Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 422: Wild Wild West

Chapter 422: Wild Wild West

In every Sector of the Nebulous Bazaar, neighborhoods and avenues of homes existed. Squeezed between guilds or stores or administrative buildings, lengthy stretches of homes were where the people lived. Across from the Sun Mall was the Isa Shrine Neighbourhood, known to be predominately a Japanese neighbourhood that hosted many of the owners and workers at the Sun Mall.

Given that the Wild Wild West was not a formal guild, its members lived in one of these neighbourhoods in the Guild Sector. Situated between the Maccabees HQ and the Orthodox Sect Temple, the Frontier was among the largest in the Nebulous Bazaar. Tens of thousands of men hailing from the Old West took shop here.

The Frontier was like stepping back into a different world, one with dusty streets, the faint whiff of tobacco and leather. The streets were lined with saloons, gunsmith shops, stables for horses—and mechanical mounts for those who couldn’t find real ones—and even a small outdoor stage where a banjo player strummed under a string of flickering lanterns. There was a range of accents and styles on display, from Texan drawls to the clipped tones of frontier Californians, with some unmistakably out-of-place accents that suggested opportunistic newcomers trying to blend in.

Even the homes here were true to the theme: clapboard houses with sloped roofs and wraparound porches, complete with rocking chairs and the occasional harmonica-wielding cowboy leaning against a post. The Nebulous Bazaar’s surreal, interconnected architecture still made its mark, with some houses bizarrely stacked on top of one another or tilted at odd angles and others belonging to the Indigenous of the American West.

Booker calmly adjusted the cuffs of his sharp navy-blue suit as he and Kazi strolled down the dusty street. "Was I right or was I right?"

"Wallahi, I knew it was called the Wild West but this seriously looks like we’re in a movie set."

"Where’s my silver?"

Kazi casually handed it over. "Looks like a John Wayne set, only turned up to eleven. I swear, if someone challenges me to a duel at high noon, I’ll HAVE to accept."

Booker and Kazi earned some eyes and he presumed it was because of the suit of the latter. Then Kazi paid closer attention. No, it wasn’t the suit...

"Yep, it’s the gun," Booker said. "You don’t have a gun. They think it’s weird."

"So suits and cowboys aren’t as important as guns."

"Yes."

They went through a saloon with swinging double doors. The faded wooden sign above read The Black Coyote in peeling white letters.

The inside was everything Kazi had expected: a smoky haze light filtering through slatted windows and the low hum of conversation mowing with the twang of a poorly tuned piano in the corner. Cowboys lounged at scattered tables, some playing cards, others nursing glasses of amber liquid that might’ve passed for whiskey.

Just...really, really Western.

The bartender had a twirled mustache and a battered wide-brim hat. A single bullet mark marked his cheek.

"Afternoon," Kazi greeted smoothly, resting one hand on the counter. "We’re looking for someone. Heard he might be spending time here."

The bartender grunted, wiping a glass with a rag that didn’t seem much cleaner than the glass itself. "Lot of folks come through here. Who’re you looking for?"

"A man by the name of Wildfire Blackwell," Booker said, leaning on the counter. "Real artist when it comes to explosives. We’ve, ah, got some business to discuss."

The bartender paused for just a second—long enough for Booker to notice. Then he set the glass down with deliberate care. "Wildfire Blackwell, huh?" He jerked his chin toward a table in the far corner, where a group of men sat playing cards. In particular, the cowboy with the half-burnt face. Pitch-black and disfigured. "That’d be him. Don’t get too close unless you’re ready for a long conversation about how he’s the best there ever was."

Booker and Kazi turned to look, and sure enough, the table fell quiet. A faint whistle pierced the air as one of the cowboys nudged Wildfire Blackwell, a wiry man with sharp features and an easy confidence on one side of his half face and the other half utterly black. His black-gloved fingers toyed with a deck of cards, shuffling them absentmindedly as he stared at the newcomers. His hat was tilted back just enough to reveal piercing red eyes that seemed to size them up in a heartbeat.

He thought he could take them.

"Looks like we’re the main event," Booker muttered as they walked over.

Kazi was not shy with his greeting. "Mr. Blackwell. We’ve heard a lot about your skills."

Wildfire leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the table. "Players, huh? Always with the same song and dance. You hear about me, want something dangerous, pay me, and then disappear. What’s in it for me besides the money? A handshake? A ’thanks for not blowing yourself up while making my toys?’"

If the left side of his face had a brow, it would certainly be raised.

Booker crossed his arms. "Can’t argue with that. I’m as cheap as they come and I’ll own it."

"Ha! Honesty is a common among you folk too."

"Look, man, we’re not here to make trouble or waste time or to fuck you up or make fun of your face or talk back at you. We’re here...for business. That’s it," said Booker.

Wildfire kept arching that same burned eyebrow. "Coming from a guy I’ve never seen before in my life, I ain’t exactly jumping to do business."

"I’ve seen you."

"I haven’t," Wildfire insisted.

"Let’s say we’re not just here to hire you," Kazi said. "We’re looking to build something bigger—a team. The kind of team where your talents won’t just be a one-off deal. I’ve already got a blacksmith. Now I need someone who can handle firepower. The kind of firepower that can take down something like a Bake-kujira."

Booker side-glanced him. A team? A blacksmith? This was all news to him.

Wildfire was focused on another part entirely. "A Bake-kujira? The hell’s that? Sounds like some kind of fancy Japanese seafood."

Kazi chuckled. "Close. Think of it like a giant skeletal whale that breathes fire, summons swarms of monsters, and causes plagues wherever it goes. Real fun to kill."

"Damn, one of ’em yokai then, eh? Feisty shits." Wildfire whistled, low and impressed. "And you think my explosives can do something about that demon?"

"I’m not looking for just anyone. I’m looking for someone who can rise to the occasion. Someone who can make the impossible happen. And from what I’ve heard, you’re that someone. You can make the impossible, the same way I will make killing a Class Five monster possible."

Now that got his men muttering. Class Five? Now?

"You’re good," Wildfire said, pointing a finger at Kazi. "Smooth talker. But I don’t just ’rise to the occasion’ for free. If I’m going to risk my neck, I want more than just a pat on the back."

Kazi smiled, unbothered by the challenge. "You’ll be paid, of course."

"How much?"

"How much do you want?"

"Thirty pure gold coins."

"Done."

"Done?"

"Done."

"Done," Booker added for no real reason.

"Gargle my ballsack, you’re lying."

It took everything in Kazi not to burst out laughing. He loved cute accents like these. They made his day.

"Money is of no consequence to men like us, Wildfire." He couldn’t act all giddy though. Kazi took an actual seat. The cowboys allowed it. "Show everyone that you’re not just the best bomb maker in the Frontier—you’re the best, period." Kazi cocked his head. "Don’t believe me? If my victory doesn’t make headlines, I pay you double."

Wildfire’s companions exchanged glances, some grinning, others nodding in approval. The bomb maker himself seemed ecstatic. "You really doing something that big a deal?"

"I’m not promising anything. I’m stating the truth."

"Hoho! I like that confidence, brown man! Proving people wrong’s my favorite pastime. But getting famous? That’s even better. Alright, smooth talker, you’ve got a deal. I’ll make you your bombs."

Getting paid handsomely regardless of outcome. That was how the bomb maker saw it. That was how to make any deal super successful; show all avenues lead to one great benefit.