Chapter 68 - Hey Kid Frenzy

Right after I first entered this damn Western game.

I tried desperately to earn money to return to my original world.

But even with good shooting skills, there was a limit to how much money I could earn in a 6-year-old's body.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even earn $10,000 until I was 13.

Only after my body gradually grew and I finally shed my childish appearance did I have the opportunity to earn a lot of money.

From then on, I earned money recklessly, stopping at nothing.

Money that other NPCs could hardly imagine fell into my hands... and not satisfied with this, I ran like crazy toward the goal of $1 million.

But if one ran too fast, they were bound to trip over a stone.

3 years ago.

After experiencing a certain incident and getting properly burned...

I left San Francisco and moved to this Justice Town, deciding to live by not crossing the line anymore.

So for the past 3 years, I earned money like a moderately crazy person without crossing the line.

But now….

What is a line?

It was just a standard I created.

A standard I created to maintain self-control.

But was there any reason I should maintain self-control against NPCs?

The Rush and Gold gang bastards in front of me were trash, but they weren't outlaws with bounties on their heads.

According to my original standards, I shouldn't have killed these guys.

There was no bounty on them and no benefit in killing them.

But I decided to kill the guys in front of me.

Because standards could change at any time.

And unlike these NPC bastards in front of me, I was a person with the authority to change those standards.

Ah yes, I almost forgot.

I’m the person who sets all the standards in this world.

Good and evil.

Those who must die and those who don't have to die.

I, who decide all of that in this world...

Am the player of this game.

<Catch the Outlaws> Chapter 4 [Liberation of Justice Town]

I wasn't particularly interested in realizing justice or anything...

But I started wiping out the Rush and Gold gang bastards because of my personal emotions and to vent my anger.

Click.

The first weapon I picked up was a shotgun.

Whoosh.

As soon as the Rush and Gold guys started shooting, the trait [Best Gunslinger in the West] activated.

I shot the shotgun towards the first bullets flying at me.

The shotgun was an excellent weapon and armor.

Bang—! Bang—!

"Gaaahh-!!"

The numerous shotgun pellets that spread from the muzzle blocked the incoming bullets and lodged in the guys' bodies.

Tad.

As soon as I emptied the magazine, I turned my body sideways and picked up the next weapon.

The next one was the M1873 lever-action rifle, one of Winchester's masterpieces.

Many people think of the trademark gun-spinning performance when they though of lever-action rifles, but I had no time for such vanity now.

Click, bang bang bang bang bang—!

"Aaaahhh-!!"

"...Guhkkk!"

The biggest reason I liked lever-action rifles was their rapid-fire ability.

I quickly blew off 5 heads and picked up the next weapon.

Next was my beloved Colt Single Action Army.

Unfortunately, as soon as I picked up the Single Action Army, I had to use it without even enjoying the afterglow.

Bang bang bang bang bang bang—!

I intercepted all the incoming bullets in mid-air with fanning rapid fire and then discarded the empty gun without hesitation.

The next one was the Volcanic Volitional Repeater, a pistol by Volcanic.

This was a pistol, not a revolver, so fanning was impossible and it couldn't be rapid-fired.

Bang—!!

"...Gahkkk!"

Instead, it had firepower reminiscent of a rifle despite being a handgun, so I fired one shot at the nearest guy and immediately moved on to the next weapon.

"Oh, it's been a while."

The next gun was the Smith & Wesson Model 3.

Also known as the Schofield Revolver.

It had several disappointing aspects compared to the Single Action Army, but it was a weapon I used frequently from childhood to adolescence.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Gaaaahhhh!"

After blocking a few incoming bullets, I shot and killed several guys with the remaining bullets and discarded the empty gun again.

"Ahaha! This feels like I'm visiting a weapons shop!"

These Rush and Gold bastards seemed to have quite diverse tastes, as they had a wide variety of guns.

I felt like I was shopping at a large weapons store as I switched weapons.

