Adrian’s boots echoed across the stone courtyard as he walked away from the fallen hero. The blood on the ground didn’t faze him. It was just another clean job. Another target eliminated. The world seemed to hum with the soft glow of the weapon system’s interface flashing in his mind.
He stepped into the alleyway, far from the chaotic scene, and finally, with a soft exhale, he tapped the familiar button on his wrist.
“Weapon enthusiast mode,” Adrian muttered, and the air around him shimmered as the system came online, a soft hum of machinery filling the silence.
---
System: “Ah, I see, a man with refined tastes. What will it be today, sir? Dinner? Dessert? Appetizer? Your choice, as always.”
Adrian’s lips curled into a faint smile. It was a strange thing—the system had always sounded like it had a flair for the dramatic, like a seasoned chef preparing a five-course meal for a discerning customer.
He closed his eyes for a moment, pretending he was in a restaurant with his favorite options laid out before him.
---
“Dinner first,” Adrian replied smoothly, his voice a low rumble. The system responded immediately.
---
System: “For dinner, I recommend something quick, efficient, and light, but deadly all the same.”
A sleek Glock 19 Gen 5 appeared in Adrian’s hand, the weight of it familiar, comforting. He gave it a quick inspection—perfect. Compact, reliable, and most importantly, fast.
---
System: “Glock 19 Gen 5 – 9mm Luger (Mid-tier)
Muzzle velocity: 1,250 feet per second. Magazine capacity: 15 rounds. A perfect weapon for precise shots and stealthy operations. Cost: 100 points. It’s designed for those who prefer to keep it quiet, just like your usual choice.”
Adrian slid the gun into its holster under his jacket, nodding in approval. Dinner was served. He felt the steady hum of the weapon in his hand, the feeling of familiarity settling in.
---
“Now, dessert,” Adrian said as he stepped forward, taking in the scene ahead. His eyes were calm, but his mind was already focused. The system hummed.
---
System: “For dessert, something a little heavier. A treat for those who like a bigger bite, something that makes an impact.”
---
A Remington 870 Shotgun materialized in his hand, heavy and formidable. Adrian gave the shotgun a quick, approving glance. He knew how to make this one sing.
---
System: “Remington 870 – 12 gauge (High-tier)
Pump-action. Barrel length: 18 inches. Magazine capacity: 5 shells. Effective range: 40 yards. Cost: 200 points. The perfect weapon to clear a room or make a loud entrance. No one will miss you with this in hand. Consider it the dessert to your meal.”
Adrian slung the shotgun over his back, the weight of it oddly reassuring. It was a choice he’d only use when necessary, but for now, it could stay in reserve.
---
“Appetizer next,” Adrian said, already knowing exactly what he wanted.
---
System: “For the appetizer, something small, quick, and to the point. A knife, perhaps? Simple, efficient.”
---
A Ka-Bar Combat Knife appeared in his hand, its black blade gleaming in the low light. Adrian inspected it carefully, his fingers running over the handle. This was no-frills, all business.
---
System: “Ka-Bar Combat Knife (Low-tier)
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Blade length: 7 inches. Full tang. Flat-ground blade for precise, deep cuts. Ideal for close encounters. Cost: 50 points. It’s small enough to be discrete but deadly enough to make an impact.”
Adrian twirled the knife between his fingers, the motion fluid, practiced. He slid it into his belt, the cool metal a comforting presence.
---
“And to finish it off,” Adrian muttered, already knowing what he needed. He could feel the mage’s presence nearby, the air charged with the promise of more blood to be spilled.
---
System: “For the finale, perhaps something to make a statement? A little boom to finish the meal?”
A frag grenade appeared in his hand, its weight solid and reassuring. Adrian’s fingers traced over the pin for a moment, eyeing the device.
---
System: “Frag Grenade (Low-tier)
Weight: 1 kilogram. Blast radius: 20 meters. Trigger: Detonator. Cost: 50 points. Perfect for clearing a path or leaving a message. It’s your grand finale, the cherry on top of the meal.”
---
Adrian chuckled softly, a dark, humorless sound. The timing was right. The finale was just what he needed.
“Boom,” he said simply, letting the grenade drop into his pocket.
---
System: Total Points: 490
Spent: 400 points
Points Remaining: 90
---
The alleyway was quiet now, and as Adrian walked away, his weapons were ready. His eyes flicked over to the distant approaching figures—mages and heroes, no doubt, seeking revenge for their fallen comrade.
