BCST 49

chapter 49

Two blocks down an alley where many of Bartfall’s technicians gathered.

There were shooting ranges there where one could test purchased firearms.

Of course, these were unofficial ranges, built by the technicians themselves.

So, as long as you paid, you could shoot without any ID or regulations.

The place I took Kin and John to was one of these unofficial ranges.

People who had arrived before us were already in their lanes, testing their weapons.

“Weapon rentals and ammo purchases are separate. Not doing that? Then head to lane 5. Hmm? Private room?”

The owner of the range demanded a high upfront fee for general lanes.

While I was paying, Kin excitedly looked around at the neatly arranged bullets, laid out like supermarket shelves.

“Look at all these rounds! Even the hip ones! Reprogrammer, Syntactic? They even have these at a shooting range?”

The owner glanced at Kin, who was thrilled by the unique ammo only found in Bartfall, and casually remarked:

“…Most smart guns are compatible. If you want to try, we’ll lend you a Techshot Station.”

“Oh?!”

Kin practically bounced like a kid spotting candy.

But I stopped him and said:

“Save that for when you come alone. We’re going to the basic private station.”

“Tch.”

I led the excited Kin and John to the assigned station.

Walking toward the station, I could see people shooting in their lanes.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Tat-tat-tat!

Multiple triggers firing at once.

Some looked like civilians, but others were unmistakably mercenaries or killers.

Yet nobody seemed to mind each other.

Satisfied with this, we passed by them and entered the private room.

Click.

The door shut, blocking outside noise.

“Haa… I’ll just rest a little more.”

John Scouze collapsed onto the sofa immediately, still suffering from the hangover from last night.

Understandable—it had been potent liquor.

Some alcohol is made specifically to get high-ranking individuals drunk.

Yesterday’s drink wasn’t that type, so Kin and I had no issue, but for John, who wasn’t accustomed to drinking, even a single sip had been lethal.

I would have liked John to at least learn some basic shooting, but since he had hired me for his own safety, I couldn’t tell the client to learn to shoot.

If he had approached me desperate to do anything to survive, maybe, but suggesting it myself would have crossed a line.

I left John alone and turned to Kin.

“Need a warm-up?”

“Warm-up?”

Kin twirled the revolver in his hands, then fired twice up and down along both walls of the private range.

Bang! Bang!

Sparks flickered in the middle of the lane.

The bullets bounced off both walls and collided in the center.

Clink.

Four pieces of deformed bullets fell.

Kin casually glanced at me, not even checking the spent rounds.

“See? Looks fine to me.”

“Hmm.”

If this weren’t a private room, it would have gotten a little noisy.

His gun skills were already above the 2nd rank.

If he had shown this outside, it would have drawn serious attention.

Even a 1st-rank gunslinger’s movements would look like watching an Olympic athlete to a civilian.

Indeed, John’s eyes, though still hungover, widened in astonishment from the sofa.

“Alright, let’s start with a diagnosis.”

“Diagnosis?”

Technically, there was nothing I could teach him.

I wasn’t here as a wizard but as a gunslinger, like Kin.

If he were a fusion-punk style gunslinger unrelated to gun magic, I could give some advice, but for now, my knowledge was purely from the game.

However, I knew the skills, training spots, and methods required for each segment, so I could guide him using that.

Ziiing—.

I wrapped a basic shield around myself and stepped forward.

“Try hitting me. Go through the shield.”

Click. Click.

Kin cocked his revolver and grinned.

“Ha! You confident?”

I responded lightly:

“You better be careful not to lose it.”

“Oh…”

A short exclamation of awe from Kin.

Let’s start with a power check.

“No matter what, I’m now upper 2nd rank, wizard. Aren’t you overconfident?”

Kin acknowledged me but still sounded slightly offended.

“You’ll see.”

Click.

Kin aimed at me again, after a long while.

Was this the first time since the tutorial?

Recalling that time felt nostalgic.

Bang!

First shot.

As expected, my shield remained intact.

“Of course.”

Kin, anticipating this, didn’t flinch and continued firing.

Bang! Bang!

Third shot.

Still, only minor cracks appeared; the shield looked solid.

