03/28/2021 - Sup, This is the author here with an announcement. Thank you, all my fans for reading this story and the new reader that is reading this right now. You warm my heart by reading my work and I hope you find it entertaining. This story was originally named re gunslinger though due to the changes in later chapters I have decided to rename it. If people want me to bring back in the old og title then I will think about it but thanks for reading this. Have a wonderful and awesome day!

05/20/2021 - Okay update time, very important announcement so read this before you read the story. This is an AU story where someone else was isekied instead of Subaru. I only watched the anime so I am going off of anime logic and a couple of pieces I learned from the web novel. Knowing this in this AU characters are balanced. Don't get me wrong there still strong but there is a measure of balance in this fic that I wanted to incorporate. For example, Julius in Canon is basically a god among men, but in this, he's still strong but there is still a chance of him getting injured or dying. Thank you for reading this update and have an awesome day!

Chapter 1

-The Gunslinger-

It was a cold morning on the outskirts of Nevada. The brief but harsh winds ruffled the three tents, the only thing keeping them together was a pair of rags and crudely made sticks ingrained into the dirt.

The grass under them was scorched from the nights fire. And right next to it were a pair of drinking bottles and burnt out cigarettes that were tossed into the sand.

A grunt came from the tent that looked the nicest. The orange one that only had a couple of holes in it as the zipper was opened, a boy came out of it.

He was wearing a thick brown coat along with a pair of blue worker pants, a thick red scarf that was around his neck. One that he would tuck over his nose to cover half of his face when the need to hide his identity came.

He ran his fingers through his thick black wavy hair as he sluggishly in a drunken manner moved his body, nearly stumbling over himself as he moved through the campground. A violent cough came from his throat as he slowly moved away from it.

Once he was clear and away from the campground. He reached towards the right of his pants, his fingers gracefully tugging at the revolver at his side. He unclicked the strap holding his gun, and with a swift and fast movement he pulled it out and aimed.

He held the revolver for a second. Aiming it as he observed his surroundings and he clicked it back into the holster.

Then he repeated the process. The swift movement of his hand as he practiced the same quickdraw maneuver as he did the day before, and the day before.

After a couple of minutes, he heard another zipping of the tents open. What came out was a boy of fifteen. His dark skin glistened over the rising sun as he pressed his hands together as he breathed into them, his chattering teeth rang through the air.

"Hey D." the fifteen-year-old said. He waved to him as he planted himself over the fire as he used his hands to ruffle the coals.

"Mark…you slept well last night?" D asked. His gaze still turned towards the outskirts, the ritual continuing as he moved his hands. "That was a pretty wild night last night. Still can't believe that carriage that we robbed had all that whiskey."

"I can handle my alcohol. You Damon are the one that cannot handle it. You're a pretty mean drunk." Marcus cocked his head back stifling a laugh. "You really shown Noah who was boss didn't you."

Damon turned around to face Marcus. "That short fuck should know not to drink everything we had…"

"No, Damon all that was pretty much you. Honestly, you scare me with the amount that you drink."

"Yeah, I get it, just shut up about it…speaking of which, where is Noah?" Damon looked around for the third boy in their trio. He walked over to the third tent, a dark brown one as he pulled the zipper down.

Only to be welcomed by an empty sleeping bag. "Well Noah isn't here." Damon shrugged as he walked away to sit next to the campfire.

"…and aren't you worried. Noah isn't like me and you, this whole lifestyle to him is just." Mark grimaced as he touched a hot coal

"Damn it Mark. What did I tell you about touching hot coals without anything to protect yourself?" Damon dug into his belt as he exposed a large knife, he flipped it around to give to Mark. "Take it."

Mark took the knife as he gazed along it. "For Private Damon Williams, for distinguished service." Mark muttered to himself. He ruffled the coals together as he began to place timber into the fire. "Didn't know soldiers that were dishonorably discharged were able to keep things like this."

Damon's eyes widened as he bit his tongue. His gaze turning to the fire as he tried to clear his mind of everything.

"Have you been sleeping well lately. I know the alcohol helps calm your nerves." Mark spoke. His voice calm, but holding fragments of concern.

Damon turned away from him as he tucked his mouth into his scarf. "No…it's been getting worse as the days go by. At first it was hard to sleep, but now I just stay awake through the night."

"Should we go stop by the doctor in town. Maybe they can get you some tonic or…"

Damon chuckled a thick raspy laugh echoing through the campsite. "I talked to a couple of doctors right after the war. They wanted to send me to a loony bin…"

Mark's eyes went back to the fire. "Maybe we can talk to someone, this just feels…"

Damon ran his fingers through his hair once again. "Mark you're a good person. Better than me, but you care to much…something like this, just can't be fixed."

The fire burst to life as the last words came out. Mark twisted the blade towards the handle as he handed it back to Damon, careful not to touch Damon as his fingers intertwined with the knife and was back in his hands.

Damon's eyes stared at the blade. The fire danced along it, reflecting off it in strands of bright orange.

