CHAPTER 2 The Dragon Mark No One Could Explain
The entire range seemed to stop breathing.
Jason Reed folded his arms, waiting for the inevitable miss that would send the old man quietly back into the crowd. Around him, spectators lifted their phones, eager to capture another embarrassing moment that would spread across social media before sunset.
Only Colonel Marcus Hale wasn't watching the target.
He was watching Elias.
The old man's breathing slowed until it was almost invisible. His finger rested outside the trigger guard while his eyes moved across the range, studying the wind flags from the closest lane to the distant hillside. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't nervous.
He was waiting.
Marcus whispered to himself.
"It's him..."
An assistant judge looked over in confusion.
"Sir?"
Marcus never answered.
Instead, he stepped closer to the firing line.
"Mr. Vorn..."
Elias finally glanced toward him.
"You've done this before."
A faint smile crossed the old man's face.
"A long time ago."
Jason laughed loudly enough for the crowd to hear.
"Everyone's a legend in their own story."
The spectators chuckled.
Marcus ignored him.
"What unit?" he asked quietly.
Elias remained silent for several seconds.
Then he answered with only three words.
"There wasn't one."
Marcus's expression changed.
He remembered classified files he had read decades earlier—documents describing a marksman whose missions had never officially existed.
No unit.
No medals.
No public record.
Only results.
His eyes drifted once more toward the dragon-shaped tattoo beneath the bandage.
The final piece fell into place.
"My God..."
"You trained the Dragon Program."
Elias didn't confirm it.
He didn't deny it either.
That silence told Marcus everything.
Meanwhile, Jason had grown impatient.
"Are we shooting today or telling ghost stories?"
Elias calmly loaded the single cartridge into the rifle.
The metallic click echoed across the silent range.
Every experienced shooter immediately noticed something unusual.
He made no adjustments to the scope.
No calculations on a tablet.
No electronic wind meter.
Nothing.
Everything happened inside his head.
Jason smirked.
"He's guessing."
Marcus quietly shook his head.
"No."
"He's remembering."
The command to fire echoed across the range.
Elias didn't move.
Another gust swept across the valley, causing the Dragon Mark target to sway almost imperceptibly.
Most competitors would have fired anyway.
Elias simply waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The crowd became restless.
A woman near the front whispered,
"He's scared."
Marcus smiled faintly.
"No."
"He's waiting for the wind to tell him the truth."
Finally...
The breeze softened.
The drifting dust settled.
Without the slightest hesitation, Elias squeezed the trigger.
The old rifle thundered.
Its deep report sounded completely different from the modern competition rifles surrounding it.
The bullet disappeared into the shimmering distance.
For one endless heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
Then—
PING!
The Dragon Mark target rang so sharply that the sound echoed across the hills.
The entire arena exploded into stunned silence before anyone even thought to applaud.
The steel plate continued swinging gently.
Directly through its red center was a fresh impact.
A perfect hit.
Jason's smile disappeared instantly.
"Impossible."
Range officials hurried to confirm the electronic sensors.
Seconds later, the giant scoreboard lit up.
CENTER IMPACT CONFIRMED.
The grandstands erupted.
Competitors stood from their benches.
Even Jason's own supporters applauded despite themselves.
Marcus walked slowly toward Elias.
His voice had become almost reverent.
"I spent twenty years believing the Dragon Marksman was only a story."
Elias carefully opened the bolt and caught the empty casing in his hand before it touched the bench.
"No story."
Marcus swallowed.
"We buried your records."
"I know."
"We told everyone you were gone."
"I know."
Marcus lowered his head.
"We were ordered to."
Elias quietly wrapped the empty casing inside the faded cloth resting in the rifle case.
"I never blamed you."
Those words struck Marcus harder than any accusation could have.
Jason suddenly stepped forward.
"There has to be another explanation."
Marcus turned toward him.
"There is."
Jason waited.
Marcus looked directly into his eyes.
"You spent your career believing expensive equipment made great shooters."
He nodded toward Elias.
"He spent his life proving great shooters make ordinary rifles extraordinary."
The applause grew louder.
For the first time in years...
May you like
Jason Reed realized the cameras were no longer following the champion.
They were following the old man everyone had laughed at only minutes before.
