Chapter 122: I Need Men Part 2
At first, the volunteers were skeptical.
Most of them were farmhands, city guards, second sons, and washed-up adventurers who hadn’t made it past Bronze Rank. They didn’t come for glory—they came because something had changed. Inigo had faced a Shade and won. Word spread fast. Now twenty men and women stood in formation, their boots digging into damp grass, waiting for whatever madness the Rift-Walker had in store.
They didn’t wait long.
Inigo arrived at dawn, hauling three large crates on a flat wooden cart he and Lyra had modified with salvaged wheels. Lyra walked beside him with a parchment board in hand—drawn up to look like a military checklist. The illusion of structure mattered, even if most of it was still ad hoc.
Without a word, Inigo dropped the first crate with a thud. He popped the latches and kicked the lid open.
Inside, twenty M1911 pistols, all cleaned, oiled, and chambered in .45 ACP. Sleek, compact, deadly.
He pulled one out, held it up for all to see. "This is an M1911. Semi-automatic handgun. It’s your last line of defense and your first lesson."
He motioned to the wooden targets standing at fifteen meters. "This weapon doesn’t forgive bad aim. Squeeze the trigger—one bullet. That’s all you get if you freeze. You miss, and the enemy won’t."
Inigo raised the pistol, braced his arms, and fired. The sharp crack echoed across the clearing. A splinter burst from the wooden dummy’s chest.
Bang. Bang.
Three shots, three hits. The last one went through the dummy’s ’eye.’