but getting back up is gonna be the problem…w…wait, now that I think about…how did you even…get back up here…all those other times you did this?” he remarked…before suddenly inquiring.

“I climbed, of course” she replied bluntly.

“…yeah, I get that, but how—” he was going to inquire but suddenly paused…as it became quickly clear to him that…she was…not paying any attention at all, her mask-obscured eyes fixated as she analyzed the space below.

The wagoneer, stopping in his words, simply sighed; “No wonder your attire is starting to get all messed up now…you little menace” he remarked quietly before going mute, letting her focus on her focusings at hand.

Silence took hold.

The wagoneer himself eventually began to peer and observe. “Wow…Gods’ sacred…they sure are into all that…eck…nasty” he remarked, breaking his silence; “they haven’t even noticed us yet! In fact, look! That one’s staring right at us but doesn’t even have one Demon-shit in it!” he remarked further.

The foreigner turned her head, glaring slightly at the man making rather…the noises; “I would prefer to retain it so” she commented bluntly.

“Rightly right, sorry” he replied…his voice simmering down.

“But…” she began to say, “…yes, whenever they are doing…this or…eating something, they are blind to everything to say…figuratively—not very vigilant or with the noticing of things”.

“So…what do we do now?” he asked.

“Wait and let them do what they are doing” she replied.

“Hmm…waiting, huh?” he mumbled out…now his mind cogitating, thinking, and planning. “So…every time you’ve done this…you’ve just waited for them to finish? Never…getting into it while they’re right in the middle and oblivious?” he inquired.

The foreigner nodded “Yes” she replied; “what else was there for me to do but wait? I prefer to only do things when I know that I can win” she remarked.

“Hmm…good thing to stand by, but I mean…what’s that gun you’ve got on you?…a fancy custom-made revolver? Not even…a Far Western one, no idea where that thing came from…dwarven maybe? Whatever, but…that thing sure can’t do much shit from up here” he remarked.

“…uhuh?” she mumbled in reply, failing to really see where this denizen was going with any of this.

The wagoneer began to take count, the foreigner who was still glancing somewhat… noticed what his eyes were doing; “…there are fifty-nine of them the last I counted” she stated.

“Yeah…but they’re eat-fucking each other…so probably less now…hmm…well I’ve got about eighty shots on me” he replied and remarked, double-checking one of his two…rather large cartridge ‘carry-boxes’ of sorts equipped on his figure.

“Eighty of the shots but your…‘gun’…it is like mine, no? It uses that…same powder? Even if you could shoot that many of the shots…the…stuff…that…stuff…I do not know the word, but it will—” she was saying, but “Little menace, don’t lecture me; I know…soot is the word and I know it would clog my shit…but my shots are Far West enchanted powder: shit dissolves thoroughly and don’t leave behind much…even the paper don’t leave much” he interjected and explained, loading a strange…blue-colored paper cartridge of sorts into his firearm’s breech.

“…I would prefer that you simply were to stand back and not annoy the blob of the spiders, and to save the shots; there are too many to risk making the problems…they can quickly overwhelm us” she stated bluntly, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“Relax. I just want to test something, you know, they clearly don’t give a single demonic fuck about us being here nor us speaking…they clearly don’t give a fuck about each other” he replied; “my hunches are telling me they won’t care about being shot at either in this state they’re in; worst come to worst, we run away” he added as he positioned himself properly, raising his firearm’s sights.

Hmm…interesting point…actually…now the foreigner herself was rather curious. She moved out of his way…or more specifically out of the way of that ear-piercing firearm, repositioning herself behind him.

“Ahh…so coming along, aye?” he remarked to the foreigner as she stood behind; “now let’s see…here…which one…to pick” he mumbled to himself, thinking as his eyes scouted for an optimal target.

The foreigner, however, pointed with her finger from behind his shoulder; “Do you see that big one? The one with the flashing colors of the wild magic?” she asked.

“Hard not to spot that Demon-spawn of an abortion” the wagoneer replied.

“Aim at that one; it is old and has its own range…poof-spike things…that it can shoot at us. Also, these spiders…they have the small neck, and there is the gap between the head and the body…which is part of their spine-like…thing—but it should kill if hit” she instructed and explained, the man taking aim as she did so.

“Got it, got it…but uhm…why…their ‘spine’? Didn’t even know these things had spines, but why not…you know…take out their head?” he replied, remarked, and…asked.

