Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 58: Cowboy Psycho.

Chapter 58: Cowboy Psycho.

Tobias crouched low, his revolver aimed straight ahead, eyes fixed on the faint shapes shifting at the tunnel’s exit. He took a deep breath and fired off the first shot—it rang out loud and sharp, the bullet slicing through the air and pinging off the rough stone walls. The sound bounced wildly through the tunnel, amplifying the chaos. Tobias smirked, his grip tightening as he lined up another shot. It was all about angles, the kind of controlled chaos he thrived on.

Outside, the guards flinched as the gunfire echoed toward them, gripping their weapons like their lives depended on it—because they probably did. Some tapped into their powers, forming shimmering energy shields or channeling elemental forces to protect themselves. The air felt heavy, charged with tension. They weren’t just waiting for trouble—they knew it was coming.

Tobias, still inside the tunnel, didn’t bother trying to get a clear view of the guards. He didn’t need to see them. The ricocheting bullets were doing exactly what he wanted—speeding up, bouncing unpredictably, turning the narrow passage into an amplifier for destruction. He adjusted his stance, letting the chaos unfold.

The first bullet shot out of the darkness like a lightning bolt, just barely missing one guard before slamming into another’s shimmering barrier. The second bullet followed right behind, zipping between shields and slicing through the edge of a protective spell. Sparks flew as magic and steel collided, sending guards stumbling backward.

"Stay sharp!" one of them yelled, but it was hard to focus when the air was thick with noise and danger. Tobias leaned closer to the exit, listening to the scrape of boots and strained muttering from outside.

"Showtime," he murmured, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

The guards didn’t stand a chance. The next round of bullets hit like a whirlwind—piercing armor, shredding shields, and leaving bodies crumpling to the dirt one after another. The tunnel amplified everything, the crackle of energy and the metallic ping of ricochets mixing with the dull thuds of fallen guards. Tobias stayed put, watching the chaos unravel exactly as he planned.

"Well, that’s sorted," he muttered, casually spinning his revolver before sliding it back into its holster. His movements were smooth, like this whole thing was just a warm-up. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Amari and Apollo standing stiff, their faces pale and their eyes wide.

"Don’t just stand there," Tobias said sharply. "We’ve got bigger problems than these guys."

Amari hesitated, staring at the fallen guards sprawled across the ground. "How did you...?" he started, but Tobias didn’t wait for him to finish. He stepped into the open air, boots crunching softly as he moved ahead.

"Stay close," Tobias called back, his voice steady, cool. "Things are about to get a whole lot messier."

(Meanwhile, at the royal hospital)

Erling’s eyes snapped open, his chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a mile. The pain hit him immediately—sharp and deep—but his hands instinctively clutched the bed as he forced himself upright. His vision blurred briefly before settling, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that danced across the room.

"Lie back down!" one of the royal doctors barked, rushing to his side. "Your injuries are severe—moving will only make them worse!"

Erling gritted his teeth and growled, "I don’t have time for this. Where’s the cowboy?"

The doctor hesitated, then answered carefully, "He’s inside castle grounds. Responsible for all of this chaos."

Erling’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles went white. "I need something—anything—to get me back on my feet."

The doctor’s brows furrowed, but he dug into his satchel and pulled out a small vial of swirling, crimson liquid. "This will give you temporary strength—but when it wears off, your body will suffer even more damage."

Without hesitation, Erling grabbed the vial, uncorked it, and downed it in one quick motion. The warmth spread through his veins like fire, dulling the pain and filling him with a surge of energy. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rolling his shoulders as newfound strength coursed through him.

The doctor tried again to stop him, but Erling was already moving. He stormed down the hall, his boots pounding against the stone floors. He couldn’t think about pain or exhaustion—there was only one thought consuming him: vengeance.

Reaching the courtyard, Erling froze in his tracks. His soldiers—his most trusted guards—were lying scattered across the ground like broken toys. Their armor was tarnished, their weapons abandoned. The scene was chaos, blood and dust marking the end of a battle they never stood a chance of winning.

His chest tightened, anger bubbling to the surface as his fists clenched at his sides. "That damn cowboy," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands."

Before he could act, a massive BOOM rattled the castle grounds. Dust and stone rained down as the walls trembled. Erling spun toward the sound, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the source—a gaping hole torn into the wall surrounding the village.

"That has to be him," he muttered. His hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword, pulling it free as rage and adrenaline fueled him. Without a second thought, he charged toward the destruction.

Skidding to a stop at the edge of the rubble, Erling scanned the chaos, his eyes searching for movement. It didn’t take long—through the dust, he spotted Tobias and the two boys disappearing into the forest. His fists tightened, his teeth grinding together as he roared into the open air. "Tobias! You won’t get away!"

The shout carried across the clearing, reaching Tobias’s ears. He paused, glancing back toward the rubble, his face darkening as recognition set in. "Persistent, aren’t you?" he muttered, then turned to Amari and Apollo. His tone was sharp, commanding. "You two—hide. Now."

The boys looked at each other, hesitation clear on their faces. Tobias stepped closer, his gaze hard as steel. "Don’t argue with me," he said coldly. "I’ll kill you myself if you try to run."

The edge in his voice was enough to send them scrambling. Darting into the forest, they crouched behind dense bushes, barely breathing as they watched Tobias prepare for the inevitable clash.

Tobias took his time, methodically loading his revolver as he listened to Erling’s heavy footsteps pounding closer. He smirked faintly, muttering under his breath, "Let’s see what you’re made of, prince."

Erling’s rage boiled over as he barreled forward, energy surging into the ground beneath him. The earth responded, forming armor around him, the stone gleaming as it wrapped tightly around his body. His sword glinted in the fading light, the raw power radiating from him as he closed the distance.

The tension in the air was suffocating as the two warriors faced off—the calm, calculated gunslinger versus the furious, unstoppable force of nature. Tobias’s revolver gleamed in his grip, and Erling’s stone armor radiated with destructive energy. The collision was inevitable—and neither of them planned to hold back.