The Strongest Gun Magus: I Cast Bullet!-Chapter 38: Once-In-A-Decade Opportunity To Die

The bullets hit Orlan in the upper torso, tearing his robe and flesh. He staggered and fell to his knee, but still released an arrow at Reynard.

The armor blocked it, too. The ripples were inconsequential.

Reynard holstered the pistols and pulled out another pair.

Orlan desperately tried to shoot at them, but even they were protected by the Spirit Armor.

BANG!

"Gah!"

Orlan fell to the ground, abandoning his Molten Bow to clutch the fresh wounds in his stomach. Without his mana, the Molten Bow turned into a cloud of smoke.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as Reynard approached his opponent and pulled out one more gun.

Orlan raised his hands again, trying to cast something, but Reynard just pinned one of his wrists to the ground with his boot. He aimed and shot.

BANG!

Reynard could almost hear the shattering of Orlan’s Inner Athanor. A bloody spot was spreading over Orlan’s solar plexus, where Reynard’s bullet had just gone.

Orlan screamed as his aura destabilized and his mana poured out.

The crowd finally exploded with noises: cheers of those who won their bets, shouts of outrage from others, and general exclamations of shock.

The Magister gestured for a healer to check on Orlan. The one-sided runic dome let the man in.

"So, I didn’t wreck him too badly?" Reynard asked when the healer bent over his enemy.

"Don’t distract me, boy... Yes, he should live. But your weapons are disgusting—do you know how troublesome it will be to fish these steel balls out of the patient’s flesh? You are as bad as poison magi."

Reynard chuckled sheepishly.

"Uh... Too bad, I guess I will make a laser gun next time? Actually—"

He stopped talking when he saw the Magister rising from his seat. Around the arena, the voices went quieter, too.

"The victor is Reynard Artemy! And the loser, Orlan Malervan, loses his Inner Athanor and will be expelled from the Blue Bismuth School, because he can’t study magic anymore. It’s a loss for us, but it’s a loss that forges stronger magi that will push our school to greater heights."

Magister Bartholomew stroked his beard, and the students understood that the speech wasn’t over yet. His powerful presence forced the last whispers around the arena to go silent.

"Adversity forges talent, and Artemy here is proof of it. Although he started as a mere orphan without kin, he was generously taken in by the Blue Bismuth School. Recently, Artemy showed a lot of combat mastery both in duels and by winning the Autumn Beast Hunt... Then, he used his rewards most masterfully, reaching the Albedo stage and learning a new spell in record time. Thus, I feel that as a reward for his achievement, he deserves a special opportunity."

Glares full of envy fell on Reynard at such praise, but he barely noticed them.

He was staring at the Magister with a sinking feeling in his gut. Although the old man was good at pretending to be a wise mentor... Reynard didn’t like that he was being singled out like that.

Not one bit.

"I don’t deserve anything special, Magister!" Reynard tried to protest, going for extra humility. He even bowed. "There are countless others who deserve opportunities much more. Who knows how far they will go with them? Like..."

Reynard glanced around the spectators in the arena.

"Carl! I saw him so bravely fighting against the Singing Spider—even if he lost, he had the ferocity of a dozen angered cats!"

Carl’s jaw fell open. He closed his mouth again, then opened it again... Finally, he looked at the Magister with the same confusion.

The man had no idea why Reynard would praise him, and so shamelessly to boot.

But the Magister only frowned.

"Humility is a virtue, but the Blue Bismuth School has limited resources. The best only goes to the best! You, Reynard, will take the once-in-a-decade opportunity to enter the Four-Moon Realm. It’s an ancient trove of treasures left to the Blue Bismuth School by an ancestor. Once every ten years, it opens, letting a single person step inside, prove his worthiness, and return with great rewards. Usually, this honor is saved for the teachers who have proved themselves with decades of service to the Blue Bismuth School, but for you, I have decided to make an exception. In a month, the Four-Moon Realm Gates will open, and you will enter them."

The intensity of envious glares thrown at Reynard has intensified.

Bartholomew’s assistant teacher nodded sagely.

"Yes, it’s a great honor! Don’t you even think to refuse such a golden opportunity—that would be a grave offense against the entire school. Even the Spirit Armor spell you use has been brought from the Four-Moon Realm!"

Reynard looked up at the Magister blankly for a moment.

Then...

’Shit. I should at least pretend that I bought his bullshit! Ugh... But he’s sending me to my death, I am absolutely sure! A realm only for teachers? Well, I am only a First Cycle Albedo! Its traps and monsters will swallow me without chewing. But I have to smile, smile, smile... Imagine tits! Huge, bouncing tits! And thick ass! Extra thicc! A dozen girls, all saying they love me!’

With tremendous effort, Reynard smiled broadly.

"I am... so shocked and thankful, Magister! I... I am so shocked, I feel faint. Can... Can I actually leave the arena, now?"

Bartholomew gave Reynard a stern (murderous?) gaze and made a pass with his hand. The runic dome around the arena dissipated.

"Go! And show the Blue Bismuth School how great its students are. We all will be watching."

Immediately, people went to Reynard and Orlan with commentaries, questions, congratulations, and accusations.

A lot of the latter were, "How could the Magister have given such an opportunity to YOU, of all people! I want it too!"

Reynard ignored everyone, even Terence, and simply marched through the crowd to his private garden. His Spirit Armor still protected him.

There was a single insistent thought in his head...

’There’s no way out of this, isn’t there?’