Excellent Means of Communication (3)
The next morning, no sooner had the sun risen than a carriage emblazoned with the emblem of the continent's top merchant group, the Gos Merchant Group, pulled up in our front yard.
A neatly dressed employee in a tailcoat stepped out, cleared his throat, and offered a polite greeting.
"Good morning. I am from the Gos Merchan—"
"Yeah, yeah, thanks for your hard work. Here you go. Please deliver it as fast as possible. I'm on a tight schedule before the entrance exam."
"Ah… haha. Yes, on the countess's orders, we'll prepare it right awa— Huh???"
The employee let out a nervous chuckle at my blunt attitude, took the paper, but his voice cracked midway through reading it.
His eyes bulged like a frog's as he scanned the list. He alternated wildly between the high-grade paper I'd handed him and my grubby face, his expression screaming, 'What the hell has this lunatic done?'
"Just to confirm," he stammered, clutching the trembling paper with shaking hands, "the 'Dwarf-forged special alloy, 50 kilograms', 'five top-grade fire mana stones', and the 'Imperial military forge Grade-1 precision tool set'… that's correct, right?"
"Oh, my handwriting's so bad you couldn't read it? Yeah, that's right. Oh, and if possible, make the mana stones the purest grade without a speck of impurity. One wrong burst and my wrist's gone."
The employee gasped as if he'd choke at my shameless reply.
"L-look here! This could buy a mansion in the capital! And military forge tools? Even with overflowing money, a commoner couldn't possibly—!"
"That's why I'm not buying it—you great Gos Merchant Group is getting it for me."
I snorted and patted his shoulder.
"The countess herself gave me a blank check yesterday, saying spend whatever. Got a problem with that? If you don't believe me, go get her approval right now. And tell her I was really pissed about the time crunch before the academy exam."
"……Gasp."
At the mention of the countess, he went pale, shut his mouth, and clutched the parchment to his chest like treasure.
The Gos Merchant Group, dubbed the continent's best, lived up to its name with terrifying efficiency. Just four hours after I tossed them that insane shopping list, heavy crates were unloaded from another carriage in the yard.
"Huff… huff…! Th-this is the first batch we could procure immediately from nearby cities!"
The same employee from morning, drenched in sweat, flung open the boxes.
One flawless, iridescent top-grade fire mana stone. Five kilograms of silvery dwarf-forged special alloy, the stuff used for legendary swords. And a hefty leather case holding the military forge Grade-1 precision tool set.
"The rest is being scraped together from branches across the continent, so p-please wait just a bit longer!"
He bowed, gasping for breath—his attitude a complete 180 from morning.
But his words fell on deaf ears. My eyes were glued to the gleaming premium materials in the crates.
For a guy who'd only handled bendy scrap iron and misfiring cheap powder, this was a godsend.
Insane. This is more than enough for the frame and firing mechanism.
A thick, unhideable—hell, I didn't even want to hide it—mad grin spread across my face.
Time to make a real gun, not a toy.
…Or so I declared inwardly with grim resolve, turning around.
Whoosh. A rotten ceiling shedding dust at a mere breeze and a wobbly wooden table shaking like aspen leaves filled my view. The boiling thrill cooled instantly.
This place is a no-go.
Precision-machining dwarf alloy for a mana sword in this rat hole? Madness. I'd waste half the pricey stuff in dust and cry blood.
"Uh. Any forges the merchant group runs directly? The fancier the facilities, the better."
At my bold demand, the employee blinked blankly, then nodded as if it were obvious.
"O-of course. The countess said to offer the VIP workshop in our top-grade direct forge anytime the benefactor wants. We'll escort you by carriage."
Moments later, the Gos Merchant Group direct forge he guided me to was… paradise for a true gun nut. No, for any engineer.
A state-of-the-art mana furnace maintaining ultra-high heat via mana stones. Massive steel anvils and marble workbenches allowing zero millimeter error. With the military tools freshly set up, tears of hot gratitude welled in my eyes—I'd been scavenging and hacking scrap till now.
I flared my nostrils wide and sniffed deep.
"Ahh."
The acrid tang of lubricant and hot metal hit my nose. I shed my outer clothes like a beast, snarling, and took position at the bench.
Premium materials, perfect infrastructure. No more excuses.
I dumped my gathered stuff and dove into crafting a real weapon.
Clang!Kaaang!
Amid the mana furnace's blasting heat on the marble bench, cold, heavy metal rang out, shattering the forge's silence.
First up: the frame and barrel, the gun's skeleton.
No rifling.
Grooves inside the barrel boost accuracy and range—but only for aerodynamic bullets. Mine? Crude round lead balls.
Rifling for round balls is suicide.
The mana powder's insane blast would shred the rifling before the ball spun, turning my precious barrel to scrap. No accuracy, just ruin.
Long-range sniping for later guns. I needed power to smash noble smug faces and plate armor up close.
All stats into penetration: the smoothbore pistol. Perfect for now.
So far, so good. My hack skills could handle it.
The problem? The six-shot core: the cylinder.
