Chương 6: Weapon

The system clearly wasn't done playing Santa Claus with my life. Just as I was getting used to the idea of having magic brain-knowledge, another translucent window popped up to clutter my vision. It was like the world's most dangerous digital catalog. [The selection of your primary armament is now required.] Below the text, five distinct weapon icons materialized in a row, looking way cooler than they had any right to.

I had the Musket, the Revolver, the Flintlock, the Blunderbuss, and the Hand Mortar to choose from. It was a buffet of ballistic options, and my inner gamer was already trying to calculate the optimal meta. Five looked on, his fancy noble hat casting a slight shadow over his eyes as he watched me browse.

"Pray, do not overthink this initial stage," he said, his voice smooth and incredibly regal.

"Each of these armaments is of the Zero Tier. They possess no inherent enhancements to your attributes nor do they grant any mystical boons. I would advise you to simply select the tool that feels most natural in your hand for the journey's start. You may always acquire the others through purchase at a later time."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, leaning in to read the fine print.

"You're not the one who's going to be monster-bait if I pick the wrong one." I started scrolling through the technical specs of each gun. Even though they were "basic" according to Five, each one had its own set of annoying quirks and glaring weaknesses. ••••• MUSKET: Quirk: Single target. Long range. Piercing. Weakness: Deals less damage the nearer the enemy. Description: Punches through tough individual defenses from far away, but loses its edge if the enemy gets too close. ••••• REVOLVER: Quirk: Skirmish.

Mid-range. Armor breaking. Weakness: Damage decreases whenever the user switches targets. Description: Shreds armor and builds stacking damage through consecutive hits; however, these stacks reset if the user engages a different target. ••••• FLINTLOCK: Quirk: Skirmish. Mid-range. Single target explosion. Weakness: Weak against heavy armor. Description: Causes a blast on impact to delete unarmored enemies, but bullets bounce off heavy metal plates. ••••• BLUNDERBUSS: Quirk: Melee AOE. Piercing.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Weakness: Deals less damage the further the enemy. Description: Shakes the ground and shreds through multiple enemies at point-blank range, but becomes useless at a distance. ••••• HAND MORTAR: Quirk: AOE Explosion. Weakness: Weak against heavy armor. Description: Blasts a wide area to clear out groups of light enemies, but the fire and pressure can't get through heavy armor.

••••• I stood there with my hand on my chin, looking like a deep-thinking philosopher who was actually just trying to decide which instrument of destruction would best prevent my untimely demise. I weighed the pros and cons of each boom-stick like I was comparing specs on a new gaming laptop. The Musket was tempting for the cowardly sniper approach, but the moment something sneaked up on me, I'd be toast.

The Blunderbuss and Hand Mortar were great for crowds, but they seemed a bit too specialized for a guy who didn't even know what a monster in this world looked like yet. The Flintlock was tempting since it basically functioned as a delete button for anything without a metal suit. It was built for mid-range skirmishing, and every shot triggered a single-target explosion on impact. The catch was that if I ran into anyone wearing heavy plates, my bullets would just bounce off like I was throwing pebbles at a tank.

After a lot of mental gymnastics, I found myself leaning toward the Revolver. It felt like the most balanced choice for a rookie who didn't want to die in the first five minutes. The penalties were manageable compared to the others. Sure, it had its quirks, and the damage dropping off every time I swapped targets was a bit of a buzzkill, but the armor-breaking potential was too good to pass up.

As long as I didn't get surrounded by a literal mosh pit of monsters, I could systematically shred through whatever was in front of me at a comfortable mid-range distance.

"Alright, I've made my choice," I said, pointing a finger at the screen with a flourish.

"Give me the Revolver. It's time to play cowboy." Five watched with a stoic, regal expression as if he were witnessing the coronation of a king instead of a guy picking out his first pistol. A sudden, brilliant flare of white light erupted in the space between us, forcing me to squint. As the glow faded, a sleek, lethal-looking revolver remained, hovering weightlessly in the air as if held by an invisible ghost. It looked way more intimidating in person than it did in the icon. [Selection finalized. You have received your starting armament: Tier 0 Revolver.] A fresh window of data popped up right next to the floating gun, detailing every little stat and specialty of my new best friend. ••••• Name: Training Prototype-7 Type: Revolver Tier: 0 Stats: None Special Effect: Weighted Grip — The heavy frame helps steady the user's hand, reducing the kickback after each shot for more consistent aiming. Description: A bulky, unpainted prototype used in shooting ranges to teach recruits the basics of trigger discipline.

It lacks the polish of a frontline weapon, and the "Prototype" stamp is still visible on the side, but its added weight makes it a solid tool for a gunner practicing their steady hand. ••••• I snatched the revolver out of the air before it could pull a vanishing act. I spent a good minute turning it over in my hands, checking out the chunky, unpainted frame and the "Prototype" stamp that was basically a neon sign screaming "I'm a total noob."

It was a bit of a literal heavyweight, but that was actually a good thing for a guy like me. The weighted grip felt solid and reassuring, like it was promising me it wouldn't go flying out of my hand the second I pulled the trigger.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," I said, giving it a playful little spin that was about fifty percent confidence and fifty percent hoping I wouldn't drop it on my toe.

"It's got that nice 'I might actually hit something' feel to it." I looked over at Five, who was still standing there looking like he was waiting for a slow-motion camera to pan over his regal features. He didn't seem particularly impressed by my gun-twirling skills, which was a bit of a buzzkill.

"Alright, Five," I said, holstering the hunk of metal as best as I could in my hoodie pocket.

"I've got the magic brain-training, the flashy skill, and my very own beginner-model boom-stick. What's the next step? Is it time to finally head to Eteria and start my legendary journey of probably getting chased by things with too many teeth?" Five adjusted his noble hat and gave me a slow, dignified nod that felt way too dramatic for a simple confirmation.

"Indeed," Five replied, his voice echoing with that same stiff, fantasy-hero authority.

"I believe you have completed the necessary preparations. You are ready to step forth into the world that awaits you."