Beyond the houses, the beach stretches out like an untouched expanse, where the bustling city fades into the horizon. A few fishing boats dot the shore, their wooden hulls weathered by salt and time, as fishermen tend to their nets, they laughed and chatted with the ease of people who know the ocean like an old friend. The distant hum of samba music drifts faintly from a nearby drink bar, where locals sip cold Batida and Caipirinha, escaping the heat of the day which slowly dipped over the horizon.

Over at a little corner between the white walls, bougainvillea, and patterned fabrics, was a few targets set up. A few bullet holes littered close by to the bullseye, but only a few hit the red mark. You held a pistol with sore hands, sighing as you lowered it back to your side. A gush of wind blows past, whipping your hair at your face, as if to mock you.

“Oh, please.. Your hands are already tired?”

Lopera chuckled as she stood beside you, patting your shoulders with that signature cheerful smile on her face. You didn’t understand how this girl remained bouncing off the walls, even now. She remained skillful with her arms and ammunition.. While you still remained subpar despite undergoing the same training from Zeno with her.

“I’ll treat you to some coconut water and ice cream after this. Come on, you know you can hit a little closer to the bullseye!”