Boothill

A cyborg cowboy drifting among the stars. Extremely optimistic and unrestrained.

He is a member of the Galaxy Rangers who swore to punish the wretched by any and all means...

His flamboyant and brash actions were all to draw the attention of the Interastral Peace Corporation — the target of his revenge.

"Graey, there's a child there in the snow!"

Graey and Nick cautiously approached and picked up the red-faced child as he cried incessantly.

The child had a striking and beautiful name that in the ancient language of Aeragan-Epharshel meant "loaded gun."

He grew up under the love and protection of Graey and Nick, as he played happily with his siblings. Though they all came from different places, they all now belonged to this vast continent of "Aeragan-Epharshel."

Graey took him to learn about plants, animals, and rivers. Nick taught him how to tame horses and farm sheep. At a young age, he rode his colt across streams and followed Nick as they led their cattle to fields rich in water and greenery under the morning sun. Nick would always sing loudly as the light shone over the brilliant clouds. When he heard Nick raise his voice in song, he would open his mouth and release a clear and crisp song of his own. As he kicked at the colt's belly to take him faster, their laughter would spread further and further into the distance.

As Graey and Nick raised the children day after day, their backs began to stoop with old age.

Since becoming a cowboy, he mastered every skill there was to hunting. They charged through the sandy wastelands fighting bandits, making deals with merchants, and battling for places to survive with the beasts of the wilderness.

He had narrowly escaped death, tasted the flavor of taking revenge on a rival gang, seen friends lose their lives in the flight of a bullet and seen families fall apart in mere moments... He lost many, yet gained a lot as well. In the end, his courage earned him status and respect.

Now, he rarely sees his siblings, but he knows that they are living well.

In the silent night, he stares at the sky and thinks about the greater world outside, when the sound of cries resounded loud and clear through the stillness of evening.

Following the sound, he discovered a red-faced baby that would not stop crying. He had no idea what to do. But, he eventually picked her up as Graey had done so long ago before, and brought her home.

The sound of Nick's gruff voice resounded in his ears...

"The water here is smooth as fine wine,

the cold snow is cutting like a knife,

this place is...

the perfect world."

The shadow cast down by the spaceship eclipsed the moonlight across the plains.

He jumped from the speeding train as it passed by with a roar. By the time the smoke and dust had settled, he'd already made it back to his base with his bounty.

He raised his head to look up at the uninvited guests above. Well-dressed people in black walked out from the deck of the spaceship under the escort of guards armed to the teeth and onto the cowboy's land. He took something that the person in black called a "Synesthesia Beacon," as great, strange visions flooded into his mind. This is the first time he learned of the endless shining worlds outside the plains, forests, streams, and tracks that he knew.

Giant excavators appeared on the horizon of the plains, completely disregarding protests from the locals. Then, black ore began to stream forth from the earth below. The heavily armed guards blasphemed against the local's beliefs, cast them out of their homes, and insulted their honor with meager compensation.

As always, he and his partners turned to guerrilla warfare to fight off the advance of the people in black. However, in the face of absolute military might, the cowboys' schemes, marksmanship, and swift mounts all seemed so primitive and laughable. As the members of his family died one after another, he realized that unless he found the person who started all of this, he would never be able to bring things to an end.

He put on a worker's uniform that he stole and snuck aboard the spaceship under the cover of night. With the instincts and sharp senses he had honed over years of hunting, he silently took down every guard that stood in his way and cleared every checkpoint and interrogation to reach the core cabin.

He saw the figure of a man who seemed to be saying something to his subordinates.

"Aeragan-Epharshel contains crucial strategic resources. He who claims it first will take great advantage in departmental competition. As these savage and uncivilized cowboys are unwilling to cooperate with the Marketing Development Department, we have no choice but to assume administration of this world on their behalf.

We are running out of time. You are permitted to use military force and bring civilization to this world."

A terrifying thought rushed into his mind. He frantically ran out. Around him, the employees were still joking and laughing. He held his breath and stifled his rage and tears... His family still needed him. He could not just stop here.

Cannon fire rained down from the heavens. By the time he stumbled back to the farm that had now been reduced to ashes, the elderly Graey and Nick, as well as all the friends he'd grown up with, had already lost their lives to the sea of flames. He held on to a faint glimmer of hope that he would be able to find that tiny figure... She had only learned to walk a while ago and would gently slap at the little wooden guitar he had made for her and giggle. But no. There was nothing. The land was scorched black... he didn't even have time to erect a gravestone for the ones he'd lost.

"The Interastral Peace Corporation... The Marketing Development Department..."

