The Conceptual Marksman’s Five Shots

The six members of the Eternal Life Society were taken aback.

They had been poised for Yodel to begin his incantations, utterly unprepared for the Divine Scion of Holy Light to unleash a cold shot instead of divine radiance.

A bullet fired from such a distance could only be dodged by a combatant of bishop-level prowess, like Yelica; the transcendent in question clearly lacked such capabilities.

Yet, the transcendent was not one to passively await his demise.

With a mere flicker of thought, several black vines erupted from beneath the earth, intertwining rapidly to form a formidable shield directly in front of him.

Despite the hurried construction leaving some visible gaps, the likelihood of a bullet, fired from fifty meters, threading those narrow, finger-width openings to strike the transcendent concealed behind the shield was practically nonexistent.

A soft ‘whoosh’ was the only sound as the bullet impacted the vine shield.

To the astonishment of all watching, the vine shield, though initially unmoving, began to slowly collapse and dissolve.

Behind it, the cultist’s body swayed precariously before pitching backward.

A crimson stain spread rapidly from his head, dyeing the earth, while a stark bullet hole, centered precisely on his forehead, stood out with gruesome clarity.

****

“This…”

Balin and Yelica were simultaneously plunged into bewilderment.

They were utterly convinced it had been nothing more than a common rifle bullet, utterly mundane, and seemingly devoid of any transcendent influence.

Nevertheless, this seemingly casual shot had claimed the life of a crucial combatant from the Eternal Life Society.

Yelica had engaged them for half the day without inflicting a single casualty, yet Yodel had instantly eliminated one within minutes of his arrival.

A pressing question now confronted Balin: had the transcendent simply been extraordinarily unlucky, or did Yodel, as a Divine Scion, wield some unique, potent ability?

As Balin grappled with a mind full of apprehension, Yodel, in stark contrast, was secretly amused.

In a peculiar sense, his shot had indeed been a casual, uncalculated gamble, for he had not relied on any aiming device when he fired.

The true reason behind his ability to deliver a precise, fatal blow was, in fact, remarkably straightforward.

Before pulling the trigger, Yodel would roughly align the muzzle with his target, then give the gun a casual, two-flick shake.

The instant the barrel settled into a position that conjured a ‘death illusion’ over the target, he would fire.

The appearance of the death illusion signified an absolute certainty: aiming the barrel at that precise spot would invariably result in the target’s demise.

Yodel’s only task was to squeeze the trigger.

Regardless of how misaligned the muzzle or how outlandish the bullet’s path, the target was destined to perish precisely as foretold by the death illusion.

Such was the formidable power of a conceptual deity.

The cultist’s desperate, dying defense proved utterly futile; even the very motion of raising the vine shield for protection had been preordained and displayed within the death illusion.

From the very instant the gun fired, his fate was sealed; he was already dead.

This, then, was Yodel’s singular and deadly aiming technique.

Having inverted the application of the death illusion, what was once a divine life-saving skill had been transmuted into a lethal blade wielded by Yodel.

Pulling back the bolt, Yodel chambered another bullet, his gaze already sweeping the battlefield for his next unsuspecting victim.

Learning from the grim fate of his predecessor, the next ‘lucky’ cultist, targeted by Yodel, immediately began to weave erratically, darting left and right, accelerating and decelerating, twisting and turning with desperate agility.

‘If I can’t block it, can’t I at least dodge?’

Yet, his efforts proved utterly futile.

Yodel’s gun tracked his movements with two casual flicks, and once more, the trigger was squeezed the instant the illusion materialized.

The gunshot reverberated across the chaotic battlefield.

The cultist, still frantically weaving to avoid detection, felt a sudden tightening in his chest upon hearing the shot and instantly accelerated, desperately trying to outrun the bullet.

In a cruel twist of fate, this desperate burst of speed propelled him directly into the bullet’s trajectory.

The cultist’s head ‘opened wide’ (TL Note: A humorous euphemism for a fatal headshot, implying a messy death), and he instantly collapsed, falling into an eternal slumber.

****

The Eternal Life Society suffered another casualty, shifting the odds to two against four.

Apart from their leader, Balin, the remaining three cultists had already blanched with terror.

While the first shot might have been dismissed as a teammate’s misfortune, this second, undeniable kill solidified the grim truth: to be targeted by Yodel was to be condemned to certain death.

