Chapter 10

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 10

Chapter Title: New Weapon Development (1)

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Oakwood's morning dawned amid the acrid stench of gunpowder.

"Reti! Look over there! The military police are everywhere!"

"You're right."

The aftermath of yesterday's gunfire incident was far bigger than expected.

Blue-uniformed military police, who were rarely seen on normal days, were stationed in every alleyway.

They paraded around with muskets slung over their shoulders as if by prior agreement, an ominous sight.

"Hey, let us see your badge."

Above all, the area near the gates was pure chaos.

Regular citizens and merchants got a quick once-over and were waved through, but adventurers were another story.

Anyone carrying a weapon had the police glaring daggers and blocking their path.

"Come on, I have a commission I accepted yesterday! I need to head out now!"

"Quiet! Iron Ranks are banned from leaving the city for the time being. That's the magistrate's order."

"This is insane! You trying to starve us to death?"

Iron Rank adventurers—and the unlucky Bronze Ranks—were sweating bullets in front of the police bayonets.

No matter how much they protested their innocence, all they got in return was a cold barrel staring them down!

[Look at that! How tenacious they are. That's the scary thing about humans—they can enforce order.]

Rodentia clicked her tongue.

That was when it happened.

A familiar group pushed through the noisy crowd.

It was that bald guy from the dungeon yesterday and his party, White Skull.

[Hold on, Apostle. Aren't those the ones with the boom-sticks?]

"Yeah."

The bald man strutted confidently with a pistol openly holstered at his waist.

As one police officer moved to block him, a seasoned guard nearby hurriedly pulled him back and whispered in his ear.

"Hey, you nuts? That's Mace from White Skull! The Silver Rank!"

The officer's face went pale.

The guard plastered on a fawning smile and bowed deeply, as if to make a point.

"Oh, esteemed adventurers! We apologize for the inconvenience due to procedure. Please, go right ahead!"

White Skull, led by Mace, passed through the gates without a word, noses in the air.

Behind them, an Iron Rank adventurer exploded in frustration.

"What the hell? Why let them through and block me?!"

"Shut it! Those guys are state-recognized pros! You think you're on their level, newbie?"

The riot died down in an instant as a sharp rifle muzzle was shoved in his face.

[Did you see that, Apostle? The human world truly is a place where the strong prey on the weak.]

Rodentia whispered from inside the bag, clicking her tongue again.

'Yeah. Looks like the powerful stand above the law.'

Sena and I had no way out of the gates either.

In the end, we grudgingly took on odd jobs we could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠handle inside the city.

"Kyuuu..."

Slimes jiggled on the cart, making eerie noises.

The job we'd snagged was transporting raw materials for a slime silk workshop.

A typical menial task.

Pure drudgery: loading up bred slimes onto a cart and hauling them to the warehouse to extract their mucus.

"Reti, you okay?"

Sena gripped the cart handle, wiping sweat from her brow. Her Ratkin ears drooped with exhaustion.

"I'm fine. Better than digging potatoes."

"Still, I wanna save up quick and get out of Oakwood. We need travel money!"

"Travel money? Where to?"

"Yeah! I wanna see the holy city of Hieros! That's where the Pantheon Temple is, right?"

Hieros—the place Rodentia had been dying to go for the Pantheon Temple.

"For real? Awesome. That's my destination too. Got some stuff to check out there."

"Really? Wow, then we can keep traveling together! Being with you feels so reassuring, Reti."

Sena beamed and grabbed my hand.

Sure, we were slinging slimes right now, but sharing a goal was solidifying.

With that, our little Ratkin girl party bonded as we pushed the remaining carts.

The pay was peanuts.

Our plan to mine mana stones for two days went up in smoke, leaving us with just six silver coins.

"Today's lodging is 40 coppers..."

We rinsed off at the well next to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inn and headed to our room.

This was Oakwood's cheapest flop house, but even so...

A hunk of hard bread for dinner plus watery stew with no chunks added up to nearly a silver a day, gone just like that.

'Gotta make money fast or we're sleeping rough.'

I sat on the bed and unrolled paper and ink from the general store.

Sena, wiped out, was already snoring on the next bed over.

[Apostle, what are you scribbling now? Didn't you finish carving the wood?]

Rodentia tilted her head atop the hamster wheel.

I picked up a charcoal stub and began sketching blueprints with precision.

"Checked out the weapon shop, but nothing usable. All outdated designs."

I'd snuck back into that shop that kicked us out before for another look.

Their craftsmanship and polish beat mine, sure, but something was missing.

'This is another world. So why no...?'

At best, stuff like Zhuge crossbows from Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Weak enough that even an expert eye could tell they'd barely kill a goblin or two.

In my past life, woodworking was my hobby.

Not just furniture.

I'd built working model weapons a few times.

From 3D printers to all sorts of woods, tinkering with mechanisms was my sole joy.

Especially back then.

One foreign craftsman dominated my YouTube algorithm.

A German uncle with glasses, bushy beard, and a gleaming bald pate.

I could still picture him grinning wide as he unveiled wild launching contraptions.

"I'm gonna make a secret weapon from wood—stronger than guns."

