Chapter 5: I Need Ammo, Dammit

"Plan or no plan... I gotta do something."
—Meisatsu Kanezuka

The dirt road outside the Beetho Explorer’s Guild had seen countless battles over the decades, but today was different. Today marked the debut of a Hero—the moment that would eventually echo across the kingdom.

Naturally, the entire guild had gathered to watch. Men and women of every age jostled for a better view. Shopkeepers leaned out their windows, children perched on barrels, and even passing travelers paused to see what all the commotion was about.

In the middle of the road, Meisatsu Kanezuka and Ikusade Umare stood locked in a silent standoff, eyes fixed on each other.

It felt almost... cinematic.

From the corner of his left eye, Meisatsu spotted an elderly chef waddling around with a crate balanced precariously on his shoulder.

“Fresh popcorn!” the old man called, his voice quivering with greedy excitement. “Get your fresh popcorn! A once-in-a-generation Hero battle needs the perfect snack!”

...So there’s popcorn in this world too? Meisatsu thought, bewildered.

Someone nearby began whistling what sounded suspiciously like a Western movie theme. As if summoned by fate itself, a single tumbleweed rolled across the road, stirring a small puff of dust around their feet.

WESTERN STANDOFF!

Then—

“ENOUGH!”

Umare’s voice shattered the mood. The music stopped, and the onlookers fell silent all at once.

With deliberate calm, the veteran reached for his sheath and drew his rather impressive longsword in a single smooth motion.

The blade gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight—a weapon that looked both elegant and devastating.

He leveled the tip toward Meisatsu’s chest.

“All right, Mr. Hero,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me give you a little heads-up before you embarrass yourself. My name is Umare Ikusade—but you can call me Umare for short.”

He tilted his head, his expression lazy, almost bored.

“I’m Level 25. An Explorer specializing in swordsmanship and mid-level magic. Also the fifth strongest member of this guild. I’ll be gracious enough to hold back for your sake. Not that it’ll help you.”

He rolled one shoulder with a faint crack.

“I’ll be using physical enhancement magic only. The rules are simple: there aren’t any. Come at me however you like.”

He pointed the blade steadily at Meisatsu.

Meisatsu felt sweat prickling the back of his neck. His mind raced, heart thumping as reality set in.

Oh crap—I totally forgot I only have one shot left. Stupid, Meisatsu... stupid!

Despite the cold panic rising in his chest, he clenched his jaw and raised his Glock in what he hoped was a dramatic flourish.

“I am the Gun Hero,” he declared, voice cracking only a little, “and with my Glock in hand, I shall prevail!”

From the sidelines, Ayame cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Get him, Meisatsu! Kick his sorry ass! Show them what my little brother’s made of!”

A ripple of laughter and murmurs rolled through the crowd.

Meisatsu tried not to let it distract him. His arm trembled slightly as he leveled the gun at Umare.

If I fire this at his shoulder... can he really stop it? What if it hits something vital? Would he survive? This world has healing magic, right? I mean, it should, but still...

Before he could talk himself out of it, Umare’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t take me so lightly, runt,” he said. “The battles I’ve survived are a thousand times harsher than whatever pathetic stunt you’re about to pull. Hurry it up. You’re boring me.”

Heat flared in Meisatsu’s chest. His hands stopped shaking.

Fine. You asked for it.

He took a steadying breath, aimed for Umare’s left shoulder—and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

Birds scattered in every direction. Half the crowd clapped their hands over their ears.

Time seemed to slow.

Then—CLANG.

Meisatsu’s eyes went wide. The bullet hadn’t even grazed Umare. He’d deflected it—deflected it—by rotating his wrist and catching the shot against the flat of his sword. The projectile squished against the tempered steel and fell to the dirt with a pathetic thud.

Whaaaaaaaaat?!

His mind reeled.

That bullet should have been going nearly the speed of sound—how did he—

But before he could process the thought, Umare vanished. A blur of motion closed the gap in an instant.

CRACK.

A solid fist buried itself in Meisatsu’s gut, hard enough to lift him onto his toes. His breath whooshed out in a single choked gasp, and he coughed a fleck of blood onto the dirt.

Umare’s voice was calm, almost pitying.

“If you want to hit me… you’re going to need a lot more power than that measly display.”

Meisatsu collapsed to his knees, gasping for air—his first real injury in this life. In his previous shut-in existence, he’d never known pain that made his vision blur.

Umare turned his back and slowly walked to where he’d started, taking his time. He knew that if he wanted any fun out of this fight, he needed to give the so-called “Hero” room to get up—and he was right on the money.

Behind him, he could feel Meisatsu Kanezuka writhing. Not from pain... but from the overwhelming desire to overcome him.

Damn him! Looking at me all smug like that...

If I just had more ammo, I’d wipe that look right off your face, Meisatsu thought, glaring sharply at his seemingly unbeatable opponent.

Among the crowd, one girl wasn’t cheering. She wasn’t excited. She was seething.

It was Ayame.

How dare he lay his hands on my little brother… He must die.

Blue lightning crackled across her raised hand as she fixed her gaze on Umare, preparing to unleash her wrath.

But before she could strike, a female Explorer in her mid-twenties seized her wrist in a firm grip.

“You should have more faith in him,” the woman said evenly. “If he really is worthy of being the Hero, he’ll be just fine. So try giving him a chance to grow.”

Meisatsu slammed his left fist onto the ground and, with a ragged shout, declared—

“GIVE ME AMMO!!!”

Instantly, metallic clanking echoed from his Glock. He popped out the magazine—and nearly dropped it in disbelief.

It was fully loaded.

He pushed himself to his feet, still wobbly from the gut punch. Dusting himself off caused a little dust cloud to form around him as he squared his shoulders and locked eyes with Umare.

“The real fight starts now,” he said, his trademark grin spreading across his face. “Believe me... I’ll wipe the floor with you.”