The chilling click of a chambered bullet echoed once more, sending the Eternal Life Society’s transcendents scattering backward like startled birds.

Yelica, observing from the side, found her perception of Yodel utterly transformed.

She had initially presumed that despite Yodel’s sharp intellect and esteemed status, his combat prowess would undoubtedly fall short of her own.

Now, however, it was glaringly apparent that he had simply not been fighting in earnest.

With two members already fallen, Balin grimly acknowledged that any further stalemate would culminate in their complete annihilation.

He had no choice but to charge forward, hoping to disrupt Yodel’s deadly rhythm.

Yet, the overwhelming threat emanating from Yodel caused Balin to momentarily forget Yelica’s presence.

Yelica, a veteran of countless battles, instantly discerned Balin’s intent to engage Yodel.

Seizing the moment of the Eternal Life Society’s disarray, she too surged forward, cutting off Balin.

Having previously handled six opponents with effortless grace, Yelica now held an undeniable advantage in her duel with Balin.

Employing a triple assault of physical combat, martial techniques, and spells, she battered Balin relentlessly, forcing him to commit his full attention to their engagement, leaving him no opportunity to concern himself with Yodel.

This turn of events presented Yodel with optimal conditions for unleashing his deadly assault.

Had the three remaining transcendents of the Eternal Life Society united their efforts, coordinating an assault to encircle Yodel and disrupt his aim, they might have conceivably created some genuine difficulties for him.

Instead, faced with impending doom, they scattered, each fending for themselves, inadvertently making it simpler for Yodel to pick them off individually.

Two minutes.

Collectively, the three individuals endured a mere two minutes against Yodel’s relentless gunfire.

Two attempted to resist head-on and met the swiftest end.

One, caught mid-incantation, was struck in the back of the head by a bullet that had ricocheted off a nearby wall.

The other, attempting to raise a shield, was instantly felled by a single, perfectly placed shot that exploited a fatal flaw in his defense.

The individual who chose to flee, however, consumed the most of Yodel’s time.

After Yodel had dispatched the other two, this cultist, fighting and retreating simultaneously, had managed to put more than two hundred meters between himself and the Divine Scion.

Yodel spent a considerable moment aligning his shot before the death illusion finally materialized, yet, predictably, the outcome remained an instantaneous, single-shot kill.

Each fallen cultist bore only a single gunshot wound, yet every shot had found its mark precisely in a vital area.

Were General Melson to witness such a display, he would undoubtedly be on his knees, imploring Yodel to assume the role of a shooting instructor.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, Balin was plunged into near despair upon hearing three more gunshots.

He didn’t need to turn to know that he was now left to fight a solitary, hopeless battle.

A mere ten minutes prior, he had been convinced of their imminent victory, envisioning the Eternal Life Society’s glorious resurgence.

Yet, in those ten brutal minutes, Yodel had brutally demonstrated to Balin precisely how five well-aimed shots could utterly dismantle a dream of revival.

His sole remaining impetus to continue fighting was the primal terror of death itself.

He knew with chilling certainty that even surrender would not spare him; the Divine Scion would never allow him to live.

In the unyielding view of the Chant Church, there existed only dead cultists and those who deserved to be dead.

Yelica’s mood, in stark contrast, was one of unbridled exhilaration.

Brandishing her scripture and staff, she relentlessly harried Balin, battering him into a cowering, desperate retreat.

Having just endured a humiliating group assault, her pent-up frustration had been considerable.

Now, witnessing Yodel single-handedly dispatch five opponents, she felt an immense, satisfying release.

“Well done!” she exclaimed.

“Leave this one to me; I’ll finish him within three minutes!”

As she spoke, she slammed a basketball-sized orb of holy fire directly into Balin’s face.

With a deafening explosion, Balin was sent hurtling ten meters backward.

“Very well,” Yodel acknowledged with a nod.

“Be careful.”

He had initially planned to personally claim Balin’s head, thereby fulfilling Thanatos’s mission.

Upon reflection, however, he reasoned that having Yelica deliver the killing blow would likely still count towards completing the mission.

Given Thanatos’s nature, she was unlikely to quibble over such a technicality.

Despite his decision not to intervene, Yodel still raised his rifle and aimed, a flicker of curiosity prompting him to observe if a death illusion would manifest over Balin.