Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Testing Out The M4 Assault Rifle

Yesterday’s visit was uneventful, to say the least. Rachel returned home right after she gave me the soup, she entered only to put the soup on the table and walked back right outside after delivering the soup. Albert appreciates the meal, of course, but that was that. The rest of the day is filled with continuing the assembly of my M4.

“For a rifle, this looks rather odd, in my opinion, but it does have its own ergonomics,” I say.

The rifle is finished, even though we need to create some custom screwdriver to finally assemble it, but it’s done. The M4 is laying down on Albert’s coffee table, filled with 5.56x45 copper bullets that have been filled with bullets and primed with primers. I pick up the rifle, and a screen suddenly appears right next to the weapon.

Weapon appraisal in progress…

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[M4] [DD MK-12 Preset]

A rifle created by the United States Military chambered in 5.56x45 NATO, the rifle has become the main staple for small arms in the world, only beaten by AK and its derivatives. It provides great accuracy alongside a controllable recoil.

Attachment: MBUS Steel Sight.

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I don’t remember having this ability. Is it because of my anomaly? Well, it certainly makes things a little bit more informative, to me, at least. Still, this knowledge is in my head, why would I need to have this?

It doesn’t matter, though. I pick up the rifle and hold it in my hands. It doesn’t feel too long to hold, especially in comparison to the MH rifle which is as long as my body. The iron sight that I create seems to be fairly accurate as well, but I make sure that it can be adjusted when I test-fire it.

“Well, if a child like me can hold it, it’s a good rifle, isn’t it?” I ask Albert.

“True enough. There are a lot of experimental designs lately, but I think your rifle is the most experimental of them all,” Albert comments. “I also have one, do you want to see it?”

I nod. I want to know what kind of experimental rifle Albert has. In my opinion, the rifle won’t be as modern as my rifle, but it will be something that is considered experimental just like how I view a railgun to be a highly experimental weapon system.

Albert returns from his room, he then shows me a rifle. It’s a rifle, yes, but it’s not a breach-loading rifle. It’s a repeater rifle, just like what the people used back in the wild west. The rifle itself is chambered in pistol rounds, but the number of bullets stored should be high enough, considering the barrel length is equal if not longer than my 18-inch M4.

“This is Windburger repeating rifle,” Albert lets me touch his rifle, but not more than that. It looks really similar to a Winchester repeating rifle, with its bullets entering from the back and the signature lever-action look. Yeah, it’s a repeater.

“Looks nice,” I comment.

“Yeah, it serves me for a long time, but nowadays, I rarely have to use it,” Albert answers before he puts his rifle on top of the bookshelf so I can’t actually get a hand on it, what a bummer. Still, better than nothing, I suppose.

Holding the M4 in my hands, nostalgia fills my mind again. The fresh smell of an oiled rifle enters my nostril as I put the rifle closer to my face. I aim the rifle in the direction of the window, the iron sight aligns perfectly. I then put down the rifle into a standby position.

“Looking good, young miss, do you want to shoot it?” Albert asks.

“I do want to shoot it, Albert,” I answer, but to be honest, what will happen when I pull the trigger? Will it blow up on my finger, or will it simply work? That’s an argument that I simply don’t want to find out by learning.

“Well, let’s be careful, shall we?”

I nod and pick up the rifle again, feeling a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness. I carefully align the iron sight with the target and take a deep breath. This will be fine, I keep telling myself that. This rifle won’t blow up on my face.

Albert gives me a helmet, a really heavy steel helmet. “This is a helmet for bulletproof protection, it’s used, but it will suffice.” He then wears the helmet on my head. It feels too loose, but I don’t need it to be snug, just enough that nothing will fly to my head.

The helmet itself isn’t made from plates. The helmet is thick. It’s probably thicker than the bullet that I will fire outside of the gun barrel. However, protection is good protection. Though, from the small slit provided by the helmet, I can’t see anything. We head outside with me holding the M4 in my hands.

Behind Albert’s house is just an empty yard overlooking a grassland. There’s no fence or anything like that. It’s simply an open field with grass and sky as the view. If I fire my rifle, it won’t fly out to anyone alive, except for monsters, or animals, I guess?

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"Remember, safety is the most important thing when handling a gun," Albert reminds me. "Make sure you keep the barrel pointed in a safe direction at all times and keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Got it?"

I nod and listen attentively as Albert goes over the rest of the safety guidelines. When I'm ready, I take a deep breath and steady my aim. My sight is pointed right between the iron sight. I slowly squeeze the trigger, feeling the recoil of the rifle as the shot is fired. The smell of smokeless powder fills my nostril as the brass cartridge is ejected from the rifle itself.

“Alright, do it again.”

I switch the rifle to full-auto, intending to fire it in a burst. I pull the trigger again. The recoil impulse hits me three times after I pull the trigger, giving me a decent kick, moreover with this small body and it’s barely manageable.

“Is that a Gatling gun?” Albert is astonished. “That rate of fire isn’t possible with regular firearms, is it?”

“This is the revolution of Mr. Stoner’s design, Albert,” I comment as I continue firing the rifle in bursts to preserve the magazine while preserving the number of bullets inside of the magazine. I don’t want to run out of bullets yet, I only have two magazines.

“That’s amazing, no wonder it is hard to manufacture,” Albert praises the rifle design.

“Yeah,” I aim my rifle again and I pull the trigger.

BANG!

A loud thundering bang rings in my ears after I pull the trigger. Someone must have hit me with a sledgehammer in the head, at the very least. I then look at the rifle and Albert immediately runs in my direction. I can feel a warm gush of liquid coming out of my right hand, followed by a very sharp pain coming from my right thumb.

“Helen, Helen! Stay there!” Albert grabs the rifle from my hand and lies me down on the ground. What happens, did the rifle malfunction? Then, I notice what was wrong, my left thumb is cut off, leaving only its stump. The sharp pain radiates through my entire body, and it was only my thumb.

Albert wraps his leather belt around my entire upper hand, acting as a tourniquet. I check on the rifle with my right hand, strangely, the receiver, both the upper and the lower are fine. There is no sign of fragmentations coming out of the gas block either.

However, I notice something scratching the handguard from where I was standing. The something scratching the handguard is unnoticeable, however, I doubt it’s coming out of the rifle. Albert carries me in his hands and he carries the black rifle alongside me with his hands.

He runs to the house right in front of his house and immediately knocks on the door. Knocks are an understatement, he bangs on it. “ROSA, ROSA, OPEN UP! HELEN IS INJURED!” He keeps banging on the door until it finally opens.

Suddenly, an elf opens the door. The elf has blood-red hair, but she also has the usual pointy ears that any elf has. A blood elf, perhaps? The moment Rosa opens the door, Albert immediately barges into the house.

He lies me down on the couch. He then shouts at Rosa, “Quick, her left thumb is missing and I can’t find it.”

Rosa grabs a bottle of blue elixir and pours it over my thumb calmly. She then put the liquid into a metallic cup and submerge my whole thumb in that liquid. The pain subsides slowly, and it feels more comfortable than before. My thumb feels like being submerged in a bucket of ice.

Albert closes the curtain in Rosa’s house. He then takes off my helmet. Slowly, I feel really sleepy, is it because my body absorbs the medicine? Albert shows Rosa the helmet, but I still can make out what their conversation is talking about.

“This is not a regular rifle round, someone trying to kill her.”

“Well, that’s quite a bullet, is this why the helmet is so thick?” Rosa comments.

“Doesn’t matter, though. Wait here, and guard Helen and her rifle! I’ll find the bloody shooter.”

I eventually feel the world is shifting away.

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