The Smiling Death Chapter 17: Way to Outside

Amon stepped into the marksmanship training room. It was large, with a faint echo in the air from the occasional distant gunshot.

Along the far wall stood a row of paper silhouette shooting targets — flat sheets printed with the outline of a human upper body, complete with concentric scoring rings around the chest and head.

These targets were the standard choice at shooting ranges, used for aiming practice and scoring accuracy.

Holding a revolver in his left hand, Amon walked to his designated shooting area. He raised the weapon, aligning it with the target at the set distance.

The revolver was loaded with nine bullets. With his thumb, he pulled the hamr back until it clicked into place — a crisp tallic sound that was oddly satisfying.

Click.

He took a breath, then pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A small jolt of recoil ran through his hand, but he quickly steadied himself.

Then he fired again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One shot after another, the sound of gunfire echoed in the room, each sharp report bouncing off the walls. He emptied the entire cylinder in quick succession.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lowering the revolver, he examined his target from a distance.

"Three bullets hit the number seven line, one landed on the eight, and the rest... missed completely. Damn it," he muttered.

Nine was the ring closest to the bullseye, while the very center — the perfect shot — was marked as zero points. Amon had been aiming for that center, but clearly his skill wasn’t there yet.

"Well... not bad for a first attempt," he said to himself, trying to find so consolation in the results.

Truthfully, he still didn’t understand how other people managed to hit the target so consistently. Maybe his earlier hits were just luck.

Determined to improve, Amon continued to train with the revolver, now switching to practice bullets. He repeated the cycle — aim, fire, reload — for the next hour.

Around him, other students were engaged in their own practice. Most were using bows and arrows, while a few had crossbows. Guns were rare here, and several students gave him curious looks as they noticed his choice of weapon.

Not that Amon cared much.

As he reloaded again, the door to the training room opened. Eliana Sylvaris stepped inside, her graceful movents drawing a few glances from nearby students. Her sharp, pointed ears peeked out from beneath her flowing hair, twitching slightly in response to the faint sounds in the room.

Her eyes settled on Amon. Seeing him standing there, focused intently on his revolver, brought a faint smile to her lips. She walked toward him with her usual elegance, quietly watching him until his shooting round ended.

His aim was... well, terrible. She wasn’t an expert on firearms, but even she could tell most of his shots were far from the center.

When he finally lowered the revolver and glanced her way, Amon smiled.

"Hey there. Ca for so bow training? I’ve been at this for an hour already. I think it’s about ti I wrap up."

"It’s good to see you training hard," she replied in her smooth, lodic voice. Her ears twitched again, almost playfully.

"I’m surprised you’re using a revolver," she added. "But it’s not a bad choice. It depends on the individual — how you use it, after all." Her tone was warm and encouraging.

’She’s so kind’, Amon thought.

"Thanks, Eliana."

She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Yes,but still I doubt even after this you could even take down a large spider.Oh also not forgetting your terrible aim~"

’I take it back. She’s not kind at all!’

"Yeah, I know," Amon admitted, smirking. "I’m training with it as a secondary weapon. My main weapon is different."

It was becoming clear to him that Eliana wasn’t quite the pure, noble, and gentle elf he had imagined. She was mischievous, curious, and seed to enjoy having a little fun at others’ expense.

"Well then, I’ll be going. See you later, Princess," he said lightly before walking past her. She waved him off with a small smile.

---

The first week at the academy ca to an end.

Most of it had been filled with theory lectures and a bit of alchemy practice. A certain professor — the one who looked like a witch — had been particularly irritating, making jokes about him in class that always drew laughter from everyone else.

Still, physical training classes would start next week, which ant things were about to get more interesting.

Lying on his bed that evening, Amon reflected on his progress. It wasn’t much — his basic swordsmanship and footwork had improved, and he had learned a new spell, Shadow Claw. Better than nothing, at least.

"Whole week and I still haven’t found a way to get out of this damn academy," he muttered, sitting up.

Deciding he needed a walk, he stepped outside. The sky was dimming, shadows stretching across the academy grounds. As he strolled through the garden, his attention caught on a small group of students acting suspiciously.

Curious, Amon hid behind a nearby tree, watching them closely.

The group moved toward the back of the school — a rarely visited area. He followed them silently, keeping to the shadows. Eventually, they reached an old, abandoned building. It looked like a storage room that hadn’t been used in years.

After a quick glance around, the group entered. Amon crept closer, peering inside just in ti to see them push aside a large, dusty cupboard. Beneath it was a round door built into the floor. One by one, they climbed down through it before closing it behind them.

Amon’s eyes lit up.

So that’s it.

’I finally found it.I found the shitt that I was searching for a while’

After waiting a few minutes to make sure they were gone, he moved the cupboard himself and opened the hidden door. It revealed a small passage — narrow enough that he had to crawl on all fours.

The dark tunnel twisted and turned for several minutes until he spotted a faint glow ahead. Embedded in the wall was a stone emitting a soft light, illuminating another round door. He pushed it open and kept moving, the path now sloping upward.

Finally, he reached the tunnel’s end. Crawling out, he found himself outside the academy walls, staring at a dense forest.

A grin spread across his face. "Finally. I should head back for my money and gear before I explore."

He returned to his dorm, changed into clothes suited for going out, and took his coin pouch. He still didn’t have a proper weapon, but since the academy would allow students without one to choose tomorrow, he hesitated to spend his money just yet.

Still, he strapped a small dagger to his side — just in case — and returned to the tunnel. Crawling through again, he reached the exit.

This ti, however, the mont he erged, his eyes landed on a pair of legs directly in front of him.

They were long, elegantly shaped, covered in sleek black stockings, and paired with high heels that glead faintly in the moonlight. They were oddly beautiful and attractive. Slowly, he tilted his head upward.

The owner of those legs stood above him — a young woman with flowing silver hair cascading to her waist, ruby-red eyes that glimred in the dim light, and a face that was both beautiful and unyieldingly cold.

Her curvious and voluptuous figure was elegantly curved beneath the academy uniform,a red tie marking her as a second-year student. Just above the academy crest pinned to her chest was a small badge — the emblem of the Student Council.

Amon froze. Shit.

Her gaze was sharp, and when she spoke, her voice was as cold as her expression.

"May I ask what you are doing here?"

Amon forced a smile, offering the most pitiful excuse he could think of. "Would you believe if I said I was just looking for so money I dropped?"