This sight and these names rang through his mind like a nightmare that went on to be etched into his core. Even if he were to die and be born again, he would never forget this.

According to the planetary records of Aeragan-Epharshel, the locals who roamed and farmed the land for generations were wiped out by an unknown disaster. The survivors, mostly frail elderly and youth, now only shelter in smaller and smaller reservations. To this day, that black ore is still used in massive quantities as a rare metal to create devastating weaponry, and is shipped out to more and more planets on fleets of IPC transport ships.

"This road doesn't suit you. Get out. Go find a job or... get an education."

The short doctor put down the half-eaten sandwich and wiped her hands on a white coat that was evidently a few sizes too big.

The man didn't say anything and took off his clothes instead, revealing skin completely covered in scars. The doctor didn't stop her pestering.

"A young man like you deserves a better future. This road, on the other hand, belongs to those who have no other choice, people who can't start again anymore but still want to make evil pay..."

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the doctor's forehead — Rather, the part of her that could still be regarded as a forehead.

"If I wanted a lecture, I would've gotten ma'self an education already." The man threatened.

"I get what you're trying to do, but guns don't work against me... never mind. Go lie down." The doctor replied in resignation.

The lights above the operation table lit up.

He felt as if he had fallen into a deep sea. His flesh was wrapped up and then melted into everything around him. His body departed, leaving only his hollow thoughts struggling all alone.

Strangely, the emotions — terror, anxiety, loneliness, darkness, rage — didn't dissipate with his physical body. They remained in a different manner — and they were even heavier than before.

He smelled the scent of something being charred, and he even felt the doctor's soft breathing — She can breathe? He couldn't help but have that incongruous thought. The whirl of machinery buzzed around his ears and the new blue blood refused to flow towards his thirsty heart.

He really wanted to just fall asleep like this and never wake up.

Until he heard those crude songs and those gentle words, and memories of yore surfaced once again. The unforgettable hatred turned into a weak light in the darkness and he followed it to walk toward the end of it all, exerting every ounce of his strength to rise once again to the surface.

"Congrats. You're pretty hard to kill."

The doctor rubbed her blood-covered hands on her white coat and picked up the half-eaten sandwich again.

"Ya thought I was gonna die?"

He balled his hands into fists — hands that were now made of cold iron.

"Most people would have died,", the doctor stated candidly, "and it won't be because I'm bad at my job."

"Well I hav'a piece of good news for ya: I've been dead for a long time."

"What's your name?"

He briefly paused. Both the gentle and crude voices have disappeared. No one will ever call him by that crisp and resonating name again.

"Boothill. Where I come from, that's what we call gunslingers who end up bite'n the dust..."

He then smiled, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"But this is just the start, doc. Of all the prices I hafta pay to get ma revenge, this here's the lightest toll."

Dragging his new body, he shambled out of the door.

"Then, happy 'Hunting', Boothill the Galaxy Ranger!"

The short doctor yelled at his retreating back.

Boothill couldn't help but look up at the night sky outside — Another star had been ignited in the arrays of stars above.

He returned to Aeragan-Epharshel multiple times to investigate the man who ordered the annihilation of his whole tribe, only to discover the man's identity had already been erased from historical records.

He forced his way into a Garden of Recollection branch and tried to read Memory Bubbles related to Aeragan-Epharshel. The Memory Bubbles on the display cabinets all fall towards the ground. Those Memokeepers had no time to stop him as they rushed forward and prioritized saving rare and precious memories.

As he was kicked out of the Garden of Recollection, he finally saw that man amid the chaos in a Memory Bubble related to Aeragan-Epharshel.

"Oswaldo Schneider, director of the Marketing Development Department in the Interastral Peace Corporation..."

"Did you hear that a mysterious cyborg has been attacking the IPC's fleets in Pier Point's interstellar port?"

"Loads of business for the Marketing Development Department got ruined cause of that. Let's all get some popcorn ready. It's about time they pay their due for being so in-your-face all the time..."

"Popcorn? I'm going back to Pier Point tomorrow and I don't want to have a gun pointed to my head..."

Uniformed IPC workers cross the Fountain Plaza in twos and threes as they hold cups of coffee in hand.

The cowboy lowered the brim of his hat under the shade of a tree. He read the wanted notice in the newspaper as he leisurely sipped a bottle of malt fruit juice.

"Boothill. Birthplace unknown. Galaxy Ranger. Responsible for the following crimes: 5 counts of assault against Pier Point; 3 counts of attacks against weapon warehouses belonging to the IPC's Marketing Development Department; multiple counts of attacks against IPC workers at rank P40 or above. Moreover, this person should also be responsible for the treasure theft on the Marie-Louin system, riots in the Kongea ring system, the great explosion on the planet of Galileo, and many other incidents on planets under the IPC's jurisdiction."

