My father didn’t seem to be the most rational human at first glance though I suppose that would only be something to care about if one was a human. At the very least I finally knew what my actual surname is…

I honestly never even knew I had a hyphen within my name.

Wait, would my father be so random with how he seems, the mention of a cigar hidden under the gun seems silly unless it’s hinting to something which would most likely be the boxes both have a hidden compartment. Wasting no time I pulled the first box back to inspect; pulling the two weapons out to feel along the edges revealed a slight divot. Not noticeable to an adult but enough for my little finger to sink in.

Using that little bit of leverage - I managed to pull the ‘floor’ of the crate out - in order to reveal what looked like another book. The title of this wasn’t even trying to be interesting as it proudly stated in black letters upon a black cover “Languages Understand, Purpose & Creation” which made me feel sleepy just from reading it.

Knowing my mommy would no doubt be useful; she always loved hiding things that were immensely powerful but to think my father would help like this.

Perhaps I didn’t fall too far from the tree?

Soon my eyes laid upon that ‘useless weapon’ once more; with narrowed eyes now that I couldn’t help thinking about my supposed father. Just then my new father spoke up, making me turn to see him still casually looking at his holopad. Him still scrolling through the news. “Your father was at a level with their revolvers that I can’t even compare them to a gold medalist in comparison.”

I wonder if I could be that talented?

Makes one wonder just what exactly the system is-

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<< Answer to {query}.[“Just what exactly is the system”] From {user}.[Armor-Cordis Mantis] >>

<< When One Refers To System They Usually Refer to [REDACTED] But There Is Also The System Which Will Be/Was Introduced To The Humans Of [REDACTED] Trapped In [REDACTED]; {user} Likely Refers To {software}.[BITCH] For Which Query Was Made To >>

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What… So what that has told me is the system isn’t the same as the previous one which was used with Love Heart Online but something new for myself?

Although it wasn’t a lot, it was still very useful information, just like the fact it could answer my thoughts unlike what I knew from that other system.

In comparison - it could be stated that the system I know from my past life was less efficient - it requires one to call out commands… Not that I will think any. I do not wish to be bombarded by notification messages at the moment. Speaking of that system; this was probably the second one redacted which begs the question what the initial system being mentioned was.

One may find it surprising that the ‘BITCH’ knew all about a ‘game’ that didn’t exist thus consider my hypnosis incorrect yet that “Will Be/Was” could be considered a dead giveaway.

This also suggested this ‘father’ of mine was responsible for the game… Intriguing.

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<< {software}.[BITCH] Was A Specialised Version Made From The Blueprints of [REDACTED] Which Were Also Used To Make The Exact System {user} Theorised Called {software}.[Project_Third_Child] >>

<< This Specialised System Uses {user}’s Nature As A Half-Energy Based Lifeform To Implant A Set Of Instructions Using {item}.[Transplanted Rapid Assimilation Protocol (TRAP)] Onto {user} To Aid In Understanding Growth >>

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Is that it?

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<< Just Grab The Practice Revolver Already >>

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…

Alright then.

“Is something wrong?” My adoptive father said from behind - making me turn to look toward him to see a tinge of worry in his gaze. Likely misunderstanding my silence; simply offering him a bright smile caused any anxiety to wash away from him. “Am fwine fawther -  jus’ twinking!”

Still, there was a lot to think about such as the information that I was now a supposed “half-energy based life form” which begetted a lot of following questions. I was certain that I was a human in my first life and that belief had been strengthened with the cooperation from those two from HERO; who helpfully splayed my guts across the persian rug.

This simple, off hand, comment from the BITCH did greatly help me confirm some worries I myself have developed with this new body such as why I didn’t breath. That gem on my forehead likely wasn’t an ornament yet its purpose alluded me for now.

At this moment I should just focus right in front of me; more questions would be a useful way to pass dinner with the family.

For now… It’s time to see just how good genetics are.

Slowly lowering my hand I felt the coldness of the weapon against my skin allowing me to realise that it felt more like a plastic chassis than a metallic one. This was probably to lighten the weight of the gun, however, lifting it up from its foam prison was satisfying. The weight is still quite hefty for my little hands.