First, account for local tech.

'No plastic. No 3D printers, no precision tools. Wood and metal only.'

Rubber? Who knows.

Muskets exist, so springs are doable.

For now, recycle this bow from dead Kyle.

Scratch scratch.

The design took steady shape on the paper.

Revise if flawed, erase with crusts of bread, repeat.

Squeeze every memory.

'Pull here like this... wire for that part. And...'

Levers, fittings, component slots fell into place.

The legendary craftsman's wisdom lived in my mind.

Hours passed in scribbles.

A day and a half later.

Rough frame done.

Staring at the finished blueprint, a familiar voice echoed.

-Let me show you its features.

"I'll carry on your will in this otherworld."

I offered solemn thanks to the craftsman in my heart.

Blueprint in hand, I strode to the smithy district.

'Just need key parts now!'

My quest ended in one hour.

"Too expensive..."

Not just expensive—utterly unreasonable.

"Why would anyone need to make something this intricate?"

"See, pull this lever and..."

Custom non-standard parts? Pricey as hell.

Smiths quoted prices that'd bankrupt me for a few screws.

And practical critiques too.

"This'll be heavy as sin. You gonna lug it around?"

"Ah..."

My diligent blueprint hit a brick wall of reality.

I sat dazed by the plaza fountain when Sena spotted me from afar.

"Reti! What're you doing here?"

"Oh, thinking. Not sure if I can actually build what I have in mind..."

"I see. It'll work out! You're smart, Reti!"

Who knows.

[Reti! Don't overthink it! What matters is the will to gnaw away!]

Food first, think later.

As I stood, something odd caught my eye in Sena's hand.

"Hm?"

A flat, thick black slab.

Sena stared at it, swiping the screen with her finger.

"Sena, what's that?"

"Huh? Oh, this? Magic Slate."

"Magic Slate?"

"Yeah, you don't know? You're from a monastery and still more out of touch than me!"

Sena smugly turned the screen my way.

My eyes nearly popped out.

"Gasp!"

Dull green-gray colors, but I knew exactly what it was.

'Why's this here?'

A dead-ringer tablet PC.

Thick as an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠encyclopedia, cracked surface and all, but text scrolled live on the smooth display.

"What... is this...?"

Seeing my genuine shock, Sena explained kindly.

"Mage Tower wizards made it. Connects to the mana network to share info! A monk gifted it when I left on my pilgrimage. Has an encyclopedia too—super handy."

I was floored.

'Fantasy world with an internet forum?'

This world's civilization made my head spin again.

Sena swiped familiarly and pointed to a post.

"Oh? Check this! It's about the crackdown. Lots of upvotes."

I peered at the screen.

"Can we trust this?"

"I'm no forum vet, but high-upvote posts like this are usually legit! No rebuttals in the replies either."

"I guess..."

Fair enough.

This world's "internet" might differ from what I knew.

"Controls lifting soon, then. Gotta prep in three days max."

I eyed the blueprint again.

Wood body carving? No sweat.

Metal parts? Problem.

Bigger issue: lightweight, sturdy material substitutes.

'Something like plastic would be perfect...'

No sign of magic chem-plastics here.

On a whim, I asked Sena.

"Sena, know any quirky smiths? Skilled but not money-grubbing."

"Hm, wanna try Mani?"

"Mani?"

"Yeah. Dwarf who fixed my shield when I first got here. Great skills, knows materials inside out! Bit... problematic, though."

Problematic piqued my ears.

"What kind?"

"Exiled from her clan. Other dwarf smiths shun her. Workshop's in a rundown shack on the city edge. But her handiwork's top-tier! Just an eccentric."

Exiled dwarf artisan. Those are always the real deals.

So we sought this Mani.

Her workshop, on the outskirts in an abandoned factory lot, looked sketchy from the entrance.

"Anyone home?"

As I raised my hand to knock.

Boom!

A roar from inside, black smoke seeping through the door cracks.

"Argh! Vapor pressure too high!"

Coughing followed as the door flew open.

A girl with red hair in twin braids, face smudged with soot.

Behind her: mysterious copper pipes and spring gadgets strewn everywhere.

"What? ...Oh? Sena? That you?"

"Yeah! Long time, Mani! Brought a customer."

At "customer," the pint-sized Mani turned to me.

"Fair warning: I don't do boring swords or shields. Last time was 'cause you were broke..."

She griped irritably.

"Just take a look first."

"Huh? Hey, who even are y—"

I shoved the blueprint in her face.

Mani's eyes scanned it.

Lever reload system.

Magazine structure. Various forms.

One second, two. Her pupils dilated in a flash.

"...You draw this?"

"Easy. Paper ain't free."

She snatched it from my hand.

"This reload—what is it? Detach magazine from crossbow body? Feed bolts like this?"

"Roughly."

Mani yelled, soot-streaked face alight.

"Insane! You're a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠genius?! You designed this?"

"Nah, imitating a legendary craftsman."

"Whatever! Not built yet, right?"

That spark in her eyes.

One look at that fired-up gaze, and I knew.

'Jackpot. She can make it.'