"Son of a bench, y'all blowin' smokes over here 'bout me dodgin' them bullets and cheatin' death like a lil' shirt-for-brain at his first rodeo..."

He tossed the paper aside and stared at the fleets entering and leaving this IPC branch office. Though the bounty on his head kept rising with every wanted notice, Oswaldo remained slippery as an eel, leaving no trail. Not only is the director untraceable through official announcements, but even the middle managers are unaware of the man's whereabouts.

The low-tier Intellitron are shipping goods in an orderly manner at the dock as plain-looking shipping vessels shuttle to and fro. When he had counted 359 shipping vessels, the workers at the dock started to take off their hats in salute as a magnificent spaceship slid out from the quay, surrounded by protective corvettes, to sail toward the Planet of Festivities. He shook his head as he looked at the pretentious luxury spaceship and kept waiting for something else.

After a few minutes, a small gray bioship silently left port together with a commercial fleet

— That was his real target.

"Ain't no place forever ironclad, pardner. Sure, I can't track ya down, Oswaldo. But sniffin' out them yellow-bellied IPC dogs who can't stand you ain't no tall order."

"Mullin' over them varmints I sent to boot hill for backin' the wrong side... Reckon they might be yukkin' it up at me from hell 'bout now..."

He tossed the empty bottle and showed his sharp teeth.

"Don'cha worry. We'll be meetin' up real soon."

First Meeting: Name's Boothill. Those who've heard of me know what I'm about. Those who haven't... well, for the sake of your own skin, you best keep it that way.

Greeting: This is some fudgin' fine weather we're havin'. Wonder which little son of a nice lady is gonna run outta luck today.

Parting: I won't fool myself thinkin' our paths'll cross again... but if they do, let's hope I ain't pushin' up daisies.

About Self: Name: A few thousand years back, folks called those dead gunslingers "Boothills." You see, it ain't exactly a name meant for the living, and well, I guess I ain't quite what you'd call "alive," ha!

About Self: Synesthesia Beacon: So, here's the thing: Someone went and tinkered with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now every time you muddle-fudgers hear me chinwaggin' with those shirtbags, it's all a bunch of "fudge this" and "fork that"... See what I'm sayin'?

Chat: Single Malt Juice: This here's "Bart 17 Years" straight from the Cuhvallun system, aged in sherry barrels, an absolute beast of peat. If Malt Juice ain't your poison, try pouring some strawberry milkshake over freshly tilled soil and voilà, classic peaty flavor! Bon appétit.

Chat: Traveling: You seen them travel brochures the IPC puts out? Places worth seein' are all marked as being "Travel Risks." Well, that's the upside of being a wanted man, I AM the "RISK"! So those places? Zero risk for me.

Chat: Principles: Might be that my pockets are filled with ill-gotten gains, but I stick to my principles! Rule one: never use dirty money for indulgence. Rule two: credit ain't the same as cash. And rule three: havin' a lil' fun every now and again don't count as indulgence. I never break these rules!

Hobbies: Nine millimeter — the eternal classic. With a little good old-fashioned phosphorus tracer, you've got yourself some popping candy — with extra pop. What's the sayin' again? "Tracer bullets work both sides of the fence..." meanin' they're enough to scare away the small fry... but still bring in the big fish.

Annoyances: The cosmos is like a slob's kitchen – open up any cupboard, and you'll find a nest of those corporate ash-voles in 'em scurryin' about. Means this place still needs some tidyin' up.

Something to Share: In this life, you gotta believe in some things and doubt others. Believe in folks' good intentions, the value of courage, and all that other hodgepodge. But never believe that these good things will just fall into your lap – you gotta make 'em happen.

Knowledge: Ever seen The Hunt's Lux Arrow? If you ever do, make sure not to stare directly... That's how I ended up losin' my right eye and got this here body... Hahahaha, just pullin' your leg!

About Dan Heng: I've always had a thing for those Xianzhou folks. This guy's a good one, and like me, he ain't much for talkin', preferring to express himself with his weapon. We're bound to hit it off!

About Acheron: I ain't got no idea what her story is, nor why she's parading around as a Galaxy Ranger... but that's alright. If a fella like me can uphold the justice, it means there ain't just one road to righteousness!

About Black Swan: Trackin' down this Memokeeper friend is only as tough as you make it for yourself. Wasting time sniffin' around for info is just like shootin' blanks. Better to just sit tight and meditate on "come find me" – who knows, she might just waltz on over.

