I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 131: SAW Part 2

The trees swallowed them whole.

Gone was the open clearing, the sun, the comfort of distant laughter. In its place: thick trunks, uneven ground, and the smell of wet loam and pine. Shadows shifted with every step. The trail ahead narrowed into a tight path barely wide enough for two.

Inigo led them in silence, hand raised for halts, eyes sweeping left and right. He wasn’t treating this like training anymore.

He was treating it like war.

"Listen," he said, voice low. "The SAW is powerful—but it’s loud, heavy, and slow to reposition. That means we adapt the rest of our team to protect it."

Meryl, the gun slung across her chest, looked grim but steady. Brenna moved beside her as assistant gunner, a belt of linked rounds draped over one shoulder like a sash. Hal and Sark followed as forward scouts, with Lyra and Lio trailing behind to close gaps and cover rear flanks.

"The objective," Inigo continued, "is to advance through these woods while maintaining fire superiority at all times. We’ve rigged targets. When you see them, you engage as a unit. If Meryl opens up, you cover her reposition. If she goes silent, you fill the gap."

He stopped at a red-marked tree. "This is your start point. Targets are hidden throughout. Once you spot the first, the clock starts. I’ll be following behind."

They nodded.

No jokes from Lio. No teasing from Sark. Just quiet readiness.

"Go."

The woods came alive.

The first target popped from behind a stump, painted with blue and yellow to simulate enemy colors.

"Contact left!" Hal shouted.

Brenna ducked low and uncoiled the belt from her shoulder. Meryl braced the SAW against a mossy rock and fired in a short burst—three rounds, crisp and centered.

The target dropped.

Sark swept right, flanking through brush, eyes scanning.

"Clear on this side!"

"Moving!" Meryl said.

They shifted, each movement covered. Hal leapt ahead, Brenna fed the next belt, and Meryl’s boots sank into mud with each step—but she didn’t stumble.

The next two targets came fast. One from a treetop rope line, simulating an archer. Another rolled down a slope like a charging beast.

The SAW barked again—longer this time.

"Ease up!" Inigo called from behind. "Shorter bursts. Barrel’s running hot."

Meryl gritted her teeth and lifted her finger.

Click.

Smoke hissed from the barrel.

"Brenna!" she called.

Brenna was already there, gloves on, unscrewing the latch and rotating the hot barrel off the mount. Steam rose in the cold morning air as she replaced it with the spare Inigo had made her carry.

"Back online!" Meryl called out.

They pressed forward.

This time the terrain dipped, forming a shallow gully. Sark stepped too hard and slipped.

"Down!" Lio called.

"Help him!" Meryl shouted.

Lio pulled Sark up, dragging him behind a rotted log as Brenna returned fire with her carbine, sending paint rounds pinging off bark.

"Suppressing!" Meryl yelled, letting loose another burst.

The thunder cracked through the forest. Birds fled from the treetops.

By the time they cleared the gully, Hal was limping slightly from a bad landing.

Inigo whistled.

"End of route! Regroup here."

They collapsed behind a fallen oak. Meryl dropped to one knee, chest heaving, face flushed.

Lyra handed her a canteen.

"You’re burning fast," she said gently.

Meryl nodded. "It’s... harder than it looks. Holding the line and watching everything else."

"You’re doing fine," Inigo said, joining them. "But we’re going to run it again."

Groans, but not complaints.

He crouched beside Meryl.

"This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about becoming the anchor. You’re the point around which the team rotates. The pressure doesn’t go away—but you get stronger under it."

She nodded again, slower this time. "Yes, Instructor."

He looked to Brenna. "Your reload was solid. Watch your transitions—twice, you hesitated during cover fire."

"Understood," she replied.

"To the rest—clear communication. You shout targets, you call movements. Silence is death."

They reset. Rested. Then went again.

This time with Lyra as assistant gunner, her hands practiced from watching every move.

Then Lio.

And Hal, despite the limp, insisted on trying once, determined to prove himself.

They rotated, they failed, they improved.

By noon, they had made it through the course four times, shaving off nearly a minute each run. Meryl was still the best shot with the SAW, but now she wasn’t alone. Each teammate had felt the weight, the heat, the responsibility. It had changed them.

And Inigo knew that was the point.

Not to master the weapon.

But to understand it.

To respect it.

To become part of something greater than fear.

They broke under a shaded grove, near a shallow creek.

Lyra sat on a boulder, pulling grass from her hair. "You know, when you said ’forest drills,’ I imagined something less murderous."

Sark groaned and rolled over. "I’m going to sleep for three days after this."

Lio was already snoozing on a patch of moss, mouth slightly open.

Meryl sat with the SAW beside her, carefully wiping it down with a cloth. Brenna handed her a fresh rag, then leaned back against the tree.

"Do you think I could carry it one day?" she asked.

Meryl looked surprised.

"You want to?"

Brenna shrugged. "I think I want to try. You made it look... like more than just a weapon."

Meryl smiled. "You’ll get your chance."

A few feet away, Inigo had removed his gloves and was scribbling notes in a leather-bound book—adjustments to formation, barrel rotation time, reaction drills.

Lyra leaned in over his shoulder.

"You push them hard," she said softly.

"They need to be pushed."

"And when do you let them breathe?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he said, "When they’re strong enough to stand without me holding them up."

She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded and stood.

"Then I’ll keep watching. And I’ll tell you when it’s time."

He gave a faint smirk.

"Fair deal."

The recruits were quiet now. Some napped, some stretched, others simply stared into the swaying trees. The SAW lay across Meryl’s lap like a sword resting after a long duel.

Inigo stood and clapped once.

They groaned, but they stood.

Even Lio.

"Afternoon drills. Two-man holds and retreat maneuvers. Your legs will hate me by nightfall."

"You said that yesterday," Sark muttered.

"And I was right," Inigo replied. "Let’s go."

They moved.

And the thunder followed.