The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 169. Sniper

Chapter 169: 169. Sniper

A gleaming black car pulled up outside a simple warehouse in Arora City, its dark windows reflecting the neon lights of the night. When the door opened, Mafia boss Moreeti emerged with his silver hair combed back and his immaculate gray suit.

He was in his sixties, and his piercing eyes scanned the street with a chilly, menacing presence. As he walked toward the building, his polished shoes clicking on the cracked sidewalk, he was accompanied by two large enforcers in dark coats. He pushed into a dark room through a sturdy steel door.

"Where is that kid?" With a rough voice, Moreeti demanded that the people in the room turn quite.

Chairs scraped the concrete floor as the men, tough gang members with scars on their faces and tattoos on their necks, stood swiftly.

A gang leader from the area stepped forward, his weathered face tense with respect and anxiety. He gestured toward a boy who was slumped in the middle of the room in a metal chair.

The sixteen-year-old boy’s ripped shirt was stained with blood seeping from cuts on his bruised face. Ignoring everyone, he had his head lowered and his red eyes glued to the ground. Beside him, on a small table, was a revolver with its chamber empty.

The leader’s voice was low but full of wonder as he cleared his throat. "He was spotted in juvie by one of our guys. After he was released, we took him mqke him errands boy."

Moreeti’s eyes locked on the boy, his brow wrinkling. His curiosity grew as he asked, "What did he do to end up there?"

"He allegedly killed a wealthy man in the middle of the road at the age of thirteen by repeatedly striking him with a rod."

Moreeti’s rough face showed a flicker of interest as his lips moved. "And what’s this that I heard about today?"

With his eyes darting to the revolver, the leader swallowed. "This afternoon, we involved in shootout with the opposing gang. Half of our crew perished in the crossfire." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "This kid took a gun from one of our dead guys and killed the majority of their squad. Not a single shot was missed."

A rare moment of shock broke Moreeti’s tough exterior as his eyes widened. The boy, who was only sixteen, appeared frail, but he had perfect aim and had taken out seasoned gangsters.

"Swear he’d never held a gun before," the leader continued in a soft, awe-filled voice. "However, he dropped them like a pro."

Moreeti approached and stopped in front of the boy, blocking the faint light with his shadow. The members of the gang held their breath. He said, "Look at me, kid."

Reo raised his head slowly, his crimson eyes meeting Moreeti’s with a calm, unflinching gaze that contrasted with his battered appearance. There was no doubt, no fear, only a chilly, piercing stare that seemed to pierce the Mafia boss.

Moreeti studied him, looking for weakness, but found only strength. With a sharp, testing tone, he questioned, "Have you ever fired a gun before today?"

Reo’s voice was emotionless and flat. "No."

Moreeti’s eyes grew interested as his lips formed a tiny, ravenous smile. Something untamed and lethal gleamed in those red eyes, making this child anything but a typical street kid. Without averting his gaze, he took a sleek, personalized pistol from his suit jacket, its glossy exterior glimmering dimly in the low light.

His voice was firm and low as he flipped it and offered Reo the handle. "Kid, show me what you are capable of. I’ll forge you a weapon to match that fire if you can show me you’re worth my time."

Reo’s gaze flicked to the pistol, his bruised hands steady as he took it.

**************************

The late afternoon sun shone on the open yard behind Torgrim’s blacksmith shop. Leo held a brand-new, shiny sniper rifle in the middle of the yard, its smooth surface glinting in the sunlight like a sharp edge. He had a killer’s skill in every action, with his shoulders straight, legs firm, and breathing slow.

He channeled fire mana into the rifle, its barrel runes blazing bright red, line neon lights, and his crimson eyes shimmered with concentration.

Erin, Liana, and Torgrim stood a safe distance away. Erin held up her hand and yelled, "Sharpshooter, be ready when you are!"

Leo’s voice was sure and low, and his smirk twitched. "Let’s take action."

Ten meters behind him, Erin’s mana conjured up a wavy, blank figure that resembled a hazy heat wave. Leo’s instincts kicked in, spinning smoothly as he pulled the trigger. With a loud crack, the rifle fired a bullet that struck the figure’s chest with great speed.

A second later, the figure exploded in a roaring burst of fire, the shockwave sweeping the yard, stirring up dust and making Torgrim and Liana stumble back, eyes wide. The figure stood now blackened ground with embers floating like tiny lights and a deep hole smoking.

Boldly, Erin’s voice broke through the ringing sound. "Go on!"

Leo pulled the rifle’s bolt, the used shell popping out with a metal ping as he turned left, spotting another figure appearing. The rifle’s runes changed to a cool blue-white glow as he sent ice mana through it, firing right away. The bullet hit the figure’s chest, freezing it in a shiny ice shell before it broke into a sparkling cloud of icy dust, the pieces shining like snow in the sun.

Torgrim’s jaw dropped, his gray eyes glowing with wonder. "By the forges, kid! That precision—your timing, your focus—it’s bloody unreal!" He clapped his hands. "Never seen a shot like that in my life!"

Erin raised her hand again, making another figure—this one running fast across the yard, too quick for Liana and Torgrim to follow clearly. Leo’s breath calmed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he pulled the bolt, the rifle’s runes glowing green with wind mana.

He fired, the bullet whistling through the air, hitting the figure dead-center. On impact, a strong gust of wind burst out, throwing the figure back so hard it crashed into the yard’s strong wall, falling into a broken pile with a loud boom, dust rising around it.

Liana gasped, clapping her hands with joy, her earlier worry gone. "Young Master, that was amazing!"

Erin called up one last figure, this one covered in a glowing mana shield, its surface rippling with magic. Leo’s smirk grew as he fired, the bullet cutting through the shield like paper and hitting the figure’s core. The figure exploded in a burst of stone and dust, sharp rocks falling down, leaving another deep hole in the yard’s rough ground.

Leo lowered the rifle, his grin bold and happy. "This thing’s a masterpiece," he said, his voice full of satisfaction, the rifle feeling like his old Silent Reaper brought back with magic.

Erin ran to him, her excitement bubbling over. "Let me have a go!" she said, reaching for the rifle.

Leo raised a brow, his tone dry. "What, are you acting like a child begging her father?"

"Come on!" she pushed, her violet eyes wide with playful begging. "I designed the damn thing!"

Leo sighed as he handed her the rifle. "Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Erin accepted it with a smug smile, then without a word, shifted her stance—feet shoulder-width apart, shoulders squared, eyes locked through the scope. In one fluid motion, she aligned the rifle exactly as Leo had moments earlier.

Leo blinked, momentarily thrown off. Her grip, her posture, even the subtle tension in her arms—it was all identical.

It was like watching himself in a mirror.

"...What the hell," he muttered under his breath, stepping back. "Did you just—copy me?"

Erin smirked, eyes still on the invisible target. "I watch closely when I care."

Leo crossed his arms, trying to mask the surprise in his voice. "Well... at least now you won’t blast your arm off."

She shot him a side glance, her smirk growing. "I learned from the best, didn’t I?"

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