A gifted cripple

Azure crystal lamps flickered in the distance, hovering overhead like curious fireflies as a throng of impatient onlookers watched on.

In the middle of a circular training arena, a young boy with a frown on his face tightened his trembling grip on a smoking revolver. He looked lean and weak and his cheeks were flushed like dying roses.

Despite wearing a furry red cloak over his jacket, he could feel the biting cold wind chilling his bones as it swept the arena from the east.

A spectral white wolf flickered behind him like an enormous shadow. It loomed over his head for a few seconds before dissipating into thin air.

“Get lost, you pathetic cripple!”

“Enough of this shit show!”

“He’s just a useless loser!”

The disappointed booing from the flock of eager onlookers pierced his chest amidst shouts of mockery. And it was all due to his failure to hit the floating targets.

"Magic talent level E, magic power: 29%!" a loud voice sounded as if taunting him. "Shooting score 2/10, missed most of the targets. Lord Ezra Romanov has failed the test," added the voice flatly.

The mechanical voice of the instructor in charge of conducting the test announced to all the people of Aranor gathered around the arena.

The young white-haired boy had once again received a disappointing shooting score, dashing all his hopes of honoring his family name.

Although Ezra's magic level far exceeded that of all the youngsters in the town, it all seemed in vain as every shot he fired from his trembling hand kept missing its intended target.

As Ezra tried to calm his thundering heart which kept pounding inside his chest, the people around him chuckled and looked at him with disdain.

“Ahh, nothing has changed at all. He is still the same loser. We are just wasting our time watching him fail again and again,” one of the young boy’s youngest uncles mocked, turning his face away from the poor wretch.

Despite being a blood relative of Ezra, his uncle missed no chance to mock his effort, and to take things even further, he even urged his friends to join the fun.

Even the common citizens in the town of Aranor laughed at Ezra because of his incompetence, which was in stark contrast to the mastery he had displayed during his younger days.

At that time he had been hailed as a prodigy, but now fate that fate had clipped his wings, the people around him missed no chance to mock him.

"Watching this training for so long is beyond boring. Especially when you are forced to watch that loser brandishing a gun with his deformed hand. How can a worthless cripple like him be at level E?" scoffed one of the men with a loud voice, pointing at the young boy.

From his expensive clothes and brand new, custom-made gun slung around his waist it was clear that this young fellow belonged to one of the more affluent families. And his tone clearly suggested he hated Ezra with all his heart.

He was none other than Jasenki Morelis, the oldest boy in the Morelis household, a family of snobbish aristocrats who deemed everyone else below them.

Jasenki’s loud words jolted Ezra's heart, who still felt the vibration in his hand. He looked down with a lean face, and his mind immediately flew to the past, remembering his glory days. The past where his hand had not been deformed.

Everything seemed so perfect every day at that time. He thought his future would be bright with the many praises that had been heaped on him in the past because of his gifted magic shooting efficiency.

But now Ezra realized how unfair life was and clenched his fist so tightly that his nails dug into his skin. "You guys are all worthless hyprocrits. I never asked you all to place me on a pedestal in the past!" he thought resentfully.

Consumed by rage, he wanted to lash out at the onlookers, but he knew it would only earn him more mockery. And he did not want to make a bigger fool of himself.

Taking a few deep breaths, he steadied his heartbeat and relaxed his clenched fist. By now, he had realized he could do nothing but accept his result.

But the loud booing of the crowd drove him mad once again.

“That’s it. Get out of here, you loser! It’s been the same all year round!” a young man shouted.

“You’ll never amount to anything. Better become a night guard or a stable-hand,” an elderly gentleman scoffed.

“You can also serve me as my butler. Perhaps you will even learn a thing or two from me,” Jasenki jeered in a condescending tone.

Ezra was about to lose his temper when suddenly the appearance of a second shooter hushed the babbling tongues and silenced the rowdy crowd.

The one who had graced them with his presence was none other than Ramel Romanov, the second shooter and the third genius in the Romanov family. Behind him was a spectral eagle with a wingspan of over twenty meters.

The sight of the ominous bird was enough to strike awe in the hearts of the onlookers. The Spectral Companion, which clung to Ramel like a shadow was a manifestation of his indomitable spirit and proof of his noble birth and mastery over magic.

F level, magic power: 85% with a shooting score of 8 power crystals!" The instructor's voice again boomed out Ramel Romanov's score aloud.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers and shouts of encouragement as they heard the result.

“Now that’s a real sharpshooter!”

“Truly, a gifted noble!”

Ezra always saw Ramel as his true competitor, but the situation had changed completely after his accident. In his current crippled state, Ezra could never dream of beating Ramel at shooting.

Ramel knew this as well and missed no chance to show off. Even now, he could be seen grinning at Ezra and giving him a condescending side-eye.

However, Ramel, being the more reserved and refined man, he kept the mockery to a minimum and let his followers believe that he truly felt sorry for his younger brother, Ezra.

