Lysander's finger hovered over the [Guardian's Amulet], but he suddenly pulled his hand back. He frowned, his stomach letting out a low, angry growl.
"Wait," he muttered, stepping back from the hologram.
He looked at Erebos resting against the cave wall. The sword was powerful, yes. It made him immortal in battle. But there was a flaw.
"You eat everything," Lysander accused the sword. "Every time I kill something, you turn the meat into dust and drink the energy. I haven't chewed real meat in a week. I'm sick of eating these watery System Fruits. I'm a warrior, not a vegetarian."
He turned back to the System.
"System, change of plans. I need a secondary weapon. Something Ranged. And something that doesn't dissolve my dinner."
Whirrr...
[SEARCHING: RANGED WEAPONRY]
[CRITERIA: HIGH DAMAGE / MANA COMPATIBLE]
The shop list refreshed. Bows and crossbows flickered past, but then, the list stopped on a singular, glowing item.
[THE ANOMALY]
[ITEM FOUND]
[Name: Twin-Star Mana Revolvers]
[Rank: A]
[Type: Dual-Wielding / Ranged]
[Price: 12,000 SP]
Two sleek, matte-black handguns with gold runic engravings along the barrels. They didn't look like jagged fantasy metal; they looked precise, mechanical, and futuristic.
Ammo: Mana. (Does not require physical bullets. Condenses the user's mana into compressed bolts of destruction).
[GUNS IN A SWORD WORLD?]
Lysander's eyes widened. He leaned in closer, staring at the hologram in disbelief.
"Pistols?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion. "System... are you
malfunctioning?"
He gestured to the jungle outside.
"This is a Fantasy World. There are Knights, Mages, and Dragons. People use swords and staffs. Since when do Guns exist in this timeline?"
He looked at the description again.
"And how do they even shoot? Where would I find gunpowder or bullets in the Abyssal Wilds?"
Ding!
"Master, you are correct. In this specific world—on this planet—technology like this does not exist. The civilizations here are limited to steel and basic magic."
"However, the System Shop is not limited by the geography of this world."
"These weapons are from a 'Lost Era'—or perhaps, a different dimension entirely. They do not use gunpowder. They use your Mana Pool."
"You act as the battery. The guns act as the focus. They compress your magic into a projectile faster than sound."
[THE PURCHASE]
Lysander looked at the spinning image of the revolvers. A slow grin spread across his face.
"So, while everyone else is chanting spells or drawing bowstrings..." Lysander whispered, mimicking a shooting motion with his hand. "I can just double-tap them from a distance."
It was unfair. It was broken. And he loved it.
"Rank A," he noted the high tier. "These will hit harder than any arrow."
He checked his SP balance [24,651]
[Price: 12,000]
[Remaining: 12,651]
It was half his fortune, but the advantage of having a long-range weapon that ran on his infinite Mana recovery was too good to pass up.
"System," Lysander commanded, his hunger forgotten for a moment.
"Buy them."
ZAP.
Two heavy, cold weights materialized in his hands. The Twin-Star Revolvers. They hummed with a low, blue energy. Lysander spun them around his fingers, feeling the perfect balance.
"Now," he smirked, looking at the jungle.
"Let's see who is faster. Your magic... or my trigger."
Lysander weighed the heavy, matte-black revolvers in his hands. They felt perfect, but he had a problem. He couldn't wield two guns and a massive greatsword at the same time.
He looked at Erebos, which was resting heavily against his shoulder.
"I can't carry everything," he muttered. "If I want to shoot, I need my hands free."
Ding!
"Master, place Erebos in your Inventory. You can summon it instantly with a thought. Use the Twin-Star Revolvers for hunting and long-range engagement. Switch to Erebos only when you need to devour a soul or fight in close quarters."
Lysander nodded. "Makes sense. Surprise is a weapon too."
"Inventory."
A dark ripple appeared in the air. He slid the massive greatsword into the dimensional storage. It vanished, leaving him feeling lighter and faster. He holstered the two magical pistols at his hips.
He looked down at himself. The Night-Viper Armor had seen better days. It was scorched from the Python's breath, cracked from the Mantis's strike, and the chest plate was deeply gouged where the Spider Queen had stabbed him.
"System," Lysander commanded, touching the deep scratch on his ribs. "Scan the armor. How bad is the damage? I can't go into the Tower wearing scrap metal."
Whirrr...
A blue grid scanned his body from head to toe.
[Item: Night-Viper Light Armor]
[Rank-D]
[Overall Integrity: 64%] (Critical Condition)
[Chest Plate: Structural fracture detected](Defense reduced by 40%).
[Left Gauntlet: Corroded by acid]
[Boots: Worn down from high-speed friction]
[Cloak: Shredded]
[REPAIR CALCULATION]
[To restore the armor to 100% integrity using System nanites]
[Cost: 850 SP]
Lysander frowned. "850 Points? That's expensive for a repair job."
He sighed, checking his remaining balance.
[Current Balance: 12,651 SP]
[Whatever. Money is meant to be spent. If this armor breaks in the middle of a fight, I'm dead]
"Repair it"
Ding!