“…” the foreigner…blanked somewhat in mind, since…to her it was rather…obvious; “…you…never…aim for the…head?” she…mumbled out in response, using the word ‘you’ in a rather general sense, minded.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What are you talking about? ‘You never aim for the head’, I always aim for the head! If not the head, then the heart…anything that kills in one shot” he replied, somewhat dumbfounded.

“…to aim and to shoot the head, at least for the people and the things like…those spiders, I do not…do that…it is not…what is supposed to be done…it is only to be done…if there is no alternative, and there is the alternative” the foreigner replied.

“…” the wagoneer stared blankly.

“Alrightly, but…why? That’s kind of stupid…don’t you think? And I don’t mean no offense or anything, it’s just why make shit so arbitrarily harder for you? Shooting the head’s the easiest way to kill…most things with heads!” he inquired and remarked…still dumbfounded over such a peculiar attitude; “I mean just…look at those things! Their necks…I can barely see them!”

The foreigner…looked down and away somewhat; she had no real…answer to this, only…convictions and feelings. Indeed…it was…abstract, it was…an abstraction…her own…abstraction…a very deeply rooted one at that; one which had predated so much. Even after everything had eroded away, this one conviction still held firm: never, with intent, aim for the head alone, unless strictly necessary…and if there was no other way.

Though, abstractions aside…there was some logic and elements of reality in which…such a strange norm was rooted, but even if she could properly explain her logic and reasonings…she...really did not know how to.

The ideas and concepts involved were all such things that these denizens…would not understand even if they wanted to, for it was all so utterly beyond…any of them. Yet, in a way, deep down within…she did want this denizen to understand; even though she struggled to comprehend, an urge to explain…still persisted…within her mind’s shadow.

The foreigner sighed, her eyes glancing at the wagoneer; “Do you…believe in the ‘souls’, by chance?” she inquired.

“…uh, of course? The Goddess of Life instilled souls into all mortal creations, human souls being the purest and most divine of them all compared to animals and especially them demi-folks” he replied.

“And…so, do you have the belief that…when things die that their souls persist and linger, with all of…the memories and…stuff?” she inquired further.

“…kinda? I mean…when someone dies, the Goddess of Death collects their souls and either sends them off to another life in another place beyond ours, sends them to the underworld, or gives their souls to…the Goddess of Life and the Goddess of Fertility to reuse…it all depends, I guess” he replied; “Trinitarians think that their ‘heavenly’ souls end up going to a paradise in their Heaven if they’re good enough, but if they’re bad and wicked, they get thrown into an eternal fire or something…” he added.

The foreigner nodded; “Alright, so…following with that, if you had the knowledge, would you, with the intention, shoot the source of the soul of someone, destroying and erasing all of what that…someone had been? To destroy and erase their soul and all of the memories of it, and the experiences and to deny any of the ability for that post-life persistence? To reduce them…into total nothing without any traces of their past memories and existence able to be preserved?” she inquired…rather morbidly.

“…” the…wagoneer…stunted in thought, his eyes evading in sudden contemplation…not at all expecting things to take such an odd…and philosophically charged turn. “…I mean…that’s a Gods-fucked question alright…and none of that’s even the case! You can’t destroy the soul, it’s divine and otherworldly…beyond the material realm” he replied, not…answering her question.

“Just assume that it is so” the foreigner replied bluntly.

The wagoneer…exhaled a slight ughing groan; “I mean…probably…what does it even matter? Dead is dead…don’t matter what you do…” he replied bluntly; “see, I’m not one to care about post-death shit…you kill someone, you take away their one and only mortal life, don’t matter what happens after…as soon as they’re dead…they ceased to exist already…or what’s the word you used? ‘Erased’? Yeah…as soon as you pull that trigger, that person’s gone and erased; so, the least you could do’s make it happen instantly without them ever knowing what happened instead of shooting their spine and paralyzing them” he added…somewhat defensively, certainly…not appreciating the odd esoteric moralisms at hand.

The foreigner sighed; of course…even when trying to explain such a thing in primitive terminologies, they still…just…would not understand what she was trying to get at…or…see the value in any of it whatsoever. It was simply one of those things which…one understood only if they understood…only capable of being comprehended by…knowing the abyss that she so knew.