Right at that moment I heard a pleasant *ding* similar to the ones mentioned in interviews with players all the while a flashing message appeared in my peripheral vision.

<>Notification<>
<>Notification<>
<>Notification<>
<>Notification<>

Although I wished to go ahead with trying out my new toy, I also found my curiosity getting the better of myself, hence couldn’t help letting that notification reveal its secrets to me. Once more using that system window that was steadily growing to be familiar to me.

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<< Obtained {weapon}+{class-item}.[Baby’s Erste Schusswaffe] >>

<< Unlocked & Equipped {class}.[Baby Gunslinger]  >>

<< Gained {skill}.[Ameliorating Gun (Talent)] >>

<< Gained {skill}.[Range Finder (Passive)] >>

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So the surprises keep growing…

Even if it told me that it was based on the game’s system and its purpose was clearly to help in having me trained up for the coming chaos, that was different from seeing this. Obviously I understand the enormous benefit this provided me over everyone else who existed (not only other players) nevertheless I had to carefully decide how to best make use of this in the future.

I decided to unhesitantly ignore looking more into that to instead lift the firearm, or as I now know thanks to the notification, [Baby’s Erste Schusswaffe] while overlooking the range. Turning over my shoulder I looked at dad with a grin on my face. “Am gowna twy et out!”

“Go ahead.” He said gruffly - in a kind of snort - howbeit still continued to watch over me eagerly yet obviously still very much filled with caution.

There was hardly a need for me to agonise over this, so, I narrowed my gaze over the various targets located within the field in front of me. Evidently there were a lot of both circular, person & animal shaped targets with the ‘critical spots’ clearly marked upon them with various crimson circles. Each target at a different range as well as height no doubt to give the best test possible.

Somehow I instinctively knew just the things to be aware of with holding my gun; releasing my grasp to not shake my grip while bending my arm & shoulder slightly. Ensuring no part of my arm was tensed but still guaranteeing the recoil doesn’t get out of control - allowing easy follow up shots in addition to establishing better accuracy.

BITCH was even showing its worth as I somehow instinctively understood the direction that the wind currents were coming from, strength of those currents, gravity, distance in addition much more. It wasn’t overpowering & certainly wasn’t something someone would be unable to figure out by themselves with no equipment. Even if not to the same degree of precision.

That didn’t mean I could just pick up a gun, fire said firearm and then expect that I would hit a target miles away with complete ease.

Far more went into firing accurately. Yet I had a feeling that the previously mentioned feat would be possible after three test shots. Believing this, I pointed my gun towards a fairly close circular target which I fired at with a rather light *PAM!* that was so light ear protection wouldn’t even be needed. A pink trail of smoke actually followed behind the bullet. This trail was seemingly added by my birth father… That whole ‘father’ thing was starting to get confusing so I’ll just refer to my adoptive father as daddy like a rich daughter would.

Anyway, the trail greatly helped view the path the bullet travelled thus allowing me to make meaningful adjustments to my training, not that I needed to. The bullet was only ever so slightly off the mark to the fact that one wouldn’t even notice it - my fath- daddy gasped upon seeing I hit a bullseye on the first try.

That wasn’t enough for me, though, since it was only a target a few metres away.

“Prodigy…” I heard mumbling from behind. Nonetheless I paid little attention to him for once; truthfully I found great enjoyment in changing my stance ever slightly to see the effect on my next shot. This time I went for one a few hundred metres at.

A difficult shot even for someone experienced never mind with a gun like the one I was using - having a very slow bullet speed (negatively impacting not just range but accuracy).

Bringing my thumb to the hammer I heard a satisfying *click* as it turned the cylinder for the next bullet to take its rightful place. A sound that was soon masked as I softly pressed upon that trigger; not pressing down but lightly squeezing.

*PAM!*

All in all I think I did quite well considering the bullet, although not hitting the centre of the target, managed to hit the right side of the fourth ring out of ten.

At this point, daddy was audibly gawking at the possibility that a five year old girl was even able to hit a target that far away. Although merely hitting “close to the centre” wasn’t impressive enough for me - there was still clear room for improvement based on this.

