Chapter 9
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The Military Police Appear
-----------------------------------------------------------------
But right then, the Military Police showed up.
"Nom!"
Sena took a huge bite out of her chicken skewer.
Her cheeks puffed up like balloons as she chomped away, not even bothering with the spicy-sweet sauce smearing her lips.
"Mmm! So good! City food really hits different!"
"Slow down. No one's gonna steal it from you."
I chuckled and picked up my own skewer.
Oakwood's night streets were even more dazzling than during the day.
Orange lamplight from the streetlamps bathed the roads in a warm glow.
As night fell, the tantalizing aromas of street food filled the air.
Instead of heading into a pub, we'd loaded up on cheap skewers and fried snacks from the stalls and claimed a bench in the square.
All thanks to the mana stones we'd sold.
It'd been ages since we'd had a proper greasy, hearty meal.
Apostle! What about mine? Don't I get any?!
Rodentia spun her hamster wheel frantically, kicking up a fuss.
She was drooling at the sight of Sena's chicken skewer.
"Alright, alright. Of course you've got yours, my Lord."
I slipped a skewer into my bag with a casual flick—no way Sena would notice.
Swish.
Ooh! This spicy kick! My tongue's burning, but I can't stop!
Tears welled up in her eyes from the heat, but she demolished the skewer in seconds flat.
Gods or humans, we're all the same when food's involved.
"Hey, Roti, that bald guy from earlier was seriously cool, right?"
Sena waved her skewer stick around, eyes gleaming.
"That pistol of his! One shot and boom—the hobgoblin was gone!"
"Yeah. The power was insane."
My mind was entirely on that gun.
Gunpowder stench, thunderous boom, sheer destructive force.
Not like the modern firearms from my past life's memories.
It was a classic flintlock musket pistol.
Muzzle-loaded powder and ball, rammed home with a rod—definitely.
Slower firing rate than modern guns, sure, but that raw power was plenty enticing.
Especially for a ratkin like me!
What I lacked right now was raw strength and firepower.
If I had a weapon like that?
Three gold coins would be pocket change.
Bellies full, we wandered the weapon district to walk off dinner.
We stepped into a smithy sporting a massive anvil sign.
Longswords, maces, spears, and axes lined the walls in greeting.
Racks held all sorts of bows and crossbows.
The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of iron and oil.
"Welcome! What're you after?"
The owner greeted us warmly—a burly, aproned fellow with a bushy beard.
I scanned the crossbows on display.
Mostly basic single-shots. Slow to reload, middling power.
Not up to my standards.
I sidled up to the owner.
"Hey, mister. You sell any guns?"
"...What?"
"Y'know, the powder-and-shoot kind. Saw someone using one in the dungeon earlier."
The shop's air turned ice-cold in an instant.
The owner's jolly face turned to stone.
He set down the blade he'd been polishing and fixed me with a glare.
"What'd you just say?"
"Huh? Just asking if you had guns."
"Out."
The owner jabbed a finger at the door.
"Filthy rat brats picking up bad habits! You little pests—scram!"
"Whoa, I was just asking. Why the anger?"
"Don't care about your money or excuses! Out!"
He snatched up a broom, ready to chase us.
Bewildered, we were shoved out like trash.
Bang!
A "Closed for Business" sign went up, and the door slammed shut.
Suddenly getting the boot like that? Totally absurd.
"...What was that guy's deal? Midlife crisis?"
I grumbled, and Sena tugged my sleeve with an awkward look.
"Roti, you can't just ask about that stuff!"
"Why? What's so bad about guns?"
"Adventurers aren't allowed to use them."
Sena whispered, glancing around warily.
"If adventurers like us get caught with one, it's big trouble. We're not supposed to shoot guns."
"Why? That bald guy from the dungeon was blasting away just fine."
"He's silver rank. Iron ranks like us? No way. Long story."
Got it.
I'd figured they were just pricey or hard to find—not straight-up forbidden.
Curious about the reason, but Sena just shrugged. "Dunno the details. Adults say don't use 'em."
Fair enough—she was a country rat at heart.
Didn't seem to know the finer points.
"Alright. I'll watch it."
I swallowed my frustration and kept walking.
This world's common sense was way more complicated than I'd guessed.
It was late night by the time we got back to the guild.
But the place was still hopping.
Adventurers fresh from night quests were knocking back drinks and shooting the breeze noisily.
In one corner, a tipsy adventurer strummed some instrument and belted out a tune.
"Aaah...! That Lich Clan jerk~! Skeleton-hunting keeps giving me blue balls~"
"Hell yeah! Encore!"
Laughter and shouts erupted everywhere.
Peaceful scene.
Crash!
Peace shattered in a heartbeat.
The guild's hefty wooden doors flew open with a gust of cold wind, and a pack of strangers stormed in.
"Everyone freeze! Move and we shoot!"
Green uniforms, tricorn hats.
Long musket rifles slung over their shoulders.
