Plundering Worlds: I Have a Shotgun in a Fantasy World-Chapter 57: The Road West

[Morning - Training Yard, One Week Later]

The wooden sword clattered to the ground.

Shitou stood in the center of the courtyard, his thin arms trembling, his small chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his forehead despite the cold.

"Again," Kael said.

Shitou bent down, picked up the sword, and returned to his stance. His legs shook, his grip was weak, yet he stayed silent.

Kael watched him, arms crossed. The boy reminded him of someone—himself. Not Luzhihuan, but Kael. The boy who’d been shoved into lockers, mocked in hallways, beaten behind the gym. The boy who’d been weak.

"Hold the stance," Kael said. "One incense stick."

Shitou’s jaw tightened. He nodded.

Kael turned away and walked to the edge of the courtyard, leaning against one of the wooden posts. From there, he could see Shitou’s reflection in the polished training stones—small, fragile, but determined.

Yun Juan’s voice drifted over from the other side of the yard. "Shu-ge, I told you I’d win!"

"You cheated!"

"Did not!"

Kael glanced over. The twins were sparring, as usual, wooden swords clacking in rhythm. Yun Juan grinned as she swept Yun Shu’s legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud.

"Ha!"

Master Yun’s laughter echoed from the kitchen. "Those two never stop."

Kael looked back at Shitou. The boy was still holding the stance, his legs trembling violently now, but he held steady.

Kael counted silently.

When the incense stick burned out, he walked over. "Enough."

Shitou collapsed immediately, gasping for air.

Kael handed him a water gourd. "Drink."

Shitou took it with shaking hands and drank deeply.

"Tomorrow," Kael said, "we do it again."

Shitou nodded, still catching his breath.

Kael turned and walked away. Behind him, Shitou’s voice was small but clear. "Thank you, Senior Brother."

Kael paused, then kept walking.

[Evening - Under the Ginkgo Tree]

After dinner, Kael sat beneath the old ginkgo tree, a piece of wood in one hand and a small knife in the other.

Shitou appeared from the shadows, walking slowly toward him. "Senior Brother, what are you doing?"

"Making something," Kael said, keeping his eyes on the wood.

Shitou sat down beside him, watching curiously as the knife peeled thin strips of wood away. The shape began to emerge—a handle, a blade, a guard. A wooden sword.

"Is that... for me?" Shitou’s voice was small, hopeful.

"Who else would it be for?"

Shitou’s eyes widened.

Kael continued carving, smoothing the edges, rounding the handle to fit small hands. He worked in silence, the only sound the scrape of blade against wood. When he finished, he held it up, examining it in the fading light. It was rough, simple—a child’s toy, really. But it was sturdy. Balanced.

He handed it to Shitou. "Here."

Shitou took it with both hands, staring at it like it was made of gold. "It’s... mine?"

"It’s yours."

Shitou gripped the handle tightly, his small fingers wrapping around the wood. He stood and gave it a tentative swing. The motion was clumsy, but his face lit up.

"Thank you, Senior Brother."

Kael stood and brushed the wood shavings from his lap. "Take care of it."

"I will!" Shitou clutched the sword to his chest. "I’ll keep it forever."

Kael looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Now go to bed. Tomorrow we train."

Shitou ran off, still holding the sword, his footsteps echoing across the courtyard.

Kael watched him go, then looked up at the ginkgo tree. Golden leaves drifted down around him. He turned and walked back to the main hall.

[Evening - Main Hall, Three Days Later]

Dinner was warm and loud.

Yun Juan piled dumplings onto Shitou’s plate. "Eat more! You’re too skinny!"

Shitou stared at the mountain of food, then at her. "Thank you," he whispered.

Yun Shu leaned over. "Master makes the best dumplings in the province."

Master Yun chuckled. "Flattery won’t get you extra helpings."

"Yes it will."

"No it won’t."

"It did last year!"

Everyone laughed.

Shitou ate slowly, his eyes darting between the others as if memorizing their faces. Then he looked at Kael.

"Senior Brother," he said quietly. "You were bullied before, weren’t you?"

The table went silent.

Kael paused mid-bite and set down his chopsticks. He thought of stone corridors, jeering voices, the crack of wood against bone, the taste of blood in his mouth. Not his own memories—Lu Zhihuan’s.

"Yes," Kael said.

"How did you get strong?"

Kael was silent for a moment. "One day," he said quietly, "I didn’t want to run anymore."

Shitou’s eyes widened. "Then what?"

"Then I could only go forward."

Shitou stared at him, his small hands gripping his chopsticks tightly. "Can I... can I get strong too?"

Kael met his gaze. "Yes."

Shitou’s face lit up—just a little, but enough.