Turning my [Baby’s Erste Schusswaffe] I aimed for a target (between the other two) in order to trial what I learned from the two extremes in order to see a clear improvement. Following another *click**PAM!* I saw that pink trail fly out to hit the centre of the target nevertheless there was something else that I wanted to try.

“You’re more gifted than even your father!” For once I heard genuine unmasked pride & joy from daddy but I did not reply to him with more than a grin.

Swivelling back to do my ‘final test’.

I brought my other hand forward to rest over the hammer - squaring my stance with eyes narrowed to the targets in the distance. Finding some good animal & person shaped targets I decided to waste no time. My left palm moved down to feather that hammer with a satisfying *click* as I also held that trigger down this time.

Sure enough a *PAM!* echoed out the muzzle -I didn’t take time to ensure I hit ‘the bird’ I aimed at - as I  alternatively moved the barrel to point toward a wolf shaped target. Pulling my left hand back once more to create a *clink* followed by a *PAM!* due to not lifting my hand from the trigger of the gun; again turning my revolver’s snout toward a target.

The third target was humanoid but I paid it no mind; still this third time didn’t work so well as my left hand had ended up getting lost during pulling back the hammer the second time. This cost precious time as I was forced to readjust regardless that nice *click* was followed by a *PAM!* before (yet again) turning to what may have been a target based on a big cat of some variety.

Due to repositioning my hand, I got that immediate responsive *clink* then…

*click* *click* *click*

“Ah… Et mus’ ‘ave been a siwx shoo’er not eiwt…” My shock over my own stupidity had even caused me to unconsciously mutter. The obvious misconception I had made would certainly have been costly if this was some kind of real scenario whether a competition or gunfight.

Still, I did not stay stuck up on that, since it would be a problem I would iron out with time. Instead I turned around to look at daddy whose eyes were practically gleaming. Immediately I wanted any advice he could give me since his hobby obviously lined up with my new found one - not to mention that Porshi had quite the extensive firearms division maybe due to that.

They weren’t the number one weapons manufacturer in the world yet they had a sizable chunk of the market.

Thus, he must have certainly known his way around the world of lead.

Sure enough, after shaking himself out of his stupor, he returned to his usual austere-self as he overlooked the sight of my handiwork. Making me admittedly nervous. His hollow pad, which he was no doubt using to check work emails, was long gone back into his breast pocket to focus entirely reviewing my performance like a seasoned coach. “First of all; you should holster a gun you no longer intend to fire.”

“Ah!” Hurriedly, I tried to holster the revolver. Obviously I wasn’t wearing one - nor did I get one - so I found myself looking around before shoving it back into the box.

In the corner of my eye - I saw a twinge in the corner of his lips that he soon suppressed before I continued on with his evaluation of my performance. “First three shots were fine as you wiped your arse after the second one with the fourth also being fairly good. But, the problems started after that. The fifth shot nearly missed the target and if it were an actual wolf it would have charged you down to chew you up into pulp; you would have only made it angrier by grazing it like that. As for the sixth shot…”

He visibly winced in disgust before continuing on.

“That was nothing short of an amateurish mistake which would have gotten you laughed out of any event you took place in. Ignoring the fact you even tried to make a seventh shot, something I’ll ensure you fix, you clearly hesitated in transition to make sure you didn’t make the same mistake. Don’t. Do. That. It just shows a lack of confidence!

Instead you should focus on training so that it doesn’t happen in the future.”

“Yes daddy!” I replied despite his harsh criteria - which would likely have reduced a normal five year old into an endless stream of tears. Daddy, of course, knew I was tougher than that hence didn’t hesitate to tell it how it was in order to absolutely ensure you get rid of my bad habits.

He showed pause upon hearing me call him ‘daddy’ but there was no sign of refusal - something he would no doubt give if needed - hence we were in the green for the distinction between the two. Rather than complain, he actually moved his left wrist up at the same time as pulling his cuffs down to reveal a rather fancy watch (Porshi branded of course).

“It is time for dinner. I’ll need to discuss something with the rest of the family yet, if we have time, I’ll show you how to maintain a firearm afterwards.” Sternly telling me as he turned towards the manner without looking at me; I showed no hesitation in grabbing my boxes to follow behind.

“Yes daddy!” I, once again, exclaimed merrily.