BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The forest echoed with the thunder of gunfire—not the controlled bursts of a single shooter, but a chorus of shots firing in sequence, one after another after another.
The sound rolled through the trees like waves crashing against a shore, startling birds from their nests and sending small animals scurrying deeper into the woods.
But this time, it wasn't just Luca pulling the trigger.
Dozens of elves were firing.
Rows of targets had been set up across a cleared field—proper targets with concentric circles and bullseyes, the kind Luca had summoned from his world.
They stood at a respectful distance, not too far for beginners, but far enough to require genuine aim.
In front of them, stretching in a long line, were tables covered with pistols.
And behind those tables, arranged in neat rows with military precision, stood five lines of elves for five targets.
Young ones. Old ones. Nervous ones. Excited ones.
