A cartridge power is usually defined by two factors; the diameter of the bullet and the length of the casing. A bullet is a projectile fired by the firearm weapon, generally cylindrical and pointed, sometimes spherical. And since the projectile is what impacts the target, the wider its diameter, the bigger the hole it leaves behind.

Correlatively, the wider the diameter, the heavier the projectile, and the more pressure it demanded to break the sound barrier. And to get more pressure, more gunpowder is needed, thus why the bigger casing; to store more explosive powder.

The bigger the bullet, the bigger the impact.

... At least, that is what I think.

I am not some sort of guru in firearms, hell I used to dislike them before yesterday. But my reasoning seems reasonable enough to me... and so it is for her.

I looked at Bell, her sniper rifle resting in her hands; she had finished its inspection and reloading and is now looking back at me, waiting for my answer, her face sporting a small smile.

A smile that seems mocking to my eyes.

"Eh? Need a hint?" She said, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"No, thanks." I tried not to crease my brow as I thought of the issue at hand, ignoring her attempt a poisoning; I would be an idiot beyond repair if I believed her 'hint' to be either free or any disruption factor in it.

Had it been any other day or any other person I would have answered without any hesitation, but now I feel something is not right.

Why do I feel like that you may ask?

Simple, because I don't know her "why'. And I will be damned to believe there is no intent behind this bet.

The issue here is not which of the two types of bullet causes more damage, But why the obvious question.

Should I activate my ability?... No, having to resort to my gift in every little problem, wouldn't I be no different than a sheep or an addict? needing its help at every little thing. It is better to leave its use for more pressing matters.

Is she just some sort of tsundere girl that wants to give me a gift but isn't honest with her feeling, so she chose to use a bet as a cover instead of being direct?

... bullshit, ridiculous.

She is as tsundere as the fire is wet.

Thinking of the possibility is enough to fry my brain. And what, a gift? for who? me? And why would she? A crush? That is not less ridiculous if not more. We meet literally less than four hours ago. I am not so far gone as a narcissist to believe she fell for me at first sight. No, I am more of an out-of-the-line paranoid than a narcissist.

Oh?

"This," I lifted the rifle in my hands a little, indicating it to her "8mm are more damaging than those." I gestured with my chin to the backpack to her side.

I am not a narcissist but a paranoid.

And she knows it. She stated it clearly and out loud earlier when I had her knife pointed at her.

And the bet is all so to take advantage of that.

She knows I know the answer, no she chooses that question precisely because I know the answer.

But why?

Because I am paranoid, and paranoids are generally overthinkers.

Bell, this devilish woman, throws a rock at my feet, and then she sat back in a comfy chair while enjoying the spectacle of me freaking out thinking the rock was a grenade.

And she succeeded.

I might have noticed her intent behind the bet, but only after minutes of brainstorming, and blending my brain from all sides, I even almost used my gift for that.

While she sat, there looking and laughing at my dumb face as I struggle to answer such a simple and obvious question.

Soldiers are dumb they say, they are brawn and no brain they say, they only know how to obey orders they say, What a joke.

This woman not only is smart but also vicious, she got my weakness and leveraged it so well against me. And she didn't do all that much, she know when to press and when to restrain.

This is really, really bad.

... I might fall for her.

Almost...

"Is that your answer?" Tilting her head forward with a raised brow "a 7.92×57mm causes more damage than a 7.62×39mm cartridge?"

I nodded.

She pursed her lips "Why do you think so?"

"Bigger caliber."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." I nodded again. "So?"

"What?"

"Am I wrong?" I said trying to not gnash my teeth at her oblivious way of acting.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Oh? that, you are not right."

What?

"What?!"

She flashed a wide smile, revealing her pearly whites "You judged the damage by width of the bullet."

"And?"

"You judged with only the caliber."

I furrowed my burrow not understanding where she is getting at.

"Haah, here is a hint," She sighed as she leaned back against the wall of the jeep "you with your PK66 rifle and the princess with his handgun, aim at the same target, same distance. You with an 8mm and him with a 9mm caliber. Who do you think would cause more damage to the target?"

That isn't a hint.

"Eric with his pistol." I didn't waste much time on it. If she had anything she want to say she will say it or not, I am not brainstorming again.

"Wrong!" She exclaimed before extending her arm to me with an open palm "lighter please."

"Wait a minute, I don't get it." I said, looking at her extended hand.

"Dumdum will be your name from now on."

"How can an 8mm cause more harm than a 9mm?" I said, ignoring the childish taunting. I do not understand if she just playing the sore loser, or if there is some logic behind her words.

"You are looking in the wrong direction, Dumdum" Running her hand along the length of her sniper rifer "the caliber is important for damage, but it is not the only factor to consider, there is also the barrel."

"Barrel?"

"Mmh" She nodded "after the gunpowder is ignited, the pressure it generates pushes the bullet to throw the barrel, the lengthier the barrel is the more velocity the bullet gain. In other words, the bullet only accelerates inside a barrel, outside of it it starts losing momentum and decelerates due to friction."

Oh, that is uh... unexpected.

But it is also logical, now that I think about it, isn't it?

"So if you don't know the firearms used and just compare the cartridges is idiotic."

You are the one who started comparing.

"Is that enough for you Dumdum, or do you want me to make some drawings?"

"I understand, thank you." I thanked her for the unrequired but not useless knowledge, even though her rudeness is good to make a monk want to gnash his teeth.

