The echo of gunfire erupted across the grounds of the Tyrolean palace.
Automatic fire, precise, controlled bursts.
Something no other noble estate would expect to hear on a quiet Tuesday evening. But here, it was routine.
Bruno, having lived his entire life as a soldier, never let his edge dull.
He drilled constantly, in firearms, explosives, battlefield medicine, small unit tactics, even mock war games.
He kept up his martial arts. Still sparred. Still practiced with the blade.
After how his last life ended, he never allowed complacency. Not again.
These days, he was always armed.
Even beneath his suits and uniforms, he wore body armor, 360-degree torso protection.
Sleek, slim-fitting. Cutting-edge tech, a blend of aramid fibers and ceramic composites, an innovation drawn from fragments of memory, lessons from a world long gone.