Kin’s expression stiffened slightly.

Bang! Bang!

Fifth shot, with cracks spreading as if the shield might break.

He fired one last cautious shot.

Bang!

“…”

The sixth and final shot.

All bullets from the revolver were fired, yet my shield held firm.

Kin dropped his arms in slight disbelief.

“Really… that’s it?”

“Power’s disappointing.”

Ziiing—.

“…!”

The shield restored itself instantly.

Kin’s eyes flickered with subtle shock.

You call that shocking? I’m the shock here.

Why is a 2nd-rank guy’s power like this?

In the old world, gun power couldn’t increase unless switching guns or ammo.

But in this fusion-punk world, that’s false.

Individual skill could cause major variation.

Why?

Cyberware supporting aiming and output is embedded in the body.

Combat cyberware is specialized, far beyond casual parts.

It often held high potential, barely utilized by basic human functions.

Unlocking it depended on the user’s talent.

So if Kin chose a revolver with limited capacity and avoided rapid fire, each bullet’s assisted power should have been overwhelmingly strong.

And that wasn’t all.

Mid-rank gunslingers often awakened their own psychic energy alongside cyberware.

Considering psychic energy that might awaken with tech aptitude?

Then they could become true gunslingers, not just wizards learning gun magic.

From that perspective, Kin’s shots, showing no minimal potential, were disappointing.

…Probably his skill was too refined for a 2nd-rank reading.

After a rough diagnosis, I asked Kin to confirm.

“What’s your sync rate with the cyberware?”

A sensitive question for someone wearing combat cyberware.

Kin flinched but answered.

“Uh… 1…”

10%? Not bad.

“1.6%…”

Pathetic.

For a 2nd-rank, unheard-of.

Considering he wore the legendary Requiem series, it was a low percentage due to high potential.

I nodded lightly.

“To increase power, coordination with cyberware is key. At that percentage, I know a good training spot—let’s go there.”

But first.

Swoosh.

I withdrew my shield and faced Kin.

He looked at me curiously, despite his somber state.

“…What?”

“Since we’re here, let’s do what we can.”

I gradually heightened my [senses] and tension.

“I’ll dodge, so try hitting me.”

“…Really?”

Kin stared at me like I was crazy, but I nodded.

“Of course.”

I wasn’t the only one training.

With this opportunity, I naturally wanted to heighten my [senses] and body speed.

“You can use both guns or your specialty, ricochet. Try hitting me. Let’s test your combat sense too.”

Do your best to attack.

I’ll do my best to evade.

“…Alright, wizard.”

Anyone would call this a life-risking act.

But having seen my skill earlier, Kin focused on showcasing his own ability instead of fearing danger.

Simultaneously, my [senses] reacted sharply.

He might surpass 3rd-rank in technique.

Let’s see what that’s like.

Bang!

Without hesitation, his shot rang out.

“Stings…”

Dusk.

I murmured as I felt the sting in my forearms and calves.

Avoiding Kin’s bullets without a shield was impossible.

I didn’t block minor grazing shots during training, but bullets aimed at dangerous spots required shielding multiple times.

In a walled room, facing a master of ricochet? He was in his element.

Still, my [senses] and reaction speed sharpened from the experience.

Thud.

I was heading alone to Logan’s workshop.

I had heard the products were finished.

Kin didn’t want to break his flow, John still wanted to rest.

Leaving them was vulnerable, but what could go wrong?

In Bartfall, the chances of enemies suddenly encountering us at a private shooting room were low.

Moreover, the workshop wasn’t far.

A 15-minute walk.

With my abilities, I could cover it instantly.

No one could likely stop Kin from holding out in that time.

…Unless three 3rd- or 4th-rank enemies ambushed him.

Arriving at Logan’s workshop.

Inside, I saw Logan again after a day.

Screech.

“Faster than I expected.”

“…If the parts are ready, assembly is quick.”

I announced my presence; Logan turned his chair to look at me.

Tired eyes.

He seemed to have put some effort into it, despite speaking casually.

“Yes. The requested items are here. Check them.”

Logan pointed to the workbench.

Two chunky ring-like bracelets lay there.