"S-surround him! Surround that guy!"

"Corner him!"

As I switched weapons, blocking incoming bullets and shooting the guys approaching me, before I knew it, they had surrounded me in a circle.

So I grinned and jumped into the guys.

"K-kill him!!"

"Aaaahhh!"

"D-don't shoot! You'll hit our allies!"

"Then what should we... Aaaahhh!"

As I dove in and mixed among them, the Rush and Gold gang members couldn't shoot recklessly for fear of hitting their allies.

Stab, stab, stab.

"Guhhhkkk!"

Meanwhile, I picked up a knife and started slicing the guys at close range.

Blocking incoming bullets by switching guns with my right hand and swinging a knife with my left hand to stab nearby guys was truly the perfection of offense and defense as one.

Having gotten into the flow, I then began a true massacre.

The brown clothes I was wearing had long since turned red, and there was more of the gang members' splattered blood in my mouth than my own saliva.

I swung the knife cheerfully, tasting the fishy blood in my mouth.

Slash—!

"Aaaaaaahhh!"

The most overpowered trait when playing <Catch the Outlaws> was [Best Gunslinger in the West].

But actually rolling around in the game, I found the best trait wasn't [Best Gunslinger in the West] but [Weapon Master].

Without the [Weapon Master] trait, I wouldn't have been able to swing a knife around like a sword master like this.

But no matter how well one handled a knife, there was a limit due to the short reach of a dagger.

Crack.

"...Huuuh!"

Maybe because I had cut so much flesh, the dulled blade couldn't pierce through the ribs and got stuck in the gang member's body.

"Tsk."

So I discarded the knife without hesitation and...

Wham—!!

Instead, I picked up a rock lying on the ground and smashed it into the guy's head.

"...!"

Guns, knives.

They were all tools made for killing, so they granted a clean death to the opponent.

But rocks didn't.

The gang member whose head was smashed by the rock collapsed with a quite grotesque appearance as his head caved in.

"This crazy..."

"That Satan-like..."

It must have been shocking to the gang guys too, as those who saw their comrade die horribly froze for a moment.

In contrast, I was very satisfied.

"Oh..."

Holding a pistol in my right hand and a rock in my left, I looked down at the blood-covered rock and asked the guys with a smile. "Boys, is a rock a weapon or not?"

"..."

Whether I looked like a madman suddenly asking such a question, or they simply didn't know the answer to the problem, the guys couldn't open their mouths easily.

I rushed at them and taught them the answer to the problem, "The correct answer is that rocks are also classified as weapons."

"B-block him!!"

Bang—!

Bang bang bang—!

I dodged and blocked the incoming bullets and raised the rock high.

If one swung a rock, people got hurt or died.

Rocks were weapons too.

Therefore...

This rock also receives the effect of the [Weapon Master] trait.

Wham—!

Once again, one person collapsed with his head smashed by the rock.

Wham—!

Wham—!

I killed the Rush and Gold gang members by swinging the rock instead of a knife with graceful movements.

This rock, upon closer inspection, was a one-handed blunt weapon that fit nicely in the hand.

The gang members crumbled before this unexpected new weapon.

But even this secret new weapon had a drawback...

Crack.

"Oh dear."

It seemed the durability wasn't very good.

I looked regretfully at the rock that broke after swinging it a few times and quickly searched for the next weapon.

The next new weapon was quite close.

"Is this liquor bottle a weapon or not?"

The correct answer was that liquor bottles were weapons too.

Smash—!

"Gaaahhh!"

The liquor bottle, receiving the [Weapon Master] trait effect, shattered as it blew off one gang member's head.

The next new weapon was right beside it too.

"Is this fire poker a weapon or not?"

The fire poker was an excellent weapon with a longer reach than the liquor bottle and better durability.

Wham—!

"...Guhk-!"

Bang bang bang bang—!

I kept my right hand busy with the pistol while thrashing a few more people with the fire poker in my left hand.

Crack.