"Damn it! The gear teeth don't mesh again."
The six-chambered cylinder had to rotate exactly 60 degrees per trigger pull, aligning perfectly with the barrel. Precision hell no farmer hands could manage.
Grind-clank!Ching!
"Haa…."
The fresh cylinder's teeth misaligned, another shard hitting the floor. Third failure.
Then—
"Hey, kid! How many of those precious alloys you wasting?!"
"What's that freakish cylinder? Teeth angles all wrong! Aigoo, my blood pressure!"
The head artisans, who'd been watching arms-crossed from the corner, finally snapped and approached.
Decades eyeing metal, they couldn't stand a newbie fumbling premium tools and wasting pricey stock.
I grinned like I'd waited and slapped my sweat-soaked blueprint on the marble bench.
"If it's frustrating, you uncles carve it. Trigger pull engages these teeth, rotating the cylinder exactly one-sixth turn."
"Hah, cheeky… Let's see."
Grumbling, they peered—and jaws dropped.
"In-insane…! These teeth angles meshing with spring tension like that?!"
I smirked at their shocked cries. No wonder. A rotating magazine was revolutionary even on Earth.
Thanks, Samuel Colt. Your genius revolving cylinder will bring equality to this crap rom-fantasy world.
"What's this? Thin paper packed with powder and ball? No detonator—how do you ignite paper?!"
At the artisan's sharp question, I grinned wider.
Colt's cylinder was his legacy; paper cartridges and mana ignition? Pure my original genius.
Instead of answering, I tapped a gleaming top-grade fire mana stone from the box. It glowed red, emitting faint heat.
"Shave this to rice-grain size, embed in the hammer tip striking the cylinder rear. Trigger impact sparks the stone, flame ignites paper, boom—powder explodes."
"……!!"
The forge air froze.
Not dumping mana-mixed powder, but permanent igniter in the gun. Cheap paper vs. brass casings slashes costs, maxes lethality and stability. Devilish.
"How'd you think of…"
"The demon of magitech has descended."
"Hook! Fetch the 0.1mm gauge now! This is art—stake my 50 years on perfecting it!"
Their eyes flipped manic. The continent's top three artisans, mocking me moments ago, now grabbed my collar for measurements, hammering and sawing like fiends under a commoner kid's orders.
Days later.
Click, shrrrk.
Assembly done, I thumbed the silver revolver's cylinder. Well-oiled, it spun smoothly with crisp metal song. Perfect meshing, zero error.
"……Haa, fucking insane."
Awe escaped my lips.
Single-shot junk devoured top tech, reborn as a six-shot beast of silver.
The 6-shot mana-ignition revolver. In this backstab rom-fantasy, my most reliable ally.
* * *
Gos Merchant Group basement, deepest level. Secret lab for unstable mana stones or risky artifacts.
Layered soundproof magic circles chilled the air as Laurie Gos in lavish dress entered, fan veiling her mouth.
Behind, three bleary-eyed head artisans from all-nighters stood tense.
"So. This puny scrap heap ate a month's capital branch budget?"
Her incredulous gaze lingered on my silver revolver. Even the continent's top merchant couldn't fathom it. Too small/light for club, rice-grain fire mana stone at end no wand.
I smirked, nodding at the lab end.
Thick steel target for magic orbs beside a strapped imperial knight breastplate.
"See for yourself if it's scrap."
From leather pouch, I pulled six thumb-sized paper packs: powder and ball wrapped tight. World's first paper cartridges.
"Paper-wrapped balls? What can that do?"
I grinned at scoffing Laurie.
"These pathetic scraps will reshape continental wars and burst your vaults."
No more talk—I shoved cartridges into cylinder chambers, tamped with loading lever under barrel.
Stuffing paper into metal holes looked bizarre. But six rounds took mere seconds.
Laurie and artisans held breath, clueless to the ritual.
Click. Thumb cocked hammer fully; crisp click, cylinder spun smooth.
One-handed raise, aimed at 30 paces' breastplate. No chant, no mana draw—odd stance.
I pulled trigger without pause.
Thack!Crackle!!
Hammer flew, smashed cylinder rear. Rice-grain mana stone sparked red fiercely.
Flame licked paper, hit powder—instant.
BOOM-!!!!!
Soundproof lab shook like collapsing; eardrums tore. Muzzle belched crimson flame, acrid white smoke.
Powder thrust ball at invisible speed, slicing air.
Crack!
"……!!"
"Eek!"
Laurie's feather fan hit floor.
No mana ripple. Yet fist-sized hole gaped center of thick breastplate—backing steel target crumpled too.
But not done.
Click, BOOM!! Click, BOOM!!
I controlled recoil, rapid cock-and-fire. Five more thunders rocked the lab.
Crack!! Kwangrack!!
Six shots done, knight plate was unrecognizable scrap tumbling down.
"Whew."
I blew barrel heat away, turned to shocked Laurie.
"Well? Month's budget not wasted, right?"
In smoke-filled lab, the lips of the woman gripping continental economy trembled in unknown terror and thrill.