“Words were a waste of the time…bah” she mumbled out somewhat quietly. For as much as she critiqued all of the endless abstraction of the locals, when confronted with her own…she certainly could not help but feel…irritated deep down within, especially so when she could not explain…define…or really articulate the rationalities and reasons or…feelings surrounding it. Though, of course, as always, she could not truly comprehend it within.

The wagoneer quickly refocused at the task at hand, his eyes now fixated as he took aim, eyeing the wild glow-crystal arachnid that was…not really participating in this death crucible of mating…rather…feasting upon the leftovers, quite happily so.

The wagoneer took a deep…calming breath, as his grip tightened and his aim sharpened; he changed his positioning and stance likewise, to one more…suitable for the task at hand.

Silence…his breaths were turned utterly silent, his fixation absolute…before all so suddenly click, snap, zap, boom.

He pulled the trigger as the snapping hammer struck the crystal, a violent spark erupting as the firearm fired in an odd…violent bluish fiery flash, not at all the normal color expected of black powder firing. A large cloud of blue radiant smoke was created…yet it quickly dissipated away. Indeed…so-called ‘enchanted’ powder, by no means ordinary black powder…the differences were as clear as this luminant space.

The lancing bullet pierced into the wild crystalline arachnid’s head, straight into its chimeric brain, pulpifying it and only it, to a specific extent, to a certain degree, and at a certain specific…critical speed. The chimera immediately fell over, motionless, dead on the spot.

Yet all around…nothing, no reaction at all from any of the rest.

The wagoneer’s hunches turned out to be correct; these abhorrent pseudo-arachnids were so engrossed in their mating death-festive that…they did not care at all…that an ear-piercing loud gunshot had just been fired and that one of them had just been shot dead.

“See? How’s that for aim? Clean, dead, no problems at all” he remarked with a satiated smirk, lowering his firearm; “would’ve taken me forever to actually get shot at its neck and ‘spine’ ” he added.

« Síc vidatùr » the foreigner replied…coldly.

Both immediately began inspect, realizing; “Guess I was right…yeah, those things are too invested in their eat-fucking…that’s all they care about, in fact…they probably want the others to die just so they can eat them” he remarked.

“Hmm…so it may seem” the foreigner replied, her eyes…immediately fixating on the corpse of the crystalline arachnid so recently shot.

Something strange was happening to it, despite there being a new fresh corpse ripe for cannibalistic consumption, none of the crystalline arachnids…touched it; in fact they ignored it utterly.

“Look” she said, the wagoneer immediately relooking at his kill.

“W-what? What about it? It’s a nice clean shot, I know” he remarked…rather humorously.

“No, look” she reiterated.

He looked…and then looked. Its mana…something was not right with its mana. It was radiating and dusting off in…ways mana was not…supposed to. ‘Sparking’ and ‘flickering’…decaying and withering, spontaneously and rapidly…at speeds beyond abnormal, as if its existence was being…thoroughly deleted.

“…is…is that usually what’s supposed to happen?” he asked…somewhat confused.

“No.” she replied bluntly; “you destroyed the brain the wrong way” she added…coldly.

Its radiant wild glowing crystalline growths flickered and dimmed rapidly in kind, withering and dulling. Yet…it was not just the radiancy, the glow-crystal growths themselves…were rapidly dissolving into dying and decaying radiant dust…which itself ‘popped’ and ‘sparked’…withering into nothing in absolute…with not even a residual echo left behind to decay with time. No radiant blood, no radiant glow or growths, just a soft…squishy chimeric corpse…devoid of any exoticisms.

This…result came as no surprise to the foreigner, even with this far more esoteric chimeric essence. Such was yet another peculiar quirk and tendency indeed, and…not a consistent one at that.

The wagoneer stared at the corpse afar down below, his mind still stunned and confused; “…w-w-why…did its glow-stone just…poof away like that?? Seriously, what the demonic fuck just happened?” he asked.

The foreigner simply sighed; “That is why I try not to aim for the head, that is what could happen” she stated bluntly.

The wagoneer’s eyes glanced at her…blankly; “B-but…why? And you didn’t mention this is what could happen!” he asked and remarked, confusion still racing in mind.

“It is as I tried to say, but to say this way: to destroy the source is to erase the core, to destroy the core can erase the soul, you erased the soul by the destroying the source” the foreigner replied…rather cryptically and rather…coldly.