Chapter 45 Win Streak
Hearing the beep sound, I didn’t instantly raise my gun into the air. My eyes followed each of the discs as they shot upward, almost hitting the roof beams of the factory, before beginning to free-fall.
Then I raised my shotgun, pumped it once, and fired a shot at three closely grouped discs.
BANG!
The discs shattered after being struck by the pellets. I quickly pumped the gun again and fired another shot, this time hitting four discs at once. In a very fast motion, I pumped the gun and took a final shot, hitting the remaining three discs and blowing them into smithereens.
I ejected the empty shell as smoke emanated from the gun, and I could see the look of surprise on Victor’s face.
“Miss Layla wins the first round! Completion time: five seconds, took out all the discs in three shots! This is magnificent!” the referee announced loudly while the members of the Blade clan clapped for me. The small scoreboard on the side changed, displaying our score as 1:0.
“I have to give you that. I really underestimated you,” Victor chuckled. He suddenly clapped his hands, and a group of masked men walked forward, cleaning up the broken disc fragments from the floor and taking the cylindrical device away.
The next moment, Victor walked toward a section of the table where rifles, old assault rifles, were stacked. He picked one up and returned to his position.
“Each of these rifles is loaded with one bullet. We have to hit a target one mile away without any assistance,” Victor said, pointing ahead of us, though I couldn’t see anything. I had to admit the factory was enormous and spanned many miles, but I still couldn’t see what he was referring to.
Seeing my confusion, he handed me binoculars. When I used them, I saw wooden humanoid-shaped targets, one labeled with my name and the other with Victor’s. To make matters worse, the distance from our position to the targets was relatively dark and would be almost impossible to hit without proper gear.
“The person with the most accurate headshot is the winner,” Victor suddenly said. He brandished his rifle, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The recoil pushed him backward with a strong jerk, but he steadied himself by leaning forward and tanking the recoil. Smoke rose from the muzzle as he let out a sigh and lowered the gun. I could barely tell where his shot landed since it wasn’t clearly visible to the naked eye from this distance.
“Your turn,” he said, dropping his weapon back onto the table.
I walked to the table and scanned the old weapons. Not going to lie, I was pissed at the type of firearms provided for this round. Not only were they extremely outdated, but they were also in poor condition.
After inspecting them for a long time, I chose an assault rifle with a ridiculously long barrel. I examined it thoroughly, almost dissecting it, before realizing it was actually in perfect condition.
I squinted and managed to pinpoint where my target was located. Raising my rifle, the stock pressed tightly against my shoulder, I let out a small huff and squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet ripped out of the barrel in a burst of fire. The recoil jerked me backward, but thanks to my proper stance, I handled it cleanly.
I walked back to the table and dropped the gun. Throughout it all, Victor still wore a smug grin. The referee then stepped forward and picked up the binoculars, and as he looked through them, his eyes widened in shock.
“T-The winner of the second round is Miss Layla! Her shot hit the target right in the middle of its head!” the referee announced as loud cheers erupted and everyone clapped again.
In surprise, I picked up the binoculars myself. When I checked the outcome, I realized I had landed a perfect headshot. Victor also hit his target’s head, but his shot veered slightly to the left and wasn’t as accurate as mine. By then, the smile on Victor’s face had already faded.
“The third round will be defeating a horde of armed robots! The only weapons allowed are a handgun and your fists. No Quirks allowed, or the participants will be instantly disqualified!” the referee announced loudly, moving in a strange rhythm as a trap beat played and he backed away.
Before I could say anything, metal hatches lowered, slamming into the ground with powerful thuds and sealing away the Blade members and the Blackjack members. More white lights switched on, so bright it felt like a mini sun had appeared inside the factory.
What remained was a vast open space resembling a massive arena. The next moment, Victor walked to the weapon rack and picked up a handgun. I stepped forward and did the same. When I tried to grab another weapon out of curiosity, I couldn’t—it was as if they were welded to the rack.
Victor then walked to the center and removed his jacket, leaving only his white inner shirt. Suddenly, I saw red.
Glowing red eyes.
As they moved closer, I recognized them as the assistant robots I had seen earlier. This time, however, they were armed with laser weapons and numbered around thirty to forty.
“Target found. Engaging combat,” one of the robots said, and the others followed suit as the weapons in their hands began pulsing with energy.