The Final 12 Days (LAST)

"Damn it," punching the air in frustration, Aoni collapsed onto his butt and held his left index finger in front of his face.

"It makes zero sense; how is it that even with minimal concentration, I am able to condense and rapidly fire multiple Ice Bullets, but the moment I move my body even an inch out of place, everything falls apart." Glaring at his fingertip as if it held all the answers he sought, the Lad sighed before leaning back on his arms and staring up at the night sky.

He'd attempted every possible idea, changed the entire construction process, and even imagined himself moving like a gunfighter, but nothing worked.

It was as if fate itself had determined that Aoni was locked into the life of a sniper, and for the Lad, who fully understood how important a weapon his Ice Bullets were, it was far too big a pill to swallow.