Chantel did not expect Sikhail to be so proficient in gun spinning.
“You… this is the first time you’ve tried this...” Chantel mumbled.
“I just copied what you did,” Sikhail explained.
Her eyes twitched as she took a deep breath.
“Gun spinning is an incredibly dexterous art. Whether or not you’re gifted, your body still needs to adapt,” Chantel replied skeptically.
“Although a baby will fall, they can walk. Although you need practice, you can juggle a ball or two. Nothing is technically impossible,” Sikhail offered an explanation.
“I’ll admit. You surprised me with those words just now. Is your sense of timing as good as your spinning?” Chantel complimented.
He swapped places with Chantel with the gun swinging around his finger.
(Whooo)
(Whoooo)
(Whooo) (Whoo) (Whooo) (Whoo) (Whoooooo)
As his eyes scanned over his targets, he noticed a constant urge to tap the trigger. This was due to not having the trigger available at a moment’s notice. It was an uncomfortable feeling. If the enemy attacked during that open window, he would have little option for recourse. The obvious choice was interrupting the swing by immediately pushing against the trigger. There were benefits, and… he couldn’t think of a con.
He jerked his elbow whenever the barrel pointed at a target, tapping the opposite of the trigger. 1 minute, 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. When he was comfortable, he closed his eyes.
*Crack* x47
He opened his eyes, noticing that every target had been hit. A few bullets were also lodged in the walls.
“Oh, not bad! The sensors say you fired forty-seven shots, and thirty-five hit the target. Fifteen were vital points. Typically, beginners are lucky to hit the trigger even ten percent of the time. Those hits wouldn’t have landed, either. Of course, the fundamental requirement is that you have a good sense of rhythm, typically acquired through intensive training such as in the Supernatural Path,” Chantel said, surprised.
“How do I improve my accuracy?” Sikhail asked.
“Technology! You don’t even have to attach a laser pointer. Use the battle-suit to let you know when the barrel is locked onto the target. From there, you only have to worry about technique,” Chantel explained.
“Ah, I didn’t think of that,” Sikahil said reservedly.
He suited up, scanning the environment using the onboard sensors. The wall, the ground, the targets. Various details popped up on a holographic, augmented, 3D axis.
As he spun the gun again, there was a problem. His eyes weren’t fast enough to process anything, much less apply it. Was this where the experience Chantel mentioned was useful?
As he played around with the gun, helpless, it finally hit him. The purpose in going up the stairs wasn’t to sleep, study, or play any games. The purpose was that you had one at all! If you have no purpose, there’s no reason to go up. The purpose of leaving the room was to leave the room. It required understanding what was needed to leave the room and then realizing he had the means.
Instinct was a predecessor of prediction. The prediction could be inferred from instinct after passing a certain threshold. Many correct predictions meant you were in line with the rhythm of the world. This was the crucial part. This was the light bulb that had to be lit. Rhythms were simply the inner thoughts of the world. Pure, unfiltered.
As he spun the gun once more, he focused on the rhythm.
It was ever-changing and complex. One second there were colors. Red. Blue. Green. Another second, it was rhythm. Tunes and melodies. Yet another, it was a tale. There was a beginning, different branching paths, and several outcomes. They were all related and interlinked with one another.
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Red, blue, and green all contested with each other for territory. These were ideas, plans, theories, and execution of concepts. They were the institutions. They were the Warriors, Magicians, and Rogues.
The tale was the journey written on paper. Pen. Permanent ink. Branching paths could not cross, or logic would be contradicted. A story couldn’t have time discontinuity. How was the path chosen then?
The rhythm. It consisted of a tune and several melodies. The tune was the chorus, and the melodies were fillers. He was the tune, the one with the all-powerful eraser. He could erase the other melodies, amplify his own, and follow it to the end. Let his color fill up the page. Let his path tell the tale. Let his tune be the most dominant note in the rhythm.
His eyes traced a path in the air. A metal bar followed the curve perfectly. He had always wanted to replicate this. It was in a movie he watched once.
(Whooooom)
(Whooooom)
(Whirrr)
(Whirrr)
The moment the metal bar fell, the targets began to move erratically. Interacting with the rhythm of the world was rather simple. He only envisioned one goal. Hitting the targets, regardless of where they were. Thus, the most brilliant orchestral arrangement began to warm up.
