Jack and the elven instructor agreed to have another match in a while.
For the next few days, they trained with the elves at the temporary camp.
Jack liked talented people, and elves were no exception.
That shot had made Pike a star in the Legion and earned him the chance to train under Instructor Ban.
As he had said, the shot really hadn't been a fluke. Pike truly had the makings of a Ranger... though his chances of repeating it were about the same as if it had been luck.
Hitting an arrow that looked no thicker than a hair from at least thirty Yard away would make someone a qualified archer even among Elfkind.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out several hundred yards from the temporary camp.
Pike lowered his gun sheepishly and said to the elven instructor, who had just released her bowstring, "I missed again."
From yesterday to today, he had fired over a hundred shots and hit an arrow only three times. He hadn't landed a single hit in his last fifty attempts.
The elven instructor frowned for a long while. Then she walked over, drew her bow, and shot another arrow into the distance. She took Pike's Magic Musket and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The gun fired, but the arrow continued along its original arc, untouched.
The elven instructor tossed the musket back to Pike. "The gun isn't accurate."
"It isn't?"
Pike stared at her, crestfallen.
The elven instructor pointed at the gun. "You can't feel through it as though it were an extension of yourself."
The elves had mixed opinions about Magic Muskets. They had too many flaws: they fired too slowly, for one. In the time it took to fire a single shot, the elves could loose three or four arrows. They were