The Reason I Took the Cannon in Hand: "Classic of Mountains and Seas Demonic Beast 5"

And the second reason the quest was dragging on was this:

"No way, weren't those bastards supposed to be dumb? Why the hell are they suddenly acting up like this?"

The sub-quest monsters were starting to test the waters.

Assaults, my ass? Up until now, the monsters invading in line with the "block the entrance" sub-quest theme had all charged at me brainlessly, hell-bent on eating me.

At first, their numbers and momentum had me spooked, but once I got used to it and upgraded my weapons, it felt like fun target practice on moving dummies—I was having a blast mowing them down.

Poke.

Like they were dead set on never taking a hit, the monsters clung tight behind massive tree trunks, peeking out just their heads to watch this spot.

Of course, they hadn't been like that from the start. When the earlier waves rushed in, I fired a shot from the Sage Cannon mounted on the beach, and one took a direct iron ball to the body—reduced to mush, not even a shape left—right next to its buddy.

Watching that, they instinctively realized it.

Charge straight in like this, and you'd end up just like that first guy.

Unlike small, unassuming guns, cannons are huge with insane range—the impact must've hit hard.

Thanks to that, we'd fallen into a staring contest: "Come at me" vs. "Nah, pass?"—a deadlock stretching on forever.

But ignoring them to do my own thing? Impossible.

If I even slightly turned my head away, pretending not to notice, they'd sneak peeks, then slowly close the distance.

Stare back, and they'd freak, bolting to their spots. This had happened dozens—no, hundreds—of times already.

"What the—no one's playing red light, green light here. What the hell do they want?"

It was driving me insane, costume about to burst at the seams.

[This is a first for me too, so I'm stumped.]

Hendrick squinted, observing their movements.

Then he glanced at the shooting range I'd painstakingly cleared and said,

[Looking at their thick hides, the Victor's Cannon Assembly won't even scratch 'em. But closing distance to reset the range? They'd bolt, and that's that.]

Artillery, east or west, ancient or modern, starts and ends with hammer and pickaxe work.

Unlike guns, mid-sized cannons have recoil and backblast on another level when fired.

"Ha, what do I even do?"

Pulling an all-nighter in this standoff meant no proper sleep—I was losing it.

Veins popping, eyes bloodshot, nerves frayed, scratching my head in despair— that's when it hit.

[Can't exactly charge their lines cannon-in-hand myself. Tch. No clue here.]

"Seriously, Hendrick. You call that a joke...?"

Wait a sec.

His offhand words, tossed out without thinking. Normally, I'd brush it off as banter, but in this unhinged state? No way I let it slide.

"Good idea!"

My inspired gaze naturally drifted to the Sage Cannon mounted on the beach.

I shook out my body lightly, then assumed a deadlift stance to hoist this iron beast.

"One, two."

Up it went. Honestly, for a mid-sized cannon, lifting it was nothing for this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠muscle-bound external arts body.

With modern training knowledge boosting it, I raised the cannon to waist height, forming a pretty stable firing posture.

[...What are you doing?]

"What else? Charging their lines cannon-in-hand."

[......]

Watching his disciple actually execute that throwaway line, Hendrick seemed speechless for a moment.

I swung the cannon like a club, testing it—imagined the recoil during firing, planned my stance.

Whoosh, whoosh. Hesitant at first, but damn, it felt better than expected.

"I'll be off then!"

Had to reload ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the fly, so I bundled iron balls and powder in cloth, slung it over my shoulder, and left the beach.

Instead of keeping distance, I closed in—the monsters hesitated, unsure whether to charge this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weirdo or not.

Perfect timing. When they're dithering like this.

Gripping the cannon tight with my powerful external arts, I lit the fuse.

Sizzle—it burned.

Then—

BOOM!

The massive roar hurled the iron ball—it smashed the opposite tree, crushing it—and pulverized a Yamal's head hiding behind.

"It works! Fuck yeah!"

Sure, unpredictable recoil sent me tumbling back a roll, but who cares.

I felt it. This body's external arts could tank the cannon's kickback.

All this time, dismissed as useless by others and myself—external arts finally shining.

Now I could tote and fire the cannon barehanded, no mount needed. Lesson learned: learn everything, effort pays off somehow.

With that tiny epiphany,

"Now I can sleep."

The end of this long tunnel in sight.

Time to repay those asses with an iron ball up each butt.

"Where you going? Stay put!"

"Eek! Squeak!"

BOOM!

Cannon barked, recoil dumped me back a few times, but the monsters? No counterattack—they panicked, fleeing in terror.

Skilled hands reloaded as I chased, superior range letting me pepper their backs with shots.

[...Heh, well.]

Hendrick could only groan at the sight.

Who was the intruder here? Defender? And who the hell charges swinging a cannon like that?

Sure, he'd suggested it, but who knew it'd happen? No sane person tanks cannon recoil barehanded.

And that body absorbing it? Insane.

[Knew he was nuts from the start. Best for my sanity not to question it.]

With that, Hendrick wandered off somewhere.

*

"...So, smart monsters wouldn't come close, he straight-up grabbed the cannon and hunted them down—that's why I'm staring at this genius invention now?"

"Yep, literally."

"Hmmm."

I'd clocked him as unusual early on, but this guy's ideas are next-level.

Crude to say, but straight-up lunatic vibes.

Anyway, story dragged too long. Not boring—his tale was gripping, delivery sharp—but duty called.

Time to wrap and judge.

"Reckon it's time to end the story and decide."

"Ah, this is really the end! Just hear this last bit!"

But he showed no sign of stopping till I heard it all. Fine, one more? Plenty of business with this guy anyway—generous leeway okay.

His finale began.

*

Finally, the season-long dragging quest wrapped up. Like smashing through a bottleneck, things accelerated.

My uninhabited island fateful encounter was racing toward its end.

Clang, clang! Screech.

That day too, hammering iron relentlessly, honing my craft as always.

"Why switch from big beautiful firearms to this at the end?"

[You wouldn't get it yet. Never planned to teach miscellaneous crafting like this, but your absorption rate's insane.]

I'd doubted at first. With powerful cannons in hand, need for crappy cold weapons?

But seeing him add, "Looking at you, it'll come in handy someday," I had to nod.

[Reckon I've got nothing left to teach.]

"Heading down the mountain?"

[Down the mountain? For us sailors, it's disembarking—haha!]

Just bantering pointlessly like that, killing time.

But contrary to Hendrick's "nothing left to teach," the fateful encounter quest showed no sign of ending.

Unlock conditions unmet.

Progress stalled dead.

I'd done everything possible here: quest progress, Hendrick affinity up, island tasks.

In this limited uninhabited island space, undone things?

Enter the captain's cabin. Enter the inner forest. That's it. If the cabin's just a normal reward room,

'The forest.'

Only the monsters' central forest lair left.

That thought recalled Hendrick's warnings: 'Never think of going inside, lad.'

Seemed like danger without prep at first, but felt deeper.

"...Let's check it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out."

Normally foraging and weapon maintenance time, but today I told Hendrick I had business—off to handle it.

He asked what for; nearly sweated bullets, but bullshitted about building a raft to leave soon—passed smoothly.

Couldn't tote the Sage Cannon, so lightly armed with the Victor's Cannon Assembly like old forest runs, I headed to the path entrance.

Thus began the turning point of my uninhabited island fateful encounter.