"Warden's Insight should be a similar principle, different application. Instead of movement, focus on gathering information." Chimera gestured at the surrounding wreckage. "Let the skill show you what you're missing."

Blake steadied his breathing, reaching for his core again. This time he focused on observation, on truly understanding his environment. The energy responded differently—the mana coursed through him and made a prominent loop through his eyes and around his skull. He felt his Perception, Awareness, and Affinity all buzzing gently as though someone was running a violin bow across his core.

The scrapyard transformed before him. Metal stress patterns became visible, highlighting structural weaknesses. Air currents revealed themselves as subtle variations in temperature and pressure. Even the ground beneath his feet gained new context as his awareness expanded to attempt a deduction of the likely soil composition.

"This is..." Blake trailed off, overwhelmed by the influx of information. Colors swam in his vision, and data seemed to be pouring itself into his skull without end.

"Overwhelming at first," Chimera finished for him. "But incredibly valuable once you learn to filter the input. Try focusing on specific aspects instead of taking everything in at once."

Blake narrowed his attention to movement patterns, letting other data fade into the background. Immediately he spotted evidence of regular patrol routes - subtle wear patterns in the dust, displaced debris, marks of repeated passage. His tactical awareness expanded exponentially as he began mentally mapping activity zones and likely guard positions.

"I see why they call it Warden's Insight," he muttered. "This would be perfect for establishing security perimeters."

"That's just the surface application," Chimera said. "The skill should grow with you, revealing deeper patterns and relationships. Given time and practice, you'll be able to do a lot more than identify scraps of junk. It should be able to get pretty abstract actually—like analyze entire social systems, predict behavioral trends, that sort of abstract. Assuming you learn the minimum amount of information to put such things together first, anyway."

The throbbing in Blake's head made him grunt as he tried to redirect his focus. "Let's master the basics first. I can't be having this ability giving me a migraine every time I want to identify somethi—"

The flood of sensory data cut off mid-word, replaced by a crisp display in his HUD. Everything around him gained digital tags - composition analysis of scattered debris, timestamps of environmental disturbances, heat signatures from power sources, and chemical trace readings. What had been an overwhelming torrent of raw data was now a clean, organized interface he could actually use.

"I can help a lot with the migraine problem." Chimera's smug tone was unmistakable. "This is part of why I'm useful—I bridge your magic and tech directly."

"Why didn't you lead with that?" The dull ache still pulsed behind Blake's eyes. "Save me some pain?"

"Because struggling with it manually is good training. The fact that you started narrowing the focus shows real potential. You had to know you could do it." Chimera's tone turned instructional. "Train raw whenever you want better control. For now, I'll route everything to your HUD."

Blake checked his mana, it had dipped another two percent, and as he watched it dropped another percentage point. He cut off Warden's Insight. To his delight, the information already in his HUD stayed. Good to know.

"Alright," He drew his sidearm. "Time to figure out this Deadeye business."

The weapon felt different in his hand - more alive somehow. He could sense the potential energy waiting to be unleashed, the perfectly balanced mechanisms ready to channel his intent. It was the effect of bonding with the weapon, Blake knew, but it still felt novel.

Most of Chimera's enhancements to the weapon so far had been subtle—the grip now conformed perfectly to his hand, the barrel had been slightly extended and ported for a nominal improvement in recoil.

Blake pulled the magazine free, examining the rounds Chimera had crafted to replace his dwindling supply. Each bullet gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, subtly different from the brass casings he was used to. The material was some composite she'd created from the surrounding scrap metal.

"The process isn't fast," he muttered, counting the rounds. "But it works."

He'd sensed her creating them, one by one, breaking down salvaged materials into their base components before reconstructing them into ammunition. A bullet every few minutes wasn't exactly rapid production, but it beat running out completely. They'd spent the early morning hours gathering suitable scrap within walking distance of the ship—old electronics, metal fragments, anything with the right composition for her needs.

The magazine itself had been modified too, reinforced to handle the slight variations in the custom rounds. Blake could feel the connection to each bullet through his bond with the weapon and through his Deadeye skill. He slid the magazine back into place with a satisfying click.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Blake raised the weapon, settling into a proper stance. He drew on a debris pile about 30 yards out. The sights aligned naturally as enhanced Perception allowed him to guage distance and wind resistance. His Alacrity barely came into play when calculating bullet drop after so many years of practice. He squeezed the trigger.

The round struck pretty-well near where he'd aimed - just off-center of a rusted panel. If it had been a target, he'd have still been in the 10-ring. But something felt... incomplete. Like he'd missed an opportunity somewhere.

"Again," Chimera instructed. "This time, try manipulating the bullet's trajectory after you fire. The title should let you make minor corrections mid-flight."

