Army Weapons Qualification Tables Novels & Stories

Alex said, walking much faster so he wasn’t force fed with that taunting expression. Eventually, they stopped, sitting before them a table. Alex slowly moved to see what it held and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say his eyes sparkled. Lined on the table were weapons, just like those he’d seen that day. Dare he say they looked better? Although the range consisted only of guns, bows, swords and daggers, their variations in size, shape and models made it all the worthwhile. “Wow,” Alex whispered, to himself, making sure to keep his hands away from any of them in case he got a scolding from Griffin.

"I— "Don't bother," she cut off my reply with a wave of her hand and turned her back to me. "You see those armories over there?" She pointed straight ahead, and I shifted to her side to see what she was pointing at. I saw an entire table filled with different weapons, from swords to spears to bows and arrows to knives to shields and even full on armors. My lips trembled as I predicted what she was going to say next. "... yes?" I stuttered.

Kala murmured. THE ARMORY I passed through the main armory, where warriors tested weapons blessed by old bloodlines. Swords that hummed. Axes that flared with lightning. Guns engraved with storm runes, charged by solar crystal and moonstone alike. In one corner, the Alpha wolves trained with flame-bursting spears. In another, the human warriors were loading anti-demon rifles while two elves argued about mana reload rates. A dwarf named Braglin sat on a cannon he’d named “Sally” and threatened to marry it if it fired true in battle.

"It's been in my family for generations. I'm not sure who the original maker was," Liam replied with an easy smile. Prince Faber's skepticism was palpable, but that hardly mattered. His eyes were set on the dagger then, a covetous glint in his gaze. Most folks were oblivious to the fact that weapons were categorized by quality. There were five tiers for bladed arms: green for the common, blue for the superior, purple for the exceptional, orange for the rare, and gold for the legendary.

"Inside the Wilder family, name is everything. If you cannot defend your own name, others will step on you. Elzio, my big-mouthed eldest son in the hall earlier, is just one example of the many wolves in Neophile who love to smell the scent of weakness." Helga listened in silence, noting Elzio Wilder's name change in her mental map. She kept walking behind Zizie until they arrived in front of a long table made of iron that showcased a dozen types of firearms, ranging from semi-automatic pistols, revolvers, to short-barreled assault rifles. Zizie turned around, leaning against the edge of the iron table then folded both her arms in front of her chest. Her hawk-colored gaze dissected Helga onc

The air at the private testing range of Delyon Armaments smelled of cordite and opportunity. The sun beat down hard on the asphalt, reflecting off the steel barrels I held with a familiarity that was second nature. — “The DSR-50.” I announced, my voice projected but effortless, cutting through the background murmur of the buyers. They were men from countries with porous borders and generous defense budgets. — “Precision at 1,500 meters. Mitigated recoil system. The right tool for… dissuading distant arguments.”

Christ . Although she’d braced herself for the sight, the amount of weaponry collected still unsettled her. AR-15s, AK-47s, shotguns, and a variety of rifles and handguns were neatly arranged on the walls as if they were mere tools on a pegboard in someone’s garage. Several magazines or boxes of corresponding ammo sat under each weapon, prepped and ready to use. No wonder Dad was huffing when he hauled all this in. Every bag he was carrying must’ve been ready to burst.

Rafael opened the ledger. There were 1,000 bows, 500 crossbow machines, 380 bundles of arrows—each bundle containing 100 arrows—800 sets of full armor, 300 long swords, 300 spears, 300 short knives, 600 swords, and three barrels of gunpowder. The total count of other weapons—axes, iron rods, and whips—exceeded 1,000. If these weapons were said to be for the defense of the residence, no one would believe it.

It was uncommon for one to use such an unpopular army weapon. Army weapons were categorized into seven levels—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. Sloan's sword was an indigo level weapon. Once she took the sword out, the surrounding temperature immediately fell. Everyone from the World Universe was worried for the Seven Fairies. Even though they were Master Saints, it was still challenging to go against a Master Emperor.

She had long since stopped caring, as all soldiers from the desert had to learn to tolerate it, but remembering his ceaseless torment almost made her hope he went ass-up with his face buried in the dirt. “We don’t have to use live blades, sir,” Oscar was in the middle of offering, gracious gentleman that he was. He pointed at the leftmost weapons rack next to the nervous, quivering quartermaster. “Those are blunted. Though I don’t know if you have blades like these where you’re from. These are very heavy, and we’re trained to them since we’re very young, so…”