Beware the almighty 'Seer' who wanders the Murim. He knows all and sees all. The seer can predict the future and his predictions have never before been wrong. Those who heed his advice may be given a second chance while for all the others who don't... impeding doom awaits. The seer's words are absolute. How might you recognize him you ask...? There have been rumors of this man clad in black whose eyes shine a clean crimson glare right through his hermit hat when provoked. He is also rumored to be carrying a Demonic Sword. And if the rumors are to be believed he is actually quite young. P.S.: Yes, I am aware that the title might have turned out a bit inaccurate. Forgive this junior.
"What... what in the heavens above... f-five... more," the barkeep stammered.
The combatants walked closer, now with almost no distance between them.
"Adjust," the barkeep announced.
Both of them moved to their right, settling themselves in their respective corners, putting as much distance between them as possible, which really didn't amount to much.
The warm, dusty wind blew along with the overseer's count.
*dham*
There was only one gunshot this time, smoke rising from the Seer's muzzle.
"Hah... a left-handed blind shot... truly bested," the hunter fell, a smile upon his lips. The distant sun felt no longer distant to him. He reached out his hand to grab it, voices echoing in his head.
The Seer, injured and with one leg shot, somehow dragged himself over to the hunter and scooched over beside him. With little life left in their eyes, there was no exchange of words; the silence spoke enough.