The Fear of the Chicago Typewriter

As announced in advance, today we'll be sparring using our unique armaments.

Under Instructor Ji Suhyun's guidance, we moved to the arena inside the academy. This place incorporated every technology of the era without exaggeration. According to the game lore, the arena twisted space using mana stones, allowing pain but no injuries. In other words, it was nearly impossible to die inside.

"Instructor, I have a question. The number of classmates from yesterday seems much smaller... Was there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some kind of problem?"

Sure enough, the people gathered in the arena now were far fewer than yesterday. If there had been about 20 yesterday... now there were around 12?

"After yesterday's events, I transferred out everyone deemed unfit for our class. Does that answer your question?"

"...Yes. Thank you."

So, getting sent to that uninhabited island yesterday was indeed the test. Her words weren't a joke. To think she'd reassign students after classes were set... Only someone like Ji Suhyun could pull that off.

"The unique armaments you'll handle from today are literally armaments—weapons. Tools necessary for combat."

With that, she snapped her fingers, and the ring on her index finger gleamed, transforming into a purple automatic pistol. That was Ji Suhyun's unique armament.

"In other words, the tools you're holding now can kill people depending on the situation."

Her voice turned chillingly cold as she aimed the pistol at us. At the same time, the students' faces stiffened in terror. Like me, they all recognized her unique armament as a "weapon that kills people."

Ji Suhyun watched our reactions impassively, then spread her hand wide, making the pistol vanish with a smirk.

"But they're also tools to protect your bodies from enemies."

She gestured behind her.

"This is a place designed to help you use those armaments efficiently and proficiently in combat. So, I trust you won't do anything stupid here, at least. Now, draw your unique armaments."

Following Ji Suhyun's order, all 12 students present drew their unique armaments. Guns, swords, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠staffs, bows, spears, wands—the works. Every kind of weapon imaginable.

And among them, the one boasting the most overwhelming presence was a black, hefty barrel with a drum magazine. A luxurious wooden stock and grip. The Thompson submachine gun, aka the Chicago Typewriter. As it appeared, all eyes turned to me—or rather, to my Tommy.

"...Han Yujin. What the hell is that?"

Even Ji Suhyun looked dumbfounded, as if she hadn't expected me to bring something like this.

"My unique armament."

"You know the drawbacks of gun-type unique armaments, right?"

"The rifling spins the bullet, dispersing the mana on it faster."

Of course, this stemmed from the age-old tradition that "guns can't hold mana." But per that setting, mana just didn't stick well to bullets—it still lingered somewhat.

"You know your stuff. And you're still planning to use a gun?"

"Yes. I like guns."

Ji Suhyun raised the corner of her mouth in a faint smile, as if to say fair enough.

"Then no problem. Everyone's drawn theirs, so let's begin. Who wants to demonstrate first?"

In the silence, I raised my hand.

"...Han Yujin? Alright, any preferred opponent?"

I nodded and placed a hand on Jinwoo Bivalt's shoulder beside me.

"This guy."

"Huh? Already?"

He hadn't expected to go first, looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quite flustered. Ji Suhyun, however, nodded approvingly.

"Jinwoo Bivalt, huh. Fine. Both of you, enter the field."

"Y-Yes? Oh, right!"

Flustered by her words, Jinwoo dashed into the field. The dagger in his hand was probably his unique relic. I quietly picked up my Tommy—[Al Capone's Tommy]—and stepped in after him.

"Hey, you're really facing me with that old relic? Does it even work?"

Those words triggered it. My smartphone vibrated, and a new quest alert popped up.

Oh, it connects like this? Glancing at him, he was spinning his dagger mockingly.

Indeed, my [Al Capone's Tommy] looked like an antique relic. But relics weren't just old junk—they held mystical power. He clearly didn't know that.

Top relics from each nation went to their affiliated heroes first. Why would the son of the Bivalt family have seen one?

"Fine, feel it for yourself."

Don't know relics? Then get shot.

Whoosh—whoosh—the instructor's voice echoed from the field speakers.

"Yes, ready."

"Yep~"

Before starting, I tucked the stock under my arm, chambered a round, and aimed at Jinwoo.

That must be the signal.

"Let's see who's better."

"Yesterday's workout was a bit intense, so let's end it quick."

"Don't underestimate me!"

Jinwoo gripped his dagger reverse and charged. Me? I just held the Tommy two-handed and pulled the trigger.

─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!

The barrel spat red flashes wildly, jumping like mad, the typewriter clatter echoing through the arena.

"You crazy—!!"

Unlike normal guns, [Al Capone's Tommy] fired my mana as bullets. No need to reload until my mana ran out.

And that's not all. Its extra effect:

[3. Mafia Exclusive: This weapon is a symbol of the mafia. Wearer affiliated with mafia gains overall ability boost.]

Thanks to that, near-zero recoil let me hose him down relentlessly.

─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!/─!

The field filled with gunsmoke in seconds. I eased off the trigger, and silence fell like the noise had been a lie.

"Jinwoo Bivalt?"

No response from the haze. Instead:

I tilted my head. Already over? The smoke cleared to reveal Jinwoo sprawled on the ground, clothes in tatters.

Less than 10 seconds of firing? Enough to knock him out cold?

Following orders, I slung the Tommy and approached.

"...You okay?"

"..."

No answer, eyes rolled back—passed out from pain, probably. Chest rising and falling, so fine.

I hoisted him over one shoulder and exited. Eyes from the crowd: fear, respect, shock.

As I stood absorbing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, Ji Suhyun approached and eyed Jinwoo.

"Sigh, passing out in the arena? Been a while."

"...What should I do with him?"

"Him? Just dump him in the infirmary. No real damage here—just pain-induced blackout."

As expected. But a problem:

"...I don't know where the infirmary is."

"Oh? Right, you're newbies."

She muttered, then called an academy staffer. Jinwoo was carried off.

Sighing at the sight, Ji Suhyun shook her head in disbelief.

"Out in 1 second, unconscious in 3, pummeled senseless for 7. Wow."

...Was I too harsh? A twinge of guilt.

"Han Yujin."

"Yes."

She called me with a sigh.

"...What the hell did that guy give you?"

"...Pardon?"

"Your father. Handing a national treasure relic to his academy kid... Was he sane?"

Calling the Calione family boss "that guy" meant she knew my father personally.

"...I earned this with my own ability. No help from Father."

"...What? Not from your father? Something that powerful?"

"Yes, solely my own power."

...With a little Calione help, but hey, I am Calione.

"...Hah, if you say so. Fine, good work. Next time, show me without the unique armament."

"Will do."

"...Boring."

She muttered, turning away dismissively. Guess I'll ask Father about her connection.

Then—

Bzzz—the quest completion chimed.

"...For real?"