Blake fired another round. This time he maintained his focus past the trigger pull, reaching out with his awareness to touch the speeding projectile. For a fraction of a second, he felt it - a tangible connection between his intent and the bullet's path. The round curved slightly, striking two inches left of his aim point. Deeply off the mark, but also not due to poor aim. He had definitely nudged the shot somehow.

"Better!" Chimera's tail lashed excitedly. "You'll get the hang of it. The skill doesn't give you perfect control, but even subtle adjustments can make a huge difference."

Blake emptied the rest of his magazine, experimenting with different degrees of influence over each shot. Some curved dramatically, while others barely deviated. As he was now it felt nearly impossible to make meaningful adjustments before the projectile struck home. But that was now, and he was progressing.

[ Skill Deadeye is level 2 ]

…

[ Skill Deadeye is level 8 ]

"Impressive progress," Chimera said as Blake reloaded. "You've got 15 rounds in that magazine, but I'm still working on the next batch. Best we don't waste them."

Blake holstered his sidearm with a nod. "Fifteen rounds. Better make them count when it matters."

He drew a slow breath, reaching for his core again. The familiar loop of energy through his eyes and skull activated as Warden's Insight came online. This time he kept pushing, drawing more power into his legs. The mana surged through his muscles as Stride engaged.

The flood of sensory data threatened to overwhelm Blake again, but Chimera's presence steadied the input. His HUD flickered, reorganizing the chaotic stream into clear categories. Movement predictions appeared as translucent arrows. Structural weaknesses showed up as pulsing red outlines. Temperature variations painted themselves in subtle gradients across surfaces.

A sidebar displayed real-time analytics: wind speed and direction, estimated mass of visible objects, probability calculations for various paths through the debris. The interface adjusted itself based on where Blake focused his attention, bringing relevant data forward while filing less critical information away in collapsible menus.

The data flowed across his field of view - material analysis, structural weaknesses, impact patterns. Unlike the raw chaos of magical perception, this felt familiar, like the targeting systems he'd used in combat, but refined to a razor's edge.

"Better?" Chimera's voice carried a note of satisfaction at having transformed mystical overload into something a soldier could use.

"Much," Blake replied, sweeping his enhanced gaze across the scene. The overlay tracked with military precision, information appearing without compromising situational awareness.

For a moment he wondered why the display never obscured his vision, then understood: it wasn't really visual at all. The data fed straight into his consciousness, accessible when needed but never intrusive.

"Damned if magic isn't the coolest fucking thing."

Blake launched into motion. His first leap carried him halfway up a tilted shipping container. His fingers found purchase on a protruding seam, and he smoothly pulled himself up. Each movement flowed naturally into the next as enhanced agility merged with tactical awareness.

He vaulted between stacks, using momentum to carry him across gaps that would have given him pause before. When a ledge threatened to crumble under his weight, his heightened perception had already identified three alternate routes. He seized a hanging cable and swung to safety without breaking stride.

Blake drew his knife, sweeping it through precise arcs as he moved. The blade whistled past imaginary throats and vital points. He integrated the movements into his parkour, transitioning from a roll directly into a rising slash that would have opened an enemy from hip to shoulder.

His pistol cleared leather next, tracking nonexistent targets through the maze of metal. Blake's enhanced awareness mapped likely patrol routes and ambush points. He moved accordingly, maintaining cover while setting up clean shots. The weapon stayed trained on critical zones even as he navigated precarious footing.

Each landing and direction change burned more mana, but the combination of skills gave him unprecedented control. He could spot structural weaknesses in surfaces before putting his weight on them. Air resistance and momentum calculations helped him adjust his trajectories mid-leap. Even his peripheral vision expanded, granting him a fuller picture of his surroundings.

Sweat ran down his back as he pushed harder, faster. He incorporated combat rolls, slides, and rapid direction changes. His knife found sheath and his pistol found holster without conscious thought as he alternated between weapons. The familiar movements gained new depth with his enhanced capabilities.

"Getting the hang of it?" Chimera asked as Blake landed from a particularly complex sequence.

"Starting to," he replied, rolling his shoulders. "Still need to work on-"

A chime interrupted him as Zephyr pinged them on the ship's communication channel.

[ Hate to interrupt your training montage, but we have a situation developing. You'll want to hear this. ]

Blake shared a look with Chimera's avatar before heading toward the ship's entrance. Whatever Zephyr had discovered, it likely wasn't good news for them.

"On my way," he said, trusting Chimera to mirror his words to the chat. "What kind of situation are we talking about?"

[ The kind that's going to test those new abilities of yours very soon. Better hurry back. ]