About Sunday: What's that old saying again? "A roadkill steak is paved with indigestion...?" Got it! "The road to hell is paved with good intentions!" That's the one!

About Argenti: Funny how fate works, we crossed paths before. Finding someone in this vast universe with such similar taste ain't easy y'know, both of us clad in silver, both packin' heat... And the cherry on top, we're both oozing with righteousness.

About Aventurine: Ha! That guy's as notorious as they come, just like me – a madman who throws caution to the wind. Maybe I should step it up, get him out of the way quicker... Haha, double my bounty in no time!

About Topaz: In that bunch of no-goods at the firm, she's considered one of the better ones, right? But as long as she's with the IPC, she's no different from the rest of 'em – all cut from the same cloth!

About Rappa: Don't be fooled by Rappa just because she's always jabberin' nonsense all day. Her chaotic little mind is sharper than a cactus needle! And, when it comes to right or wrong, Rappa strictly follows her own "way of the ninja" and is absolutely forkin' resolute about it.

About Mr. Reca: This guy is always obsessed with his beloved muddle-fudgin' films, and when he gets fixated on something, he ignores everything else... It's unfair to call him a bad person, but if you're not cautious around him, you might end up as "film material" for this here diggity fudge.

About Ashveil: You're talking about that dude who runs the detective agency? I heard he's got friends in both the government and the gangs and can find anyone he needs. But the only assignments he didn't take were mine... Feels like there's something fishy in it.

About Ashveil: You're talking 'bout that dude who runs the detective agency? I heard he's got friends in both the government and the gangs and can find anyone he needs. But the only assignments he didn't take were mine... Feels like there's something fishy in it... Ha! So you already know the truth? Well, guess I don't need to keep playin' dumb. Keepin' a secret's a real fudgin' son of a gun... But bein' in the boss's shoes? That's a whole nother kinda tough.

Eidolon Activation: Remember those "moral codes"? Forget about them!

Character Ascension: That's the forkin' spirit!

Max Level Reached: Times have changed, darling.

Trace Activation: Survival will all depend on this.

Added to Team With Acheron: Ha, fortunately, you're not interested in my bounty. Otherwise, I would be dead already.

Added to Team With Black Swan: I was just thinking of you. That was fast.

Added to Team With Dan Heng: Fudge me sideways — you're finally here, brother!

Added to Team With Argenti: "Knights of Beauty" and "Galaxy Rangers," who will let us join forces?

Added to Team With Aventurine: Let's deal with these thugs first, and then we'll talk about how to deal with you, shall we?

Added to Team With Topaz: Weird, a big wanted criminal is right in front of you, but you're still so stubborn.

Added to Team With Rappa: Come on, Ninja Hero, let's turn this place upside down!

Added to Team With Ashveil: I'll never forget that wolf howl.

Battle Begins: Weakness Break: Don't worry! This one's on me.

Battle Begins: Danger Alert: Come on, let's do this.

Turn Begins 1: Waiting in line for a bullet?

Turn Begins 2: All of you stand still!

Turn Idling: ...Still not ready yet?

Basic ATK: Yes, run faster!

Enhanced Basic Attack: Activation 1: Draw!

Enhanced Basic Attack: Unleash 1: I didn't say I'd count to three!

Enhanced Basic Attack: Activation 2: Fire!

Enhanced Basic Attack: Unleash 2: Here's your final reward!

Skill 1: Let's duel, fair and square!

Skill 2: Bring it on, forker!

Hit by Light Attack: Mm? Haven't eaten yet?

Hit by Heavy Attack: Remember to aim for the heart!

Ultimate: Activate: There's no reasoning with you bunch anymore.

Ultimate: Unleash: There are only two kinds of people in the world — those with a loaded gun... and those who dig their own grave!

Downed: Haha, great marksmanship...

Return to Battle: Phew, thought I was a goner there.

Health Recovery: I'm guessing that wasn't for free.

Technique: Locked and loaded!

Battle Won: Remember this: When it's time to shoot, quit yappin'.

Treasure Opening 1: Hmph, this reward's not even a fraction of the bounty on my head.

Treasure Opening 2: Not bad, how many credits is this worth?

Precious Treasure Opening: Never go crazy over money... Heh, especially if it's from the IPC.

Successful Puzzle-Solving 1: That's not what my neuro chip is for.

Successful Puzzle-Solving 2: Boring. I'd rather just be shootin' targets.

Enemy Target Found: Ha, guess who decided to show up!

Returning to Town: You know, I'm most jealous of people who have houses to live in.