Plundering Worlds: I Have a Shotgun in a Fantasy World-Chapter 59: The Third Choice

[Riverside Village - Late Afternoon]

Kael turned away from Wei and walked toward the village gate.

Wei remained by the river, staring at the water.

Kael passed through the narrow streets. The celebration continued in the square ahead—drums beating, voices raised in prayer, the elder’s proclamation echoing off the walls.

He reached the village center.

A man stood in the middle of the square.

Kael stopped.

The man was tall and lean. His skin was bone-white, like porcelain that had never seen sunlight. His hair matched—pure white, tied loosely at the back. He wore white robes that seemed to catch the fading light.

His eyes drew Kael’s attention.

The irises were bright blue—vivid, saturated, perfectly circular. Like sapphires. Around them, the skin was raw red, exposed and stark, forming rings that stretched back toward his temples.

Blue and red. The colors clashed, violent and wrong.

The man’s gaze was fixed on the pregnant woman at the shrine. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracking her movements the way one might watch an ant.

The crowd had gone quiet. Villagers stepped back, sensing danger.

The man walked toward the shrine.

"Dragon King’s child?" His voice was light, pleasant. "Let me see."

The elder stepped forward. "Who are you? What do you—"

The man’s gaze swept past the elder as if he were invisible. He reached out and grabbed the woman’s arm.

She screamed. "Let go! What are you—"

The man lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. He walked toward the riverbank, carrying her like a sack of rice.

"Stop!" The elder shouted. "Someone stop him!"

Several men moved forward, then froze as those blue eyes swept across them.

The man reached the river’s edge. He swung his arm.

The woman flew through the air—twenty, thirty meters—and hit the water in the middle of the current.

The splash echoed across the square.

She surfaced, gasping, arms flailing. The current caught her. She screamed once before the water pulled her under.

The man watched her disappear downstream.

"Nothing special at all."

He turned back toward the square.

Silence. Complete, frozen silence.

Then someone screamed.

The crowd exploded into motion—people running, shouting, children crying.

An old soldier near the edge of the crowd grabbed another man’s arm. "That distance... he’s at least Xiantian realm."

"Xiantian?" The word rippled through the crowd like ice water.

The man turned back toward the square.

Silence. Complete, frozen silence.

Then someone screamed.

The man’s blue eyes swept across the fleeing crowd. His expression shifted—mild annoyance flickering across his features.

"Wasted my time."

He drew his sword.

"So you all die."

From the river, running footsteps. Wei appeared, his face white, eyes wild. He’d seen everything.

He looked at the river. At the man in white. At the fleeing villagers.

His hand went to the saber at his waist.

The man in white noticed him. Those blue eyes focused.

"Oh? You want to try?"

Wei drew his blade. His hands shook, but he raised the weapon.

The man tilted his head. "You know what I am. And you still draw your sword." He smiled. "Brave. Or stupid."

Wei’s jaw tightened. He took a step forward.

The man’s hand moved to his sword.

Kael moved.

His black blade came up, intercepting the strike before it could fall. Steel rang against steel. The impact sent vibrations up Kael’s arms, and he slid back three paces, boots digging into the ground.

The man’s blue eyes shifted to Kael. Interest flickered across his face.

"Another one?"

Kael held his guard, blade angled, weight centered.

The man stepped back and drew his sword fully—a silver-white blade that caught the light. "Let’s see what you can do."

He attacked.

The first strike came fast. Kael parried, but the force behind the blow drove him back fifteen feet. His arms went numb.

The man followed, his movements fluid and unhurried. Another strike. Kael blocked, angling the blade to deflect rather than meet the force head-on. He managed to hold his ground this time.

"Your sword’s decent." The man circled. "Foundation’s solid."

Kael adjusted his stance, watching.

"But you’re still too weak."

The man’s speed increased. Three strikes in rapid succession. Kael blocked the first two, but the third slipped through—a shallow cut across his shoulder. Blood welled up.

Kael pressed forward, using Reversal Steps to close the distance. He struck at the man’s ribs.

The man deflected it with a flick of his wrist.

Kael pivoted, changing the angle mid-strike.

The man sidestepped.

The attacks came faster now. Kael chained techniques together, reading the man’s movements, adjusting. For a few seconds, he maintained the pressure.

The man’s smile widened. "Better."

Then he moved.

The world blurred. Kael felt the impact before he saw the strike—his thigh, his ribs, his other shoulder. Shallow cuts opened one after another. The man’s blade was everywhere at once.

Kael tried to retreat, to create distance, but the man stayed close. Another cut. Another. Blood ran down Kael’s arms.

