The Minor Aristocratic House of Neyvaris had once been a clan of talented and prominent Striders and Gunslingers.
Specters and Prisms were aplenty back then.
Unfortunately, after a series of ups and downs, their fate began to steadily decline, reducing them to a house of mostly Gunslingers with the occasional Strider.
Even at their prime, they had never produced a Blader or a Shielder.
Perhaps strength and endurance simply weren't in their genes.
"From today onward, you'll be training where I train—the shooting range," declared Garwin. "Follow me."
Hearing his father's words, Lohran felt intrigued and excited.
"We have a shooting range?" he grinned.
Even his luxurious manor back in New York City did not have a shooting range.
The thought of being able to train with a gun inside his home was new and rather exciting to him.
"Of course. How else do you think I train?" Garwin snorted.
A few minutes later, they entered his father's study and arrived in front of a standard-sized metallic door with a digital password lock.
The lord then paused for a bit before walking towards his desk, picking up a blank business card, and writing something on it.
After a few seconds, he returned to where Lohran was and handed him the card.
"Here's the password—for both my study and the shooting range. You don't have to wait for me; you can train anytime you want. Once you've memorized it, make sure to dispose of the card properly—either by burning it or tearing it into many pieces. Understood? Until then, keep it secure or with you."
The teenage runt nodded as he received the card and looked at the password.
'Sixty9wBBC…damn, that's a bit too difficult to remember, no?' he mused.
His father then allowed him to enter the password.
A few beeps later, the metallic door clicked, which Lohran then pulled open, revealing a descending metallic staircase.
'Fancy…'
Garwin took the lead, descending first to give his son a quick tour.
After only a few steps, Lohran could already see the silhouette of the range.
It was unexpectedly vast.
So vast, in fact, that he could run around to simulate combat while shooting.
Various dummies and targets were scattered throughout the space.
A table held a few used guns alongside a container of bullets, and a small refrigerator stood nearby, stocked with refreshments and healthy snacks.
Once they had fully descended, Lohran also noticed a huge, open wooden cabinet under the staircase.
It seemed to be where the training guns were stored.
There were pistols, sub-machine guns, assault rifles, shotguns, and sniper rifles, though all of them were slightly different and a bit strange in shape and design compared to the ones on Earth..
Garwin then pressed a switch near the final step, instantly lighting up the entire range.
Lohran watched in awe as some targets moved left and right, others shifted up and down, and a few darted unpredictably.
It was a high-tech and spacious shooting range—one that even those on Earth would struggle to match.
'Damn! This father of mine sure doesn't hold back when it comes to spending on training!' he inwardly complimented.
Lohran appreciated Garwin for understanding that training equipment and environment should never be skimped on.
The lord secretly observed his son's reactions, utterly pleased.
After all, his shooting range was one of his greatest prides, alongside his family and their esteemed status.
"Ahem!" Garwin cleared his throat, pointing at the gun cabinet. "Now then, Lohran, pick up two Whisperstings, the smallest ones on the lower leftmost side. Also, take a few bottles of round steel pellets and place everything on this table."
The excited teenage runt enthusiastically nodded, his passionate heart once again ignited.
Lohran, despite not really believing in gods before meeting the two that sent him to Edelmundr, now desperately prayed.
He prayed for this world to not disappoint him…for the gods to hold true to their words.
He hoped to reclaim his heart's lost vigour.
While things were a little different this time, he would still be fighting, though with a different weapon than he was used to and against monstrous horrors beyond his wildest imaginations.
Arriving in front of the cabinet, the teenage runt looked at the lower leftmost side, spotting a few pistols.
'Hoh…so pistols are called Whisperstings in this world, huh?' he mused, picking up two and frowning.
The darned things were at least two to three times heavier than those on Earth!
It wasn't so much that he couldn't lift them.
In fact, thanks to the mad hard work and efficiency that had shaped his strength, he could raise one with a single arm and aim it with moderate effort.
The problem was that he couldn't aim as quickly or as smoothly as he wanted.
In a battle to the death, even a few milliseconds of delay could mean life or death.
That was why Lohran didn't take the weight of his weapons lightly.
He had to grow strong enough to lift and aim them effortlessly.
'Tch, if even Whisperstings are this heavy, then…' he pondered, glancing at the sub-machine guns, assault rifles, and the other types of guns in the cabinet.
Despite its slow growth, his raw strength was still improving.
As long as he kept working hard and efficiently, he would eventually be able to lift the Whisperstings with ease.
'Hmph! It's only a matter of time before I can handle a damned assault rifle. And once I get my hands on those lovely steel-spitting monsters… hehehe… I'll shoot their cursed bodies full of holes!'
Lohran placed the two Whisperstings on the table before returning—not to grab just "a few" bottles of steel round pellets as his father had instructed, but a lot.
He wasn't one to train for only an hour or two.
He was used to training a minimum of eight hours a day, and since this time he wouldn't be exerting his body as much, he planned to push himself even longer.
A few bottles simply wouldn't do.
Garwin remained silent as he watched his son place bottle after bottle of bullets on the table, inwardly appreciating his son's dedication.
At the same time, he couldn't help but grit his teeth and clench his fists.
'If only he didn't have such a useless father…' the lord lamented, believing that Lohran's mediocre talent came from none other than him.
But Garwin knew such somber thoughts would do little to help.
'Hmph, at least he's far more hardworking and mentally resilient than I was back then…'
For a brief moment, Garwin couldn't help but entertain a fleeting thought: maybe… just maybe… Lohran could become a Prism before Louen, his eldest son, turned 25?
That was the deadline for their family's status to expire.
And so, with a silent deep breath, he took a Whispersting from the table.
"Here's how you load bullets into this thing," the lord demonstrated slowly for his son. "Once done, you just need to press the safety lock here and…"
*FWOOSH!*
Turning around and aiming his pistol in one swift motion…
*Bang!*
A plywood dummy's head was punctured with a small pellet-sized hole.
Lohran was taken aback and impressed. His father was what one would call a "quickshot" back on Earth.
'The f*ck was that speed and almost perfect aim?! Why was this old man of mine even at risk of losing his status when he's this competent?!'
The teenage runt doubted that many would be able to match his father's skills with the gun back on Earth.
Before he could appreciate Garwin's skills further, however, another order came:
"Now then, pick one up, load it with bullets, and shoot me in the gut."
Lohran was about to find out why.