Drilling Non-Stop
A slightly bawdy work song with a reddish tinge was all the rage, but in any case, the construction was progressing smoothly.
"John, how's the sewage treatment plant coming along?"
"I'd say it's about 90% done!"
John, the manager and boss of the waste treatment facility on the outskirts of Energies territory.
"The new site's... lower elevation than I expected?"
"That's the beauty of this spot—it's naturally lower than Ridaside, so sewage flows right in!"
Akion had wondered why John bought up nearby land the moment the money came through.
But this shrewd boss, without even being told, had cleverly chosen a low-lying area for the optimal pipe slope and built the facility there!
"You... really did an amazing job...."
"Heh, hehehe. Of course! But, young master? Your eyes look a bit scary... Why are you drooling again...?"
Even without proper civil engineering knowledge, he'd figured this out on instinct alone?
This cheeky guy—John was a genius tempting a professor!!
Akion wanted to drag him straight into his lab.
"No, just deep in thought. So, how are you arranging the septic tanks?"
"Yes, sir! Like this—we're making six large artificial ponds—"
"Mm-hmm. The water cleaned by the slimes gets sent back to the river."
He really hadn't poached him. If he did, the sewage project would fall behind schedule.
Suddenly, Akion realized this was the exact feeling the Tower Master must have toward him.
The moment he got back to his seat, Akion summoned the Tower Master.
"Tower Master."
"Hm?"
"If it's not too much trouble, could you teach me basic magic principles when you have time?"
"Wh-wh-what?!"
People only truly understand when they're in that situation themselves.
Akion had finally grasped the wisdom of his ancestors' "empathy."
"Akion's brain is broken! Fix it!!"
"You're killing any motivation I had to learn...."
Of course, the Tower Master was so shocked at his sudden interest in magic studies—which he'd never pursued before—that she dragged him to the clinic. But anyway.
"So this is the screw. A bolt with a groove carved in."
"That groove locks it tight—amazing. Young master Akion really is a genius!"
The most important part was the new equipment change.
Akion had rolled out magic tools to the carpenters on site.
- Whirrr!
"And this one's for driving screws and drilling holes... the electric driver...."
"Makes all those hammer swings feel so foolish...!!!"
The tool the workshop staff had bragged about endlessly outside.
The electric driver!
"Come on, I'll lend them out free during construction. Tell me anything inconvenient or worth improving!"
"Young master is a god!!!"
"That's blasphemy."
"Then the god of magitech!"
"That I can get behind!!"
"Enough nonsense—get back to work."
Of course, neither knew the ripples this would cause.
Of course, this kind of thing dragging on was just so medieval.
"Heh, hehehe! Young master, funny story—I kinda... lost an electric driver...."
"......Take another one for now."
Driven by the beastly heart that could stomach the risk for profit, one electric driver had been smuggled out early in construction.
"Heh, heehee! I'm rich now......!"
"Just like... last time... that bastard over there... and his accomplice...."
"We'll investigate as ordered."
The thieving carpenter, convinced Akion hadn't noticed, handed it off to a shady merchant in cahoots with the guards—
"So this is the electric driver?"
It ended up in the hands of a blacksmith in the imperial south.
- Click.
- Whirrr!!
A scarred, bearded man on the cusp between middle and old age.
He chuckled at the magic tool lighter than his hammer.
"Using rotation for... slow but powerful penetration, huh."
A meister who'd handled countless swords and armor.
His experience sparked endless potential uses for this tool.
"Born from the genius alchemist of Energies, right? Amazing, isn't it, Uncle?"
"I've forged countless steel tools with hammer and anvil over the years, but...."
- Click, whirrr!
The elderly blacksmith called "uncle."
His eyes sparkled with curiosity beyond his years.
How had someone dreamed up this principle?
And why make it for this purpose?
He wanted to rush to Energies right now and debate all night with the inventor, Akion.
"This'll make up for your waning strength, Uncle!"
"Enough. What more do you want from an old man who set down his hammer long ago?"
But his forge had long gone cold.
"Uncle!!"