Across the table, Master Yun watched the exchange, saying nothing. But his eyes were warm.

[Training Yard - Fifth Day]

Shitou’s wooden sword cut through the air in a clean, straight line. The form was correct, the stance was solid, the strike was precise. It was a standard slash—nothing fancy, nothing advanced—but it was right.

Yun Juan clapped. "Shitou! You did it!"

Yun Shu grinned. "See? I told you you’d get it!"

Shitou turned toward Kael, his eyes shining.

Kael nodded. "Good."

Shitou’s face broke into a smile—his first real smile since arriving at the sect.

From the shadow of the main hall, Master Yun watched, smiling faintly.

[Everywhere - Seventh Day]

Shitou followed Kael everywhere.

When Kael fetched water from the well, Shitou was there, carrying the bucket. When Kael chopped firewood, Shitou sat nearby, watching every swing. When Kael practiced his forms under the old ginkgo tree, Shitou sat on the steps, eyes wide and focused.

Yun Juan nudged Yun Shu. "Senior Brother has a shadow now."

Yun Shu grinned. "A very small shadow."

Kael glanced at Shitou, who looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes. He said nothing, but something in his chest felt heavier.

[Night - Kael’s Room]

Kael was packing his belongings when the knock came.

"Come in."

The door slid open. Shitou stood there, barefoot, holding the edge of the doorframe.

"Senior Brother... you’re not asleep yet?"

"No." Kael folded a spare robe and placed it in his pack. "Why aren’t you?"

"I was worried about you leaving."

Kael continued packing. Shitou stepped inside, his eyes fixed on the black sword lying on the bed.

"Senior Brother," he said quietly. "Are you leaving?"

Kael’s hands paused. "Yes."

"Where are you going?"

"West."

"Why?"

Kael crouched down to meet his gaze. "I have something I need to do."

"What?"

Kael thought for a moment. "Eliminate evil. Protect the innocent."

Shitou blinked. "What does that mean?"

Kael stood, walked to his pack, and rummaged through it. After a moment, he pulled out a worn book—Bo’re · On Chivalry. The cover was faded, the pages yellowed, but the title was still clear. He handed it to Shitou.

"This is what it means."

Shitou took the book carefully, running his small fingers over the letters he couldn’t yet read. "What is this?"

"A book," Kael said. "About Xia. About people who protect the weak and fight the wicked."

"Are you a Xia, Senior Brother?"

Kael was silent for a long moment. "I’m trying to be."

He placed a hand on Shitou’s head. "But you can be."

Shitou’s tears spilled over. "I don’t want you to go."

Kael’s hand stilled. "I’ll come back."

"When?"

Kael paused. "I can’t say. But I will."

Shitou wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded fiercely. "I’ll get strong. When you come back, I’ll be really strong."

Kael looked at him. "Then I’ll teach you the sword properly when I return. Not just how to hold it. The real thing."

Shitou’s grip tightened on the book. "Really?"

"Really."

Kael walked him to the door. "Go to sleep. You’ll see me off tomorrow."

Shitou clutched the book to his chest and took a few steps down the hall. Then he turned back. "Senior Brother."

"Yes?"

"Promise you’ll come back."

"I promise."

Shitou nodded and disappeared into the darkness.

Kael stood in the doorway for a long time, watching the empty hallway. Then he closed the door and returned to his packing.

[Dawn - Sect Gates]

The sky was pale with early light.

Master Yun stood at the gate, hands clasped behind his back. Yun Juan and Yun Shu flanked him, holding parcels of food and a water gourd. Shitou stood at the back, clutching Bo’re · On Chivalry in one hand and the wooden sword Kael had carved for him in the other, his eyes red and puffy.

Kael approached, his pack slung over one shoulder, the black sword at his waist. He stopped in front of Master Yun and bowed.

"Master."

Yun nodded. "Go."

Yun Juan stepped forward and pressed the water gourd into his hands. "Don’t get thirsty."

Yun Shu stuffed a cloth-wrapped bundle into his pack. "Don’t skip meals."

Kael accepted both. "Thank you."

He turned to Shitou. The boy stood clutching the book and wooden sword to his chest, his lips trembling. Kael crouched down.

"Remember what I said. Practice every day. Listen to Master."

Shitou nodded, tears streaming down his face. "When you come back... I’ll be strong."

"I know."

Kael stood and looked at each of them one last time. Then he turned and walked through the gate, descending the stone steps, his footsteps echoing in the still morning air.

At the base of the path, he stopped and looked back. Shitou was waving frantically, tears streaming down his face. Yun Juan and Yun Shu waved too. Master Yun stood still, watching.

Kael turned away and kept walking.

