Army Weapons Qualification Tables Novels & Stories

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…”

Theraphosa was a bit hesitant this time. “Access granted for Matthew Blair Dragunov.” The red glow turned green. “All present individuals identified. Opening.” Upon saying so, the door slowly split open and revealed the interior. There was a short legged table in the middle with a mat under it. All around the table, countless weapons and equipment were neatly placed with some space between them and the table in the middle. In the back, there was a table with various equipment attached to it such as a magnifying glass, a light bulb, and a small welder. It also had cabinets that were probably filled with other tools.

Alexander explained. "You guys are ridiculously disgusting. You have a great intellect but you guys invest them in the wrong ditch." I cringed and looked at the weapons. I heard them letting out long sighs. Mariano and Alex also met me with some of the world's highest-ranked dangerous guns and rifles like Glock-17, G-21, H&K P7, HK416, Uzi, Accuracy International AS50 Sniper Rifle, Thompson M1921, AR Magazine, Colt Python Revolver, world's smallest bullet 2mm Kolibri and so on that I couldn't digest.

They made their way into the large warehouse, the guards greeting their Dons with the utmost respect. The trio walked into the warehouse said place buzzing with faint music while their employees fulfilled their tasks not daring to glance at them the wrong way. Some rearranged guns, ammo, bombs, and all kinds of weapons in their niches to be shipped to the person that had bought them. The armory looked immaculate and filled to the brim with daggers of all sizes, throwing knives, handguns, Glocks and Nikolai's favorite sniper and assault rifles organized to his liking. You name it, the trio had it.

Freya nodded, then she showed the tap screen she brought so Arsenio could read it too. "This is the latest type, sir. The ability of this weapon cannot be doubted. It can shoot from fifty meters away and has no sound at all when firing. Suitable for aiming without being spotted by the opponent," Freya explained. Arsenio looked seriously at the image on the tap screen while stroking his chin and muttering several times. "I want to buy another weapon, which is more practical and can be used in certain situations. Is there one?" "There are, sir. Pocket knives, daggers and others. The power of each weapon depends on the level you have now."

After locking Aurora in the room, I headed straight to the armory. The heavy steel door groaned as I pushed it open, revealing racks of weapons that had served my pack for generations. Modern firearms lined one wall—assault rifles, pistols, sniper rifles with silver-tipped ammunition. Explosive devices filled reinforced cabinets: grenades, flashbangs, breaching charges. Ancient swords and axes hung beside tactical gear, bridging centuries of warfare evolution. Gareth was already there, checking ammunition supplies with methodical precision.

I hissed. "Prove it," Yuri challenged, gesturing toward the private glass-walled range at the back of the armory. He picked up a customized Glock 19, its slide ported to reduce recoil. "A moving target at fifty meters. If you can't hit the vitals three times in five seconds, you get a taser and a bodyguard. Nothing more." He didn't wait for my answer. He stepped into the booth, leveled the weapon, and fired. Pop-pop-pop. Three holes appeared in the center of a swaying silhouette. He cleared the chamber and handed the weapon to me, a smug, cold curve to his lips.