Vigil had spent a good portion of the rest of his day practicing with his newly acquired firearm under the pretense of "letting his leg rest". Which, in his defense, was not exactly wrong to say the least.
However, to any onlooker that might have been spectating the scene before them, they would probably label what they saw as a child playing with a brand new toy...
... Which was also not wrong.
But in the boy's eyes, he really was just trying to give his leg some leisurely rest instead of damaging it any further by putting it through any strenuous work. At the same time, he was also experimenting with a weapon that he was planning to put to good use quite a lot in the future.
Not only that, but it was also a weapon in which he had only just learned of a few days ago.
So he continued to experiment, all the while resting his wound, in hopes of understanding even the slightest bit more towards the use of the latest armament in his possession.
At the same time, he was also able to get some more practice in on with his pillaging skills. Afterall, how else would he get ammo to experiment with?
With that being said, Vigil resumed his self teaching lessons.
***
About two hours had passed by the time Vigil decided that enough was enough.
Within that time of resting and testing, the young boy had come to understand just a little more about guns.
First of all, that little switch that he initially ignored turned out to be a way to make the gun unable to shoot.
When he first found this out, he pondered for a short while whilst questioning why a gun would need that function. However, it did not take him long to understand that it was for safety reasons, so as not to shoot yourself or an ally on accident.
The second thing he was able to understand was that the initial statement he had made - certain bullets working only for certain guns - was correct.
Lastly, after test firing different guns that had been scattered across the battlefield, he had come to the conclusion that, although some may do more damage or may be bigger than others, in no way shape or form did that mean that they were better.
For example, the handgun that he had now taken as his own, while not being as powerful as some of the other guns he had used, was much lighter and easier to maneuver as well as reload. This made it a near perfect fit for him as he was still struggling to carry around the weight of his sword alone.
Speaking of which, standing up, the boy looked over towards the corpse of the woman he had killed a few hours prior and began walking towards it.
Making it to the corpse, he bent down and began confiscating both the mag pouch from her belt as well as the holster that had been strapped to her upper thigh.
Vigil then briefly knelt down and got to situating his newly acquired gear onto himself.
Then, with a gentle pat to both the holster and mag pouch, the former of which being on his left thigh with the later strapped to the right side of his belt, he stood up and reached out to his main weapon, his sword - the Promise.
Grabbing onto the hilt of his sword, which was still still implanted into the deceased's face, Vigil began to lift it up in order to get it out of the body and instead into its sheath. Though when he tried, he was unable to make it budge from its upright position due to a decent portion of the blade's length being stabbed into the ground on the other side of the woman's head.
Letting go of the hilt and shaking his hand about for a few moments, Vigil thought of what to do in order to get his sword back to its rightful spot.
After taking no more than five seconds to think, Vigil stepped on top of the corpse with one foot, so as to pin it to the floor, then clasped the weapon's hilt with both hands.
After presenting himself with a mental countdown, he then pressed down onto the corpse with his foot while tugging at the hilt with all of the strength in which he could muster.
A few attempts later...
'Three, two, one!'
He repeated the same process he had done a handful of times already while expecting little to change.
On the contrary however, when he pulled on the hilt with both hands this time around, both of his hands were launched up into the sky, bringing the Promise along with them.
When Vigil had finally gotten his sword unstuck, he felt a small wave of relief wash over him.
'Thank the lords that I did not lose it.'
Taking a beat to look at his sword, Vigil admired it once more before eventually wiping the flats of the blade onto a nearby unbloodied body in order to clean off any remnant blood that had stuck to it.
Thereafter, he then put the sword back in its sheath and began dragging it yet again as he was now on the move once more.
However he was unable to take even a dozen steps before he stopped dead in his tracks and looked around him.
'I forgot to replenish my provisions...'
Vigil then walked over to the nearest set of remains before rummaging through them in hopes of finding food and drink.
To both his surprise and satisfaction, he was able to find both on his first try.
