Leon leaned back and placed his hands on the bar, taking in the lively scene before him. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Old Mike, a familiar face in the tavern, was talking to him. He rambled on about the tavern's history, stories from the past, nearby cities, and even some local culture. This old cowboy was tough as nails, the kind of man who kept a loaded shotgun under the bar—just in case a brown bear ever showed up. But beneath that gruff exterior, Old Mike had a kind heart. He often shared advice with Leon, warning him about things a young man should be cautious of.
Leon listened attentively, chatting with Old Mike until they noticed a striking figure walking through the door. The beautiful woman captured the attention of nearly everyone in the bar—patrons, waitstaff, even a few envious glances from others. Seeing her, Leon reached into his pocket and pulled out a finely carved gold coin, placing it on the bar without looking back.
Under Old Mike's astonished gaze, Leon said, "Old Mike, this coin is to keep you calm. Don't reach for the big guy under the bar."
"Wait, what?" Old Mike looked puzzled.
But the next moment made Old Mike realize what Leon meant. The woman, blonde with a striking sweater jacket, stepped further into the tavern and snapped her fingers.
Snap!
The sound was sharp, cutting through the noise of the bar like thunder in everyone's mind. Instinctively, patrons covered their ears, shocked by the force of the sound, and turned to stare at the girl in surprise. But one man—a scruffy figure with messy hair, a sinister look, and a far-off gaze—remained still, drinking alone in a dark corner.
"Sorry, folks, the party's over," she said with a polite smile. "You can leave now."
Some patrons, drunk and irritable, scowled at her words. A few reached for the guns holstered at their waists and took a step forward, ready to put her in her place. But as they did, the girl fixed them with a piercing look. Her bright eyes turned red, exuding an overwhelming aura of power. It radiated through the tavern like a physical force, pressing down on everyone.
The troublemakers halted, frozen in their tracks, instantly sobering up under her terrifying, almost tangible presence.
His body shook involuntarily, and panic was etched across his face.
The girl tilted her head slightly and stepped aside to the left. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."
With that single look, everyone in the tavern understood one thing: it was time to leave. She seemed like a beast ready to tear them apart at any moment. Without another word, everyone rushed for the exit. Passing by her, each person shivered.
Boom!
The sound of engines revving filled the air as car after car sped away, tires skidding on the sand. Even the waitresses and prostitutes either hitched rides with the men or drove off themselves.
In no time, only four people remained in the tavern: the tavern owner, Old Mike; Leon; the girl named Wanda; and the man with disheveled hair sitting silently in the corner.
Old Mike had seen his fair share of strange things, but he understood this situation was different. He licked his lips and clutched the shotgun under the bar, a small gesture that made him feel a little more secure.
"Leon, don't tell me this is your girl?" he asked, his Texan pride showing as he fought to keep his voice steady.
Leon didn't look back, his eyes fixed on Wanda with admiration. "Isn't she beautiful? Her name's Wanda."
"She's one of those things that make life worth living."
Wanda must have overheard, as she cast him a sweet—but slightly dangerous—smile.
Old Mike understood that look all too well. Leaning closer, he whispered in Leon's ear, "Son, next time you say something like that, leave out the word 'one.' Then maybe she'll be more inclined to fall for you."
"Maybe," Leon replied with a grin, "but I don't think she's that petty."
Leon's gaze softened as Wanda approached him. She leaned in and planted a light kiss on his cheek before grabbing the glass of wine Old Mike had poured.
"For me?" she asked, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"Of course. Only for a beautiful princess like yourself, ma'am," Old Mike replied with a smile.
"Thank you, Old Mike."
Wanda took a sip, nodding approvingly at the taste, before turning and walking toward the man in the corner. Her confident stride left a lasting impression.
Old Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a lucky man, Leon. She's gorgeous, with a spirit as wild as Texas itself. She'd make one hell of a cowboy."
"I think so too. Maybe I should take him riding in the prairie pasture someday."
Old Mike nodded. "Well, if you're interested, you're welcome at our ranch. We've got over 10,000 acres of pasture to roam."
"That's an offer I can't refuse."
After chatting with Leon, Old Mike felt his uneasiness begin to ease. He could sense that something unusual might happen tonight, but he trusted Leon's judgment, strength, and intuition.
Bang!
Wanda walked over to the corner table, set down an oversized beer mug with a heavy thud, and took a long sip before slamming it onto the table. On the small wooden table sat two wine glasses and an ancient-looking black book. The text in the book wasn't in English or any language known on Earth, and the cover bore mysterious symbols that hinted at something powerful.
Wanda looked directly at the man and spoke without hesitation. "Well, sir, there's an aura about you that I find... unpleasant. So, care to tell me what you've gotten from this book?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge. Knowledge beyond what I ever dreamed of... knowledge this world cannot fathom."