Chapter 6: The Cold Hand of Fate

The saloon fell silent in the wake of Jack Rust's fiery demise. The heat of the moment had died down, leaving only the cold, palpable chill that Seraphina had brought with her. The frost that had overtaken Rust's body still lingered in the air, a reminder of just how deadly the woman with silver hair truly was.

Her cold, calculating eyes swept the room as she holstered her revolver with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times before.

Bastian, still leaning casually against the bar, couldn't help but feel a slight thrill run through him. The way she had taken down Rust—no flamboyance, no wasted movement—just precision. He liked that. It was the kind of magic he could respect, even if it was ice cold.

"Well, that was impressive," Bastian said with a half-smile, his tone light but edged with genuine admiration. "You really know how to make a final statement."

Seraphina didn't react, her face as impassive as always. She was studying the damage—the shattered remnants of Jack Rust and his gang, the smoldering remnants of what had once been a thriving saloon. She was analyzing. To her, this was just another job, another enemy eliminated. No emotion, no flair, just the work.

Barok didn't seem as quick to let it slide. He eyed her revolver—the one that had unleashed the freezing shot that had finished Jack Rust.

The icy aftermath still lingered in the room, the frost creeping over the wooden floorboards.

"Impressive," Barok muttered, his voice low and thoughtful. "I've seen fire-infused gunmancy, but frost... that's something different."

Seraphina's icy blue eyes flicked over to him. There was no pride in her gaze, no arrogance—only the cold, unwavering focus of someone who'd long since become numb to the spectacle of death.

"It's called gunmancy," she said, her voice almost clinical. "It's all about channeling the magic through the weapon. I specialize in frost."

Bastian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Frost, huh? That's a new one for me. Doesn't exactly scream 'comfort and warmth,' does it?"

Seraphina didn't respond, her eyes drifting to the door as though she could already feel the winds of the next battle on the horizon. But Barok, always the one to press for answers, didn't let it go. He stepped forward, his gaze intense.

"Is that your main weapon? The revolver?" Barok asked, his tone not quite an interrogation but certainly one that demanded a response.

Seraphina finally gave him a glance, almost like she was weighing how much to reveal. She didn't hesitate long, but the faintest flicker of something—perhaps humor, perhaps something else—passed over her face.

"No," she replied, her voice steady and blunt. "It's a tool. Good for close-range work, but I prefer distance."

She reached behind her back, as though she had anticipated the question, and pulled a sleek, long-barreled rifle from the shadows where it had been resting. The rifle was elegant but deadly, with faint runes etched along the stock. A sniper's weapon, perfectly suited for someone who preferred to remain unseen while taking down their target.

Barok raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from the rifle to Seraphina, then to the now-quiet room. He seemed to process her words, his sharp mind piecing together the implications of her abilities and her chosen weaponry.

"A rifle, huh?" Bastian said, his voice breaking the silence that had stretched on too long. "I guess you're not the type to go in guns blazing, then."

He grinned, though there was a flicker of genuine respect in his eyes.

"You wait until the perfect shot. Makes sense."

Seraphina didn't smile, but she didn't need to. Her body language told everything—she was a hunter, not a fighter. She didn't get involved in every skirmish. She picked her battles, made every shot count.

And that made her far more dangerous than any hothead with a revolver.

"I don't need to get close to kill," she said simply, her gaze sharpening as she let the rifle rest across her shoulders, her hands steady as if they had never wavered.

Barok looked at her with renewed understanding, the pieces falling into place. "You're a sniper, then. Gunmancy at a distance. The frost you wield doesn't just freeze the body—it freezes the moment. A perfect shot, every time."

Seraphina didn't confirm it, but the way she looked at him spoke volumes. She was a sniper, someone who could eliminate threats from impossible distances, her gunmancy amplifying her deadly precision. The frost wasn't just about the element—it was about the control, the cold precision of her shots.

Bastian, ever the gambler, flashed a grin, his usual bravado resurfacing.

"I like it. Frost sniper—sounds like something out of a storybook, but I'm starting to think it's not as far-fetched as it sounds. But here's my question, Seraphina: if you're such a precise shot, why not just take them all out from up high? Seems like you'd never have to get your hands dirty."

For the first time, Seraphina's gaze softened, just slightly, though her tone remained as cold as ever.

"Because the story isn't over until I'm in the fight," she replied. "I don't want to just be a ghost in the wind. I want to be the one to stop the people who make things like Jack Rust happen. And sometimes that means getting a little too close for comfort."

Bastian nodded thoughtfully, feeling the weight of her words. There was something to be said for a person who didn't hide behind their weapon, who didn't just watch from the shadows but became part of the battle. Bastian had always believed in the thrill of the gamble, but Seraphina was something else—she played the long game, and she was damn good at it.

Barok, his mind still turning, spoke again. "So, this isn't just about bounty hunting. You didn't kill Rust because he was a simple outlaw. You knew something we didn't. He was part of something bigger, wasn't he?"

Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly, as if considering how much to reveal. She had already given them more than she'd likely intended, but Barok's sharp instincts hadn't missed the subtle shifts in her demeanor.

"He was," she confirmed, her voice low. "Rust was a pawn in a much larger game. I've been tracking the Silent Hand for months now.

They've been building power, taking control of territories, and I suspect Rust was just a means to an end. They're trying to carve out something... dangerous."

Bastian leaned forward, his smirk gone for once, replaced with an expression that was half-interest, half-calculation. "The Silent Hand, huh? Sounds like a fairy tale villain. But I'm guessing they're not so fairytale, considering we're dealing with gunmancers who can control fire, frost… what next? Earth magic? Or maybe lightning?"

Seraphina's eyes glinted for a moment, though her expression remained stoic. "You'd be surprised what the Silent Hand has in store. But we're not here to chat about them. We're here to figure out what happens next." She paused, letting her words settle into the tense air. "And that's where you two come in."

Barok's eyes flicked toward Bastian, who was already grinning like a man who had just found a fresh deck of cards.

"So, what do you want from us?" Bastian asked, a knowing look in his eye.

Seraphina didn't hesitate. "I need help tracking them down. We can't do this alone. The Silent Hand has too many connections, too many resources. But with your skills—your gunmancy—you might be able to see what they're trying to hide." Her gaze flicked to Barok. "And with your strategy, we can outsmart them."

Bastian laughed, a low chuckle that echoed in the quiet saloon. "Well, it looks like Black Dust has its next job. You can count us in."

Barok simply nodded, his eyes narrowing with determination. "But this better be worth it. We don't fight for free."

Seraphina's eyes flicked between them, a faint trace of something—perhaps approval, perhaps something else—flashed in her gaze.

"It will be," she said, her voice unwavering. "If we win, we stop the Silent Hand from destroying everything. And if we lose…" She let the words trail off, her expression cold. "Well, then we fight until there's nothing left to fight for."