Underground shooting range of the Quelaag Club.
When he was done shooting, Klein meticulously serviced his free revolver and adjusted the ratio of purifying bullets, demon hunting bullets, and exorcism bullets to 3:1:1.
Phew. He exhaled, put away the revolver, tidied his coat, and slowly walked back to the hall on the first floor.
He had already heard from the attendant that the dish that was in limited supply today was pan-fried Dragon-Bone Fish.
As soon as he entered the buffet cafeteria, Klein saw an acquaintance, Talim Dumont, the equestrian teacher from an abject noble family with short brown curls. He was eating his lunch with unfocused eyes.
Klein carried his plate over, sat down, and greeted him.
