Right in the center of the exhibition hall, placed in a prominent spot, sat Sigrid's sniper rifle. The entire body of the gun was pitch-black, reflecting a cold and mysterious metallic sheen under the surrounding soft lighting, as if silently recounting past glories and stories.
Sigrid stepped lightly, walking slowly up to the sniper rifle. Her gaze instantly turned ardent and focused. She reached out, her long, well-articulated fingers gently grasping the stock, and with a slight lift, she steadily picked up the sniper rifle.
Moving with practiced fluency, she gave her wrist a slight twist. The rifle danced in her hands like a nimble, writhing snake as she freely spun and played with it. "This is my Elegy. It has been with me for many years."
Chapter 340