Ace cautiously peeped through the window, his heart sank but his mind eased, finding his father, Uncle Dan, and his friend were using the shooting range that, unfortunately, happened to be right outside his window. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he instinctively dropped to the floor.
'Thankful no one was there to witness me army crawling on floor like a fool in search of cover.' He muttered under his breath, blaming his father, who had sworn to his mother that he would turn the shooting range into part of the orchard or a water-harvesting trench. Yet now, here he was, laughing and enjoying the gun range with Uncle Dan and his drinking buddy.
Ace shook his head, glaring out the window. If he had known his father was planning to keep the firing range, he would have chosen another room—or so he told himself. But no, it wouldn't matter. The gun range had to go for the sake of everyone's peace of mind.
Just as his frustration reached its peak, Ace's eyes flickered with curiosity. The corner of his mouth twitched as he noticed the array of firearms Dan's drinking buddy had brought along in the bed of his ford pickup. His pulse quickened. He couldn't deny the temptation bubbling up inside him—Is that a Genesis Gen-12 Shotgun with dragon's breath rounds?
That was it. He couldn't resist any longer. Without a second thought, Ace scrambled to his feet and bolted out of his room. As he ran, his mind moved automatically, summoning his status screen to check his progress.
Toymancer made little progress in the 'Body Reinforcement Curse Art' through practice.
ii) +2 physical stats
i) Continued practice will increase proficiency.
ii) Rigorous practice will enhance related stats.]
Even though the gains were minor, Ace felt a sense of satisfaction. The higher his proficiency in the curse art climbed, the harder and longer it took to make progress. He smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. At least he was still earning stats for every ounce of effort he poured into practice sessions
Arriving at the yard connecting to the gun range, Ace paused to collect himself. He pressed a hand against his chest, taking slow, deliberate breaths to steady his heartbeat. Composing his expression, he strode toward his father and Uncle Dan, who were caught up in a heated debate about the dragon's breath rounds.
"I'm telling you," his father said, shaking his head as he loaded the Genesis Gen-12 shotgun, "the efficacy might not be as great as they show in those action movies, but it's hellishly cool to shoot one of these rounds!"
Uncle Dan, meanwhile, was rummaging through his Yeti cooler in the back of his Polaris Ranger XP 1000. As he grabbed a beer and looked up. Spotting Ace, his lips stretched into a grin, he raised the bottle in greeting. "Hey, buddy. Did we scare you? Nice reflexes, though!"
Ace stopped a few feet away, narrowing his eyes at Dan. "You guys did that on purpose," he accused, disbelief lacing his tone. Fortunately, he didn't instinctively summon his toy summons.
Dan barked out a laugh, the sound echoing across the yard. From where Ace stood, it was painfully clear they had a perfect line of sight into his room through the window. His jaw tightened as the realization hit him. He had been practicing by the window earlier, and they must have mistaken him for taking a nap. Of course, they couldn't resist the chance to scare the living daylights out of him.
"I'll get you back for this, Uncle Dan," Ace promised, his voice low but resolute.
Dan smirked leaning against the polaris. "I'll be waiting," he replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Then, tipped his beer toward the range, jerking his chin at the targets, he added, "Want to fire a few rounds?"
Listening to his brother's words, Alwin, who was preparing to use a dragon's breath shotgun round, engaged the safety with a decisive click. He then turned, pointing the shotgun down but angling it slightly toward his brother, and warned, "Dan, Mary wanted to divorce me when you taught the boy to hunt pheasant with an air rifle. She'll follow through if you hand him a real gun."
"Dad, Mom won't know if you don't tell her," Ace said with a smirk, walking over to the Ford pickup, on whose bed the guns and ammunition were neatly arranged.
As he arrived next to the truck, a slender girl with messy, long brown hair and pale skin caught his eye. Subtle freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. She was dressed in denim overalls over a red turtleneck, layered with an unbuttoned red lumberjack shirt. Her three sizes were hard to determine under the overalls. Appearing to be about Ace's age, she handed him a pair of earmuffs with an indifferent expression, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Lola, you heard the boy. Give him something fit to be his first," Alwin instructed encouraging his son's interest in guns.
Then seeing Ace wear the earmuffs Lola had given him, he turned toward the range. With a flick of his thumb, Alwin removed the safety and fired—Bang—the shotgun roared, spewing a fiery blaze that crackled and left a smoky trail behind. The sound echoed across the yard, making Ace's adrenaline surge.
The spectacle was captivating, but Alwin lowered the gun after a single shot. Dragon's breath rounds were expensive, after all.
Meanwhile, Ace's curiosity deepened. "Dad, I want to give the dragon's breath a try," he announced, shaking his head slightly at Lola as she passed him an empty Beretta handgun. Unimpressed, he walked over to his father and grabbed the 12-gauge shotgun Alwin was handing back to the man Ace mistook for Dan's drinking buddy, he was actually an enthusiastic local and a licensed gun dealer. Lola, meanwhile, was helping her father sell firearms after school.
Ace reached for the shotgun, his grip firm as he attempted to take it. Lola's father, unwilling to let go, resisted momentarily. But Ace, surprising everyone with his strength, tightened his hold and effortlessly snatched the weapon away. The latter raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback.
Before either Alwin or Lola's father could protest, Ace calmly double-checked the safety and opened the shotgun's action, exposing the chamber. His movements were fluid, almost professional, as he stretched out his hand toward Lola's father, signaling for the dragon's breath round.
The latter hesitated, clutching the shell tightly, his cautious eyes meeting Ace's determined gaze. Sensing the tension, Dan, who had been leaning casually against his Polaris and sipping his beer, intervened, "Luke, it's on me."
"You sure?" Luke asked, still wary.
Dan gave a nod of affirmation. With a resigned sigh, Luke passed the shell to Ace and took a few cautious steps back—this wasn't his first rodeo, and he knew better than to stand too close.
Ace accepted the round with a small nod, carefully inserting it into the chamber. Aligning the rim of the shell with practiced ease, he gently closed the shotgun's action. Taking a steadying breath, he raised the weapon, aiming toward the range. Just as he prepared to remove safety, Alwin stepped forward and handed him a pair of shades, "Here."
Ace slipped the shades on with a small grin, took a steadying breath, and removed the safety—Bang—the shotgun roared again, the fireball even more dazzling this time. Smoke curled in the air as Ace held his stance, unaffected by the weapon's recoil.
With his enhanced stats, the kickback felt negligible. Lowering the shotgun, Ace's lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He silently thanked his Apex Earring's passive effect, which made him an expert in firearms—even though this was his first time handling one.