Days passed in a blur of survival and solitude. The journey through the

wasteland was a relentless march through a world that had forgotten the laughter of men. Every corner passed, every building entered, held the potential for danger or discovery. Today was no different, but fate had something special in store for him.

He ventured into a dilapidated armory, its once proud structure now a husk of metal and shattered stone. The front door, half off its hinges, groaned in protest as Bunio pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with dust, the remnants of a bygone era.

"Time to see if there's anything here worth my while," Bunio muttered, his voice breaking the eerie silence.

He began his search, rifling through overturned tables and broken crates. The light filtering through the cracked ceiling cast long shadows, playing tricks on his mind. His hands brushed against something cold and metallic. Pulling it free, he found himself holding a musket, its wooden stock weathered but intact.

"Well, well, look at you," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "An antique, but you'll do nicely."

The weapon was old, a relic from centuries past, but it was still functional. Bunio had never fired a gun before, but he had read enough in the ruins of the library to have a basic understanding. He examined the musket carefully, noting the powder horn and the lead balls stored alongside it. With a sense of purpose, he set about learning how to load and fire the

Bunio practiced, each shot echoing through the wasteland like a defiant cry.

As he only had a couple dozens of the balls he could shoot he didn't practice much. Only a couple of rounds were shot. He missed more often than not, but gradually, his aim improved. The musket became i a tool of survival in a world that had tried to extinguish him.

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His newfound skill was put to the test sooner than he expected. While scouting at the edge of a forest, Bunio heard a low shout, a shriek that sent a chill down his spine. He turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emerging from the shadows was a creature unlike any he had ever seen. Its form was twisted the long brown hair dropping on the shoulders... black shoulders. Its eyes burned with intelligence, and its claws were sharp and deadly, clearly put on not too long ago.

"Great, just what I needed," Bunio muttered, raising the musket to his shoulder. "Guess it's time to see if all that practice paid off."

The creature lunged at him, a blur of motion and lust. Bunio fired, the musket's report deafening in the stillness. The shot went wide, grazing the abomination's shoulder. It howled in pain but did not stop. Bunio barely had time to reload before the creature was upon him. He swung the musket like a club, the butt connecting with the creature's head in a desperate bid to stay alive.

The fight was brutal, a test of strength and will. Bunio's muscles strained as he fought with the female, each moment a struggle for his virginity. He managed to reload the musket and fired again, this time hitting the woman squarely in the chest. It stumbled back, crying in agony, before collapsing to the ground. With its last breath it muttered "what the fuck dude, don't you want me"? "we could have had some great time together".

It had to be said that after the virus spread, not only had the man died, but the woman also changed color. No matter the race all of them turned black. Not only that but some of them recieved superhuman strength, speed and stamina. Bunio called them destroyers, and in the many years of his survival he only saw three. The one he fought before was only slightly mad. The brain infected, but still capable of human thinking.

Panting heavily, Bunio stood over the fallen monster, his hands trembling. He had faced death and emerged victorious, but the encounter had left him shaken.

"Well, that's one less ugly thing in the world," he said, trying to steady his voice. "I guess the wise man of the past were correct"

"If it ain't white it ain't right"

The wind rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, a gentle reminder of the world that still endured despite the darkness. Bunio knew that this was only the beginning. The wasteland was full of dangers, and he was but one man against the odds. But he had a musket now, and he had proven that he could fight.

As he continued his journey, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter on his shoulders. The last warrior of light walked on, ever forward, in search of answers and a glimmer of hope in a land overshadowed by woman's rule.

And as he moved through the broken world, his voice rang out in the empty air, a testament to his unyielding spirit. "At least I know how to handle myself now," he said with a wry smile. "Bring it on, world. I'm ready for whatever you've got."

The wind carried his challenge into the void, a defiant sound amidst the echoes of silence.