When the fire poker broke, I immediately picked up another weapon beside it.

"Is this frying pan a weapon or not?"

"...Y-you crazy bastard."

When I held the frying pan in my empty left hand, the gang members looked at me with terrified faces as if they were fed up.

"U-Uwaahhh!"

Among them, some couldn't endure and started to slowly back away and run.

Bang—! Bang bang—!

"Aahhh!"

"Guhkkk!"

I shot and killed the fleeing guys with the revolver in my right hand and raised the frying pan in my left hand high, saying, "...Correct answer."

"...Ugh, this crazy..."

"...A frying pan is a very, very, very excellent weapon."

In fact, the frying pan, which could block bullets and was good for smashing heads, was such a good weapon that I thought it could be used even in war.

Wham—! Thud—!

So I thrashed numerous gang members with the frying pan until I dropped it because of too much blood on my hands.

"Aaaahhh!"

"P-please spare... Guhk...!"

Bang bang bang bang—!!

After that, I continued to swing many weapons that came to hand, such as hammers, pots, kettles, glasses, etc. and knocked down the guys...

"Haa... haa..."

When I came to my senses, everyone had fallen, and only I was breathing heavily, covered in blood.

Is it all done?

"...Ugh."

"..."

Just as I was thinking that, I heard someone's groan from a corner.

I slowly moved towards the sound.

There, someone was crawling on the floor, bleeding from their leg.

It was that weasel bastard who had been hitting Bob's head with his fist at the Deaf Man's Bar before and received a lesson from me.

"...Y-you inhuman..."

"...Oh? How did you know my berserk button?"

I smiled slightly at the guy's muttered words and raised the revolver in my right hand.

But...

Click.

Maybe the bullets were all gone, as only an empty sound came from inside the gun.

So I looked for a new weapon to kill the guy and found something very suitable in the closest place.

Swish.

Recalling how that weasel guy had been hitting Bob with his fist, I asked him, "Is a fist a weapon or not?"

"...Hiiieekkk!"

Sensing his end at the familiar phrase, the weasel screamed desperately as he crawled:

"D-don't come closer! You monster...!"

"..."

At the guy's words telling me not to come closer, I approached with heavy steps and planted my fist in the weasel bastard's face.

Wham—!

"The correct answer is that fists are weapons too."

"...!!!"

The weasel, properly hit by the fist, couldn't even scream.

I continued speaking calmly to such a guy while continuing to plant my fists.

Wham—!

"Fists are weapons that can harm others, so don't raise your fists carelessly to others in the future."

Wham—!

"And I'm not a monster."

Wham—!!!!

The guy who took the last straight punch became a bloody mess and just gaped his mouth.

Killing someone with fists was no easy task.

My hands were tingling, so instead of swinging my fists more, I picked up a revolver lying on the ground and finished the guy off.

Bang—!

Thud.

So the weasel guy breathed his last.

After confirming the guy was dead, I looked around to see if there were any more survivors, but there were no signs of life.

It seemed this weasel guy was the last survivor of the Rush and Gold gang.

"Haa..."

Left alone in the quiet camp, I shook off the moisture on my face.

I thought it had rained, but it wasn't that; it was the blood spilled by the Rush and Gold gang members that had thoroughly soaked me.

"..."

How long has it been since I killed NPCs so recklessly like this...

Looking down at the numerous NPC corpses dyed red, I was somehow reminded of old memories.

Memories I didn't particularly want to recall...

Thud.

I sat down on the spot.

And...

Step, step.

Someone slowly approached me sitting in a pool of blood.

At those familiar footsteps approaching so fearlessly, I let out a hollow laugh and asked her, "Do you still like me, Emma? Even like this?"

"..."

What do I look like now?

Corpses were strewn around, and I was sitting calmly on top of them, thoroughly covered in blood.

If she were an ordinary woman, she would have run away crying as soon as she saw this sight...

I suddenly wondered what she, who said she liked me, was thinking.