"Now, now. Be a good Steelbern and accept it."
House Steelbern.
From blacksmiths to renowned knights,
and viscounts for repelling the southern monster hordes.
Historically new nobility, but the first viscount—his uncle—was...
"Save that strength for forging your sword. I'm heading in."
"Uncle!!"
The man once called a sword master.
The former guardian of the imperial south, Clad Steelbern.
- Ugh...!
Of course, old injuries had weakened him over time, forcing retirement.
"Urgh."
Once-lost strength is hard to regain.
With age, he'd declined far from his prime—a former swordsman and blacksmith.
"Kid. I handed you the house, and you're fussing over an old man."
His nephew, idolizing him, had become head in his childless stead.
The nephew brought tonics and tools, yearning for Clad's return, but...
Nothing helped.
- Click, whirrr!
Though this electric driver piqued his interest!
"Akion's Workshop make, was it...?"
He'd seen the incandescent bulb's brilliance firsthand.
It had shocked him like facing a basilisk in his youth.
A glass orb smaller than his palm, five times brighter than mana lamps!
- Click.
Now it lit his desk.
A desk lamp his nephew got to accommodate his late nights.
- Scritch, scratch.
Under its glow, Clad sketched blueprints in his spare time.
Machines he'd always dreamed of as a blacksmith.
"Here like this, and this spot... Hmm."
Like an auto-hammer using rotation,
or a furnace melting iron with pure mana heat.
- Scribble.
"Hoo. Getting old makes even this tough."
Such semi-automated dreams for a blacksmith.
Though he could no longer wield hammer or sword properly.
- Click, whirrr!
"But with this..."
He hoped his designs would ease sword-forging for descendants.
Steelbern blood meant knights forged their own blades.
Why not make the process easier?
- Knock knock.
"Family head. Time for bed."
"Oh dear. Already?"
Lost in blueprints, the moon would climb overhead.
"You're suffering because of me. Go rest."
"Thank you for your consideration."
That was Clad Steelbern's routine lately.
Dreaming of his machines realized, a man's burning hope under the covers.
- BOOM!!!
"What?!"
Before the explosion lit the window red.
- Dong dong dongdongdong!!
"Raid! It's a raid—!!"
"What in the...!"
The guards' frantic bells.
Clad rushed into the hall, seeing servants scurrying.
Unaware of the situation, he grabbed one.
"What's happening?!"
"Enemy attack!! Knights in black cloaks with open-mouthed snakes!"
"No way...!"
Not just Steelbern—most nobles had deadly foes.
A group called demons-but-not.
"Those half-breeds...!!"
Half-human, half-demon with devilish blood.
Most bore reverse pupils like demons.
Clad had led purges against southern half-breeds by imperial order in his youth... deep grudge there.
"Bring my sword!"
"No! The head ordered you to evacuate...!"
Servants blocked him, but Clad saw the burning village outside.
In the end, he...
"I'm the elder of Steelbern."
"Family head...!"
"Hurry and fetch it. I can draw their eyes as their nemesis."
"Sob...!"
Unbent in resolve, the aged servants fetched his gear.
"Family head?! Why aren't you evacuating...!"
"I'm Steelbern too! Think I'll die easy leaving you all?!"
Armored hastily, he led knights to the village before his nephew the head—
- Thud! Boom!
"Gasp!! Armor Basilisk!"
A four-legged armor mass with half-breeds aboard approached.
Scales unpierceable by steel swords earned the "armor" moniker.
"Takes mid-Expert aura at least!!"
"Damn it, with everyone out now of all times...!!"
Steelbern lacked such power now.
"The village uproar was bait..."
Recent monster raids had drawn knights and mages outward.
Clad realized too late it was a half-breed trap.
"Claaaaaaad—!!!"
The armor basilisk loomed.
"Kent."
"Long time, my nemesis!"
A half-breed with long grudge against Clad: Kent.
"Yeah. How's the left eye socket?"
"Insulting from the start! Even old, that sharp tongue's the same, Clad!"
The half-breed who'd lost his left eye to Clad and fled disgracefully.
