Aaron dropped into the dugout next to Ceiro, just as gunfire cracked across the range. The sharp scent of powder hit his nose. Training had already begun. He could feel Theon's heartbeat speeding up—just before the twin thunder of another two shots rang out.

He looked at Ceiro, who was loading the weapons beside him. A simple latch secured the breechloaders. Two bonded slaves stood behind them at a control terminal. Aaron glanced at the stack of earthen disks and pulleys. The pop-up targets and mock cover positions before him made him grin. Looks like we're not just shooting scarecrows today. From the look of the pop-ups and cover, this is closer to urban skirmish training—nothing like the stand-and-shoot of most drills.

"Ready?" murmured Ceiro, his eyes fixed on the firing targets.

Aaron simply braced his guns into his shoulder. Ceiro threw him a disdainful look and did the same. Two targets sprang up twenty steps from them. Human faces with terrified and angry expressions were painted on the wooden dummies. Aaron shook his head. At least we're not using live targets.

He took aim over the iron sights and curled his finger around the first trigger, easing it back until the pressure stiffened beneath his fingertip. He smiled grimly, recalling fond memories of military training. At least firearms seem to operate on the same principles as back in my time.

He held his breath and pulled the trigger, aiming for the target's gut as he'd been taught by one particularly characterful sergeant. If I recall correctly, he always said headshots were useless. A gut-shot screamer gives you more targets.

He pulled through the resistance, and the thunderous gun kicked into his shoulder like a mule. Aaron winced in surprise. Guess they have a bit more kick than 5.56 NATO rounds. Fucking hell.

He rubbed at his shoulder, earning a contemptuous sniff from Ceiro. Aaron took a deep breath. I will not rise to the bait. We're both armed, and he has already attacked me.

He lifted the gun again and took aim at the second target. The next shot cracked the air again, hammering his shoulder. Two down. Plenty more to go.

Aaron pulled open the latch and shoved two new sabot rounds into. This time, only one target rose, which he nailed instantly. Getting used to this recoil.

Just as Aaron was adjusting to the rhythm of static targets, a loud clank echoed from behind—then two clay discs flew overhead, arcing toward the far side of the range. Aaron's head swiveled back to the bonded slave behind him. Ceiro's weapon boomed and one of the discs splintered. Aaron took aim, but the disc was already forty steps downrange. He tensed—and missed.

He stared forlornly at the projectile as it crashed to the ground. I need to concentrate.

Something small and black whirled over his head. What—his instincts screamed danger, and his vision narrowed.

"Edict's wrath!" was all he heard before Ceiro barreled into him. Aaron tensed and clenched his teeth. He snarled like an animal as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle. This bastard!

Aaron brought the butt of his gun down and Ceiro yelped, parrying with the twin barrels of his own weapon. Aaron brought his knee up and hit his rival straight in the groin. Ceiro rolled off him, groaning in pain. Got—

A thunderous explosion flashed brightly over the gun range. Aaron yelped and let go of the weapon, his hand shooting to his burning eyes. Please, not again.

Incandescent spots danced in his vision. He felt his head hitting the trampled soil. He groaned as the world swayed around him. Pained laughter made its way through the shrill beeping in his ears. Ceiro… did he try to save me?

The thought struck Aaron like another blast. He blinked rapidly, the world a swirl of tears and guilt—

Then a voice screamed in the distance. "Blink rapidly, breathe deeply, and beat your hands onto the ground!"

Aaron shook himself with a growl and compiled without thinking. Between tears and fresh air, the world turned normal again. Ceiro sat across from him against the earthen cover, his face a grotesque mask of pain and amusement.

"Welcome back, Champion. I take it you did not expect the stun grenade?" He chuckled, then winced in pain, his hand pressed to his abdomen. "At least I failed to save you from the detonation, you mother-cursed bastard."

Aaron felt heat rise to his face. He tried to save me. Despite everything. And I kicked him in the balls.

Aaron coughed, guilt tightening his throat. "I didn't know… Sorry."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Ceiro sniffed and used his gun to get back up. Aaron pressed his lips together as he saw the other man hunched over, still in pain. "Ceiro, I didn't know—with everything, I thought you just attacked me." Aaron failed to meet his eyes.

Ceiro sneered. "If I wanted to attack you, I'd have shot you in the back of the head."

Aaron's gut clenched. That wasn't a threat. It was a truth. There was no malice in the voice. Just a simple statement of fact. The cold pragmatism was terrifying.

Aaron shook his head and reloaded alongside him.

"Well, with everything you've done—first Rhea, then Kendia, then that attack where…" Aaron smiled with angry satisfaction. "You shot your arm. Glad to see you got permission to regrow it, by the way." Venom had crept into Aaron's tone.

Ceiro froze mid-reload. "Kendia? Never heard that name."

