"Seeing that thing… I'm sure it's a Feral Vampire."
Obviously, there were so many tiers of vampires in the novel. Feral ones were basically tutorial mobs, the punching bags of the vampire world.
The author threw them at Clint in the early volumes just so he could practice dodging claws and showing off slow-motion cool moves.
After all, you can't introduce Vampire Lords right away, you gotta feed the protagonist some cannon-fodder first.
Jason's gaze fell on the cowboy's six-shooter lying by his side, slick with blood. His eyes trembled. The gun… it was calling to him.
Slowly, with the dignity of a man plucking Excalibur from the stone, Jason reached out and wrapped his fingers around the grip. He lifted it with both reverence and delusion.
"It's… perfect."
He wiped the blood off on the cowboy's pants—respectfully, of course.
In Jason's mind, the cowboy had passed him a torch, entrusting him with his dying will. In reality, Jason was just smearing gore around while talking to himself.
Jason weighed the revolver in his palm.
"Hmmm… six chambers… balanced… forged by master dwarves of the Gunmetal Mountains…"
He nodded solemnly, despite the fact it was literally just a factory-made Colt.
There was only one time Jason had used a gun in his entire life. One time only.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to remember that incident.
Along with the gun and another gun, Jason also took the poor man's gun belt, some ammo looted from the other corpses, and a hunting knife he chose purely based on how cool it looked.
Obviously, hunters could not rely on guns alone when fighting monsters that were faster, stronger, and could leap across rooftops like caffeinated kangaroos.
"Guns alone do not cut it against true beings of the night."
Jason muttered, as if he had decades of field experience instead of none.
So melee weapons became a staple in the vampire hunting community. Old-school swords, spears, daggers, axes, even ridiculous custom maces with nails sticking out like a DIY project gone wrong.
Of course, there were silver versions of these weapons. Expensive, rare, shiny. Definitely the premium DLC of vampire hunting.
Silver was one of the most dangerous weakness of the vampires, so it was expected to be expensive as hell.
And then came the real deal. Weapon Arts.
To efficiently use a weapon, to master it, to unleash true power, one needed a proper Weapon Art. And since this was a world with no system screens, no magical stat boxes popping out of nowhere, one had to do it the hard way.
You had to find scriptures, read them, memorize the cryptic verses, and practice until your body either mastered the technique… or snapped in half.
It was brutal. It was exhausting. But for Jason, sitting in his old world binge-reading the novel at 3am with chips all over his chest, it had been the most exciting thing ever.
But there was also a simpler way, that Clint Callahan had used in order to learn a class seven sword art at the later volumes of the the webnovel.
"He he he...I know that way."
He tightened his grip on the knife, eyes shining.
"At last… the day has come. The weapon chooses the master, and today, this knife has chosen me."
The knife slipped from his sweaty palm and clattered on the ground.
Jason coughed, picked it back up, and pretended it never happened.
"Yes. Truly a test from the heavens."
He looked at his guns, the belt, the knife, the ammo scattered in his pockets. To him, this was not just looting corpses.
This was the sacred ritual of equipment gathering. The first step of every true protagonist.
Jason spread his arms to the empty town.
"Rejoice, oh heavens. For the Great Jason has entered his tutorial arc."
Flies buzzed around a rotting horse. Jason took it as applause.
...
Jason decided the general store was the first stop. According to the novel, it was basically a one-stop shop for everything.
Need traveling supplies? General store. Vampire hunting gear? General store. A sack of beans? General store. Holy water? General store. A new hat because yours got bird poop on it? General store.
But as he swaggered toward the entrance, his body froze.
His hand shot to his holster. In one smooth motion—well, not smooth, more like clumsy but dramatic—he whipped out his revolver and aimed.
Standing before him, inside the dusty glass window, was a boy. A handsome boy. No. A rival.
"You… Who are you, you handsome son of a bitch."
The other boy mirrored him, gun already raised. His eyes were sharp. His stance was perfect. His aura screamed Main Character Energy.
The air went still. The ruined town seemed to hold its breath. A tumbleweed rolled past, as if the world itself wanted to witness this duel.
Jason licked his lips.
"So… it begins. My first showdown. Is this fate? Is this the legendary rival written into my destiny?"
He adjusted his grip. The boy in the window adjusted too.
Jason tilted his head. The boy tilted.
A bead of sweat dripped down his face.
"This guy… he's reading me perfectly."
He gritted his teeth, heart racing.
"Tch. So you've trained under the same master as me, huh. No wonder… your technique is flawless. Your killing intent is overwhelming. Truly, a worthy foe…"
And then, the realization struck.
Jason lowered his gun, sighed deeply, and gave a sheepish grin.
"Silly me. That's just me."
Indeed. It was his own reflection in the store's dusty glass.
Jason laughed awkwardly, but only for a moment before his eyes blazed again.
"No… wait. That's wrong. This is not just a reflection. This is the Mirror Trial! The heavens are forcing me to fight… myself."
He pointed the gun at the glass once more.
"Fine then. Handsome Jason… today, only one of us walks away alive."
The tumbleweed stopped rolling, as if even it wanted to see how this idiocy played out.