Mysteries On Marvel

The exclamations ringing in his ears felt like blatant mockery, causing Flash's face to flush with shame and fury. In a fit of rage, he shouted, "You're asking for it!"

Flash sprang to his feet, clenching his fist to strike at Eren's face.

But the next second, his burning gaze met an icy, piercing stare that froze him in place. It was as though a bucket of cold water had doused his rage, extinguishing it instantly.

A surge of terror, as if being stared down by a prehistoric tyrannosaurus, engulfed him, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

"Bang!"

While Flash was momentarily paralyzed by the weakened version of [Dreadful Gaze], Eren delivered a swift kick, sending Flash flying like a kite with a broken string. He crashed into the corridor railing and passed out cold.

As Flash was flung aside, his group of basketball teammates hesitated, seemingly ready to intervene.

Eren, however, turned abruptly. The lingering remnants of the [Dreadful Gaze] in his eyes swept coldly across the group.

"Anyone else want to join him?"

Each student who dared to meet Eren's gaze felt an indescribable chill creep up their spine, and they quickly averted their eyes in terror.

At that moment, it felt like they were standing before a demon from the depths of hell—one too fearsome to face.

Satisfied with the sudden silence, Eren smirked.

[Dreadful Gaze] really turned out to be unexpectedly effective against ordinary people.

"Heh."

With no one daring to block his way, Eren helped the trembling, wide-eyed chubby kid out of the classroom.

Out of gratitude for the kid's earlier loyalty, Eren decided to treat him to lunch.

But soon, Eren regretted his hasty decision.

"Hey, Eren, did you see that? After you sent Flash flying, his whole basketball team got scared stiff when you just looked at them!"

"Pfft, useless bunch. All muscles, no guts."

"By the way, Eren, since when were you so strong? You've been hiding this from me!"

"Man, the way you handled them was so cool! If only I could be that awesome someday…"

"..."

Sitting across from the overly enthusiastic chatterbox, Eren felt his brain buzz as the endless prattle assaulted his senses. This chubby guy's constant rambling was worse than the whispers of an eldritch god.

If it weren't for their recent "shared hardship," Eren might have been tempted to tape that mouth shut.

Barely managing to eat a few bites, Eren finally couldn't stand the chatter. Using a bathroom break as an excuse, he secretly paid the bill and slipped away.

When the afternoon class bell rang, Eren returned to the classroom, greeted by the chubby kid's resentful glare.

The math teacher had already begun writing problems on the board.

Under the teacher's stern authority, the chubby kid didn't dare to act out again, giving Eren a moment of peace.

Apart from the chatterbox's antics, Eren noticed something else upon returning to class—the other students were looking at him with newfound respect and awe.

It was likely a result of the events earlier that day.

Eren didn't dwell on it, though.

The afternoon classes flew by.

When the dismissal bell rang, Eren declined the chubby kid's invitation to ride the school bus together. Instead, he pulled a black card from his pocket, hailed a cab, and headed to the address written on the card.

The destination was a minimalist, slightly aged building labeled "Tom's Shooting Club."

"So this is Tom's Shooting Club?"

Eren glanced at the signboard and then at the nearby street corner, where a police department logo was faintly visible. He shrugged.

No wonder George was so familiar with this club—it was practically around the corner from the 13th Precinct.

Running a shooting club under the cops' noses definitely required some skill.

Walking into the club, Eren handed the black card from George to the receptionist.

After a brief verification and a quick registration of Eren's details, he was escorted into the club's interior.

"Mr. Eren, since this is your first visit, would you like us to assign you a shooting coach to help you master the basics?"

Eren replied, "George from the 13th Precinct recommended Old Jerry. Is he available now?"

George's name carried weight.

Upon hearing it, the receptionist immediately confirmed that Old Jerry was available.

After notifying another staff member to fetch Old Jerry, Eren was led to an enclosed shooting range underground.

Not long after Eren entered the range, a man dressed like a Western cowboy, walking with a noticeable limp, approached him.

The name tag on his chest confirmed that this was the sharpshooter Eren was looking for.

Old Jerry eyed Eren's hands and remarked, "A beginner?"

"Yes."

"Got it. My fees are higher than the regular coaches—$300 per hour. If you're fine with that, we can start right away."

Despite retiring from the military, Old Jerry's straightforwardness still reflected his disciplined background.

"The price is fine. Let's start."

Seeing that Eren had no issue with the cost, Old Jerry summoned a staff member to sign a basic contract with him. Then, he began teaching Eren the fundamentals of firearms.

This was precisely what Eren needed most.

After about ten minutes of explaining the stats, strengths, and weaknesses of five common handguns, Old Jerry selected the most suitable gun for Eren based on his hand size and finger length. He handed it to him, signaling the start of their practice.

(End of Chapter)

[Check Out My Patreon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]/zaelum]

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]