But even then, in no way was it enough to fully restock everything that he needed for the journey ahead. Because of this, he moved onto another body, and then another. All the way until nightfall.
Looking up at the the sun had set, Vigil stood up again and remarked:
"Hmm, it is almost night time... Well, let's see if there is anywhere better than here to sleep tonight."
He then began to walk towards where he believed was westward in hopes of leaving this rotten battlefield and finding a place that was not surrounded by dead people to make a campfire.
A few hours later and by the time that the moon was already high in the sky, Vigil's wish was able to come to fruition as he was now no longer surrounded by the dead.
Not only that, but Vigil also saw something that he had not laid his eyes upon since his home had been destroyed.
A carriage, albeit an old one.
Though this particular carriage looked nothing like what Vigil grew up around and knew of.
What the boy was familiar with were large wooden wheels, a box seat for the coach, and large windows to peer out and view the outside world with. But this particular carriage had wheels that were metal on the inside with a rubber outside, no place for a coach to be seated, and windows that were much smaller than those of an average carriage.
Not only that, but unlike the everyday wooden carriages that Vigil had been exposed to throughout his childhood, this one seemed to be almost exclusively made out of metal. Although the metal did seem to have rusted over the course of the time that it had been lying there.
Growing out of the carriage was a decent sized tree that, similar to each and everyone that Vigil has seen out in War Field, was pretty much burnt to a crisp.
Even then though, Vigil was beyond joyous to finally see a place that might allow him a proper night's rest.
He then gazed at the old beaten up carriage for a few moments before taking a quick glance around, noticing that there were other metal carriages out in the distance. Sadly though, they seemed worse for wear.
So he looked back towards the original one he had seen - the one with a tree growing out of it - and began to walk towards it.
'Besides that fight that I had gotten into earlier...'
He began in his head then proceeded to finish out loud to himself.
"Things have been much better since I met Maltena. Who knows, maybe things won't be so hard anymore."
...
Only a second or two had passed since Vigil had finished his thought when he suddenly heard the soft sound of many small thumps repeating over and over again coming from his left.
Although he had only begun to hear the sound a second ago, within that singular second, the sound had grown exponentially louder.
Without thinking, Vigil began to take a step to his right - the opposite direction from where the sound was coming from - and turned his head to the left in order to spot what was making all the noise.
When he did, the only thing that he could see was a small creature, around the same size in length as Vigil was tall, lunging at him with its jaws wide open.
He was too late however.
The creature that he was now staring at did not just begin to lunge towards him. No, the creature was already upon him, no more than an inch away from where his neck was previously at a second ago.
Thankfully, because of his instincts kicking in at the perfect time, Vigil was able to escape the fate of getting his throat torn out from his neck...
... For now.
Instead, the creature bit into the body part that had taken its place - Vigil's left shoulder.
However that was not all, as the momentum that the being attacking Vigil had built up from its initial charge was immediately transferred over to Vigil himself, knocking him down and causing him to lose the grip on his sword.
"ARGHH!!!"
As a piece of his shoulder was cruelly taken from him, he let out a loud, uncontrollably painful scream.
However, it did not just end there, as each and every time a new piece of flesh was stolen from his body, a new scream would escape from his mouth and be projected onto the world.
Now pinned down with his back on the ground, Vigil desperately tried to flail his right arm around the area in hopes of grabbing onto something that he could use to damage the creature that was currently taking chunks out of his arm with each second.
To his dismay however, nothing seemed to be close enough for him to grab onto.
So instead, left with no choice, he curved his fist into a ball and began wailing on the creature with all the strength he could muster.
One hit...
Two hits...
Three...
Vigil kept on hitting and hitting, over and over.
Sadly, it was of no use.
It was at this point that Vigil, with near to no feeling in his left hand, reached down towards his thigh and began patting on it repeatedly, trying to find the gun that he had just recently strapped there.
The only reason he did not do this in the first place was for fear of shooting himself by mistake. But at this point, what else did he have to lose?
