I come out of my stupor, gasping, feeling the sweaty hair glued to my face. I wipe away the long black locks from my face and look around. My mouth is parched, but I can feel my heart beating on the tip of my tongue.

Am I alive?

“Hello?”

Hello?

I look up to find a man looking at me. I’m sprawled on the ground.

“Hello,” I smile. I avoid looking around for my bag. Whatever is happening, they either just went through it or if I look right away for it, they will know something is amiss.

Wait.

Hello?

I’m sure I just said ‘bonjour,’ but it came out as ‘hello?’

“I found you on the ground, you had a wound, so I gave you some of my health potion. You know, these things cost quite a bit of coin,” he says with a dark grin. It’s a burly man, tall and muscular, covered in stinky leather.

Health potion?

Looking around, I see a… forest?

Porte de la Chapelle has no forest.

Did they drug me? No. I have been under the effect before; this is not it.

“Thank you so much,” I smile warmly, “you really saved me. What are you doing here?”

I sneakily bring a hand to my gunshot wound, but I find nothing more than a little scab over it. I start getting up. My legs feel strong, not at all feeble like a few seconds ago.

This is getting freaky.

“I’m just a [Hunter], lady. We are a couple of hours away from a half-giant settlement, you know? They have one of those famous settlements just down there.”

He points toward something, and I nod along.

“Hydra’s tricks, better if I bring you to one of my outposts. What do you say, you up for some compensation?” the man smiles aggressively. When I take a better look at him, his canines almost seem protruding; his spiky air makes him look like a malnourished wolf, famished, starved for a weak prey to pounce.

I laugh merrily and nod with a wide smile, trying to comb my hair with small, shy movements. I stand up slowly, opening my fur coat and showing a good measure of cleavage above the bloodied top. As the man licks his lips hungrily, I put on my most innocent face, chin upward, and look around with raised eyebrows.

“You need the bag? It’s very heavy. The steel you were carrying is really something, though. Did you get it from the half-giants?”

Half-giants. Steel. Connection? Are they good with steel?

Am I doing this?

Half-giants? [Hunter]? Wait, why does that word sound so different when he says it?

“I made that steel,” I tell the guy, whose eyes suddenly light up.

“You a [Blacksmith]?!”

“Not exactly,” I laugh while getting closer to him in the most natural way possible.

“Right, right. Sorry for asking. Do you need to check on them? I’m not stealing them, I promise; I just thought it would be quite heavy for a lady like you. And I’m plenty sure I’ll be tiring you out soon.”

I nod, adding a little wink for his ego. I’m not even disgusted anymore. This is the kind of man I’m used to dealing with—nothing new.

Like a man who just solved a great problem, he takes out the Gucci bag full of guns from a bag that’s not even one-tenth its size – another sign I might be under the effect of drugs. It’s one of the big ones, probably twenty to thirty kilograms of guns. Maybe more. One rifle, ten handguns. Quite a bit of ammunition.

All ‘Made in France’ by your one and only.

It took a Mechanical Engineering degree, lots of stolen heavy machinery, and creativity.

As he puts the bag on the ground, I ignore it for a second, going around it to hug this man. He stinks. But I can feel him trembling, elated. He thinks something really good is coming his way. I can already feel his hands roaming around my body like every other man would have done. I smile at him, but I also push him away for now. That fans on the flames, gripping the man even more.

Less is more.

I crouch beside the bag, starting to feel quite stuffy in this sunny forest with a fur coat. I drop it from my shoulders since it will only hamper my movement. I take out one of the handguns, a Beretta model, and raise it in front of me. The barrel is straight, and there’s no damage visible to the naked eye. I take out the magazine and press on it with my finger; it works without a problem.

“Wow, it comes apart?”

I ignore the man and put the magazine back in.

There’s nothing wrong with the gun at first sight. I cock the gun and hear all the right clicks. With a bullet resting in the chamber, I stand up and smile at the man who is now checking me out even more thoroughly, as I’m not wearing the coat. All my curves are exposed by the tight crop top I’m wearing.

I turn off the safety.

As soon as I’m standing straight, I point the gun at his chest and fire two times.

Thankfully, wherever I am, guns still kill people. I look at the man agonizing in a soundless scream, already choking. Once the bullet hits the lungs, breathing becomes almost impossible and truly painful.

As I look around this weird place, a pinch of paranoia assaults me.

If the half-giants thing is true…

I shoot the guy in the head, and he immediately stops struggling. I have watched one too many paranormal horror movies. Usually, a bullet to the head is what does the trick with zombies and demons.

Usually.

…

I stare at the corpse on the ground for several minutes before patting him down and removing his clothes. I take away the small bag he had hanging from his belt. I bring it in front of my eyes, searching for anything unusual. But it looks like a rough leather bag sold by a Moroccan street-seller. It’s very small. I wonder what things he could carry inside it.

Here it goes.

I put my hand inside, trying to feel the bottom, but instead, I find myself inserting my whole arm before I have to stop. I can feel several objects and start pulling them out. Some of them are squishy. Game meat, probably. The man said he was a [Hunter].

So, it does have a lot of space inside. I’m not going crazy.