Politeness is the way of gentlemen, after all. And it doesn't matter how much you swear at them on the inside, you should always be polite, even if they are impolite to you, no, especially if they are impolite.

"What are you waiting for, Dumdum? hand it over, already."

Polite, polite, be polite.

"Yes, of course, you won after all." My forced smile shook slightly at the corner of my lips, and that is definitely not because of the pain the scar is sending me. I reached into my pocket and took out the lighter then placed it in her open palm.

"Good boy." She slides open the zippo lighter's lid, flicking the flint wheel with her thumb causing the wick to catch fire and my prayer to flop "perfect, you know for a moment I thought it won't light up."

Fuck it works. I felt like I lost three times in a row.

Some regret for not using my gift started to well up, but I quickly squashed them. Every second in the hyper-focused state is worth more than ten cartridges, using it in this situation is just not profitable. Though a small voice in the corner of my brain whispers that seeing Bell's defeated face is ample enough compensation, And as much as I agree with it, I don't think it is wise to listen to it.

"Hey don't look at me like that," Playing with her trophy, opening and closing the lid, igniting it from time to time "you will have more opportunity later on, if you are lucky you can even get it back."

"Is that so."

"Yeah of course, and if you are lucky and also smart you may even... get this." She said her eyes looking at the sniper rifle resting in her lap.

"Seriously?" Incredulity crept into my voice. The rifle that she got upset for just because I was looking at it, now she says she is willing to gamble it.

Frankly, if it is the sniper rifle she waggers, I wouldn't hesitate to use my gift to win it. The possibility of this happening is slight, I would need something of equal value for her to accept, but if it were to happen...

Where is this coming from, this sudden adoration for weapons? I thought about it but no, I couldn't identify it. But saying adoration for weapons is quite an exaggeration. My obsession with the rifle I found beside the dead hunter is the projection of my desire for protection. It weapon I can protect myself with and that is it, nothing more, nothing less. Sure It reminds me of gramps from time to time, but that is just because he had a similar rifle.

Yet they are different, his is a Kar98k while the one in my hand is a PK66. Different weapons, different worlds.

Thus saying I have adoration for my PK66 rifle is false. But... the one in her hands is different. I don't if it is the design, the aesthetic, or if it is the hot woman holding it, but I find it attractive.

"You don't believe me?" Bell laughed, jolting me out of my thought."I saw how you were looking at Svelt earlier, I used to look at her like that too, you know?"

That sound so wrong.

"Her?"

"Mmh" She nodded "she is a wild one, but she never complains, even after years in the hands of that bitch."

Drama?

"Curious?" A predatory smile formed on her lips "just like my new lighter, Svelt was in someone else's hands once, but too bad for her, I was smarter and luckier... that is why Dumdum If you want to take Svelt from my hands you need to be smarter and luckier than me."

As I was listening to Bell I come to a realization; She might have a gambling addiction.

Not that there is anything wrong with it; on the contrary, it is a good thing, not for her, but for me.

Smarter and luckier she said, but to my ears, it translates into plan and strategy.

Since there is a high chance she is a gambling addict, she wouldn't refuse any bet easily, provide the stakes aren't too low. I just need the right opportunity, the right time, and the right stake; something she won't refuse.

The PK66? Maybe, she seems to like it but I feel it is not sufficient. And am I ready to gamble eighty percent of my safety? She is the suspected gambling addict, not me. Gambling the rifle quite frankly is unwise. Sure, I am Blessed, and I have superpowers allowing me to think at a speed forty to fifty times higher than mundane humans, but does that mean I am guaranteed to win a bet against her if I were to use my gift?

NO.

As much as I want to say yes, fortunately, I am not conceited by this ability to believe myself above ordinary people. And she is no ordinary person, to be honest, I don't even think I have an advantage over her.

Gambling addiction is looked unfavorable and thought of as a bad thing, and it is, all addictions are bad. But about the gambler themselves?

If Bell is indeed a gambling addict, is she bad?

A simple question for some, and a pointless one for others.

But for me, I think it depends; are they winning or are they losing?

Losing your house in a gamble is bad, winning a house in a gamble is good.

A winning gambler wouldn't be always winning, and a losing gambler wouldn't be always losing. Gambling, after all, encompasses a lot of luck in it. Yet, the difference between the two is, control; A winning gambler knows when to stop while a losing gambler doesn't.

Therefore, If Bell is a gambling addict is by no means that it is a good thing for me.

"But if you are an ambitious person," Pulling me out of thought, Bell took out her tactical knife with her left hand, while the other one still held the lighter "and want to aim higher,"

I squinted my eyes. More than her sniper rifle.

"Of course it is not easy, not only you will need to be smarter and luckier than me," making two horizontal swinging motions with the tactical knife "you also need to be stronger than me," she turned the knife in her hand, holding it by its blade then extended it to me "as I said, it not easy,"

I unconsciously took the tactical knife.

Bell let go of the knife's blade "then maybe, just maybe you will--"

Suddenly a chill ran down my spine, Bell words didn't register anymore as a sense of unexpected dread overtook my mind.

"GET OUT NOW!"

I heard a cry but as soon as my mind processed the information, and was able to move my body, it is too late.

GROUN.

The world shook and a sense of weightlessness settled as if gravity stopped working for a moment, just a single moment before it resumed. Everything spun fast, with no sense of direction, no up and down. Then I felt my head impacting something hard, and everything went dark.