Marksman Training Oblivion Novels & Stories

Maria's POV After the rigorous training session, Frank became eerily silent, almost to the point of being deafening. His sudden silence left me uneasy. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated with myself. The idea of beginner’s luck seemed absurd, as my stance, knowledge, and aim were all at an advanced level, possibly surpassing that of at least half of the trainees present. Although I was still a mere child when I last trained, one skill in which I consistently excelled was marksmanship, the sole aspect that my father took pride in.

Mila POV The sky above Marcus’s training grounds had been calm that morning. Marcus had me running drills at the far end of the arena, I was doing silver-mark control exercises layered with combat movement training. My arms ached, my breathing was uneven, and the mark on my arm kept flickering faintly beneath my skin like it was reacting to something I couldn’t see. “Again,” Marcus ordered from the edge of the training circle. I groaned, wiping sweat from my forehead.

Rain blinded him, smoke stung his eyes, but his body moved with the muscle memory of someone who’d killed a hundred times before. Beside him, Noa rose too. His stance was steady, his arms strong as he squeezed off rounds. One shot slammed straight through a man’s throat, dropping him instantly. The grin that spread across Noa’s face was wicked, sharp, and beautiful in the lightning flash. Marco’s voice rang out, carried over the storm. “You trained him. I can see it. He moves like you.”

Emine watched as a young recruit stealthily weaved her way through the obstacles, her movements almost ethereal, her body a silhouette in the shadows. Further along, she encountered an area where assassins honed their marksmanship skills. Rows of shooting ranges lined the walls, with targets of varying shapes and sizes. The sharp crack of gunfire punctuated the air as expert marksmen tested their precision and control. Bullet casings littered the floor, evidence of countless hours spent perfecting their deadly art.

Emily saw her reaction and slowly moved towards her to console her and ran together till they all became breathless. After one hour of running, they start the course consisting of intense physical training. Circuit training. Rope Climbing. Wall Climbing. Jungle gym. Crawling to barbed wire. The training lasted five hours, another three hours on Sunday, while the last two hours were for sparring. All Omegas are tired and wrung. All of them except Delta Dimitry and Gamma Sevy lay on the cold hard ground. While their bodies throb in pain. "How many of these Omegas do you think will stay after the probation?" Gamma Sevy asks while puffing a cigar.

Martin smiled and Mr Corba stood up. "Corbo set the training ground, let's go," he said. Martin stood up and followed him from behind along with Evander. They got outside, there were about five darts and a dartboard with tables containing fresh guns. "I was looking for who would test these guns for me, let's see how good you are at shooting" he passed an eye g****e to Martin which he wore before taking a gun.

the man muttered. Colton walked to the ground demarcation, stopped beside Lora, pointed his revolver at the target, and fired. He fired six times in a row, and they all hit the red part of the target. Ever since he'd been a Marine on some missions out of the country years before, the man had been known to be a good marksman. - "Don't worry. I'm not trying to steal your job" Lora joked. - "Talk less and shoot more. We're not leaving here until you're able to keep silent"

Lila’s POV The first operative came through the window in a spray of glass and smoke. I was already moving, grabbing both twins and diving behind the overturned training table as bullets tore through the air where we’d been standing. “Stay down!” I screamed over the chaos. “Don’t move, don’t use your powers, just stay down!” Marcus was firing from across the room, his movements precise and controlled despite the hell breaking loose around us. His Military training kicked in; he’d positioned himself with cover, clear sight lines, escape routes mapped in seconds.

Zack’s POV The training ground was alive with grunts, the sound of claws against dummies, the crack of bodies hitting dirt. Maren and Darius had the recruits lined, sweating and stumbling through drills. They were trying but trying wasn’t enough. I didn’t announce myself, I just stepped into the edge of the arena and let my presence sink into the air like a blade. Slowly, heads turned, spines straightened. Good, fear kept them sharp. “Maren, Darius,” I said.

The Morocco mission prep kicks off the next morning in the underground training bunker deep beneath the mansion, where the air smells like gunpowder, sweat, and cold concrete. This isn't some Hollywood montage with dramatic music and slow-motion flips. This is Imperio Pecaminoso training: brutal, calculated, and designed to turn people into weapons or break them trying. Vincenzo runs it like a demon…. A devil…. **6:00 AM – Wake-up Call** No alarm.