The Broken Arrow (1)
Bows were weapons used widely around the world until the invention of guns. In any civilization, ranged attack methods almost always boiled down to bows, and their efficiency is unmatched. They appear in myths everywhere, with countless divine archers etching their names into history. As the tradition of every civilization and the ultimate weapon, bows see use in all sorts of places—not just hunting, but as invaluable units even in massive wars.
Objectively speaking, though, making a bow is pretty damn tough. You might think it's just whittling some wood, but that wood needs rubber-like elasticity. And don't get me started on arrows. The dwarf said arrows are blacksmiths' main cash cow. Unlike other weapons, arrows are straight-up consumables, so of course they're profitable. Bows have been around since the dawn of civilization, symbols in their own right.
'Did the gorillas make bows and arrows? No way.'
Back at the shelter, I stared at the arrow clutched in my hand. It was snapped clean in half from me stepping on it. I'd found it by chance near the gorilla territory. Spotting this thing left me with a tangled mess of thoughts.
"Hey. Kkobong."
"?"
"Stick out your hand for a sec."
I'd been inspecting the broken arrow when I turned to Kkobong with a request. He gave me a puzzled look but obediently held out his hand. A gorilla's palm—broad as hell, fingers stubby. Fine for nothing precise, let alone crafting arrows, bows be damned.
'Did Wi Ho Chang make these instead? Nah, the material's too fresh for that.'
The odds of a blacksmith in the gorilla crew were slim to none. If they had one, they wouldn't be swinging crude wooden clubs or stone axes.
'If not gorillas, then some totally different crew?'
That spelled trouble in its own way. It'd mean a higher level of civilization than the gorillas. Hell, scraping together even a rudimentary one in the Four Seasons Forest meant they weren't pushovers.
Pure speculation, but the Four Seasons Forest never fails to surprise. I immediately summoned Ludwig van Errolt and Cain for a council. They were pretty shocked to hear about the arrow too.
[An arrow? You mean the gorillas can make arrows?]
"That's what I thought at first, but nah. Their hand structure couldn't craft something this precise."
"……."
While Cain and I swapped theories, Ludwig scrutinized the broken shaft from every angle. He's the pro here; he'd spot something if there was anything to find.
Finally, he handed it back and spoke up.
"Short."
"Huh?"
"Arrow. Short."
The length was short. I peered closer, but what did I know about arrows? For a proper comparison, I needed another one. Lucky for me, the auction house had cheap ones on sale, so I snagged one.
'Definitely short.'
Side by side, the one I'd found was noticeably shorter—about a third less, rough estimate. But you couldn't judge solely by length.
'Our ancestors used arrows like this too.'
Baby arrows. The weird name stuck with me. Tricky to use, but damn near an ultimate weapon. Way faster than regular arrows, superior penetration too.
'But this one just looks stubby.'
Better get Ludwig's take first. I'm clueless on tactics; I needed the expert.
"@#$%% %%%#$."
[Folks using arrows like this fall into two camps. Special techniques like the elves, or just tiny stature.]
"Elves use these?"
"#%%^% #$."
[Some seriously vicious archery.]
The elven archery Ludwig mentioned was shockingly similar to our ancestors' style. Tools to compensate for the small size, insane power. Even tricked victims into not realizing they'd been hit before dropping dead.
'Elves, though... makes sense.'
GrowTrees had said as much, and the gallery agreed. Elves were archery gods. But that was elves—this arrow was different. High chance it was made for someone pint-sized.
"Tiny stature—who we talking?"
"Goblin."
Ludwig's answer was a knife slice. Goblins. The monsters popping up in chatter lately. Cunning as humans, always raiding. Small fry physically, but smart enough you couldn't drop your guard.
"Goblins make arrows?"
"Possible. Crude ones."
Goblins usually rolled in tribes. And bows, arrows? Tribal-era weapons, pre-civilization. Not weird for them to cobble some together.
Just...
[Most goblin archers couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.]
"Their size?"
[Partly. But their bows are junk too.]
Goblin gear was more knockoff than original. Looted human stuff, hacked to fit.
'Plenty of explorers have plunged into the Four Seasons Forest over the years—not impossible.'
