123. Dungeon, Explosion, Reward (1)
123. Dungeon, Explosion, Reward (1)
"Hmm."
Nitric acid 70%, sulfur 16%, charcoal 14%.
Failure.
I drew a large X over the newly attempted formulation.
That was already the thirteenth failure.
Tch. How long was it gonna take before I could make decent-quality gunpowder?
Even if I could not make especially powerful gunpowder, I at least wanted something suitable for an old-fashioned firearm—preferably in a form I could use as a concealed weapon.
I was researching gunpowder production by changing the ratios in a pre-built testing area, but the results were disappointing. The materials themselves seemed correct, though. At this rate, there was no way I could finish the gunpowder testing by the day we were set to begin dungeon exploration.
I considered simply buying it.
But gunpowder was even more insanely expensive, which made that difficult.
Making it myself would also let me make better use of my Skill. High-quality gunpowder was controlled by the state, making it difficult to purchase in bulk. That left experimentation as my only option.
Once I found the optimal formula, I could use my Craft Skill to produce gunpowder in an instant from then on.
That was the greatest advantage of my Skill. If I could make something myself, I could use the Skill to skip the entire crafting process.
The Skill could produce something in seconds as though this were a game, so developing new things this way was important: each success could directly increase my combat power.
If I could somehow produce high-quality gunpowder, it would broaden my tactical options and multiply my fundamentally inadequate firepower several times over.
I'd have liked to make something like a grenade too, but that was still beyond me because I didn't understand how grenades worked. I vaguely remembered seeing an ancient XTube video saying they sprayed bits of metal everywhere, but recreating one seemed difficult.
Tch.
"...It'd be convenient if I could at least mimic a modern firearm somehow."
It was by no means easy. Maybe I could use some suitably fantastical magical material instead... Hm?
Come to think of it, hadn't the vial Viola threw exploded?
Perhaps taking that approach would be more reliable. Its explosive force had seemed somewhat weaker than gunpowder, but it might not have been bad—
"Yohan! You've got a visitor!"
At Millia's sudden shout, I snapped out of my thoughts, exited the lab, and looked toward the workshop door. Millia saw me emerging from the lab and called out once more.
"A! Guest! Is! Here!"
"I got it, so be quiet. My head's ringing."
Ugh, my eyes hurt. Spending so long in the laboratory had left me feeling awful. Still, I had to greet the visitor. Since Millia had called the person a guest, they were probably not someone from Dawn Hall, which made simply turning them away awkward. I wiped the soot from my face with a nearby towel and looked at the figure standing by the door.
She was missing an arm.
"Viola. What brings you here?"
"I heard from Lewis that you're heading into a dungeon. I was wondering if you could take me along, too."
"Are you all healed up?"
"Almost. But, can I come in?"
Come to think of it, wasn't entering someone else's workshop without permission considered rude? No one around me usually cared about that sort of thing, so seeing Viola ask permission felt strangely unfamiliar.
"You can come in."
With my permission, Viola entered the workshop. She glanced around and offered a brief impression.
"You've got a lot of interesting stuff."
"Making this and that is a hobby of mine."
"That's right, that's right! He made Patrasche, and exploding powder, and a hand-mounted crossbow, and all sorts of..."
Millia prattled about my creations like a clerk desperate to make a sale. At this rate, she might reveal every trick I had, so I quietly covered her mouth, pulled over a chair, and seated Viola. I couldn't leave someone in poor health standing indefinitely.
"A dungeon... Can you really go in that state?"
"Are you looking down on me because I'm missing an arm? My specialty is alchemy, so losing one arm is no problem at all."
As though to prove how healthy she was, Viola raised her remaining arm and pretended to flex. It did not mean much. I stated my position in a cold voice.
"The dungeons we're going to are unexplored dungeons. I can't carelessly bring someone into a dungeon when I don't know if they can pull their own weight."
I cut off Viola's request and stared into her eyes. They held anger and frustration, along with an inferiority complex that seemed to ask whether I was looking down on her too—and a desperate need for help by any means available.
What had happened to her in only a few days?
Had something bad happened to her in the meantime that left her worn down?