I start taking out the objects inside the bag. There’s a bow, a short sword, lots of arrows, rope, and meat. Cured meat. Fresh meat. Cured pelts, fresh pelts.

But I’m forced to freeze when a sound goes off in my head.

[Gunman Class Acquired!]

[Gunman – Level 1!]

[Skill – Bullet: Lesser Expanding Ammunition Acquired!]

My body tenses up while I clutch my weapon stiffly. What the hell is going on?

What was that?

And why can I still see it in my head?

[Gunman – Level 1]

[Bullet: Lesser Expanding Ammunition]

What the hell is this?

I look at the gun, searching for answers, but find nothing. The gun is still a gun. It doesn’t speak. The metal reflects a distorted image of me, and not even the distorted Cassandre knows the answer.

[Bullet: Lesser Expanding Ammunition]

An instinctive question: is this good?

I look at a tree and raise my gun without hesitation.

The muzzle erupts with a small explosion, and the bullet impacts the tree, leaving a larger hole than expected. I approach my target to assess the damage. The tree looks like pine, around twenty centimeters thick, give or take. The hole from this gun should be almost non-existent, invisible to the naked eye. Instead, there’s a clear patch scraped off.

I’m using a slightly modified Beretta M9 – not the most loved gun by the US military. But it does the job when you just have to kill thugs on the street. Or shoot cops. I’m not a ballistic expert, but I know that if you shoot a tree with such small ammo, there should barely be a visible dent.

I look at my gun and again at the tree. Whatever is going on, it looks more and more real by the second. I don’t think this is a dream, nor that I’m under the effect of any drug.

I return to the corpse, looking at the man’s face with attention for the first time. His skin is thoroughly tanned and slightly parched, which makes him look older than he probably is. With not much to work with, I’d say he was probably in his late twenties or early thirties. The fact that he mentioned an outpost and not his village or city means that his people shouldn’t be too close. And if he wanted to have sex with me as compensation for using a—health potion? Did he say ‘health potion’ as in video games health potion?

Even I know that much.

After I’ve emptied the entire bag, I notice a couple of small vials with red liquid inside – the famed ‘health potions’ that the man wanted to exchange for sex, it seems. At least this guy was Human. And just one. If it had been a group, even with rudimental weapons, I’m not sure I would have managed to escape in one piece without having to trade something for my survival.

I grit my teeth.

I start examining the things that I could use to survive. There’s a good deal of food, cooked and uncooked. I can use that to survive for a week. Meat, mostly. Water skins. Some little contraptions probably used for catching animals.

Traps.

Yes, I should watch out for hunters’ traps if the guy usually hunts around here. Under my feet, there’s somewhat of a path, and the man pointed toward a possible settlement of ‘half-giants.’ I wonder if it’s a figure of speech or if we are talking about literal half-giants.

Among the many things contained in the small bag, there’s a pouch full of money. Silvery and coppery coins. A few gold ones. I’m not an expert on wherever I ended up, but I’m an expert on money. And this looks like a rather poor person’s bounty. That’s why he was so ‘upset’ about the health potion.

If those things cost quite a bit of money…

I wonder if he has a family.

I frown in disgust.

If there’s one, I did them a favor. Better learn to rely on yourself instead of surviving alongside scum like this.

The woods look calm; not too much wildlife around here. If the village’s near, it makes sense.

I look at my gun and think about my new ‘Class’ again.

[Gunman – Level 1]

I can’t help but visualize it every time, trying to understand what’s happening to me. If this was a trip, it shouldn’t work so reactively. It would be hazy, confused. Instead, every time I call for the numbers, they promptly come to me without any hesitation.

I push everything inside the small bag, including my guns. I keep the one I just discharged on the man in my belt. I put the fur coat in the bag as well. The amount of blood on it doesn’t look too good. Not that my crop top is the perfect indument.

The water skins look inviting, but they will not be enough to wash the crop top. And I’m still going to get questioned anyway. The man referred to me as a [Blacksmith]. And here, again, I see the class…

I sigh.

Is this what hell looks like?

Useless thought.

I look at the man on the ground, and I start thinking about what’s my best option. If this settlement is close, someone is bound to come by sooner or later. And if they knew him, then it would be a problem; even though I don’t think anyone knew him, it still poses a risk for whatever story I’m going to make up.

Merde.

If I put the man inside the bag – if that’s even possible – I could get searched. If I dig, I’d have to dig a lot. If I don’t, animals will take care of him—that’s it. I slowly drag the man toward the forest, off the path. It’s not a good job, but what I’m going to do should help cover my tracks.

As soon as I put enough distance between me and the path, sweating and panting, I take out the big knife I took off his body. First, I cut the garment he was wearing and then, breathing slowly, his abdomen. Blood bubbles out, but the man is fresh enough that the smell is not too strong, apart from the blood itself. I’m tempted to pull his guts out with my hands, but I’m already covered in enough blood, and I don’t really want to do more explaining when I get to the settlement.

I finish the dirty deed and march away immediately.

I fish for my fur coat inside the little bag with awkwardness. I’m still not used to the difference in space. As soon as I find what I am looking for, I take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

I put one in my mouth, grimacing because of my surroundings.

I light it and inhale deeply.