“Sir Ramel is truly a genius. I bet one day he will even best their father!”

“You said it! Sir Ramel might even become one of the Ace Shooters in Aranor someday!”

Ramel was happy to receive the high praise from the crowd, and his enjoyment was doubled because the same crowd had been booing Ezra a while back.

“I always knew you never deserved father’s praise. The people can now see you’re nothing more than a lame rookie. And soon father will realize it too,” Ramel sneered as he left the arena without sparing Ezra a second glance.

In the past, Ramel and Ezra had always competed as equals in every shooting contest, but now that Ezra had been reduced to a helpless cripple, Ramel no longer considered him to be his rival.

“He is too pathetic to even hold his gun properly. I suppose I should not even bother competing with that loser,” Ramel quipped as he walked out of the stadium, followed by a train of excited fans.

The crowd was still gossiping about Ramel when the third shooter performed a feat so incredible that the instructor himself cheered at the top of his lungs.

“Aurelia Romanov has set a new record! Magic talent level F with a magic power of 96%!” he shouted. “She just shot down all ten power crystals!”

Everyone who heard that was amazed. Aurelia's score exceeded even Ramel's. The gorgeous woman didn't just capture their hearts with her beauty but managed to claim the number one position in this shooting exercise.

Unlike her brothers, Aurelia’s Spectral Companion wasn’t a beast or a bird, but a blindfolded angel with a dazzling white aura, armed with a sword and a shield. It was one of the rarest mystical entities, and rumor even had it that she had stolen a sacred relic to acquire it.

It wasn’t uncommon for aristocrats to be accompanied by powerful Spectral Companions which were passed down the generations through some family heirloom.

These rare spirits granted the user special abilities, which they could use once every day. Additionally, they also conferred unique buffs to their magic shooting skills.

However, even the commoners could tell that Aurelia’s Spectral Companions hadn’t been in her family.

This was the reason why both strangers and friends kept their distance from Aurelia and often looked at her suspiciously, doubting her true motives. But despite everything, no one could doubt her proficiency with guns.

"She's exceptional!”

“A true crack shot!”

The same praise repeated from the mouths of the young men in Aranor.

Even so, amidst the chaos of the audience's admiration for Aurelia, many hissed nasty remarks about her from the other side.

"I can't believe she still supports Ezra. I’m sure she has been using her influence to keep Ezra in contention for becoming a Gunner," whispered one voice amidst the hordes who despised Aurelia Federico's existence.

"I bet she is conspiring with Ezra to prevent Sir Ramel from rising to the top," said another.

Although the untrue rumors spread gradually, many still doubted Aurelia. Even some judges in charge of the test looked at each other and nodded.

"I consider Ezra quite worthy. It's more than enough to be able to break through immediately at the E-class shooter level. What about you? Do you still think he is an undeserving candidate?" asked the middle-aged woman dressed in a long black skirt paired with a white top and a broad-rimmed black fedora. “How many in this town do you think possessed such talent from a young age?”

The middle-aged man in charge of the testing put his pen down. He looked at Aurelia calmly and nodded in agreement. It was clear he had been intimidated by her words.

After finishing the test, Aurelia walked toward Ezra.

At the same time, Ramel walked up to compliment Aurelia, but she passed him without even looking in his direction.

She approached Ezra and tapped him lightly on his shoulder. "My dearest brother, Ezra!" she called in a soft voice.

Ezra turned his head with a lean face and returned to his activities. "You should not stay so close to me... I'm not worthy. It's only ruining your reputation," he said in a sad voice, turning his eyes away.

Aurelia couldn't bear to hear Ezra's harsh self-criticism and her face fell. But as she noticed Ezra's gloomy eyes, she instantly changed her expression to a very cheerful one and started patting Ezra hard on the shoulder.

"Come on, brother! Keep your shoulders strong. You've been trying hard, and I see you’re already making good progress!"

Ezra, however, chose to remain silent and smiled bitterly. He was getting ready to head for the exit.

Despite being ignored, Aurelia still followed Ezra like a shadow. "I'm sure you'll return to being a genius. Effort never betrays results." She gave a slight nudge once again.

But Ezra only returned it with a hesitant nod and a lifeless smile.

All this time, Ramel had been watching from a distance. He felt jealous of the bond his older sister shared with Ezra, and it seemed like his whole family was against him.

“I don’t know what you see in him, sister. Ezra is just a pathetic cripple who will never amount to anything,” Ramel muttered under his breath, trying desperately not to clench his gloved fist.

When his two siblings had walked out of sight, Ramel fished out a silver coin with a hooded cobra engraved on its head and grinned.

“You will recognize my genius soon enough. I won’t let Ezra and you drag our family name through the dirt. Father might be too old to see the truth, but I know what’s best for the family. Zepheroth will lead us all into the light!” he mumbled to himself with a devious expression on his darkening face.