Magical Shooting Sniper Of Steel Novels & Stories

The arrogant man who once thought he was holding onto heaven in Bloodmoon is now just a pile of dirty flesh that history will never remember. On the curved balcony, Chloe blew a thin stream of smoke from the barrel of her mutant shooter tactical pistol. He didn't look down there any longer. The story of his ex-girlfriend's suffering had ended with a price that was very cheap compared to the dignity that was taken away by that stupid bastard. "You guys are slow," said Chloe, turning her head away, glaring at the commander of the Zero-Black Division. "Your bullets are not designed to touch magic, but to kill the host cells. Why waste a thousand bullets when you can target the eyes in the first

Only then would I find true peace. After all, what could possibly be that hard about it? From what Shawn had revealed last night before passing out, this assassin was a legendary professional who used a high-caliber sniper rifle for his missions. The man could sit from a comfortable, mile-long distance on a rooftop and effortlessly gun Elara down in broad daylight, and no one would ever suspect a thing! I hissed. Let me see how that bitch’s precious tech knowledge and cybersecurity empire would save her from a bullet tearing through her skull.

Before I was able to process what was happening, a bullet had gone through the window, causing the glass to shatter. The bullet pierced my shoulder, a groan escaping my lips. The bullet was silver, laced with wolfsbane. I didn't see much, but I caught a glimpse of the sniper who was trying to kill us. An assassin, aiming a gun at us from a distance. Swiftly, I moved over to Alea. I grabbed her arms, making her sit behind the desk, a place where they wouldn't be able to target her unless they infiltrate the building. “Maverick…..” Maggie's voice was quivering, hands shaking as she held me.

We advanced through the chaos, smoke choking the air, the ground slick with blood and melting snow. My hands were steady, but my mind kept screaming one thing: Protect the baby. Protect Dante.Then I saw him. A sniper on a rooftop across the street, barrel trained directly on Dante’s back as he moved to cover one of his wounded men.Time slowed. I didn’t think.I raised my Glock and fired.The shot was clean. The sniper jerked backward and fell from the roof. Dante spun toward me, eyes wide with a mixture of fury and pride. Before he could speak, another burst of gunfire erupted from the left.This time, the bullets found their mark. Dante staggered. A dark bloom of blood appeared high on his che

“Wait for the perfect second. You only get one shot.” I raise my gun carefully, peering through the small hilt with one eye. My finger rests lightly on the trigger, the weight heavier than usual because of the stones taped to the barrel. They help silence the shot, make the bullet swift and sure. My gloved hand glides across the smooth steel as I track my target inside the high-end fashion center below. Mr. Miller.

"The shooter is still alive. Still in the city. They're planning something bigger. You need to find them before they try again." Morrison realized in that moment that multiple organizations were hunting for the same person. The Commission. The police. Maybe others. A sniper who'd shot a billionaire's bride at her wedding and was still alive. Still planning. Morrison pulled up the file on the shooting again. Studied the thermal image. Studied the angle. Studied the precision of the shot. 487 meters. Professional. Military-trained. Survived something (based on the Dante team's theories about hospital visits, missing eyes, broken bones).

But his target was Blake, and this would be his last mission. The sharpshooter looked through his scope and tried to locate his target, but he had disappeared. Using the most proficient skills, his breathing was calm, and he had considered all weather conditions. There was a huge bounty for the man he was targeting; he was the best marksman in the organization and had taken the mission. Soon he found his target again, and this time he was outside the building in the open. Steadying himself and calming his breath, he slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle released a soft sound from the silencer, and the bullet escaped the barrel and was heading to the target’s chest. What the shooter saw next

Instead, it shattered into several pieces and lay harmlessly on the ground. "Shoot, don't leave anyone alive!" Seeing that things were as he expected, Carl ordered and shot accurately at the sniper beside Silvia. It was as if he was waiting for this very moment. His marksmanship was excellent, and the timing was perfect. When the sniper stood up and prepared to pull the trigger, Carl's bullet shot toward him like a silver rocket. The walls were thick, and the sniper was wearing a bulletproof vest while staying hidden. Only a small corner of his shirt peeked out from under his vest, but Carl managed to catch this detail.

Not a single one hit the targets. “No... impossible!” Aria stood frozen, staring at the target—completely peppered, but none of her bullets had hit. Seeing how perfectly lined up the shots were, her face went pale and her mind raced. In the shooting world, there’s this legend—a marksman who can reload ten magazines in a minute, with bullet patterns so precise and impressive they look like a National Day parade. Full of style and pride. A once-in-a-lifetime shooting prodigy, known only as Moonshade—a mystery who’s talked about but never actually seen.

Lilian dashed forward swiftly. Kiran circled from one o'clock to eleven o'clock. The sniper at eleven, quick to react, tried to retreat. The nine o'clock sniper fired at Kiran to cover the eleven o'clock sniper’s escape. Kiran's body vanished suddenly, reappearing in front of the eleven o'clock sniper. Shocked, the sniper hesitated, his eyes wide with fear. Bang! Kiran knocked him out. The nine o'clock sniper tried to shoot, but Kiran’s silver needle hit his forehead, killing him. The sniper, who failed to kill Kiran, was himself killed by Kiran.