I give the holographic screen a light tap, answering the call. The space in front of me is filled with an image of Eira, a face that's currently screwed up in a scowl. "Kael, you bastard!" she snaps, her voice piercing through the room.

Ilka jumps back, startled by Eira's sudden appearance and the volume of her voice. She hovers behind me, peering curiously at the holographic image.

"Eira, what--?" I start, but she interrupts me.

"Don't you 'what' me, bitch!" she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "You haven't even called! I thought you were lying dead, you are supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Well, I'm not dead, as you can see," I retort, rolling my eyes. "And can you lower your voice? You're making the little one here nervous."

Eira's gaze flicks to Ilka, a smirk stretching her lips. "Oh, it seems that you've finally gone crazy, 'cause there's nothing there, idiot!"

"Are you blind!" Ilka retorts, her glow flaring. I suppress a chuckle at their banter. Such a childish attitude.

Ignoring her, I turn my attention back to Eira. "Alright, alright, don't worry. I'm not crazy, so why are you calling?"

"You dumbass, don't tell me you didn't check the bag?" she asks, her tone taking on an accusatory note.

"What bag?" I answer, truly perplexed.

"The dimensional storage bag I stuffed in your luggage! I left you a gift in it," she explains, her annoyance evident in her tone.

Blinking in surprise, I turn my attention to a black bag I hadn't noticed before. I hadn't bothered to check my things, I never expected something from Eira.

"Alright, calm down," I tell her, my tone placating as I pick up the bag. I unfasten the clasp and reach inside, pulling out a sleek, black box. "I'm checking it now."

The moment I open the box, my breath hitches. Nestled in a bed of velvet is the most intricate gun I've ever seen. Its body is a glossy black, but what really catches my attention are the three weirdly shaped slots for mana stones. The gun looks deadly and elegant in equal measures.

"Wow," I breathe out, lifting the gun from the box and turning it over in my hands. The weight is heavy but perfect, and I can already tell it's well-balanced. "This is... incredible, Eira."

Eira grins, her earlier annoyance forgotten. "Of course it is! I worked on it for two weeks, you don't know how much Des bothered me asking me to make you something nice. Despite how bothersome it was, I perfected it," she boasts, her chest puffing out with pride. "It's not just for show, either. You'll find the tools needed to shape the mana stones in the box. Now, don't you feel guilty for not checking the bag earlier?"

I can't help but laugh. "Alright, I admit it, I should've checked the bag. Thanks, Eira. This is... amazing." Shit, I know for a fact she's going to take some of my money for this, so how can it be a gift?

Eira narrows her eyes, a spark of seriousness replacing her previous jubilance. "Should we really be making that weapon? Don't you think people might go to war over it?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. It's not like we haven't had this conversation before. "Eira, it isn't our problem what people do with our products. That's up to them."

"But--"

"As long as everything goes according to plan," I interrupt, cutting off her protest. "We'll be selling the sniper without any issues. And you know as well as I do that we need to catch everyone's attention, look on the bright side, you'll be rich."

Eira mutters something under her breath, sounding frustrated. But she doesn't continue her argument. Instead, she switches the conversation to a lighter note.

"You haven't seen the best part yet. Look in the box."

I raise an eyebrow at her but do as she asks. Nestled next to the gun is a single, thin silk glove.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Peculiar," I muse, lifting the glove from the box. It's surprisingly durable for its delicate appearance.

"The gun won't work unless it's fired by the person wearing that glove," Eira explains, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "And as long as you're wearing it, within a ten-meter range you can use the magnetic feature to pull the gun towards the glove."

My eyes widen in surprise. Now that's an impressive feature. I slide the glove onto my hand, watching as it conforms to the shape of my hand perfectly. With a glance at Ilka, I hold out my other hand towards the gun, which is now on the table.

To my astonishment, the gun leaps into the air and flies straight into my outstretched hand. I can't help but let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Impressive, Eira. Very impressive."

All the while, Ilka just hovers there, looking thoroughly confused by our conversation.

"Never mind, ancient one," I reassure her, amused by her bewildered expression. "I'll explain what guns are to you later."

Ilka flushes, her glow intensifying. "I-I'm not ancient!" she stammers, flustered. "You're a... absolute Bitch!"

I burst out laughing at her adorable attempt at a comeback. Eira, however, looks utterly perplexed.

