I Pick Up Talents on the Interstellar Battlefield Chapter 3: Sharpshooter

Bang bang bang

Within the expansive shooting range, sharp cracks from rifle dry fire echoed without cease. Every recruit paired up with a custom-designed target, an electronic display overhead revealing the score for each shot fired.

New to handling guns, the recruits posted dismal results. Shots missing the mark happened frequently. Hitting 5 or 6 rings counted as excellent, while rare lucky strikes reached 10 rings.

Whenever a 10-ring score appeared on the electronic screen, its color shifted from green to a bold crimson.

From a raised platform, Raymond surveyed the entire range, noting a field of green scores dotted with just a handful of fleeting red marks.

This sight held no surprises for him.

For their initial try at shooting, simply avoiding complete misses was already praiseworthy.

Clones possessed far superior physical prowess compared to regular humans. Their hold on the weapon stayed rock-steady, free from any mental wanderings. After three days of practice, though not every one might turn into a Sharpshooter, their accuracy would at least improve markedly.

That would prove plenty effective against those hulking Green-Skinned Orcs.

Bang bang bang

Gunshots kept booming across the range.

Suddenly, one position drew Raymond's gaze.

Amid the ocean of green, a persistent vivid red dot gleamed without fading.

10 rings, 10 rings, 10 rings...

The electronic screen updated scores nearly every second, but the hue stayed fixed—a bold red signaling perfect 10 rings each time.

"Oh, a new recruit showing real shooting talent?"

Raymond's curiosity piqued.

Cloning tech had existed for ages, yet mass-producing Cloned Soldiers came with persistent flaws.

For example, implanted memories couldn't get overly intricate, or they'd muddle the clones' minds, rendering them hard to control.

Likewise, infused gene segments couldn't be excessively potent, lest the clone's physique break down rapidly.

Owing to such tech limitations, the majority of clones turned out average and unremarkable, unfit for intricate duties and suited only as disposable troops.

Still, from vast production runs, certain clones experienced genetic shifts, awakening exceptional gifts like immense power, lightning reflexes, or razor-sharp perception.

Those rare ones got pulled aside for special training.

After watching briefly, he strode toward that standout target area.

He soon spotted the source.

Before the target, a black-uniformed recruit gripped his rifle level, squeezing the trigger in steady rhythm. His grasp on the stock barely shifted; his stare remained icy and mechanical, devoid of emotion. Even with Raymond approaching close, no reaction crossed his face or eyes—he treated the officer like mere empty space.

Rather than fume, Raymond accepted it as typical Clone behavior: devoid of feelings, no fawning over authority, loyal solely to imperial commands and battle for the Empire.

Raymond eyed the digits on the recruit's right chest and commanded:

"Recruit 89757, cease fire."

Click

Qin Tian unleashed his final round, gradually lowering the rifle before turning his blank expression toward Raymond.

"Grab your weapon and come with me," Raymond instructed.

A faint glint passed through Qin Tian's eyes as he nodded, trailing Raymond to a nearby shooting area.

This smaller range held a handful of soldiers honing their aim. Spotting Raymond, they dropped their rifles at once, rushing to line up rigidly and snap salutes.

"Officer!"

"Hmm."

Raymond gave a curt nod, then said firmly: "Resume your training."

"Yes, sir."

The soldiers barked their reply, stealing curious glances at Qin Tian trailing Raymond.

From the uniform, he looked like a clone, didn't he?

Why had Officer Raymond singled him out for this place?

"Recruit, this way."

Raymond guided Qin Tian to a clear firing lane, explaining:

"Soon, those targets ahead will start moving unpredictably. Hit the bullseye as precisely as you can."

Hearing the order, Qin Tian parted his lips slightly, a raspy, parched voice replying:

"Understood."

Test initiated

At 100 meters out, six targets darted in varied paths, jerking directions abruptly now and then, moving at decent clip.

Qin Tian shouldered his rifle, sighted briefly, then yanked the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

One blast, one target scored.

7 rings

Nailing 7 rings on a moving mark at 100 meters marked solid skill, especially for Qin Tian's debut against motion.

Raymond nodded approvingly at the result.

Yet Qin Tian demanded more from himself.

[Absolute Gunmastery] matched the caliber of [High tier Strength] and [Quick Recovery]—all Green Talents brimming with vast promise; merely tagging a mover didn't warrant cheers.

He aimed higher.

Hoo~

A soft gust whispered by

Qin Tian narrowed his eyes; no math on drop, breeze, or drift—he fired from pure gut feel.

That sensation proved tricky to grasp, hard to voice, akin to the flow state in hoops.

Utter focus, raw power, iron certainty

All elements bent to his will

Bang~

The rifle barked

Right away, a huge red "10 rings" grabbed Raymond's eye.

10 rings?

Second round perfect?

Raymond's gaze sharpened; despite guiding countless gifted rookies, this Recruit 89757's marksmanship still stunned him.

Bang~ Bang~ Bang~

Shots thundered in steady rhythm

7 rings, 10 rings, 10 rings...

Every pull scored 10 rings, and once all six centers fell, Qin Tian eased down his rifle, facing Raymond with serene poise.

"Excellent, truly excellent."

Raymond grinned in praise, adding: "Now the challenge ramps up further. Keep delivering at this elite level."

He signaled the control booth.

Instantly, over 20 mechanical birds launched from a far ridge, wings beating as they swirled overhead, blotting shadows across the range.

"Recruit, these Spirit Birds serve for advanced shooting drills. Only eye shots drop them—take every one out."

Raymond laid down a hellish challenge. Tiny frames, soaring high and swift, pinpoint eye hits posed insane difficulty.

Nearby soldiers watched on the sly. Hearing the order, their eyes bulged wide.

Spirit Birds formed the army's toughest shoot test, mastered by only elite few.

Was Officer Raymond seriously tasking a brand-new Clone Soldier with it? Way too brutal?

Utterly impossible.

Qin Tian's features stayed stone-cold. He lifted his rifle in silence, shutting one eye, peering through the sight at the flock.

One second, two, three

Suddenly, Qin Tian struck.

Bang~

First round clipped a wing, jolting the bird, slashing its pace.

Bang~

Next nailed the left eye; the machine sparked wildly before plummeting.

"Close enough."

Qin Tian steadied his breath, emptied his thoughts, locked in total focus.

In that instant, silence engulfed the world, motion crawling to a crawl.

Bang~

Roars echoed, sparks flew, birds tumbled

Bang bang bang~

Shadows rained from above

The watching soldiers gaped, words failing in awe.

Shock rippled through Raymond too, as he turned to Qin Tian.

Chiseled profile stern and unyielding, gaze steady as steel, the intense presence surging with each trigger pull...

In him flickered the echo of another: Huang Xun.

Regiment's top Sharpshooter, who'd just shipped out to Alpha 7 Star as a volunteer.

His precision outshone even Qin Tian's display, bordering godlike.

Tragically, that morning, the ace fell to a Spiritualist in skirmish.

A crushing blow to the Legion.

Yet mere hours on, from this batch of fodder Clones rose a new Sharpshooter, aura eerily mirroring Huang Xun's.

Raymond envisioned that defiant spirit hovering nearby, a faint smirk playing, hand sweeping down as lips formed—

"For the Empire."