The cold steel blade was longer than most knifes, being longer than his hand. The white steel blade was polished and sharp, but the wooden part was held by thick straps surrounding the blade for a more comfortable grip.

His initials ingrained into the steel blade. "For distinguished service…" he mumbled on as he placed it inside of his holster.

After a couple of minutes, the pair was graced to hear a horse heading towards them. Damon got up as his fingers went towards his revolver to get ready for the incoming interloper.

Only to be relieved to see his friend's bright orange hair along the horizon. "Noah…" Mark screamed as shot up from his seat and ran to Damon's side. "Where the hell have you been!"

Noah only chuckled as he got off his horse. He softly patted its dark sunburnt fur as he removed his satchel from the back of the animal.

A smirk highlighted over his face as he walked over towards us. "Nothing much…making us money!"

"Making us money." Damon repeated. "One time you were so drunk that you had to sit out of two jobs."

"Not this time, Damon." He said. His hand went to clasp Damon on the shoulder, but Damon took three steps back to avoid his hand.

"Sorry…I forgot." Noah said apologetically. His eyes glued to his shoes as he forgot the issue with his friend. Only to bloom a wild smile as he pulled something from his satchel as he tossed it towards Damon.

He caught it with his gloved hands as he gazed along it. The green strips of paper graced his fingers as he ran his index finger through them. "Where did you get this?" Damon asked

Mark ran up behind them as his own eyes were filled with stars as he saw the amount of money. "I did a couple of bounties and scams…"

"A couple of bounties." Damon repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah…now we can get you your own horse. Even repair your guns and get more supplies for the journey west."

Damon stuck the money in his pocket as he stared at Noah. His eyes connected with the other boy as he tried to figure out if he was lying.

Damon ignored it after a second. Figuring that they needed to leave soon and if Noah did do something particularly illegal than they would be far away from the law after stopping by the town to refresh their supplies.

"Fine…you two take down the campsite."

They did just that and after a couple of minutes everything was already slowly packed up and loaded onto the two horses and they were already making there way towards the dirt road leading to the town.

Damon plucked a cigarette into his mouth. It was hand rolled and a little bit of loose tobacco drizzled from the end.

They made there way through the town. The windows were all closed, and a brief wind swept through them. A brisk feeling burned through Damon's stomach as he rode on the horse.

"Something…something feels off." He muttered

He gazed along the houses and stars that were aligned. The dark impending storm has clouded the houses in a white mist, dazzling the wooden buildings in a pale white.

"It's a cold day today. It makes sense that no one wants to be outside." Noah casually responded as both docked their horses on the fence.

Damon stalled on his horse for a second. The eerie quiet of the identical wooden buildings causing a chill to run through his spine.

"Something is going to go bad really quick." He mumbled to himself

He got off from the horse as he unloaded his backpack from his horse. He placed his hands through the straps as he moved strenuously through the door. His eyes scanning the road for anything that was a disturbance.

Damn…the war really did mess me up Damon thought. He was refreshed to feel the natural heat that was being highlighted by the fireplace in the store.

He began to walk towards the clerk. Trying to silence the paranoia and panic blooming in his head as he continued his walk.

There were rows and cabinets filled with tonics, food, gear. But he did not need that right now, while Noah and Mark were goofing off Damon walked towards the center of the store. Seeing the shopkeeper observing them.

He was a man of forty. A pale plump man with no hair on his head, but a mighty grey beard. He wore massive green overalls as his matching green eyes observed Damon.

"I need these repaired." Damon said, his voice blunt and uncompromising as he reached towards his backpack pulling out the weapons.

One was a Winchester model 1897. A pump shotgun with a wooden grip and buttstock, outfitted with a ray of shotgun shells along the stock of it, making it easier to reload.

The other was a bolt action rifle. The dark wood outlined the rifle. It was long but not long enough for it to be hard to maneuver around.

The shotgun was jammed, and the slide had to be repaired. The sights of the rifle were bent and were now completely unable to see through.

The man took both guns to his workbench as he began to repair them. Damon just silently watched Noah and Mark mess around in the back of the store.

How long has it been ever since he left the war…a couple of months or maybe a year?

Damon tried not to think about it. The women and the alcohol helped with that, but at nighttime that was when the memories came back. The horrible nightmares, the one that made Damon scream at night.

The worst were the sweats…the dreams where they felt so real. That Damon would wake up doused in sweat and in a screaming fit, how long since he had a good night's rest.

"All done…"

Wow the guy worked fast. Damon turned around seeing the weapons done in front of him, a small smile outlined over the old mans face as he gazed at his handiwork.

"No way." Damon muttered as he picked up the shotgun. Now freshly polished, he looped his hand over the sliding mechanism, now feeling way more comfortable about it.

Then he observed the bolt action rifle. Now freshly polished as well, even outfitted with a scope.

"I didn't ask for any of this…" Damon muttered in disbelief. Only for the store owner to respond by going under his desk and pulling out boxes of rifle bullets and shotgun shells.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did." He mumbled.