They could've offed some adventurer or copied gear from a corpse. Bigger question: where were these guys holed up? Real goblins, or something else? And most crucially—threat to me?
This arrow seemed accidentally dropped. Maybe they were scouting the gorilla pack.
'One problem after another.'
Maybe they'd spotted me on a far scout, tailed me right into gorilla turf. Whatever. Time to gear up hard. Especially with ranged threats confirmed—I needed counters.
"Uncle. Good shot with arrows?"
"Basic virtue."
"Ah. Gotcha."
So I asked Ludwig how to handle archers. His response? Masterclass material.
"Hurl aura."
"Can't hurl it."
"Poor phrasing. Extend."
"……."
Not hurl—extend the length for counters. This whole area's forest; no real risk of long-range sniping. Hop trees, weave around—extending aura's smarter.
"Not the standard play, right?"
"You alone can."
"Praise?"
"Likely."
Likely my ass. I let out a dry chuckle.
Still, brushing up on archery now and then wouldn't hurt. Arrows? Auction house or dwarf could hook me up.
'Or swap the tips myself.'
All Mithoricon heads would do nicely. Time to lock in a routine. I mapped out my day.
'Aura control's not perfect yet.'
Daramjwi and the Mamut construction meant holing up in the shelter 3-4 days at least. Mulling my schedule, an idea hit. That first crossbow from the dwarf trade, the bow from GrowTrees—waste letting them gather dust.
Ludwig was no slouch with archery either.
"Thus, I bestow upon you the crossbow."
"……."
Shoved it into Kkobong's hands. The look on his face? Priceless. Zero clue why me.
But relegating him to pack mule duty forever? Criminal.
"Oh yeah. Gotta unlock this from your neck."
Bonus: ditched the mana suppressor collar. He hadn't even clocked it was there—let out an "ah" of surprise. Seemed content with life now over old grudges, so off it came.
'Won't make a huge difference anyway.'
Even if he got ideas, Ppareumbo'd shut that down. And I'm the only glasses hookup—his damn eyes.
Quick crossbow rundown later, we were set.
"Practice on a decent tree. Always retrieve arrows."
"Understood. Internal power work on this?"
"Dunno? Uncle—arrows take aura, right?"
"Yes."
Kkobong nodded and headed off to train. Clumsy start, but he adapted fast. I watched a bit, then grabbed the other bow.
'Pulling this was a chore too.'
GrowTrees's gift. World Tree wood, supposedly. Drawing the string solo had been impossible—shelved it. Still pristine, no maintenance.
"Hngh!"
Revved my internal mana and yanked the string. Definitely stronger now—full draw achieved.
Twing!!!
Released: crisp air snap. Few shots and I'd be gassed. Deep breath, passed it to Ludwig.
"You take it."
"Eh?"
"No mana for me."
He passed back anyway. Said no aura without his Mithoricon sword.
Weird—I was gonna slap Mithoricon tips on regardless. Prodded him, got the theory rundown.
"$#%^&& $%&^&#."
[Archers infuse aura into both bow and arrow. Bow absorbs the recoil.]
"Shatters if it can't?"
[No shatter. Major damage, though.]
Recoil math even here. Absurd, but weirdly practical. No choice—I'd wield the bow.
Could hunt with arrows later. Plenty of time.
Found a spot, nocked an auction arrow. Cheap junk.
"#$%%% #$%."
[Hold breath after draw. 1cm variance? 10cm+ miss.]
"#$%%% ##."
[Find your feel. Sights differ per person.]
Drew per Ludwig—shake was wild. Crossbow? Just hold breath. Bow demanded lung power.
Steadied max, zeroed in on a distant safety tree.
'Steady...'
Concentrated harder, released.
Paaang!!!
Air-exploding roar drilled my ears. Jerked, but tracked the shot.
Sound fit: aura-charged arrow rocketed to the tree.
Kwak!
Then...
Kwaaang!!!
Massive blast pulverized the area.
Whoooong!!!
"……."
"……."
"……."
Ignoring the gusts, we gawked at the carnage. I'd fired a plain arrow. Result? Carnage.
'Does everything I touch turn into a rocket?'
This? Full-on missile.