After what felt like an eternity but was in reality just a second or two, Vigil was finally able to get his hand on his firearm.
The only issue now was that...
... He no longer had any feeling in his arm.
So, dictated solely by instinct as well as muscle memory from when he repeatedly practiced earlier in the day, Vigil angled the gun slightly upwards then pressed down onto what he believed to be the trigger with his index finger.
When he did, a low muffled pop rang out from underneath the creature standing atop his body.
"Creech!!"
Not only that but the creature itself, also let out a high pitched noise not even a split second after he fired.
Noticing how he had clearly done some form of damage to the vile thing, Vigil began to pull the trigger again and again until the creature had stopped moving altogether.
"Hah... Hah... Hah..."
Taking slow, sporadic breaths, Vigil looked towards his left and noticed how the creature, now incapacitated at the very least, still had its large fangs sunk into his arm.
Reaching over to its jaws with his still functional right arm, he began to slowly pry them open in order to get the devilish creature off of him.
As he forced the beings jaws wide, Vigil could not help but let out even more loud, pain filled cries.
Soon after and with a good amount of effort, he was finally able to be free from the clutches of that damned monster, rolling it to the side in order to get it off of him..
Sitting up, Vigil took the gun out of his now useless left hand and instead gripped it with his right. Pointing the gun straight at the creature's head, he then unloaded the rest of the ammo inside of the cartridge, hoping and praying that this would finish the thing off no matter what.
After emptying whatever was left inside the gun, Vigil sat still for a few seconds while breathing heavily.
However, the pain coursing through his now wrecked left arm was a great reminder that he was currently on an express trip to death's door.
Standing up as fact he could, Vigil looked east, from whence he came, and began walking as fast he could.
'Cloth, bandages... anything that I can get my hands on... Quick!'
... But War Field still had more to teach this naive child.
As Vigil was walking, out the corner of his eye, he spotted small glowing dots in the distance starting to appear. They did not just appear however, as they soon began to grow in both size and brightness.
"... People...? No... No, no, no!"
That was the biggest issue here in War Field. Everyone could be a potential enemy, and the only one in which you could trust was yourself. Vigil knew this fact all too well, and at this point in time, he had no leisure to take any risks with people that may or may not end up being hostile towards him.
Turning around one last time, Vigil looked towards the carriage that lay just a few hundred feet ahead of him and began to move towards it as fast as he possibly could. While doing so, he, to the best of his ability, put his handgun back into its holster and picked up his sword that had previously been thrown on the ground.
It had only taken Vigil a minute to get to his destination. When he did, the first thing he saw was the slightly ajar side door of the metal carriage.
Dropping his sword back onto the ground in order to free up his only functional hand once more, Vigil opened up the door.
He then bent down, picked his sword back up, threw it into the carriage, then climbed in along with it.
When he had finally gotten in, he quickly reached his arm back out, clasped onto the ajar doors handle, and slammed it shut.
However, he was still not finished as he needed to stem the bleeding from his brutally mangled arm.
Taking off his now torn to shreds shirt, Vigil grabbed his water pouch and took a sip of it before pouring the rest of his water out onto his open wounds. Directly after, he grabbed his shirt and tightly wrapped it around the worst looking part of his arm, creating a knot with his one free hand and his teeth.
With that finished, all he could do now was lay down on the slightly worn seats and pray for the best.
Although he could have looked within the carriage for something that may have been of use, as of this moment, Vigil could not think straight and therefore did not think about that as a possibility.
As Vigil lay down on the old seats that were now acting as his bed, with nothing but the sound of a low hum slowly but surly passing by as his only companion, he could not help but think about everything that happened today.
'I was lucky... Lucky that the beast did not go for a more vital part of my body... Lucky that I had taken the time to learn how to use a firearm... Lucky that I reacted as quickly as I did...'
Finally, after a long train of thought on how 'lucky' he was, he ended it with this:
'I was wrong. I was naive. I was ignorant... I am such-'
""A fool.""