Chapter 247: The Invisible Bullet
The heat of the desert finally broke as we crossed the threshold into the Ruins Bio.
The transition was jarring. One second, the air was a shimring oven; the next, it was cool, damp, and slled of wet moss and ancient stone. The artificial sun above was blocked by the looming skeletons of skyscrapers—stone towers that looked like they belonged to a civilization dead for a thousand years.
"Oh, thank the gods," Leon groaned, practically collapsing against a crumbling pillar. Steam rose from his armor. "I thought I was going to turn into jerky."
"Check your corners," Arthur ordered, though he too looked relieved. He wiped sweat from his brow, his golden hair plastered to his skin. "This terrain is a nightmare for formations. Too many vertical angles."
"I’ll take the high ground," Seraphina offered. As our ranger, she was itching to get off the ground floor. She pointed to a half-collapsed bell tower about fifty ters ahead. "I can cover the main street from there."
Arthur nodded. "Go. But keep your comms open. If you see movent, do not engage. Report."
Seraphina nodded and activated her wind-step boots, leaping gracefully onto a broken archway. She began to ascend, moving like a ghost.
I hung back near Eric and the support line, adjusting my glasses. The cooling fans in my suit whirred to life, but my blood ran cold for a different reason.
[Bio: The Forgotten City]
[Threat Level: High]
[Active Signals Detected: 0]
Zero signals.
That was the problem. In a tournant with eleven other academies, silence wasn’t peace. It was a hunting blind.
"Wilson," Arthur said, glancing at . "Your analysis?"
"It’s too quiet," I said, scanning the jagged skyline. "The acoustics here are terrible. Echoes everywhere. If soone shoots, we won’t know where it ca from until the second shot."
Arthur frowned. "Shields up. Tighten the—"
CRACK.
The sound was like a whip snapping next to my ear.
High above us, on the bell tower, a chunk of stone the size of a waterlon exploded into dust right next to Seraphina’s head. She shrieked, losing her footing and scrambling behind a gargoyle for cover.
"Sniper!" Leon roared, his sword igniting with white flas. "Where is he?"
"I don’t know!" Seraphina scread over the comms, her voice trembling. "I didn’t see a flash! There’s no angle!"
CRACK-THWIP.
Another shot. This ti, the stone gargoyle she was hiding behind shattered. The bullet didn’t ricochet; it dug into the stone and pulsed with blue energy before detonating.
"Magitech rounds," I muttered. "Explosive tips."
"Eric, barrier!" Arthur commanded. "Protect Seraphina!"
"I can’t reach her!" Eric yelled, his wand shaking. "She’s too high up! The range of my do is only thirty ters!"
We were pinned. The shooter was thodical. He wasn’t trying to kill Seraphina imdiately; he was toying with her, pinning our eyes so the rest of his team could flank us.
I tapped my glasses.
[Quantum Analysis: Active]
I filtered out the ambient mana. I ignored the screaming crowd noise pumped in through the speakers. I focused purely on the ballistics.
The shots were coming from the north. But there was no line of sight from the north. A massive, intact cathedral wall blocked the view.
Unless...
[Trajectory Calculation Complete]
[Wind Velocity: 15 m/s (East)]
[Mana Signature: Aero-Ballistics]
"He’s curving them," I whispered.
The sniper wasn’t shooting straight. He was using wind magic to bend the bullet’s path around obstacles. He was firing from behind cover, looping the shots around the cathedral wall to hit Seraphina.
[Target Located]
[Distance: 2,140 ters]
[Obstacles: 3 Stone Walls]
It was Aven Rykor. The ace sniper of the Clockwork Spire Institute. He was perched in a clock tower over two kiloters away, looking through a magi-tech scope that likely cost more than my entire tuition.
He was invisible to the naked eye. He was untouchable.
Arthur was shouting orders, trying to figure out a suppression strategy, but it was useless. You can’t suppress a ghost.
"I... I think I see a glimr!" I shouted suddenly, injecting a tremor of panic into my voice.
Arthur spun around. "Where?"
"Through the gap! That building!" I pointed wildly toward a completely solid, ruinous apartnt block to our North-West. It wasn’t where the bullet ca from, but it was in line with where Aven was hiding behind the obstacles.