When he reached the ginkgo tree at the edge of the sect grounds, he paused. The tree stood tall and ancient, its golden leaves drifting down in the morning breeze. A few landed on his shoulders. He looked up at the branches, remembering Master Yun’s words.

"When your heart is still, the sword is light."

He brushed a leaf from his shoulder and continued down the mountain path. The sect disappeared behind him.

[Three Days Later - City Gates]

Kael stopped at the crest of a hill and looked down.

A city sprawled below him, its walls high and imposing. But it wasn’t the walls that caught his attention—it was what lay outside them. A sea of tents and makeshift shelters stretched for miles, thousands of people huddled together in filth and despair.

Refugees.

Kael descended the hill slowly, the smell hitting him long before he reached the camp—waste, rot, sickness, death. Old men sat in the mud, staring at nothing. Children cried, their voices hoarse and weak. A woman clutched a bundle to her chest. The bundle lay still.

Kael walked through the camp, his face expressionless. Hands reached out.

"Please... food..."

"Help us..."

"Anything..."

He kept walking. He couldn’t help them—not all of them, not even a fraction of them.

At the city gate, soldiers stood in formation, spears leveled at the refugees. A man tried to approach. A soldier struck him with the butt of his spear. "Get back!"

Kael walked up to the gate. A soldier blocked his path. "Halt. State your business."

"Passing through."

The soldier looked him over—clean clothes, a sword, a travel pack. "Papers."

Kael reached into his sleeve and drew out his sect token—the Chief Disciple’s insignia of the Buyan Sect—and held it out.

The soldier examined it, then nodded. "Go."

The gate opened just wide enough for Kael to slip through. Behind him, the refugees screamed.

"Why does he get in?"

"Let us in!"

"Please!"

The gate slammed shut.

Kael stood inside, looking back at the thick wooden door. On one side: hell. On the other... he turned around. Clean streets, bright shops, well-dressed people laughing and talking. Music drifted from a tavern, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air.

Kael walked through the city in silence. He found an inn, paid for a room, and left before dawn.

[Another Day - The Ruined Village]

Kael stopped at the edge of the village—or what was left of it.

Most of the houses still stood, but they were empty. Doors hung open, windows were dark, the streets were silent. The people had fled, or been taken.

Kael walked through the village slowly, his boots crunching on scattered debris. He stopped in front of a familiar house—the old man’s house. The roof had collapsed, the walls were cracked, the door lay in splinters on the ground.

Kael stood there, looking at the ruins. This was where he’d spent a night in this world. The old man had given him food, a place to sleep, and asked for nothing in return.

Now the house was empty.

Kael stepped through the doorway. Inside, everything was overturned—furniture smashed, belongings scattered, blood stained the floor in dark, dried patches. He crouched down and picked up a broken bowl, the same one the old man had used to serve him porridge. He set it down carefully and stood.

Outside, the wind stirred the dust.

Kael walked back into the street. He remembered the four men who had ambushed him on the road outside the village—starving, desperate, weapons drawn. Their eyes had held nothing but killing intent.

He’d killed them.

[Aether: +0.4]

Four men. 0.1 each.

He’d known what Aether was from the beginning. At first, he’d thought it was a gift—divine favor from Voros. He’d been chosen, blessed, and in return, he was meant to offer slaughter. It had felt sacred, purposeful.

But over time, as the bodies piled up and the Aether accumulated, the truth became harder to ignore. This wasn’t a blessing—it was a transaction. He killed, he gained power. Simple, mechanical. No gods, no destiny, just an exchange.

So his understanding shifted. If there was no divine purpose, then the purpose was his to choose. At first, it was simple: he wanted to stand at the top of the world, see more, experience more, become strong enough that nothing—no disaster, no war, no enemy—could threaten him. Strength for strength’s sake, power for survival.

Then Valen had offered him the role of captain. Valen’s words had been clear: For the people. And Kael had thought of his parents, slaughtered by barbarians. He’d thought of the neighbors who’d died in those raids, ordinary people caught in the crossfire of things beyond their control. He’d thought: I don’t want that to happen again.

So his goal had shifted once more—not just strength for its own sake, but strength to protect, to prevent tragedies.

But now... Jarek was dead. The old man was dead. The village was empty.

And Kael felt nothing.

He knew he should feel something—grief, anger, determination. But there was only a hollow space where those emotions should have been.

He stood in the middle of the empty village, looking around at the silent houses, the empty streets, the broken lives.

Was he doing this for justice? For Aether? For himself? For others?

He didn’t know anymore.

All he knew was that he needed to keep moving, keep getting stronger, keep killing. Because if he stopped, the emptiness would swallow him whole.

Kael turned and walked toward the western edge of the village, eyes forward. The road stretched ahead, empty and cold. He gripped the hilt of his sword and kept walking.