[-850 SP Deducted]
[Remaining Balance: 11,801 SP]
A silver light enveloped his body.
Hiss...
The metal groaned as the dents popped back out. The melted leather wove itself back together. The shredded cloak stitched itself into a pristine black fabric.
In three seconds, the armor looked brand new, shining under the cave light.
Lysander clenched his restored gauntlets.
"Good," he said, adjusting his collar. "Guns loaded. Sword packed. Armor fixed."
Lysander stepped out of the cave into the sunlight. The Twin-Star Revolvers felt cool and heavy in his hands.
"I can't walk into the Tower without knowing how these handle," he muttered. "I need a target."
He scanned the tree line. About fifty meters away, a Steel-Tusk Boar (Rank E) was rooting around in the dirt. It was a weak monster, covered in thick fur and hard leather. Perfect.
Lysander didn't sneak. He just raised his right hand, aiming the black barrel at the boar.
"Let's see what Rank A firepower looks like."
He pushed a tiny amount of Mana into the grip. The gold runes on the gun glowed bright blue.
PHEW.
There was no explosion. No gunpowder bang. Just the sound of air being ripped apart.
A beam of condensed azure energy shot out of the barrel. It traveled instantly.
SPLAT
The Boar didn't even squeal. The upper half of its body simply vanished. The energy bolt tore through the monster, traveled another hundred meters, and blew a hole through a massive oak tree behind it.
[TARGET ELIMINATED]
[+10 SP]
Lysander lowered the gun, his eyes wide.
"No recoil," he noted, looking at the smoking barrel. "And it pierced a tree like it was butter. It's silent, fast, and devastating"
He holstered the guns, a confident smirk returning to his face. He looked at the deep jungle where the stronger monsters lived.
"If I run into something I can't kill..." he thought, visualizing his escape route. "I still have Shadow Flash. If a Titan or a Dragon shows up, I'll just teleport back to the cave instantly."
He patted the revolvers.
"I have the range. I have the escape plan. I'm ready."
The jungle didn't just get quiet; it held its breath.
Lysander walked toward the Tower, his boots crushing dry leaves with a rhythmic crunch. He wasn't hiding anymore. At Level 30, with Stats over 70, hiding was for prey. He was the apex predator now.
Suddenly, the sunlight died.
A massive shadow swept over the canopy, blotting out the sun. The air pressure dropped instantly, replaced by a foul, rotting stench.
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!
A screech loud enough to shatter glass echoed from the heavens. Lysander stopped and looked up. The sky was infested.
[Target: Iron-Feather Harpies]
[Rank D]
[Count: 40]
They were hideous—flying nightmares with the starved bodies of women and the wings of vultures. Their talons weren't bone; they were organic steel, sharp enough to slice through plate armor like wet paper. They dove in a synchronized formation, a falling wall of blades aiming to shred Lysander into ribbons.
In the past, Lysander would have panicked. A sword is useless against enemies that strike from the clouds.
But today? A cold, arrogant smirk cut across his face.
"Perfect," he whispered. "Target practice."
CLICK
His hands moved faster than the eye could follow. The Twin-Star Revolvers materialized in his grip. He didn't take a stance. He didn't aim with one eye closed.
With Intelligence his mind processed the battlefield like a supercomputer. He saw the trajectory of every diving monster, calculated the wind speed, and locked onto forty targets simultaneously.
"Dance"
He channeled his Mana. The gold runes on the black barrels flared with blinding azure light.
PHEW-PHEW-PHEW-PHEW!
It wasn't a gunfight. It was a massacre.
The Eclipse revolvers didn't fire bullets; they fired condensed beams of pure destruction. The first Harpy didn't even realize it was dead. The blue beam hit its chest and expanded, blowing the monster's entire torso into a cloud of red mist and black feathers.
The swarm screamed in rage and accelerated. Lysander didn't retreat an inch.
He began the Death Waltz.
With Agility, he was a blur.
A Harpy swiped at his throat. He leaned back—matrix style—letting the talon miss his nose by a millimeter. While leaning back, he raised both guns and fired upside down.
SPLAT. SPLAT.
Two Harpies behind him exploded.
He jumped, spinning like a tornado in mid-air. His arms were crossed, firing in opposite directions. The revolvers hissed rhythmically, sending streaks of blue lightning tearing through the canopy.
It was a symphony of violence.
One shot, one kill. No recoil. No reloading. Just an endless stream of high-ranking magical damage.
CRASH.
A Harpy tried to flank him. Lysander didn't even look. He shoved the barrel of the left revolver into its screaming mouth and pulled the trigger.
BOOM
The back of its head vanished.
Within sixty seconds, the sky was clear.
The only sound left was the wet thud, thud, thud of forty broken bodies hitting the forest floor. The air smelled of ozone and burnt meat.
Lysander landed softly on his feet, his black coat settling around him. The revolvers were smoking, the blue light slowly fading from the runes.
He spun the guns around his fingers—a blur of black steel—and holstered them with a synchronized CLACK.
"Rank D monsters..." he scoffed, kicking a severed wing out of his path. "You shouldn't have brought claws to a gunfight."