"Wilson, get down!" Leon shouted. "You’re exposed!"
I didn’t get down. I raised my right hand. I didn’t summon Draken. I didn’t pull out a heavy weapon. I just pointed my finger like a child playing cops and robbers.
[Skill: Force Bullet]
[Cost: 50 Mana]
[Calculation: Wall Penetration x3]
"Get away from us!" I yelled, acting the part of the terrified support student.
I fired.
To the onlookers, it looked like a desperate, wild shot of condensed mana. A small, translucent sphere of force shot out of my finger.
It slamd into the first wall of the apartnt block—and punched right through.
It crossed the alleyway behind it, slamd into the second wall—and punched through that too.
It traveled another kiloter, losing velocity but maintaining its spin.
It pierced a stained-glass window of the cathedral.
And finally, two kiloters away, inside the bell tower of the Clockwork Spire’s base...
Aven Rykor was grinning, his eye pressed against the scope of his rifle, lining up the kill shot on Seraphina.
CLINK.
The Force Bullet, now no larger than a marble, threaded the needle. It entered the front lens of his scope.
SHATTER.
Aven scread as the glass exploded backward into his eye. The kinetic energy slamd the rifle upward, jamming the delicate clockwork chanism instantly.
Back in the ruins, the oppressive cracking sound of the sniper fire ceased.
Silence returned.
Seraphina peeked out from behind the shattered gargoyle. "He... he stopped."
"I got him?" I asked, looking at my hand with wide, fake-disbelieving eyes. "I think I hit sothing!"
Arthur stared at the hole in the wall where my spell had entered. Then he looked at the direction. Then he looked at .
"You fired blindly," Arthur said slowly. "Through a solid wall."
"I just... I felt a mana spike," I stamred, rubbing the back of my neck. "Pure luck. I was just trying to scare him off."
Leon let out a breath he’d been holding. "Damn, Mike. Remind to take you to the casino after this. That was a one-in-a-million shot."
"Form up!" Arthur commanded, shaking off the shock. "Seraphina, get down from there. We use the ground cover. Wilson... good work. Don’t rely on luck next ti."
"Yes, Captain," I said ekly.
As the team moved out, staying low, I glanced up at the fake sky.
I knew the caras were rolling. And I knew the Judges weren’t idiots.
[The Judges’ VIP Booth]
Grandmaster Brokk Ironvoice sat in his high chair, his beard braided with gold rings. Next to him sat Elder Vane of the Sanctum.
On the massive holographic screen in front of them, the replay of Michael’s shot was playing in slow motion.
The screen showed the wirefra trajectory. It showed the Force Bullet bypassing two support beams, threading a three-inch gap in a collapsed wall, and striking the exact center of Aven Rykor’s scope.
"Luck," Elder Vane scoffed, sipping his wine. "The boy claims luck."
Brokk leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. He tapped the screen where Michael stood.
"He didn’t check the wind," Brokk rumbled. "He didn’t brace his arm. He fired that spell like he was tossing a coin."
"Exactly," Vane said. "A panicked flail."
"No," Brokk growled. He rewound the footage to the mont before Michael fired. He zood in on Michael’s eyes behind the glasses.
"Look at his posture," the Dwarf King whispered. "His mouth is screaming panic. His shoulders are hunched in fear. But his feet? Planted perfectly. And his eyes... they aren’t looking at the wall."
The screen showed Michael’s gaze fixed on a point far in the distance, focusing on sothing no human eye should be able to see through stone.
"He was doing the math," Brokk realized, a chill running down his spine. "He calculated the delay of the sound, the curve of the wind, and the geotry of the ruins in under three seconds."
"That’s impossible for a student," Vane argued. "That requires a processor, not a brain."
"Or," Brokk said, leaning back, "it requires a monster pretending to be a sheep."
The Dwarf Grandmaster made a note on his datapad.
[Watch Subject: Michael Wilson. Potential Threat Level: S.]
"Keep the caras on him," Brokk ordered the control room. "I want to see what happens when his ’luck’ runs out."
(To be Continued)
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