Flashes of old movies from my past life.
This was straight-up Napoleonic line infantry.
...Damn, the real deal.
This world's tech level was higher than I'd thought.
Early modern era wrapped in a medieval fantasy shell.
Their bayonets gleamed ominously, freezing the boozed-up adventurers in place.
"Kingdom Military Police!"
Sena let out a tiny yelp.
The drinking adventurers' faces hardened as one.
A few hotheads rose with scowls.
"Ah, damn—what now? What brings the Military Police lords here?"
"Just here to report a quest. Ain't this overreach? Adventurer suppression!"
The mood turned ugly.
"Ah, shit! Ruining the vibe..."
Adventurers were basically a paramilitary bunch by nature.
Folks who dove into danger zones and dungeons, fighting monsters hand-to-hand.
No surprise they didn't bow to public authority.
Some openly gripped weapon hilts or drew staves.
"You toy soldier punks for real? Get lost!"
Tension thick as gunpowder.
"Shut it, you morons!"
Then an officer-type stepped forward from the police ranks.
Neat mustache, shiny epaulets.
He bellowed with pure irritation.
"Can't read the room? Want me to shut those mouths for you?"
He gestured, and two soldiers dragged something over.
Thud! Dumped it right before the reception desk.
"Gasp!"
"Th-that's..."
The receptionist clapped a hand over her mouth, screaming.
Adventurer murmurs died instantly.
A corpse.
Specifically, an adventurer in leather armor.
The badge around his neck was blood-soaked, illegible, but its yellowish sheen marked it as bronze rank—higher than us.
But the real horror was his head.
A black hole gaped clean through the center of his forehead.
Unmistakable gunshot wound.
"Wait, ain't that Cro from Laser Claw party?"
"Yeah... Was drinking with him yesterday..."
Those who recognized him murmured and backed away.
The officer pulled a bloodied lead ball from his pocket and tossed it on the desk.
Dropped a battered pistol beside it.
Still reeked of fresh gunpowder from the barrel.
"See this? Pulled from his skull. Found at the scene."
The officer swept a cold gaze over the room.
"Some adventurer punk fired a gun in an alley. Nice fresh one. I wanna nab the bastard. Why?"
He patted the pistol for emphasis.
"Gunshots downtown spooked a passing noble's carriage horses into a frenzy. Judge is pissed."
His shout boomed.
"Guild master! Guild master—where is he? Get out here!"
Moments later, a middle-aged man came barreling down the second-floor stairs.
Oakwood branch guild master.
"Oh no, Captain! What calamity is this?!"
"Calamity's ours! Hey! You call this management? Hand over the perp now!"
The guild master, all flustered, led the officer into a back office.
Soldiers with guns faced off against adventurers with swords and bows.
Ominous silence hung heavy.
Ten-odd minutes later.
The officer sauntered out, smug as ever.
His expression much softer.
Hmm, Apostle. Looks like they slipped him some cash. Face lit up.
"...Yeah, looks that way."
The officer declared in a now-milder tone, like the threats never happened.
"Appreciate the cooperation. Adventurers! City access restricted till we catch the perp. Note that."
He led his soldiers out like an ebbing tide.
Door shut, and the guild master exploded red-faced.
"Which goddamn bastard!!!! Used a gun!!!!!"
His furious roar shook the hall.
"If you're gonna use one!! Do it sneaky in a dungeon! What the hell in Oakwood alleys?!"
A near-lamenting scream.
"Gonna fight? Use swords or magic! Yeah? Wanna all get wrecked?! Who was it? Speak up if you know! Bounty on the spot!"
Pent-up adventurer gripes erupted.
"Damn! City lockdown! Got dungeon run tomorrow!"
"Some psycho screwing us all over!"
"Military Police gonna ramp up inspections. Such a pain."
Curses and complaints rained down.
Everyone's eyes burned with kill-intent for the perp.
At the guild master's gesture, the receptionist slapped a poster on the board pronto.
Firearm User Wanted
Adventurers bolted out the door like they'd been waiting for it.
Sena poked my side.
"See? That's why adventurers can't carry guns."
"...Yeah. Total public enemy."
I nodded.
Now I got it.
In this world, guns weren't just weapons.
They were threats to order—disasters that cut off adventurers' livelihoods.
City lockdown meant no dungeon runs.
Owning one drew heat; firing it? Hardcore mode reserved.
Guns are a no-go for now.
I shelved my gunpowder fantasies—for the moment.
Not just the cost; reactions like that said it all.
Probably needed silver rank at least for a permit.
But my craving for powerful ranged weapons didn't fade.
No—if anything, it grew fiercer.
Can't use guns? Fine. Use something as powerful... but not a gun.
"Hey, Sena."
"Yeah?"
"Adventurers are good as long as it's not guns, right?"
"Right? Bows and crossbows are fine."
"Perfect."
I smirked.
A rough design was already taking shape in my head.