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I Reincarnated Inside My Novel as an Anomaly

An 26-year-old aspiring writer, passionate about weaving reincarnation plots into his novels, suddenly found himself awake in a world that was not his own. The unexpected occurred: he had not only reincarnated but did so within the very work he had written. He believed himself to be a mere extra, an insignificant character in the vastness of his creation, but the reality was different. He was a mistake, a slip of fate, a survivor who should have perished within the pages of his story. His existence was a paradox, an anomaly that did not go unnoticed by the laws governing that universe. And now, as a flaw in the fabric of reality, he was about to trigger a cataclysmic collapse that could shake the foundations of the world he had imagined.

Superfabinho · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
23 Chs

Shooting Range [2]

"I had already expected that the top 231 would come to me asking for a ranked duel. But what I hadn't imagined was that it would be so soon and that she would be such a beautiful woman in that way.

It even gives me a twinge of pity to put my plan into practice...

Still at lunchtime, I started walking towards the training center. There, there was a shooting range where I would practice.

Upon getting inside, I could notice several looks and people pointing at me while they mocked my two pistols in my holster."

The training center was a huge white space with blue details. It had several arenas, although smaller than the traditional battle arena. Inside the arenas, it was possible to see people fighting, but with less intensity, after all, it was training.

I continued my way to the shooting range, eager to practice my skills. However, upon arrival, I was met with an unpleasant surprise: the door was locked. Why on earth was it locked?

Keeping calm, I approached a training center employee and requested access to the shooting range. The surprised look I received in return was so intense that it could rival the discovery that Santa Claus was just a legend.

Despite the reaction, I obtained the key and instructions from the employee, emphasizing the need to always lock the stand when leaving. He repeated this requirement several times, as if trying to engrave it in my mind.

Now, I found myself alone at the shooting range. The facility was somewhat "antiquated" compared to the technology available today.

But what really caught my attention there was the vast arsenal of weapons. They were hung on the wall like war trophies, each more imposing than the last.

Faced with such a sight, I couldn't help but think that all that stockpile of firearms seemed to have been placed there especially for me. After all, as the only one in the academy to use firearms, wouldn't it be fair to claim them as mine, right?

Of course, I would have to discuss this matter with the superiors of the battle academy later... if it proved necessary.

As I contemplated the arsenal, housed in a room within the wall, I couldn't resist the smile that formed on my face upon spotting the famous Colt M4 Carbine rifle. A relic from my old world. It was almost like finding an old friend in the midst of an unfamiliar place.

Taking the weapon off the wall, I delicately placed my nose to smell it. Beyond the characteristic metallic scent, there was a freshness, as if the gun had never been used before.

Next to the arsenal of weapons was the ammunition arsenal, a room filled with magazines of all types and sizes on shelves, plus dozens of boxes of ammunition on the floor, each specifying the caliber.

Selecting a magazine from the shelf, I opened the box marked with the caliber 5.56x45mm. Upon opening, a smile escaped my lips at the sight of the abundance of ammunition inside.

It seemed that I wouldn't need to spend my own money on weapons and ammunition after all, as I had everything I needed right there. It was as if the entire arsenal had been made especially for me. It was indeed mine.

"Let's go, darling, let's see what you're capable of," I murmured to myself as I loaded the weapon.

With the ammunition fitted into the magazine and the magazine inserted into the M4, I took a firm stance and aimed at the human-shaped metal target ten meters away. With each shot, I felt a wave of confidence coursing through my body.

One shot, two shots, three shots, four, five, six...

The shots were precise, hitting the target directly in the head. The accuracy of my aim was impressive, something not common for someone like me, but it was something I had suspected...

But I wanted to increase the challenge, so I adjusted the target to fifty meters. Now, the head of the target seemed minuscule compared to before. However, I remained confident as I aimed and began firing.

One shot, two shots, three, four, five...

After emptying the magazine, I moved my eye away from the iron sight and observed the target. The metal head was perforated by a series of perfectly aligned holes. There wasn't a single shot that had missed the target.

That sight was truly exceptional, and I had suspected it from the first moment I saw it.

Ever since I was transported to this world, everything seemed different. My perception, my senses, even the way my muscles moved, and above all, my mind.

While watching people train with swords, a strange feeling invaded me. I noticed small errors in their movements, as if I could anticipate their actions and imagine ways to do differently. But it was curious, I had never handled a sword in my life, so how could I think that way?

Perhaps it was the muscle memory of this body and brain that I now inhabited. Nam-Sam, the former owner of this body, was probably an expert in shooting and hand-to-hand combat with various weapons. This prior experience would explain why I had no difficulty hitting the head of a target fifty meters away.

I turned my head to examine the arsenal, pondering which weapon to test next.

There was a variety of them, but I decided it was time to try out my two pistols. I leaned my head forward, focusing on the target fifty meters away, but something caught my attention.

The metal head of the target was intact, without the hole I had caused after a series of shots in the same spot. The paint that marked the previous shots was still there, as if the hole had never existed. This left me intrigued. "If this is common metal, how did it 'regenerate' out of nowhere?"

I remained there, pondering the strange situation before me. However, considering the numerous bizarre situations I had already experienced, the fact that the metal returned to its previous state seemed to be the least of the eccentricities I needed to worry about.

Taking one of the M1911s from the holster, loaded with seven bullets, I began to fire...

***

Author's note:

Author here 👋

Tell me what you think of the beginning of the story!