Chapter 35
Gun and team
After another 2 hours of hearing more about the horrible and dangerous Deadline creatures and how to survive them, it was finally time for IAM to try out his mech.he makes his way to physical class after the 30 minutes.
He enters the colossal room, eyes scanning the split space. The right side is a white space, clean and bright, while the left side is basically a full gym. Noisy and chaotic. He doesn't hesitate. He immediately heads toward Riley while Kepa and the rest of the group begin their routines. Some are warming up, stretching out sore limbs or bouncing in place. Others go straight into practice fighting, letting off an array of punches and kicks, some even mixing in knees and elbows. A few let off a flicker of path abilities—rare, but eye-catching, even if brief.
"Hey…" IAM says, his voice casual but eager.
"Oh, it's you..." Riley responds, sunglasses gleaming under the overhead lights. His sleeveless hoodie shows off the dense, packed mass of muscle in his biceps and triceps. Each arm looks like it was carved from rock.
"Yeah, I would like to use the—"
"Oh shit. You formed your avien." Riley's face breaks into an evil grin. "That means I don't have to hold back so much anymore."
IAM feels his whole body react, a sudden awareness in his posture. His butt tenses up and his blood pressure spikes.
"I'd... rather not," IAM says, trying to deflect quickly. "Anyways, I would like to use the mech test area."
"Oh, OK. What mech are you using?"
"A gun."
"A gun? Do you have experience with one?"
"No."
"What..."
"First time I've ever even seen one."
"...Wow. Yeah, great. I want to smack the shit out of you."
"I don't want to be white!?"
"Huh?" Riley pauses, confused.
"Don't worry, they get it," IAM says, looking up and to the side with a smile, as if speaking to someone beyond the walls.
"You look like an idiot right now."
"And you look like someone's big toe."
"And you're going to feel something called consequences for your actions later."
"Wait wait wa—"
But it's too late. After a few rounds of IAM begging, Riley leads him over to a corner of the white room. The area looks plain, almost like a part of the wall, but IAM spots a blue pad next to what looks like a seamless white surface. A hidden door.
Riley presses his hand against the pad. With a low mechanical sound, the door slides open, revealing a new space beyond.
Inside are at least 20 steel mannequins, spaced about ten meters apart. This was clearly designed for people with cold weapons—swords, spears, anything that needed direct engagement. Twenty others are already in position, some holding their weapons while others test footwork or stances. After a while, Riley would rotate them out and bring in another batch to train.
IAM doesn't stop there. There's another door further inside, this one marked by a yellow pad. Riley walks up, places his palm on it, and the door slides open smoothly. Behind it is a shooting range.
Fifteen shooting spots. Targets lined up ahead. A control pad next to each spot that allows the user to change the distance, activate moving targets, or adjust the conditions. It's quiet in here—calm, almost surgical in its design.
Six others are present. All of them have bows. IAM is the only one with a gun.
"Alright, knock yourself out," Riley says as he turns to leave. Then he pauses. "And IAM? There's a training program on the pad. Beginner-level stuff. It'll walk you through the basics. Since you've got an avien now, you don't need to stress too much about recoil. Your body can take it."
IAM nods. Doesn't say much. Watches Riley walk out the door, leaving the soft hum of the range behind. The other six archers are already spaced out, stringing their bows, testing their stance, taking careful shots.
IAM heads to the far end, the last open shooting lane. He sets down the package and opens it. Inside is a sleek metal case and a box that holds the bullets, with a separate maintenance box tucked to the side.
Taking a deep breath, IAM opens the metal box. Inside is a holster, matte black and custom-fit, and next to it is the mech that will be aiding IAM in keeping his life intact.
He stares.
The frame resembles a Glock 18, though the barrel is slightly longer. It has a traditional trigger, but on that trigger is a tiny red needle—where IAM is supposed to channel mana to fire the bullet at incredible speeds and with insane force. It's automatic. A standard Glock 18 holds 33 rounds, and this one looks no different in that respect. Sleek. Fully black. Just the red needle on the trigger giving it a touch of ominous elegance. A small button on the side for dropping the magazine cleanly.
IAM picks it up.
And it feels... Right . Like a missing piece of him just clicked into place. A long-lost limb returned. It fits in his palm like it was made for him—heavy but balanced. He breathes out slowly. This wasn't just a tool. It was a partner.
He touches a few buttons on the control pad. The target moves to 15 meters out.
Even though Riley said recoil wouldn't be an issue now that his body was reinforced, IAM still holds the weapon with two hands. Just in case.
His eyes lock on the target. He doesn't rush. He lets the moment build. His breathing slows. Then he squeezes the trigger.
A small prick of pain on his finger from the mana point. But he doesn't use mana yet, he had to be experienced in using the mech first.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Four quick shots. The mech lets out a loud, sharp sound, smoke drifting out the barrel. IAM's wrist aches slightly. Just a bit of soreness. Nothing serious—but a clear sign of inexperience.
He grins. Then checks the results.
Not a single shot had hit.
"What the fuck! That is quite literally impossible... I... can't be that bad, right..?"
He looks around. The other archers glance over briefly. Shocked not by the power of the mech but by the lack of skill.
IAM sighs heavily.
"Well... there's always a first time for everything."
He looks down again at the gun. The masterpiece in his hand. The craftsmanship is undeniable. He has to thank Raj later. This was art. A weapon built with intention.
"I kinda want to name it..." he mumbles. "Can't think of one yet... but I'm going to give it a badass name for sure."
He spends the next hour practicing. Repetition makes perfect.
Then class ends.
And Riley returns with that same evil grin. And IAM, as expected, is sentenced to an ass-smacking so intense that even his reinforced body feels like a wet rag afterward.
IAM limps out of the training area. His hoodie is half off, his face looks like he's been through war. Every step he takes is full of pain and regret. 30 minutes later and slightly recorded, he makes his way to the path class.
When he reaches the door, he sees something new. A notice pinned just beside the entrance to the path class.
Class will be canceled today. Make your way to the mission station. You have been assigned to a team.
IAM stares at the message. His eyebrows rise.
"No way...."