I had gone through something similar on the uninhabited island, so I did feel sorry for her. But sympathy and taking her into a dungeon were separate matters. To be blunt, if I brought along a student who couldn't pull her weight and she died, even setting the guilt aside, it would disrupt everything I had planned.
I decided it was better not to accept her in the first place.
"I can pull my own weight. Believe it or not, I was one of the main attackers in my party."
"Wasn't that when your arm was still fine?"
I pointed out the problem coldly. Unlike a few days earlier, however, Viola seemed to have no composure left and poured out her complaints.
"One-armed this, one-armed that... I'm sick to death of hearing it. People who used to talk to me whisper behind my back now, my research is suffering, and I need to enter dungeons for my experiments, but no party will take me even into a low-rank dungeon. Hah. Life really fucking sucks."
So her circumstances had deteriorated after she lost her arm. As Viola cursed with resentment written across her face, I gestured to Millia, who had been silently watching from behind us. Millia immediately understood and quietly left the workshop.
"So that's why you came to find me?"
"I told you I'd help you."
"Even so, bringing you into a dungeon is a separate problem. It's too dangerous."
"I said I can pull my own weight."
"Is there a reason you absolutely have to enter the dungeon?"
"...I'm only receiving half my scholarship, so I have to cover next semester's tuition. And to finish testing my prototype, I need to test it inside a dungeon."
"Does it have to be in a dungeon?"
"Because that's the most reliable way. You can't obtain sales approval for something like an explosive reagent meant for dungeon use unless you test it in an actual dungeon. Hiring someone to do it would cost money too, and I don't have any. My research budget is already hanging by a thread."
That was news to me. Since I had no intention of selling the things I made, I had never learned about that.
I wondered whether I should try selling a few things myself.
Wheelchairs seemed like they could make decent money. The material problem meant it would be difficult to make one as light as Karina's, but I could make one from reasonably sturdy wood. There would probably be some demand for one made from durable timber.
"Testing, huh. Wouldn't it be better if I just took your reagents and tested them for you?"
"I have to see it with my own eyes and judge it myself. All the data I accumulated during the last final exam was completely lost, so..."
"That's quite the disaster."
Her circumstances were unfortunate, but accepting someone whose abilities I had not verified was difficult. Unexplored dungeons were places where even I couldn't guarantee my survival. I knew some of the dungeons, but not all of them.
"So please let me come with you. I promise I won't be a burden—"
Desperation.
Desperation clung to everything she said and did. The person who had spoken to me so confidently was now cornered this badly. I lowered my gaze and stared blankly at the floor.
Being good enough to receive a scholarship from Kalon Academy meant she was an excellent student.
I did not know about combat, but perhaps she could at least provide support. Even that ability would be limited by her missing arm, though.
Tch. I could not afford to go soft.
I looked straight into her desperation-filled eyes and spoke.
"You could die. Are you prepared for that?"
"If I get expelled from the academy, I'm screwed either way."
So she had nowhere left to retreat... Was that it?
"Alright. Then let's draw up a contract."
I pulled out a sheet of paper I had bought earlier, set it on the table, and wrote down the terms. The contract stated that I would not be held responsible for her death and that she would cooperate with my research. Viola read it through, then looked at me as though I were some kind of strange person.
"...This is much more generous than I expected."
Was it?
Honestly, it was my first time writing a contract, so I'd just jotted down whatever came to mind.
Viola directly amended the clauses on my contract with a pen, then held it back out to me.
"...Honestly, you're the one doing me a favor, old guy, so I don't think your terms were too generous."
"I see."
I had intended to put her to work under fairly exploitative terms. I skimmed the terms Viola had added.
An eighty-twenty split?
It wasn't bad for me, but it was even more vicious than what I'd proposed. Was this not practically a borderline slave contract?
"What's the usual profit split between an alchemist and a merchant company?"
"Seventy-thirty? Usually the merchant company supplies the materials too, so—"
"I feel like I've become an unscrupulous merchant."
"You care about that? Looking at your face, you seem like the kind of person who would work someone for free without batting an eye—"
"You had no trouble coming to someone like that."
"Even so, you saved my life, didn't you?"
That was a groundbreaking new assessment of my face.
I let out a small laugh and held out my hand.
"I'm counting on you."
I'd acquired a reasonably useful-looking graduate student—no, assistant.