The ground cracked beneath Kael’s feet as he blocked a particularly heavy strike. A nearby building groaned, its wall splintering from the shockwave.

Villagers scattered further, pressing against the edges of the square.

Kael’s breathing grew ragged. His vision blurred at the edges. He raised his sword for another block.

The man’s foot caught him in the chest.

Kael flew backward, tumbling across the ground. He hit the wall of a house, and the structure shuddered. His sword fell from his hand, clattering on the stones.

He tried to rise. His arms wouldn’t support him.

The man walked over, his white robes spotless despite the carnage. He placed a foot on Kael’s chest, pinning him down.

"Interesting." The man crouched, studying Kael’s face. "You knew you couldn’t win. And you still stepped in." He tilted his head. "Why?"

Kael’s breath came in short gasps. He met those blue eyes.

The man waited a moment, then stood. "Forget it. "

He looked around the square—at Wei standing frozen by the river, at the cowering villagers, at the blood on the ground.

"You like playing the hero, don’t you?"A faint smile touched his mouth. His gaze shifted to Kael—slow, deliberate. It lingered there a beat too long. One brow arched."I’ll give you a choice."

"He dies—" he indicated Wei—"they live."

"They die—" he gestured at the villagers—"he lives."

His blue eyes gleamed. "You choose."

Silence held for a breath.

Then a woman’s voice rang out. "We decide Wei dies!"

Others joined immediately.

"Yes! Let him die!"

"His wife lied to us!"

"She betrayed him!"

"This is his fault!"

An old man pushed forward, his face set in desperate determination. "Wei, this is right. You have no wife, no child now. But we have families! Children!"

More villagers pressed closer, surrounding Wei.

"Please, Wei!"

"You’ll be a hero!"

"We’ll build you a monument!"

"Your sacrifice will be remembered!"

A young woman turned to Kael, her voice sharp. "You’re an outsider! You have no right to decide our fate! Wei is one of us—letting him die is the natural choice!"

The crowd swelled around her.

"If you choose us, we’ll be grateful forever!"

"You can’t just let us die!"

""You stepped in for Wei—you’re a Xia"

"Xia save people! That’s what you’re supposed to do!"

"You have to save us! It’s your duty!"

An older voice rose above the others. "If you let us die, you’re a murderer!"

"Your name will be cursed!"

"Everyone will know what you did!"

"You’ll be remembered as a villain!"

"Your ancestors will be ashamed!"

The accusations piled up, one on top of another, voices rising in pitch and desperation.

"We’re innocent!"

"We have children! Old people!"

"Can you live with killing children?"

"Do you even have a conscience?"

"Wei is just one man!"

"We’re a hundred people!"

"One life for a hundred! It’s worth it!"

"Wei, do you hear? Your death saves a hundred people!"

"How noble!"

A man pointed at Wei. "This is all your wife’s fault anyway! The lying whore!"

"Wei couldn’t even control his own woman!"

Someone else shouted, "If you don’t choose us, I’ll curse you! I’ll curse your entire bloodline!"

"My ghost will haunt you forever!"

Wei stood in the center of it all, fists clenched, face dark with rage.

"You—" His voice shook. "I served in the army for this village! Two years on the border! And now you—"

The words caught in his throat.

"That was then!" someone shouted back. "This is now!"

"We need to live!"

"You have to die!"

"It’s decided!"

Wei’s hand tightened around the hilt of his saber. His knuckles were white."You people..."

But then he looked at their faces. The man who’d taught him to fish when he was ten. The woman who’d given his family rice during the famine five years ago. The children he’d watched grow up, who called him "Uncle Wei".

The shouting rolled over him.

He set the blade against his own throat.

"I’ll die."

Kael lay on the ground, pinned under the man’s foot, watching it all. The desperate faces. The grasping hands. Wei’s resignation.

He spoke. "Wait."

Everyone turned.

The man in white raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes bright with interest.

Kael met his gaze. "How did you break through to Xiantian?"

The man blinked. Then he laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "You’re about to die, and you’re asking me that?"

"Answer."

The man’s smile widened. "Interesting. Very interesting." He thought for a moment. "I killed everyone I found annoying."

Kael waited.

"That’s it," the man continued. "When you stop letting anything hold you back—when you follow your true nature completely—when you stop caring about others’ judgments or their morality—" His blue eyes gleamed. "That’s when you break through."

Kael closed his eyes. Then he laughed—quiet, hoarse.

The man leaned forward. "What’s funny?"

Kael opened his eyes. "You don’t need to bother."

