"What... are you?" the Executioner whispered, staring at as if I were an alien.
"I’m just a seventeen-year-old cadet trying to graduate in one piece," I replied flatly.
"That’s not what I’m asking, kid."
"I know. But I’m just soone who wants to stop the apocalypse. Let’s leave it at that."
I couldn’t exactly tell him I was a shut-in gar who spilled soda on a keyboard and transmigrated into this world. So, I would thoroughly hide my origins. Instead, I had to prove our goals aligned. I just had to hope he’d believe my intentions, even if he didn’t know my source.
The Executioner closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, the intense pressure in the room vanished.
"Fine, then. It can’t be helped. We all have our ghosts," he sighed. "Thank you for the information."
The Executioner reached into his heavy coat, pulled out a small leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen, and tossed them onto the ruined tea table.
"Write down the exact coordinates and guardian beasts for the Primordial Five," he instructed. "I will hunt them down myself. This burden shouldn’t fall on a student."
"Understood."
I picked up the pen and quickly jotted down the locations. But I didn’t stop there. As I wrote, I explained a few other critical variables.
"We also need to root out the Demon Cultists hiding in the Empire," I said, flipping to a new page. "I’ll include a list of high-ranking worshippers."
All the hidden traitors, corrupt nobles, and sleeper agents who would trigger the mid-ga disasters were perfectly categorized in my head. I started writing nas.
The Executioner leaned over, reading the list. "...What? This one too? Are you certain?"
"Absolutely. That entire faction has been brainwashed for over a decade," I said, handing the notebook back.
"Then the recent supply line sabotages make perfect sense," the Executioner muttered. He tucked the notebook away, his face hardening. He had clearly decided to stop being surprised by my absurd level of intelligence. "Looks about done."
"I’ve talked too much, haven’t I?" I asked, leaning back.
"Anything else you want to say?"
Sothing to say? Not really. I had a mountain of questions, though. Why was he never ntioned in the early Chapters of the original story? Why didn’t he show up while the early disasters were happening? But I couldn’t ask those things without exposing my ta-knowledge. There was, however, one thing I absolutely needed from him.
I didn’t know if the System would allow it, but I had to try.
"Teach your marksmanship."
"...Hmm. Let’s see," the Executioner stroked his white beard, his pure white eyes analyzing . It wasn’t a flat refusal; he was genuinely weighing whether it was feasible. "I don’t use hunting rifles, kid. I use dual revolvers. The foundational chanics are entirely different. It’s like trying to teach a spearman how to use a rapier."
"That’s fine," I insisted. "My foundational proficiency can adapt. Just teach the concepts."
I absolutely need the Executioner’s marksmanship, I thought desperately.
My Marksmanship Lv. 7 was rely the basic, system-assisted technique of handling guns. It couldn’t be the foundation of endga combat against Demon Lords. Unique, legendary skills couldn’t be bought with System points. To learn them, you had to be taught directly by the masters who created them.
"Well... it’s not entirely impossible," the Executioner finally conceded, a dangerous smirk returning to his face. "Let’s see how much your brain can actually handle."
He stood up, kicking the shattered remnants of the sofa out of the way to clear a space in the ruined inn room.
"Let warn you, don’t be disappointed if you fail," the Executioner said, drawing his dual revolvers with a srizing spin. "My marksmanship is basically a wild dance, completely free from the rigid constraints of traditional swordsmanship or archery. It has insane prerequisites and is highly difficult. It’s not strange if you can’t keep up."
"I’m ready."
I gripped my Winchester rifle. Inside, I could feel my Marksmanship skill practically burning, overexerting itself as the System prepared to absorb what I was about to witness.
"I’ll teach you the three most critical techniques first: Interception, Ricochet, and Curved Shot," the Executioner announced.
He raised his right pistol and fired a shot into the empty air of the corridor. He intentionally suppressed the gunpowder, making the bullet travel slowly enough for my enhanced kinetic vision to track.
"First, Interception."
He imdiately fired a second bullet from his left gun.
I doubted my own eyes. The second bullet chased the first, perfectly colliding with its tail end. Instead of shattering, the kinetic force neutralized the first bullet’s montum, dropping both slugs harmlessly to the wooden floor.
"This is Interception. Neutralizing a lethal threat with your own bullet," he explained. "But compared to the next stage, it’s child’s play."
Both pistols suddenly blazed.
His targets were the two bullets that had just fallen to the floor. He fired four rapid shots. The new bullets struck the grounded ones at precise angles. Suddenly, all six pieces of lead violently ricocheted off the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, scattering in all directions with lethal, destructive force.
"Ricochet. Changing the path of your attack by colliding bullets against the environnt or each other," the Executioner said. "Pretty impressive, right?"
It was terrifying. Two of the ricocheted bullets shot directly toward my face. Even though my instincts scread that they would pierce my skull, I couldn’t move. I was completely srized by the near-divine skill. At the absolute last millisecond, the bullets lost their montum and tapped harmlessly against my nose before dropping.
"Lastly, Curved Shot."
The Executioner placed the barrel of his right pistol over his left shoulder. He squeezed the trigger while simultaneously swinging his arm outward in a massive, horizontal arc, like a swordsman performing a wide slash.
Gasp...!
The fired bullet didn’t travel straight. Driven by the mana infused in the swing, the bullet physically curved, tracing a lethal, crescent-like arc that bypassed all the ruined pillars in the hallway.
The curving bullet whipped past my ear, then tightly circled the room, systematically shooting down the remaining ricocheted bullets still bouncing off the walls from his previous demonstration.
"When Curved Shot reaches its pinnacle, you can bend trajectory to your absolute will," the Executioner said, holstering his smoking guns. "Perfect for when you’re heavily surrounded and lack a direct line of sight."
He gave a roguish wink. "I learned Interception when I was a Gold Knight. Ricochet as a Platinum Knight. And I self-taught Curved Shot after I reached the Diamond realm. What do you think, kid? Easy?"
Ding!
[System Notification: You are witnessing a Legend.] [The lessons of the First Gun Master have begun.] [Depending on your comprehension, existing skills may evolve, or new unique skills may be acquired.]
I swallowed hard, raising my hunting rifle and racking the bolt. My hands were sweating. I felt my Marksmanship skill burning hot, struggling to comprehend the physics-defying geotry I had just seen.
It was still too much for .
"No," I admitted, my voice tight. "It’s incredibly difficult."
"Of course it is," the Executioner grinned.
Saying so, he smoothly drew one of his revolvers and aid it directly at the center of my forehead. The playful aura vanished, replaced by the suffocating killing intent of an apex predator.
"There’s no practice quite like real combat, kid," he said coldly.
Click. He cocked the hamr. It was loaded with a live, full-powered round.
"Give Interception a try. If you dodge, you fail the lesson."
BANG!
The deafening gunshot echoed through the ruined inn. The fired bullet charged toward my forehead like a streak of lethal lightning.
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