(Whooo)
(hoooooooo)
(Whooo)
(hoooooooo)
His story reached the pivotal plot point as he breathed in and out. As his tune transitioned into a crescendo, its climax, its peak, he spun the gun without a care in the world.
(Crack) x33
(Crack) x33
(Crack) x33
(Crack) x1
The tune turned into a melody with a chillingly beautiful finish. The final stanza was, in all honesty, utterly impossible, captivating, and breathtakingly beautiful. It settled into the background, ready to start another tale.
“What was my score?” Sikhail asked as he walked towards Chantel.
She was still in disbelief when he checked his results.
There were 25 targets. Out of the 100 shots fired, each target was hit 4 times. The left eye, right eye, heart, and right wrist, in that order. All of it was a bullseye.
“You… how did you do that?” Chantel asked after calming down.
“Hm. I simply listened to the rhythm around me,” Sikhail said truthfully.
“What on earth is that….” Chantel asked with a frown.
“Something that only makes sense to me, I guess,” Sikhail spun an excuse in lieu of a better answer.
“How lucky… I’ve been practicing for years, yet that looks impossible to me,” Chantel commented, just a bit annoyed.
She returned to the center of the room, attempting to imitate what she saw. As she spun the gun, the frown on her face intensified.
“How did you know when to shoot?” Chantel asked.
“I simply follow the rhythm,” Sikhail answered.
“You really won’t tell me?” Chantel commented.
“I’ve given the answer. What you make of it depends on you,” Sikhail replied as he stepped to the side.
(Crack)
“So it’s not related to gun spinning, but it benefits from it,” Chantel exclaimed, intent on apologizing to Sikhail when she saw him step before the misfire.
Chantel walked back to Sikhail, gesturing him to follow her.
“I’ll figure it out. I wanted to spar with you some more, but I devised a new plan based on that incident just now. I want to dive straight into the meat of it,” Chantel said tacitly.
——|——|—|—|——|——
[Military Zone 5, Military Sector 25]
A group of veterans had a debriefing in a war room.
“Sophia, Sam, Tommy, Rose, and Timothy will approach a dark site. The Military lost communications with a team there a few hours ago. Your job is to scout the place out and then return to us. Do not take unnecessary risks.
|———|
Joe, Dekadel, Shelton, and Amelia will assist with a hot site. There are unknown hostiles, so it’s a good chance to gain experience. It’s nothing like the battlefield. Vision is more limited.
|———|
Dekadel will be the group leader, and you’ll follow behind a group of experienced WMRs.
|———|
These hostiles… seem to be ignorant or blind towards those who lack blood lust.
|———|
There was one survivor, a rising military star who witnessed the gruesome scene but at the same time didn’t see anything. They’re too scared to leave, afraid that whatever killed their team will come out when they show themselves. We gotta go to them.
|———|
The veterans will protect you as you escort this person to safety.
No deaths are expected, so the Military was comfortable handing the missions to us if we wanted to go. Are there any questions?” Hsuzel explained the situation.
“The cold and hot sites are closer to sector 65, correct? Why reach out so far for help?” Shelton asked.
“We had an explosive rookie that top brass found interesting. As a result, they’re paying more attention to this base. It’s a lucky opportunity to show them what you’re capable of,” Hsuzel said with a smile.
“Is that all, sir? I’ll admit he’s impressive, but we have more than one,” Dekadel asked skeptically.
“Well, there are other reasons, but those are classified,” Hsuzel clarified the doubts.
“We understand,” Shelton nodded.
“When do we head out?” Sophia asked.
“In a few hours. It’s very urgent,” Trafola added in.
“What do we need?” Joe asked.
“Just the battle-suit. Everything will be provided on-site,” Trafola explained.
“Is there anything you can tell us about these hostiles?” Sam asked.
“It’s probably related to the Limitless Truth Alliance,” Hsuzel said hesitantly.
(Gasp)
“Do you mean they created even stronger battle-suits?” Sophia asked, nervous but excited.
“If they did, there wouldn’t be a need to be so secretive about it. They would just sick it out on the battlefield to show their dominance. It’s probably beyond terrifying and out of control,” Hsuzel said thoughtfully.