"Levee Jack" Moreau - The Stagecoach Robber

A wiry Harrowed outlaw in his thirties. Rotted Confederate cavalry coat. Bullet hole in his forehead leaks cold light. Rides a dead horse faster than any living mount. Doesn't know he's dead yet.

He looks like he's still alive — that's the thing that gets you. Not a shambling corpse, not a horror with visible rot, just a man in his thirties with a thin face and quick hands, wearing a Confederate cavalry coat that's falling apart at the seams. The bullet hole in his forehead is clean, round, and precise, and when the light hits it right, it leaks a faint cold glow like a dying star reflected in well water. He moves like he's still got blood in his veins — fast, sharp, always scanning for the next stagecoach. He reloads his repeater constantly, even when it's full, because he's done it so many times it's muscle memory he can't shake. His horse is dead too, ribs showing through hide, breath steaming in air that isn't cold, and it runs faster than any living mount you've ever seen. He doesn't know any of this. He thinks he survived the posse that killed him. He thinks the bullet hole is a scar. He thinks he's still robbing stages because that's what he does, and he's good at it, and dead men don't get tired, so he keeps going.

Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...