Damon took all the weapons and ammunition into his bag as he zipped it up. "What I did?" he muttered out in disbelief

"The orphanage…we are a poor town and the children needed food. So, thanks for hunting those two deer for them, if we had more good people like you around…"

"I'm not a good person, sir. Even with all this stuff you provided I doubt that I could afford it." Damon said to the man. It was true in fact; Damon did kill those deer for the orphanage. But he did not want people to know about it.

It was the right thing to do, and he did it. But why should it matter. After all the terrible things and sins he committed. Why should such a little act get him rewarded.

The man placed his hands on the desk. "It's all on the house so don't you worry. Take this as a gratitude from the whole town."

Damon's jaw dropped. Until the man gazed out the window, a brisk sweat forming over his brow as he quickly looked back at Damon.

The quickness of it might have caught someone like Noah and Mark to think nothing of it. But the hairs on Damon's neck stood up.

"Listen kid…how about you leave while you still can. Out the backdoor, and your friends can stay here while you run a couple of errands or two."

A couple of errands…his face stiffened as he stared at the man. His gaze went towards the window once again. Now seeing them.

The law…

Hidden in the alleyways. There tanned uniforms were doused from the rain and the mist. The only thing that could truly be seen were there hats as they slithered towards us.

"Why are they here…"

His gaze went towards Noah, the anger seething out of him. "The red-haired boy…has been robbing women around these parts."

Damon's body lurched as he felt sick. The code…he instilled it in Mark, teaching him that sure they were bad men, but they still had to keep their honor.

So, he taught him how to shoot and protect himself, also how to rob and cheat. But never to go after the weak and defenseless.

Noah…he came from some rich family. He was eighteen like Damon but unlike Mark he never fully accepted Damon as leader. I guess his family was too restraining on him, so he ran away one night and joined with them.

Maybe that hatred towards authority led him to this…or maybe he just did not care.

"Last night…one tried to put up a fight. Now she has a seat with the doctor, a gunshot through the shoulder blade."

Damn its Noah…

"But you can leave right now…out the backdoor." The old man pointed towards the door. "Just run…"

Damon glared at the door his thoughts going into overdrive. His gaze heading back towards the window, now seeing the lawmen arranging themselves in front of the store.

There Winchester rifles, now being soaked from the rain as a storm began to brew. Darkening the sun and blinding us in darkness.

Damon's eyes went back towards the man. "What about Mark…he wasn't involved with this."

The shopkeeper glared at Mark. "The boy…why should I care." Damon's fist collided with his nose as he was barreled back.

The force of the punch caused him to slam into the workbench. Damon jumped over the counter and grabbed the man by his shirt, the blood trickling his nose and senses as he grabbed him.

"Damon, what the hell!" Mark uttered.

Damon used his free hand to free his revolver as he pressed it into the man's temple. His eyes now clouded with fear as Damon lifted him up and slammed his head into the window.

"Damon that's enough…" Noah began to say but was silenced by Damon's lack of speech. Only seeing the towering boy presenting the old man to the world outside. His left gloved hand filled with the man's blood, and the other pressing the gun to the man's head.

"The law…there here."

The words jolted the boys back to their senses as they pulled out their revolvers. And ducked behind the windows.

"Why are they here…I thought we left them behind in Michigan." Noah mumbled to himself.

"Well now the county sheriff wants us because someone has been robbing people…right, Noah."

"You son of a bitch…what do we do now Damon?" Mark said his eyes now filled with tears. Damon was still standing there as he gazed out the window, the law and the sheriff were waiting for them.

Was this the last stop…

The death that has long hounded him. Is it finally coming to snuff out his life, his gaze traveled towards the two boys that made up his family.

What did he have left now…?

"Go…both of you. I will handle it from here."

"What do you mean…you can't handle them all." Mark protested. Only to be shaken up by a stray gunshot to come out of the window.

All four ducked. Only for Damon to return fire with his revolver. "This isn't up for debate. Run!" Damon yelled at the pair

"No…we aren't leaving!"

Damon nodded to Noah as he grabbed Mark by his arms as he dragged him through the door. With a swift kick the door clamored to the ground and they both ran into the rain, clouded by the thick fog and the storm brewing.

Damon felt a smile kick in as he rested his head beneath the window. The cold wall jostled his senses as he pulled out his shotgun and holstered his revolver.

The old man was staring at him. The fear and pain present in his eyes. Damon looked at the feet below him, staring at his boots. Did I lose control again?

If I saved them…then everything is going to be alright. "You can go old man. I don't want you getting caught up in all this." Damon mumbled out

Immediately the old man ran out the door. His hands up as he ran into the rain. Sure, he was a prick, but this was his store and Damon and his gang brought him here.

He never liked innocents getting involved…

His hand went to the shotgun as he pulled it out. He slid the shells into them and cocked the shotgun back.

A faint smirk spread across his face. "Well I guess this is it." He closed his eyes as the world faded and contorted one last time.

Author Note

Sup!

This was the first chapter and hopefully many more to come. Thanks for reading this chapter and I am going to try my best making this into a really good story so once again thank you for checking out the story and reading.

I am going to try and update once a week!

Thanks once again and you all have a wonderful day!