Real danger heated Aaron's chest. And then he relaxed, getting the gun into a ready position. Ceiro tensed. "Oh, just the slave girl you tried to rape."

Ceiro narrowed his eyebrows. "Why would I rape a girl? I'm interested in men."

Aaron froze. Wait—what?

The insult died in his throat as his mind raced. Kendia... did she lie to me? Or did I just never see it? Is he fucking with me? Kendia… is more than she seems. That's what the midmage said.

Ceiro laughed. "What, Champion? A little bit of homosexuality too much for your barbarian culture?"

Aaron took a deep breath. I need to sort this out with her. Maybe ask Lyra. But what does this—

Lenora jumped down into their fighting position. "You two are supposed to shoot flechettes, not words."

Her smile was infectious. Aaron found himself fixated on her freckles. Ceiro opened his mouth, but Betir jumped in beside her. He threw a cautious look at the still-hunched-over Ceiro. "Go train with your lover, Albastis. I am to assist the Champion."

Ceiro spat on the ground and climbed out of the hole. Only Aaron saw the finger he raised to Betir's back. Good riddance.

Aaron shook himself like a wet dog. Lenora shook her head. "What an unpleasant person. May the Mother take him soon."

Aaron grumbled in agreement as Betir helped him up. "So, I assume he failed to explain the rules?"

Aaron nodded, still fighting the aftermath of the explosion.

After a brief explanation, the session fell into a rhythm. Shoot, cover, reload. Aaron lost himself in the thunder of his gun. Despite the recoil, his shoulder didn't hurt. Must be my resistance attribute coming in clutch.

Over time, he even managed to hit a few of the stone discs.

He flinched when Lenora touched his shoulder. Her giggle sounded like bells in the rain as her hand lingered. "Let us have a short break. I want to talk a bit."

Aaron blinked his eyes until the words registered. "Sorry, I must have gotten lost in the shooting."

Betir sloped his shoulder. "It is fun, isn't it? A shame. I am a Lifemage, not an abstract one."

"So, how did I do?"

Lenora tilted her head. "Your world has different firearms, does it?"

Aaron smiled ruefully. "Yes. In my world, our weapons carry dozens of shots. And our training was a lot more formal."

Betir squeezed his arm. "What would be the point of formal training? War isn't formal." He frowned. "If I may make a suggestion?"

"Sure, shoot," Aaron said and groaned before the confused expressions even settled on the faces of his allies. "I meant go ahead and tell me."

Betir laughed. "Ready your smoothbore. Operator, throw a disc at my command."

Lenor and Betir exchanged a glance, and Lenor stepped behind Aaron, leaning into his back. She wrapped her arms around him and placed her hand on the weapon. Aaron's heartbeat sped up even further as he could feel her breath tingling his ear.

"You're chasing the target—don't follow, lead it. That's why you have a hard time hitting them," she whispered in a sensuous tone.

"Ready?" asked Betir.

Aaron nodded. The first disc flew. Aaron let the ironsight trace the arcing path calmly with Lenor's guidance. Then he squeezed the trigger. The disc shattered with a thunderous explosion. Yes!

Lenor giggled and bit his ear. Aaron froze, a pleasant shiver running over his skin. Aaron laughed—nervous, unsure if she was playing a game or setting a hook. She retreated, and both of the others laughed. Lenor came to his side like a cat looking to be petted.

"Thanks for… that," stammered Aaron. He exhaled slowly, letting the gun's heat cool with his heartbeat.

"The pleasure was mine," she replied playfully. "Let me show you another trick. This is photomancy."

She put her hand under the double barrels and closed her eyes. Light burst from her fingers—photomancy, the art of radiance, often used for lances or signals—coalescing into a focused glow. Aaron was only half observing the magic, being too busy studying her with a smile. It's been way too long.

When the light dimmed, she took her hand off the gun. A black cylinder as big as a finger hung under the barrel. The clear crystal tip glowed with red light. Aaron chuckled as he saw the dot of laser light on the face of a target he pointed the gun at. He stifled a grin. A laser pointer—mundane, but unsettlingly precise.

Lenora poked his biceps. "So, what do you think? Isn't it great?"

Aaron swallowed his amusement and nodded thoughtfully. Advanced optics targeting. These people may seem primitive, but I can't forget that their magic gives them odd technological advantages.

He gave her a challenging grin. "That depends on the accuracy of your work, doesn't it?"

He aimed and shot. The hole appeared a finger's breadth above the laser dot. Aaron whistled in appreciation, and a smile bloomed on Lenor's face. Betir had watched them shoot, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Behind them, Betir's voice cut in. "So, how about a competition, oh mighty champion?"

Aaron grinned. "So you think you have a chance against me with the upgrade?"

Betir laughed out loud. "With that, it might become a slight challenge!"

Aaron grinned, cocked the gun, and stepped into the duel.

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