He cracked his knuckles and adjusted his jacket, knowing it would be a while before the next course was served.
---
The clock was ticking, and Adrian was always ready for the next round.
Shadows moved slowly in the quiet city, unaware death was already among them.
Adrian slipped into a narrow back street, footsteps silent against the old stone. His coat barely rustled as he moved—dark, padded, and meant for utility over flair. He spotted a lone knight ahead, leaning on his spear, helmet loose.
He closed in behind.
The Earth Knife gleamed briefly in the moonlight. Then it vanished into flesh.
He plunged it just under the right scapula, the angled steel sliding between ribs, severing the dorsal artery. The knight's lungs flooded immediately, every breath turning into a drowning gasp. Adrian wrapped an arm around the man’s chest and gently lowered him, his voice cold and calm.
"That’s your diaphragm cut. No more screaming."
He was already moving again.
Around the corner, two more knights, mid-conversation. Adrian crept low and silent. At six meters, he drew the Remington 870, stock braced tight. He aimed without hesitation.
The first blast punched through the nearest knight’s upper thigh. Bone shattered. The slug ripped through the femoral artery and exited clean. The knight dropped instantly, blood spraying the wall as he screamed.
The other turned—shield raised.
Adrian adjusted his aim and fired again. The slug hit just above the shield’s rim, directly into the neck. The force spun the knight around mid-fall, steel and blood spraying across the cobbles.
He holstered the shotgun, pulled the knife again.
A patrol was sweeping the side alleys. Adrian didn’t wait. As one knight passed beneath a balcony, he dropped behind him like a shadow. His left hand clamped the man’s mouth. His right drove the knife forward—straight through the lower back, aimed upward at a shallow angle. It slid under the ribs and pierced the abdominal aorta.
The man’s legs buckled instantly.
He let him fall face-first, motionless.
The last knight turned to the sound, sword drawn. Adrian didn’t break stride. He closed the distance as the blade came down. He ducked beneath it, caught the man’s arm mid-swing, twisted—and buried the knife under the chin, the point ramming through the soft palate and into the brainstem.
The knight's body jolted once, then fell limp in Adrian’s grip.
He let it slide to the stone.
Adrian stood for a moment, the moon casting his silhouette against the bloodied walls. The quiet hiss of spent shells rolling echoed around him. His coat fluttered slightly in the cold breeze.
He moved on—no words, no mercy, no mistakes.
Just precision.
Adrian heard the crunch of boots behind the corner—measured, cautious. Two knights stepped out, shields raised, spears steady. Their eyes locked onto him.
He didn’t flinch.
They advanced slowly. So did he.
Adrian raised the Remington 870, each step echoing like a countdown. The knights braced.
Boom.
The first slug slammed into the front knight’s shield. Wood splintered. Steel dented. The sheer kinetic force made him stumble back. Adrian pumped the shotgun with a crisp shk-chk and stepped again.
Boom.
A second slug hit the same spot. The shield cracked in half, and a chunk of hot metal tore through the knight’s shoulder. He cried out, armor flaring with blood.
Adrian kept walking.
“12-gauge, 1-ounce slug,” he muttered, almost conversational. “Low-tier, but it’ll shatter laminate, puncture steel... and bone? It punches through like wet clay.”
Boom.
The third round blasted the second knight’s shield. The slug punched a clean hole through it—and into the breastplate behind. The knight dropped his shield in shock, coughing blood.
Adrian pulled two shells from his coat pocket with practiced ease. Slide open. Eject spent shell. Load. Slide shut. Ready.
He leveled the shotgun one-handed now, close enough to see the terror in the knights’ eyes.
“These rounds aren’t for suppression,” he said coldly. “They’re for closure.”
Boom.
The first knight’s chest caved inward as the slug punched through his armor and ribs. He was thrown backward against the stone wall, collapsing in a heap.
The second staggered, weapon trembling.
Adrian stepped in, fast.
He drew his Earth Knife in the same motion and slid it under the helmet, just beneath the chin—angled perfectly upward. It severed the spine at the base of the skull.
The knight crumpled wordlessly.
Adrian reloaded again, this time slower, calmer. Three shells in. Ready.
He looked up the street—silent again.
No one came.
Only the distant clink of armor and the stillness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