Deep hatred, but... better off than Clad.
"I don't age!"
"Enviable. For something rejected by heaven."
Not aging.
Not immortal—decapitation kills—but half-breeds lived two centuries plus barring major wounds.
"So, reason for visiting Steelbern today?"
"Obviously, Clad—as nemeses, to gouge your eyes!"
If only he'd drop the grudge.
Clad sighed, signaling knights behind: 'I'll hold. Retreat with head, request aid from neighbors.'
"Family head?!"
"Hurry!!!"
Kent was fixated on him anyway.
His monsters awaited orders silently.
Clad's sacrifice preserved the viscount's forces.
"Jeez...!"
The knights knew, feet rooted—though Clad wouldn't yield.
"Hold a day—no, hours!"
"We'll bring aid ASAP!!!"
The twenty-odd knights retreated fully, leaving Clad per his order.
"Hah. That pointless kindness unchanged."
Kent dismounted, glaring.
"Not chasing them?"
"Pointless? Today, I aim to raze this viscounty you built—including you."
"Overly jealous as ever, Kent."
Decades ago, Clad had blasted his left eye.
Kent never forgave, honing taming for this day.
"So first, I'll burn you with this armor basilisk."
- Thud thud!
His tamed beast: heart like lava, breathing fire—once mistaken for dragon kin.
"Can your frail self slay this basilisk?"
Kent craved seeing it crush and burn Clad.
And Clad?
- Click.
"Gotta try."
No intention of yielding easily.
- Bam!
"Gah?!"
Just a thought. Only a thought.
"Kuhahaha!! At sixty, you're helpless!"
"Urgh, must be nice being young in body and mind—still a snot-nosed brat."
Armor basilisk outclassed Clad in size, strength, everything—against a former sword master?
- Clang! Claaang!
- Skree!
Frail aura couldn't slash or pierce those scales.
Hours of desperate blocks and strikes, Clad pushed back—now inside the mansion.
"But Clad, I'll outlive you."
"So ignorant. Books warn how horrific eternity is."
Brain intact, his sharp tongue endured.
"Hah, no more stalling. Aid's a day off—you know."
"That's why I stall. Gotta tie you down till your head rolls here."
"Sure."
Kent had suffered that lip too.
It stung, but he'd grown not to buckle.
"Armor basilisk."
"Groooar!!"
Clad savored his crushing sufficiently.
Armor dented, blade chipped, bleeding everywhere.
Pitiful enough to pity, even for Kent.
"Finish it quick. At least mercifully."
"Groooaaar!!!"
- Thud thud thud!
Respect for decades-long feud: final order.
Facing the lumbering doom, Clad felt untimely regret.
He'd wanted to see his blacksmith machines realized before death.
But fate denied.
Resigning to close his eyes—
- Click.
"Hm?"
Gripping tight, his hand closed on his nephew's gift from earlier.
"This...?"
The electric driver.
Mana-powered motor for immense torque penetration.
"......!"
Instinctively, Clad gripped it.
- Click!
- Whirrrrr!!
Just overwhelmed by basilisk—not mana depleted.
Stamina enough for aura too.
"Raaaaagh—!!"
Deeming it insufficient, Clad poured scraped-bottom mana into overload.
The embedded mana stone reacted, spewing mana,
near-aura mana surged to the tip.
- Whirrrrrr—!!
- Kreeeen!
Gathered aura mimicked a spinning screw at the bit.
"Hah, last gasp?! Charge and smash!!"
"Grooo!!"
Oblivious Kent ordered frontal assault,
- Skree!
Aura drill met ramming head—
- Krunch!!
Shattering scales cleanly,
- Spluuurt!!
"Gweee—?!?"
"Wh-what?! What?!!"
Bursting through to the jaw.
Kent, watching nearby, gaped.
"What the hell is thaaaaat—!!!"
His decade-tamed basilisk skull-drilled!
Unavoidable shock.
"My armor basilisk—?!!
- Stab?!
"Guh...?!"
"How dare you... Uncle!!"
Too stunned to notice Steelbern head and knights arriving.