The man’s foot lifted. Kael pushed himself up slowly, blood dripping from his wounds. He retrieved his sword.

"I’ve been wanting to do this anyway."

He turned toward the crowd. "Wei’s pathetic. Numb. Broken." Wei’s eyes widened. "But—"

Kael faced the villagers. "You’re worse."

The crowd went still.

"Everyone who spoke about Wei—"

"Everyone who spoke about me—"

"Everyone who demanded, who threatened, who cursed—"

He raised his sword. "You all deserve to die."

"Wait—"

The first head fell before anyone could move. The old man who’d told Wei his sacrifice was "right"—his body crumpled, blood fountaining from the neck.

Screaming erupted.

"He’s killing us!"

"Run!"

Kael moved through the crowd. The young woman who’d called him an outsider—his blade took her through the throat. The man who’d cursed Wei’s wife—cut down mid-flight. The woman who’d threatened to haunt him—her head rolled across the stones.

Efficient. Precise. Every person who’d spoken, every person who’d pushed, every person who’d demanded Wei’s death.

One by one.

A man hid in his house. Kael kicked the door open and dragged him out by his hair. "You said I had a duty to save you."

The sword fell.

A woman ran with a child in her arms. Kael caught her. "You cursed my ancestors."

The blade went through her back. The child fell, wailing. Kael stepped over them both and kept moving.

A young man tried to climb over a wall. Kael leaped, bringing his sword down from above. The man’s body slid off the wall and hit the ground.

Behind him, the man in white stood in the center of the square, arms crossed, watching. His laughter echoed between the buildings.

"Ten! Twenty! Thirty! Yes! Keep going!"

Wei stood frozen, staring as neighbor after neighbor fell. His face had gone gray.

Kael pulled a middle-aged man from behind a water barrel. "You said one life for a hundred was worth it."

The man’s hands came up. "Please, I have—"

The sword came down.

Forty. Forty-five. Fifty.

Kael found an older woman hiding in a grain storage shed. She fell to her knees. "I was wrong! I’m sorry!"

Kael’s voice was flat. "You’re not wrong. I just find you unpleasant."

Fifty-one.

A young man had made it to the village edge. Kael caught up, blade flashing. The man collapsed into the dirt.

Fifty-two.

An old man tried to hide in the reeds by the river. Kael waded in and dragged him out. "You said my name would be cursed." He raised the sword. "You were right."

Fifty-three.

The last one—a woman who’d screamed about his ancestors being ashamed—cowered behind the shrine. Kael found her. She begged. He cut her down.

Fifty-four.

Kael stood in the center of the square, surrounded by bodies. Blood soaked into the earth. His sword dripped. His breathing was heavy but steady.

The notification came, cold and mechanical.

[Aether: +17.6]

The remaining villagers—perhaps forty or fifty—huddled at the square’s edges. Old people who’d stayed silent. Children who’d hidden. People who’d watched but never spoken.

They stared at the carnage, faces white with terror.

The man in white clapped slowly, walking forward. "Magnificent! Fifty-four! You remembered every single one!" He stopped in front of Kael, those blue eyes alight with joy. "You’re far more interesting than I thought!"

He gestured around at the bodies. "I’ve decided. I’m following you."

"You’re going to do more interesting things. I can tell." He smiled wide. "I don’t want to miss it."

Kael cleaned his blade on a dead man’s shirt and walked toward Wei.

Wei stood motionless, staring at the bodies of his neighbors. His lips moved silently.

"You killed them." Wei’s voice was hollow. "You... killed them all."

Kael sheathed his sword. "I told you. They annoyed me."

"But... why..."

"Including you."

Wei’s eyes closed. "I know."

Kael raised his sword. Wei stood still, waiting.

Kael lowered the blade. "Living is worse for you anyway."

He walked past Wei toward the village gate. The man in white followed, still talking, still smiling.

"Where are you going next?"

"Will you kill more people?"

"This is going to be so entertaining!"

Kael walked through the gate and onto the road leading west.

Behind them, Wei stood among the dead. He looked at the faces around him—people he’d known his entire life, now corpses cooling in the afternoon sun. His village, transformed into an abattoir.

And he was still alive.

Wei started to laugh—a sound that came out broken, wrong, like glass cracking. He covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.

The laughter twisted, became sobs. His fingers dug into his scalp.

His shoulders shook. He dropped to his knees in the blood-soaked earth.

From somewhere in the distance, a child’s voice called out. "Mama... where’s Papa?"

"Shh. Don’t speak. Don’t make noise."

The wind picked up, carrying the smell of copper and death across the empty square.