"Kael, who the hell are you talking to?" she demands, her brows furrowing in confusion.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Just talking to myself," I lie, glancing at Ilka with an amused wink. She scowls at me, her glow dimming slightly.

Before Eira can grill me further, I decide to shift the conversation back to the gun. "Alright, what other features does this beauty have, Eira?"

"Eira," I start, but she interrupts me with a wave of her hand.

"No, no, no, you'll figure it out on your own," she retorts, her grin still in place. "Besides, I'm busy. I just wanted to make sure you understood what the glove was for."

She gives me a brisk wave before the call ends, leaving me staring at the spot where her holographic image had been. I can't help but shake my head in amusement.

Ilka hovers closer, looking at the gun in my hand with a curious tilt to her form. "What's a gun?" she asks, her voice full of confusion.

I smirk at her question. "Oh, haven't seen one of these before, ancient one?" I tease, earning a huff from her. Taking the gun, I aim it at a nearby plant, mimicking a shooting motion with my free hand. "It's a device that goes 'bang!' and then... well, let's just say the plant wouldn't be so green anymore."

Ilka looks horrified for a moment, then mad. "You're not serious, are you?" she demands, her glow flaring as she zips around me. "How crude!"

I chuckle, deciding to save the rest of the gun's features for later. The look on her face is priceless.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

The next day, I'm standing in the middle of the academy's training grounds, sword in hand. Ilka is beside me, hovering around as I attempt to execute a series of sword strikes.

Despite being a seasoned gunfighter in my previous lifetime, my sword skills are, to put it nicely, less than stellar. Ilka, of course, is quick to point this out.

"I've seen kids handle a sword ten times better than you," she scoffs, darting around me as she assesses my pitiful form. "I may be a martial artist, but even I could wield a sword a hundred, no, a thousand, no, a million times better than you!"

I groan, wiping the sweat off my brow. "Well, why don't you show me, oh mighty martial artist?" I grumble, pointing the wooden sword at her.

Ilka gives me a smug smile before zipping back. "Why would I, Kael? You know well enough that my ethereal form can't interact with physical objects, I could tell you but I don't feel like it, you have the thing that goes 'bang' after all," she chides, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Despite the taunting, I can't help but laugh. Training with Ilka is a unique experience, one that I wouldn't trade for anything.

"Alright, alright, no need to rub it in," I say, a chuckle in my voice. "Just give me a hint and I won't lock you back in the sword you came from for at least another day."

"No fair!" Ilka yells, her glow flaring in protest. "You can't threaten to lock me back in that forsaken sword!"

But I can't help the horror that stretches across my face. "But life isn't fair, is it, Ilka?" I retort, trying to keep a straight face.

Ilka grumbles something unintelligible before finally relenting. "Fine, fine! I'll give you one hint. But only because I can't stand seeing you flail around like a fish out of water anymore," she huffs.

With a triumphant smirk, I lift the sword in anticipation. "Alright then, hit me with your best shot, ancient one," I tease, earning an indignant huff from her.

She lets out a long, drawn-out sigh before finally giving her advice. "Remember, your sword isn't just a tool. It's an extension of your arm, of your body. You can't just swing it around and hope for the best. You have to control it, guide it. The power comes both from your muscles and from your heart, there is no flow in your swigs, your body is moving one way and your sword is moving a separate way, stop doing that, your swings should reflect your body's movement."

I blink at her words, the sword suddenly feeling heavier in my hand. Her advice isn't anything new, I've read about it in novels before, but the way she puts it... it feels different, somehow more comprehensible. I grip the hilt tighter, but it doesn't change the fact that I still don't know what to do.

"I'll try, Ilka," I reply, nodding. She just hums in response, watching me closely.

"What the fuck was that Kael? Did you listen to a single word I said?" Ilka snapped, her form shifting colors like an angry chameleon. "Or are you just stupid?"

I stop mid-swing, rolling my eyes as I turn to look at her. "No, Ilka, I'm not stupid," I retort, my tone laced with frustration. "You didn't tell me how to do it! You just gave me a fancy description."

Ilka's form flickers, her colors shifting from red to a vibrant pink. "Kael, I'm not your damn teacher! I gave you a tip like you asked, I'm not going to spoon-feed you. If you can't figure out the basics of sword fighting from my advice, then maybe you should just use that thing that goes "Bang"."