Transmigrating as an Extra Third-Rate Villain

Since there were no walls, I could see the archery range from even this distance as I saw countless elves practicing from the outside.

In particular, the ones to the right side caught my eye. Their bows had a soft silver lining along the elegant white surface, and the bow's wood was perfectly carved to suit each person.

Even their arrows looked like they took ages to craft, as each was painted soft white and had a golden tip.

Looking at the stack of crummy practice bows to my side, I immediately manifested the corrupted bow and my maximum of two arrows.

I could shoot the arrows, disperse them, and then re-manifest them in my hand, so the number didn't matter.

Noticing all the good spots were filled, I headed to the archery range's left side, where the quality was significantly worse.

The targets had holes and stains, and even worse, the bow Elves' form was disgusting, even to me, a beginner!

As I manifested the arrows, I ensured the tips were soft enough so the targets wouldn't immediately collapse.

"Hm?"

Turning back around, I saw an open spot on the right side of the archery range as one of the elves slammed his bow on the ground before angrily walking away.

"...bad archery day, huh?"

Unnoticed by the other elves, who were so focused on aiming, I slipped into his spot before selecting the option for a 25-meter target.

Nocking an arrow, I pulled back the black string before using my eyes to calculate the exact route my arrow should take.

After finalizing my calculations, I released the string, allowing the arrow to fly forward so fast that unawakened people could not see it.

Watching as the arrow perfectly hit the center of the target, I went back to the control panel to add a couple more targets and make them mobile rather than stationary.

Firing my two arrows in quick succession, I watched as each one perfectly went through two targets by perfectly timing the point at which the targets were lined up.

Unfortunately, these new targets did not survive my arrows. When my arrows made contact, the wood targets shattered into tens of pieces.

Thankfully, my arrows made no noise, so I could spawn another set of targets from the control panel without being noticed.

Changing the arrow's size so that it was more aerodynamic and less wide, I nocked another arrow and allowed it to gracefully glide through the air, once again hitting the dead center of the target.

Unfortunately, this single shooting process took well over 30 seconds, as I had to calculate the route necessary for my arrow perfectly.

But... there was nothing I could do about it.

Ultimately, I was an assassin, not a sniper or marksman, so there were no shortcuts to improving my bow proficiency.

To decrease the time needed for an arrow shot, I just needed to practice—and practice every single day.

There was also no way to check my progress in the short term, as sometimes my shooting rate would be inexplicably faster before immediately dropping to below average.

My main reason for coming to the arrow range today was not to shoot my bow but to analyze how the elves around me used their bows and then incorporate their techniques.

After glancing around for a minute, making sure not to keep my gaze on the same elf for too long, I found the perfect specimen.

Adorned in an elegant white cloak with a visible symbol of the world tree, the elf has a crowd of people gathering around him and watching his every move, even though he hadn't even begun to shoot yet.

Pretending to drink some water, I watch the elf with long white hair draping down to his waist and amber-brown eyes walk toward my section.

Following the lead of the other elves, who were no longer focused on shooting and instead on the white-haired elf, I stepped back and dropped my bow.

As the section was full, there was no spot for the elf to use; however, in the next moment, the elf next to me bowed before immediately giving up his spot.

He didn't seem mad at giving up his spot; rather, he looked like he was honored to have done so.

Well... he was giving up his spot to the prince of the Elven kingdom and the first successor to the kingdom, even in front of Alya.

But... sadly, he would never actually ascend the throne.

Well, I wasn't complaining about receiving first-row seats to the show!

Actually, it wasn't just me who had dropped everything to watch the prince's performance, as the elves around me also carefully observed the prince's form.

Watching him take his first shot, which took less than 3 seconds but still managed to hit the dead center of the target, I opened my mouth in awe.

Even though I observed his every movement and muscle twitch with my eyes, locking it down in my memory, I could not see myself replicating it.

The bow was naturally drawn to him... like it was a part of his body rather than a physical item.

Like a hand, the bow appeared to be an extension of his body. Despite being a physical object, the bow seemed to be able to read the prince's mind and follow his every instruction.

The prince was a marksman... a marksman who had practiced for over ten years with his specialized weapon, receiving the best training and teachers possible.

...Just what was his weapon proficiency?

Even Alya's proficiency with this sword did not compare, and of course, my measly dagger proficiency was leagues below.

That 3-second shot of his did not even use any mana or incorporate any of the techniques he had learned through progress in his bow art or weapon proficiency... yet it was already perfect.

My corrupted daggers could probably stop it, though... couldn't they?

Snapping me out of my thoughts, I suddenly felt countless gazes on me before a soft and bright voice emerged.

"Oh, and who might you be?"

Showing proper etiquette, I bowed before gesturing to the Academy's symbol on my jacket and replying.

"A student of the Celestial Academy here on a visit."

Scratching his chin, the prince warmly replied.

"Oh, I did hear that a couple of visitors would be coming... but this soon? Well, no matter, I hope your time thus far has been pleasant in the kingdom. I'm Albis, the first prince."

Nodding my head, I was prepared for this conversation to end as the disgusted gazes of the other elves was starting to piss me off.

However... the prince had other plans as he glanced at my control panel, easily spotting my pitch-black bow, which stood out amongst all the other pure white-colored bows.

"Oh? Did you, by any chance, come here to practice with your weapon?"

"...why else would I be at an archery range?"

As those last words escaped my mouth, I immediately felt the atmosphere around me shift as the disgusted gazes transformed into anger.

...I had said that out loud, hadn't I?

Discretretely picking up my bow and arrow upon realizing the hostile reactions of the Elves, I carefully observed Albert's reaction.

Activating the usage period of the dash, I prepared for the worst-case scenario as I looked up.

But... there was nothing to observe.

"*PFFT*, HA, HA, *PFFT* You r-really a-are."

...was it a fake laugh? Or was he laughing?

However, my worries quickly faded as Albert, still laughing, dispersed the crowd and casually walked over to me, his figure devoid of the previous elegance.

Was this another person...?

"Well, let's have it?"

"Have what?"

"An archery competition, of course!"

Instantly, I heard countless elves around me break into gasps while staring at me, their eyes now wide.

Well... they say losing is the best way to learn!

Slinging the bow around my shoulder, I curiously asked.

"What's with all of them?"

"Well, you are the first living being I've ever challenged to an archery battle!"

"..."

Breaking into laughter upon seeing my reaction, Albert gestured to two elves, who dashed over to our control panels and set up the competition.

A competition like this had taken place in the book between Liam and some Elven general, so I practically knew the rules.

Well, it wasn't hard to understand.

You shoot as many targets as possible within 2 minutes, and the closer to the center you hit, the more points you receive.

Without further talking, the competition started as countless targets, moving as fast as the luxury bus, appeared before me.

Nocking my arrow, I partially calculated the arrow's route, decreasing the process to 10 seconds; however, my arrow hit near the edges of the target instead of the center as a result.

Shooting three more times, I glanced at the scoreboard, my expression immeediatly stiffening immediately.

[Home: 110]

[Visitor: 12]

But... the score wasn't the reason for my expression change.

In front of the scoreboard stood Albert, who was casually sipping a cup of tea while staring at me, his bow nowhere in sight.

...THERE WERE STILL 30 SECONDS LEFT IN THE COMPETITION.

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